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The Immie


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 I found the box in the living room that the movers had left.   It was mostly my clothes and diaper stuff.    There was a small linen closet in the bathroom that I rearranged to put the diaper stuff on one shelf.

The front hall closet had room, so I put my immie clothes there.    I guess dressing and undressing in the hallway would make sense if I were to be just in the diaper at home.     I whipped together a little dinner from what Cheryl had and set her a place.

“You’re not eating?”

“I’ll eat mine in the kitchen.”

“No, join me,” she said.   I grabbed my plate and sat across from her.    She went and got a bottle of wine and two glasses and poured.    I had made brief tastes of Carla’s stuff but never had a full glass.    We ate and talked and drank.    Cheryl said she’d never been around immies much.     She had wanted to go to law school, but her family wasn’t well off, and she was lucky even to get paralegal training.

I told her a bit of my history.    After we had finished the bottle, she announced that she had had a long day.    I stood up and paused.   “I need to pee,” I said.    She looked at me and smiled.

“Do it in the diaper, please.”    This was the first time anybody had said “please” to me since I’d became an immie.   I relaxed and let my diaper soak up the urine.    I looked at Cheryl.    She was smiling.    “Done?” she asked.   I nodded.    She came forward and patted the front of my diaper and gave it a squeeze.   She then turned toward the bedroom.    “Go get yourself cleaned up.”

I went to the bathroom and changed my diaper.    When I got to the bedroom, Cheryl was already in bed.    “Goodnight, baby,” she said.    I climbed into the crib and drifted off to sleep.

I heard Cheryl’s alarm go off in the morning, and I hopped out of my crib and went to the kitchen to make coffee.   I heard Cheryl in the shower.    Eventually, she came out, and I poured her a cup.   “What do you take in it?”

“Just a little milk,” she said.   I dosed her cup.

“What do you want for breakfast?”

“I usually just eat a yogurt.   I’m trying to keep my weight in line.”    I smiled and pulled one out for her and a spoon.    She smiled.

“I’ll do some shopping today if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.  I’m sure you’ll want to buy something for your breakfast and lunch, and my pantry isn’t likely stocked as well as Carla’s was.    I usually pack a sandwich for lunch.”

“No problem,” I said.  “I routed through the supplies and prepared her a sandwich and through in a bag of raw vegetables from what I could find in the fridge.”     I walked her to the door, and she actually kissed me as she left.

I poked around the apartment after she left.   It was pretty spare.   There were pictures of her with what I presumed were her family.   Some with other girls.    Nothing contained an immie.   I made an inventory of the pantry and decided what I would need for the short term.

 I had to poop, so I went to the toilet and slipped down the diaper.    This was a  relief after living with Carla.    I got the diaper back up and then went to the closet and put on an immie suit and went out.

Cheryl’s place was in town.   The grocery was right down the street, so I walked.   I  grabbed the basics of what I’d need and walked back with them.    I put them away.    I decided to deep clean the kitchen to begin.   That took most of the day.    I started to prep dinner.    I’d just finished that when Cheryl came through the door.

“If you’d give me about 30 minutes notice, I can have dinner ready for you when you come in.”

“No problem, she said.    How long from now?”

“About 45?” I asked.

“OK, I’m going to get 30 minutes in on the elliptical.”

She headed to her room, and I started cooking.

She came out wearing a t-shirt and gym shorts.    She looked good.    I’d noted I’d only seen her in a business suit other than the time I saw her in a negligee on my test drive.   I served dinner, setting my place at the table.    She grabbed another bottle of wine for us.

“My father is really into wine.   He keeps my little cabinet here stocked for me.”    I was happy about that.

We drank and talked and then she smiled at me.   “Can you get yourself ready for an additional service?” she asked.   I knew what she meant.   I headed off to do so.   “If you don’t need that thing in your rear, you can skip that.”

“Thanks,” I said.   “I don’t need it.”

Getting ready thus just meant getting naked and putting the condom on.   She peeled off the shorts.   She had no panties on under them.    She left the shirt on.    I had to admit; the effect was quite alluring.   I took “good care” of her.

Afterward, she got up and told me to wait.    She went and got a diaper and came back.     She peeled off the condom and carefully diapered me up.   She gave me a kiss and told me, “Off to bed.”   I got in my crib.    I laid there with my eyes half open as she pulled the t-shirt off and then her bra.    She had been wrong; I had not yet seen her completely naked.   She was stunning, in my opinion.    I felt things welling up in my diaper.    Forget it, Immie.   You’re just her house boy.   She’s an adult, and you’re an Immie.    But my mother was an Immie.

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Things progressed.    I cooked and cleaned and occasionally provided other benefits.   I met her father one day when he came over to stock the wine cabinet.   Fortunately, I had just come in from shopping so I was in an immie suit rather than just a diaper.   I’m not sure Cheryl had told her family about my “fringe benefits.”

Things were different here.    At Carla’s, I took pride in my ability to cook and clean, and that was true here.    However, I dreaded Carla coming home.    I loved being by myself or spending time in the library.    Here, I couldn’t wait for Cheryl to get home.    We would eat together, usually sharing a bottle of wine.   It was almost like we were a couple, except I’d be there in a diaper and when she went to bed, I went to my crib.

When I announced I had to poop, Cheryl just allowed me the toilet.    I guess she didn’t like the mess either.    She had witnessed it one time when we were out together.    We had gone shopping one Saturday.  We were in the middle of the stuff Cheryl wanted to do when I told her I had to poop.

“Do you want to go home?” she asked.

“No, you’ve got stuff to do.  Besides, I don’t think I could make it that long.”  I then settled the matter by letting go into my diaper.   I’d done it before, but rarely since Cheryl took me in.

“Let’s go get you changed,” she said in response.    We found the mall bathrooms, and there was a reasonably private changing area.     At least only other immies would see me changing.    Cheryl spread my changing pad down and had me hop up.    I did.   Cheryl unsnapped my romper crotch and untapped the diaper.   She used the diaper to remove most of the poop from me.    She got out the wipes and started humming while she cleaned me up.    After several passes, she was satisfied with her work and got out the new diaper and taped it up.    She snapped up the onesie and pronounced it, “All done.”

I got up while she went to wash her hands.   “Thanks,” I said.

Otherwise, she always seemed to love watching me met my diaper in front of her.   It often led to me having to take “good care” of her.   At other times she just squeezed the front of the wet diaper before I went off to change.    On a few occasions, she manipulated the diaper until I came.

These were the golden days.   I didn’t have much of a care.   I just cleaned and cooked and catered to Cheryl.    I loved looking at her, especially from my crib at night when she was naked or nearly so.

I found her leaving through one of the Immie catalogs that came in the mail.   “Some of these Immie suits are pretty cute,” she said.   I thought she was going to find a new one for me.   “Some times I think it would be neat to wear one.”

“You’d have to put a diaper on, too,” I said.    “People will treat you differently if they think you’re an immie.”

“I suppose you’re right.   Is it very hard for you?” 

“Sometimes.     Most of the time, I can handle it.    The suits, the diaper.   It’s all to show us we are not mature.    Many adults are real condescending like we’re mentally inferior.   That’s what gets me the most.”

She had lingered on the pages with the diapers.   I assumed she was wondering what it would be like to wear them.  I thought about offering her one of mine, but let it pass.  She then turned to the Imatron page.   “This thing looks pretty draconian.” 

“It is.   I  met a girl whose guardian had one of those on her.   He hit her up with the pain signal from across the mall just because she was talking to me.    She says it hurts so bad she wets herself.    I’m always surprised Carla never had me in one.”

“She mentioned it,” Cheryl said.   “But she said that spanking you gave both pain and humiliation to you, and that worked better.”

I should have figured as much.   Cheryl was quiet for a second, then added.   “I could never humiliate you, or hurt you like that.    If I do, let me know.    Do you mind the diaper thing around me?   You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind,” I said.

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Really liking his new life situation, i found reading his time with Carla uncomfortable and nearly stopped following the story, but then i am just a big softy.  :baby_smiley3:

Maly.

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A few weeks later, Cheryl’s car was not behaving right.    I drove her to work in my car and then took her car to the dealership.    I waited while they worked on it.   Of course, they called her with the estimate, and she authorized the work.   Nobody was going to ask an Immie for their opinion.    When it was done, I headed over to her office to retrieve her.   I was only a block from the office when I saw lights in my rearview.   I looked down at the speedometer.    “Shit,” I said.    Her car didn’t rattle and grind like mine, so I hadn’t noticed how fast I was going.

I pulled over.   “License,” the cop said, and then seeing how I was dressed, added, “and LOA.”

I passed both over.   He spent a time reading over the LOA.   “You know you were speeding?” he said.

“Yes, I’m sorry.   This is my guardian’s car, and I’m not used to driving it.”

“Your LOA doesn’t seem to cover you being here.”

“My guardian’s car needed work.    I had taken it to the dealer today.   I’m on my way to pick her up right now.  She works in the Monument building there,” I pointed at the next block.

“You better call her and have her come here.”

I called Cheryl and explained.    A moment later, both Cheryl and Carla appeared.     Carla was talking to the officer, arguing that the “household needs” provision of the LOA applied here.    The officer finally agreed but said there was still the issue of the speeding.    Carla, Cheryl, and the officer talked more.   Carla grabbed Cheryl and me.    She sat Cheryl down on a bench and then turned to me.    I knew what was happening.   Carla pulled down my suit, and I slid the diaper down and got across Cheryl’s lap.

“Make it good,” Carla told Cheryl.     She got five good whacks in on me.    The officer was happy and left.   Carla bid her goodnight, and I got redressed.     We got into the car.

“Sorry about that,” Cheryl told me.   “I’d have just paid the fine, but money is tight right now.”

I drove us home and made dinner.   Afterward, Cheryl was digging through her papers on her little desk.

“What's up?” I ask.

“Like I said, money is tight.   The car repairs are pushing me over the edge.   Paralegals don’t make what lawyers make.”

“Can I help?  I can try to cut the household expenses,” I volunteered.

“Everything will help.”

“We can get rid of one of the cars.”

“How would that work?”

“Everything is close enough to walk to for me.   On days that I did need a car, I could drive you to work and pick you up like today.”

“That might work,” she said.   We brainstormed what we might do.

“I could get a job,” I said.  “I have lots of time.   This house isn’t that much effort to keep clean.”

She looked distressed.    “But I want you all the time.    Part of the mess I’m in is because I bought you.   Not that I blame you or anything.     Immies are a luxury.    If it gets too bad, I’d have to find someone else to be your guardian, but that is the last resort.   Did you know the guardians have to pay a tax on every Immie they have?”

“I didn’t know that.”     I thought about things for a bit.   She’d have to sell me.   I shuddered.   Not just that it would mean going to a stranger and starting over, but I didn’t want to leave Cheryl.  “What were you saving for when you bought me?”

“Law school tuition.   I should have gone to law school first and then got an immie, but I fell in love with you when Carla had me over to meet you.”

I let the words “fell in love” pass by.    I assume she just meant it like one would say they “fell in love with a car” while shopping for one.

I thought a bit about the prices of things I had been buying.   I hadn’t given things much thought.  I just bought what we needed.     “I know of one thing that we can save on.”

“What’s that.”

“You’re going to have to forgo some of your benefits.    I could skip wearing diapers when I am home.   It means you’ll have to let me use the toilet rather than watching me wet mine.”  

She thought long and hard.   I  could see it was one of her favorite things.   She finally said, “What would you wear?”

“Nothing at all, I guess.”   She smiled at that.

“As long as we have money to buy condoms,” she added.

So I set to trying to save whatever I could.   I was naked when home.    I tried to keep the food budget down.   I avoided going out to save on diapers.     I arranged to sell my car.   It only netted a few hundred dollars, but it helped.

That night, Cheryl requested I take “good care” of her after dinner, and I complied.   She gave me a long kiss after it was over.    “Thanks for really trying to help with the finances,” she said.

“No problem.”  She kissed me again and snuggled in close.

“Can you sleep with me in the bed, tonight?”

“Sure.”

In fact, for the next few days, we slept together each evening.    I  didn’t know if she was concerned that she’d have to lose me because of the finances and wanted to get as much time in or what.   I wasn’t complaining.    I was really growing quite enamored with her.   Perhaps we could sell the crib.

One night, after sex, she said: “I love you, baby.”  

“I love you, too,” I replied.

I spent time trying to figure things out.   I was out shopping and passed a military recruiting office.  I stopped in and talked to the recruiter.    He started out pointing out that if my guardian sold them my contract, it wouldn’t necessarily mean I’d end up with a determination of being an adult; it wasn’t automatic.   I told him I understood.    I  came home and did more research on the computer.    I think I had a plan.

I called my folks and asked their advice.   There was one hitch to the plan that was risky, but they agreed to help me.    It took me about a week to get things in place.

I made a nice dinner and opened a bottle of fine Cabernet from Cheryl’s father’s stash.    I lit candles.  Cheryl came home and eyed the spread.    “I thought we were saving money?” she said.

“It’s not that much, and I think I may have figured things out.”

We ate, and finally, she asked what I had come up with.

“OK, well all this depends on you agreeing, but I think I’ve come up with an idea for fixing the finances.”

“Go ahead,” she said.

“You could assign my guardianship to the military,” I said.

“That would give me some much-needed money at the start, but what about the long term?”   She knew that I might well end up as an adult rather than an immie.

“You’d have my military salary.”

“How would that work?” she said, confused.

I reached to the sideboard and pulled out a box and opened it and slid it toward her.    “You’d have to marry me first.”

Tears welled up in her eyes.   I couldn’t tell if I’d hurt her or not.    She leaped forward and threw her arms around me and kissed me hard.     “Of course, I’d marry you.   It’s more than I could hope for.”    We kissed again.   Then she lifted the box.   “Where?   How did you get this?”

I took the ring and placed it on her finger.   “My parents.”    She smiled.

“So how will this work?”

I have two things I need to get done before you enlist me.     First, I need to get into shape.    I don’t want to show up as a fat sot at basic training.

“You’re not fat,” she said.

“But, I’m not in shape.    In addition, I need to study the prerequisites for an Electronic Technician.   The recruiter says that the enlistees are given aptitude tests at the end of basic training.   If I can show what I have what it takes, I can get into that specialty.   It would mean I could be stationed near here and live at home.    Once I’m back home and making a good military wage, we should have saved enough for you to go to law school, and we can live on my pay while you do.”

She smiled and nodded.    We finished the Cabernet and opened a second bottle.   She called her parents and let them know.   I called my parents and Debbie.    Together we called Carla.

We decided to just have a quiet ceremony.    We went to the government center for the license.    Cheryl signed the papers as the bride.   “We’ll need the permission of his guardian,” the clerk said.

“I’m his guardian,” Cheryl said pushing her deed forward.    The clerk processed the papers and we went up before the justice.   Cheryl and I said “I do,” and we kissed.    She owned me in all ways now.     We spent the next few weeks trying to be husband and wife more than guardian and immie.   I called my parents and let them know I was married.    They took it pretty well.

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I immediately got the books I needed and set to study.   Each morning after Cheryl left for work, I’d spend time on her elliptical and worked on push-ups and sit-ups.   I could only do a few at a time when I started, but over the next four weeks, I got in shape.    I was doing practice tests and fairing well on them.   I was ready.

In the evening, I’d cook dinner for Cheryl.    About the only thing that indicated we weren’t normal husband and wife was that I was not wearing any clothes.    Of course, this made the rest of our evening activity a lot easier.    My crib days were over.   We had Cheryl’s father store it away.

All too soon, I was ready.   We went down to the recruiting office and filled out the papers.    Cheryl signed as both wife and guardian.    They sent me into see a military doctor who after a typical exam, including the obligatory rectal temperature, I was declared fit enough for military service.   I was given a report date a week later    We made most of our time together.    I also sighed the last morning as I got ready.   I’d be diapered up continuously for a long time.

On my report date, Cheryl drove me to the station.   They were loading up a bus as I got there.    As people boarded the bus, they were removing their clothes.    Only diapers were the uniform of the day.     I kissed Cheryl one last time and handed her my romper and got on the bus.   I waved out the window to her as we drove away.

Nobody said much in the hour it took to get to boot camp.   The bus unloaded, and we stood in a ragged line in front.    A tough-looking sergeant walked forward.  “Attention.”   We shifted into a more straight line.    “When I say attention, I want QUIET.   I want a straight line.   I want you standing up straight and true.    Let’s try this again.    ATTENTION!”    We did better the second time.

He paced down our row.    “I know what you immies think.     You think that you’ll come here and do eight weeks of summer camp and come out as adults.    I am here to tell you that it doesn’t work that way.    As far as I’m concerned, you’re not even immies.    You’re shapeless blobs.    If, after eight weeks, I’ve formed you into something, then I’ll let you be an Immie soldier in my Army.    Only after that can you think about whether you can develop the maturity to be an adult.”

There was some murmuring, but he continued.

“There’s only one way to do things here.   The right way.   My way.   The Army way.   Do you understand?”

A few feeble “Yes, sir” responses ensued.

“I can’t hear you.”

“YES, SIR,” came a roar.

“That’s better.    Now, you are leaving your old lives behind, at least until you get kicked out of here.    We had you leave your clothes behind because IF you get far enough, we’ll give you new clothes.    We let you keep your diaper because we didn’t want our bus seats ruined.    So now, we’re going to march you off to your new life.    You’re going to take those diapers off and put them in this can on the way.    Right face.   One, two three, four.”

We were peeling the diapers off and dropping them in the trash as we marched off naked to military life.   We headed into a barracks where there was a changing area with olive green diapers that we were commanded to put on.    We then entered the bunk area.    I was directed to the second bunk.    Lying on the end of the bed were the linens, some toiletries, and a book.    At the end of the bed was a footlocker.

“Get your stuff squared away.   We’ll have dinner for you in one hour.”

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  • 3 weeks later...

I made my bed.   Luckily I had practice with this.   I put the toiletries in the locker.   I picked up the book.    It was basic information needed for all soldiers.     I read the first chapter.    Sort of an introduction to military life.    The second section was on military terms, including the phonetic alphabet.   I’d heard of the latter and refreshed my knowledge of it.     We marched off to dinner.   Chow was about what I expected.    Plain but ample.    We went back to the barracks, and I continued to read the book.

About fifteen minutes later, the sergeant returned and called us to attention.   He walked down the bunks calling out certain ones that were not made to his standards.   He looked at mine and told me to stow the book.

He went to the first bunk.    “What’s your name, blob?”

“Smith, Sir.”

“What’s that in phonetics?”  Smith stammered.   He didn’t know.

He came to me.   “Your name?”

“Green, Sir.   Golf Romeo Echo Echo November.”

“Well, I see someone has been reading.”    He walked down the row, asking names.   A few could give the phonetics; most couldn’t.    He suggested all read the first few chapters before lights out, which would be in 45 minutes.    “Sleep tight, blobs.   We’ll start tomorrow at 0500 with some physical training.

It seemed I had just fallen asleep when the lights came on, and the Sergeant came in making a racket.   “Reville, Reville,” he called.    We got to our feet.    “OK, blobs.    We’re going to go for a little jog.”   He led us out in a trot.   Him and twenty men in diapers.    Some had clearly used there’s and were sagging.

“Learn to tape those up tight,” the sergeant warned.    “These diaper tapes can take it.”

I figure we went just over a mile when we trotted into the mess hall and had breakfast.    Some were notably wheezing at the effort.    I was glad I had spent a few weeks getting into shape.

After breakfast, we jogged back to the barracks.   I learned that we were only going to have two modes of transportation:  running and marching.     We showered and changed our diapers.    The morning consisted of being drilled on military terminology.    Lots of answers were spelled phonetically.

After lunch, we got marching drills and responding to commands.    That took us to dinner.   After dinner, we had more book reading to do before lights out.    A few hours after lights out, I heard Smith get out of bed.   He didn’t make it to wherever he was going before I heard the Sergeant challenge him.

“Why are you out of your rack, blob?”

“My diaper needs changing.”

“Your diaper can wait until the morning, back to bed.”

I caught a whiff of poop when he plopped back in bed.     He’d keep that messy diaper until after breakfast tomorrow I knew.   I resolved to only poop before scheduled changes.

The next morning we did calisthenics.   Again, I was thankful for the jump on push-ups and the like.

And so it went for the first two weeks.   Marching, book work, running, exercise.    All in just a diaper.   The second Friday dinner time came.

“Well, blobs.   Most of you have made it through one-quarter of basic training.   It gets harder from here.    However, I’m going to give you the night off.    You can’t go into town.   The townies aren’t used to blobs in diapers.    You can go where you like on post, movies, rec center, commissary.   If you have money on your account, you can eat there rather than normal chow.   Behave yourself or you won’t get another two weeks hence.   Before you go, I have your mail.”

He called out names and got to “Green.”   I went up and got my mail.   Two letters.   The return address was Cheryl Green.    I smiled.   I assumed whe was going to keep her maiden name rather than adopting that of an immie.    I opened the one with the earlier postmark first.

Dear Jason,

I’m writing this the moment I got home from dropping you off.   I miss you already.    I talked to the recruiting officer and he said that your mail would be intermittent and you probably would not have time to answer, so I won’t expect that.   I just wanted to write to tell you how proud I am of you for what you are doing, for yourself, for us.     The initial money has helped to keep me above water.

She rambled on for a few paragraphs.   She told me that at the recommendation of the recruiter, she had put some money in my commissary account.    That was nice.   She finished up with love from “your wife.”    I smiled.    The second letter was more of the same.    I knew what I wanted to do this evening.

I wolfed down the standard chow and headed over to the PX.    “Do you have stationary and stuff I could write a letter home with.   And stamps?”    He handed me over a package of paper and envelopes.

“You don’t need stamps.   Just make sure that you put “RCT” or “RECRUIT” in front of your name on the return address and mail it on post.   They’ll take care of it.   Who are you writing?”

“My wife.”

He reached into a drawer and extracted a pen and slid that over to me.  “I’ll give you a pen for free.”   He debited the stationary against my account.

I wrote Cheryl and told her what I had been doing and that possibly we might see each other for a few hours Friday nights in two weeks if I managed to get a uniform by then.    I signed as her loving husband.   I sealed it up and put it in the mailbox.   I went back to the barracks and stowed the extra stationery and pen in my locker.

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Sure enough, two things happened the next week.   We were drilled on ranks and uniforms and finally issued ours.    It was a somewhat silly thing, an olive drab romper.   It wasn’t your usual immie fare.   It really looked like someone took an army uniform shirt and sewed a diaper cover on to it..    This was the immie soldier uniform.   We bore no insignia on the sleeves as recruits.   We also got a set of laceless athletic shoes.

We also got our rifles.   We spent hours maintaining them, stripping them down, cleaning, oiling, reassembling.   Silly as we had not yet fired them, so they were not dirty.    After the first week, we went to the range and were issued ammunition and got to fire them.

Two weeks went by fast, and sure enough, we were turned loose on Friday night until lights out.   I jogged down to the main gates and strained to see among the others waiting there.    Did Cheryl come?   Then I heard her call me and ran to her.   “My little soldier boy!” she cried.   We hugged and kissed for minutes and then decided to go eat.   “How long do you have?”

“I should be back by 8:30 probably.”

“I wish I’d gotten a room.”

“Maybe next time.”

So we had dinner and talked.    “Your parents sent us a nice wedding present.   Cash.   $2000.”

“Wow, that was nice,” I said.

“I put it in the savings.   Your sister has a new immie.   A girl, Jillie.    She’s sending her over one day a week to clean up for me.”

That was uncommonly kind for Carla I thought.    “And your sister Debbie sent me this.”    She was wearing a sweatshirt from the college that Debbie was attending.    However, under the name of the school was a smaller “School of Law.”

“Is that where you want to go?” I asked.

“Don’t know.   It’s a possibility.”

We prattled on about my training and how Cheryl was faring alone.    She admitted she had gotten used to having me around in a hurry, despite having lived alone for several years before I was sold to her.   Finally, it was time for me to go.   I lingered slightly longer and kissed her.  I jogged back to the barracks.

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The next two weeks of basic training dragged.    Lots of exercise, running, obstacle course (they called it the “confidence” course), and even more bookwork.   In two weeks we were being crammed in military regulations, tactics, and history.   Everything a recruit would need to know.    Finally the day came.    I waited while the sergeant distributed the mail and dismissed us.

I went to the barracks and grabbed a spare diaper.    I didn’t have anything to put it in so I just carried it in my hand.   I didn’t think much about it until I got to the main gate.    I saw Cheryl and ran to her.    “Is that a present for me?” she asked.

“Oh, I guess in a way.”

Cheryl grabbed me and hustled me to a nearby motel.   I shucked out of the uniform.    Cheryl groped my green diaper and smiled.   “I’ve missed this,” she said.  But she almost immediately tore it off me.   We spent the time having sex.    Finally, I said I’d need to get back.    I put on the clean diaper I had brought with me and put my uniform back on.     Cheryl came and hugged and kissed me one last time before I jogged back to the barracks.

Graduation was in two weeks, and we’d know what was going to happen with my life.   The final two weeks included a lot of the testing that I had been dreading.    I did my best, but didn’t know if I was going to be able to get the placement I wanted.    I’d take anything at Fort Rogers which was right near home.    I really wanted electronics technician training.

Graduation came.  “You guys are no longer blobs.   You’re now privates in my Army.   I’m proud of those of you who made it.   I’m going to issue your orders now.”

He called us up and handed us envelopes.     I opened mine.   “Pvt. Jason Green is to report to Fort Rogers no later than 0900 Monday.”   That was a relief.   It went on to say that I’d be enrolled in the basic electronics training class.     I’d be close to home.    I left the post and met Cheryl.

“I got Fort Rogers.   I report Monday.   We have the weekend.”     We got to the house, and reflexively I took the uniform off as I entered.   Cheryl smiled and patted the olive diaper.    I pulled out the two patches out of my pocket.   “I need to sew these on.   They were my private insignia.”

“I’ll do it,” she volunteered

Monday morning, sporting my private’s patches, I headed over to Fort Rogers.    At 8:30, I reported.     The sergeant handed me my class schedule and then started to work on housing.    I pointed out my wife, and I already had a place nearby, and he said that it was good.   He’d authorize a small housing allotment for us.   I could live at home.   I was happy I could go home to Cheryl every night.”

I relayed the good news to Cheryl that evening.   “I can go back to wearing a diaper at home now.   The military is picking up the cost.”   She smiled and walked over and felt the front.

“It’s harder to see when you’re peeing in these.   Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“As long as I can use the toilet for pooping.   I’ve not been able to do that since I went in.   We’re married, but I’m still an immie.”

Classes were hard but not impossible.    I made friends with a few of the other students.   Most were staying on the post and eating the standard chow.    After the first week, I invited three over for dinner.   Instinctively, I took my uniform off at the door.   The other’s, followed suit, not knowing why.    I smiled.  “You probably didn’t need to do that.   My wife likes seeing me in my diaper.”   They decided to stay that way.

“I hate the uniform,” a boy named Lucas said.   “I’d  just as soon wear just the diaper.”

Cheryl came from the kitchen and smiled at the three diaper-clad soldiers in her living room.   

Lucas was struggling in the classes.   I endeavored to try to explain things in a different way, and he started to catch on.   I spent a lot of time working with him over the few weeks of the introductory course.  Many times he came over for dinner and I worked with him afterward.

Still, it was a great time.    I was home in bed with Cheryl every  night.   The military pay had taken a lot of the stress off us and we were having a great time together.    I just worried how long it could last.

At the end of the course, we were assigned to the intermediate level class.    My CO called me to his office.  I was a little nervous.

“You have excellent marks, Green.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I understand you’ve been helping out Lucas quite a bit.   I can see his marks are improving.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent initiative.”    He slid a paper across the desk.    “I’m promoting you to PFC.   I’d have jumped you to corporal, but you know.”

I did know.    I was an immie.   Immies couldn’t be in a position of authority.   Not even over other immies.   Certainly not over adults.   Not everybody in the class was an immie.

“Thank you, sir.    The extra money will come in handy.   My wife Is trying to save up to go back to school.”

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I got home and Cheryl sewed the first class rocker to my uniform.   I smiled at her as she was doing it.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re beautiful.    I couldn’t ask for a better life.”

She smiled back.   “Something’s bothering you?”

“I’m getting to the end of the training course.    They may actually deploy me as a technician.   I don’t know where I might get sent.”

“We’ll work it out.    I understand the role of a military wife.”   She walked over and fondled my diaper, just for a second, then ripped it off.   “Now let’s go to bed.”

I got through my course work.    We had technician exams, and I passed those.   With my help, so did Lucas and a few of the other boys.    The next week, the CO called me again.

“At ease, Green.   I wanted to talk to you about what is next.    You’re going to be a fine electronics technician.   I have no reservations about sending you out in the field now.”

Oh boy, here it comes.    I took a deep breath.

“Or you could go straight into Senior tech training,” he countered.     Senior training would mean another few months of classes here.   A temporary reprieve.

“I’d like the latter, sir.”

“Fine.   Also, there’s another possibility given your abilities.    It would involve a bit more work on your part.    You know we have a service depot here.”
 

I knodded.   Was he offering to station me here at Rogers?   But that didn’t sound like what he was leading up to.

“If you worked there in addition to doing your senior tech studies, I have another option?  Would you like to stay here as part of the teaching staff.  You have quite a knack for that.”

“I would like that very much, sir.”

“Good.  I was hoping you’d say that.   Consider it done.   Now there’s one more thing.   Follow me.”

He led me to a small conference room.   There were some of my fellow students and the all the teachers.    And Cheryl was there.    And so were my parents.   What was all this?

A second later we were called to attention.    A one-star general walked into the room.   I’d never actually seen one before.    We all snapped salutes.   He answered and his aide told us to be at ease.   “Private Green?” he said.

“Yes, sir.  I  said standing.   He pointed to a position facing him.   I moved into position and stood at attention, not knowing what was going on.

The general produced a document.   “Jason Green, as a result of testing conducted at the Fort Rogers training center, and at the recommendations of his superiors, the Army com has made the determination that you possess exceptional maturity.   By my authority, I now bestow all the rights and privileges of an adult.   Congratulations.”

I was stunned.   I was no longer an immie.    “Further, as a result of your continued demonstration of leadership with your fellow students, you will be promoted to the rank of Sergeant.”    Again, I was stunned.   I had skipped from PFC right to sergeant.   I guess in part for the fact that the CO wanted to promote me earlier.   The general shook my hand.   A photo was taken.   

Then, everybody was up shaking my hand.    Cheryl was carrying something.

“I’ve got your proper uniform.”    She led me to a small empty office adjacent.   I pulled off the uniform romper.    She patted the diaper.   “I’m going to miss this,” she said.  

“I could wear one from time to time, just for you.”

I put on proper underpants and got into my uniform, trousers, and shirt.    The three sergeant stripes were already affixed.  It was odd wearing long pants and no diaper, for the first time in years.   We returned to the conference room.   I hugged my mom.   My dad shook my hand.  “I knew you could do it,” he said.

So, I finally got to be an adult.  It just three years from being declared an immie.   But I was happily married, an adult, with a military future.

I told Cheryl that now was the time for her to quit her job and go to law school.    We could swing it on the savings we had.   Cheryl had saved most of my enlistment bonus and the money from my parents.   She supplemented this with additional saving.    The Army had provided my diapers for the interim, and she deposited nearly all of my salary.    Once I entered the military, there was no immie tax either.

She said, “really?”

“Yes, we can do it.”

While law school was tough for Cheryl, she got through it, and Carla’s firm hired her back as an attorney this time.    Life was good.   And yes, from time to time, I put on the diaper for Cheryl and told her I needed to pee.  If she asked me too, I wet it for her.

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