A plan backfires. Part One

[dribblez]

This is my first story on this site, and it owes a great deal to two of my favourite authors here, Elfy and SallyKat. Apologies to both for what is probably a shadow of the real thing. Another more ambitious project is in the works, and I hope to learn some lessons from this first attempt. Feedback welcome.

 

Some unwelcome news….

 

“That’s, erm, really great,” Greg said. “Super exciting.” He tried hard to make it sound as though he meant it, and that he shared Anna’s joy at the news that his mother-in-law had put in a successful offer for the house next door. In reality he felt as though he’d been punched in the stomach.

Kathryn, or rather Dr Kathryn Schwarz as Greg tended to think of her, was now in her early sixties and retired, with too much time and too much money on her hands. Her highly successful career as a research scientist had culminated in a professorship and a very well paid position as a senior adviser to one of the world’s leading pharmaceutical giants. Her one and only husband had died many years previously, a couple of years after the birth of Anna, their only child.

Kathryn Schwarz now spent her time travelling and cultivating her stunning garden at the family home in southern California, and she was bored.

To Greg, Kathryn always induced what can best be described as imposter syndrome. She was rich, highly intelligent, sophisticated, always immaculately coiffured and dressed, and he felt that she could somehow see straight through him. He was inadequate and barely to be tolerated in her eyes, he felt.

Anna, on the other hand, was Kathryn’s princess, and surprise visits to the couple’s small flat in London had become increasingly frequent since the mother's retirement. 

“I just thought I would stop over for a couple of weeks on my way back from Bhutan/Sri Lanka/the Maldives (insert the name of any other exotic location where Kathryn had been spending her time),” she would say as Greg hauled his mother-in-law’s heavy and expensive luggage up the stairs to their flat.

And now, Anna explained, Kathryn planned to spend up to half a year enjoying the cultural delights of London and the rest of Europe from her base next door.

Naturally Kathryn had not just bought a flat in the building next door, but the entire three floors plus garden, and she now intended to convert the three flats it contained back into a single family home, complete with accommodation for a cook/housekeeper.

Needless to say, this was going to be a major renovation and design project, and Kathryn had told her daughter that she would have to live her (she forgot to mention Greg) while the work was carried out to her specifications.

Greg speculated that this would mean living with his mother-in-law for at least six months, and probably rather longer.

The prospect filled him with dread.

 

Kathryn moves in

 

Weeks went by while the lawyers completed the purchase of Number 8, Wellington Gardens until one day Anna announced that her mother would be arriving the following Monday to begin the renovation project by interviewing prospective architects, project managers and builders.

That left Greg with one final weekend of freedom for the foreseeable future, and he made plans for a couple of days of footie and heavy drinking.

Greg had met Anna at university, and having graduated and embarked on their respective careers, they had married shortly after their 24^th birthdays which both fell in May.

Anna worked in PR and was clearly headed for a glittering career; Greg worked in IT for a publishing house.

After four years of marriage the couple had no plans to start a family, although Anna sometimes toyed with the idea of what it might be like to have a baby. But there was still plenty of time, and she settled down into a routine of work and visiting art galleries and painting in her spare time.

Greg, on the other hand, never seemed to grow up. Ever since his teenage years, his passions had been playing football, or soccer as Anna insisted on calling it, going to watch his team play, and long, boozy sessions with his mates in the pubs and bars of north London.

For Greg Wednesday nights were practice nights, followed by a trip to a pub; Thursday nights usually found him out somewhere with his work colleagues; Friday nights were usually spent at home before he headed off to watch his team play on Saturdays, followed by post-match analysis over yet more beers. Sunday mornings saw Greg playing for the second team down at the park, followed once again by beers with his mates.

Unsurprisingly, Anna had come to feel neglected by her husband, and although he had tried to persuade her to come and join him and his mates for drinks on a Sunday lunchtime, she never felt comfortable in the company Greg kept, and so she stayed alone or headed off to one of her beloved art galleries.

Kathryn had been observing her daughter’s increasingly sterile and boring married life on her trips to London, and now she resolved that it was time to intervene. Anna clearly loved Greg, that much she knew, and as she settled into the small guest bedroom, Kathryn was confident that an extended stay with her daughter and son-in-law would give her scope to carry out more than one project.

 

The ten week project

 

Kathryn had spent her first couple of weeks busying herself with the building project, but that still left her with plenty of spare time during which she set about building up a social network and doing household chores to help her daughter while she was at work.

The household chores involved food shopping, a little light cleaning and doing the laundry for Anna and Greg.

It was while she stood folding a pile of freshly laundered clothes one day that Kathryn broached the subject of Greg with her daughter.

“How are things with Greg?” she asked. “He certainly seems to spend a lot of time kicking a ball around and consuming beers.”

Anna felt as though a dam had burst, as she poured out her long pent-up frustration and feelings of neglect.

“I love him, I really do,” she sobbed, “but it gets so lonely, and I don’t know what I can do to persuade Greg to spend more time together.”

Kathryn hugged her daughter and said, “I’ve been giving this some thought and I think I know what we need to do, but you are going to have to trust me 100% and do exactly as I say for this to work.”

“OK,” Anna replied, slightly nervously. “What do you have in mind?”

“In essence we need to work on Greg’s motivation so that rather than wanting to spend time with his friends drinking and playing soccer, he comes to understand that he is happier and feels more secure being with you. To the extent that he actually does not want to go out with his friends any more.”

Anna listened intently. This seemed to make sense, and she respected her mother’s experience and thoughtful approach.

“First things first,” Kathryn said, as she gestured to a pile of Greg’s colourful boxer briefs. “These have to go. Young men these days don’t like wearing plain white briefs, and Greg will probably be embarrassed to be seen wearing them in the locker room. It’s a small beginning, but it will unsettle him slightly. At the same time, you need to reward him for wearing more manly underwear, and that will mean conditioning him to associate your choice of underwear for him with sex.”

“OK,” said Kathryn. “I understand. But is there anything else?”

“Changing his underwear is just the first step of a ten week plan,” Kathryn explained. “In one of my last projects before retiring I supervised the development of a new drug for use in a specialised branch of urology. Essentially the drug gradually shrinks a patient’s bladder and reduces control. It is still pending approval, but extensive testing has shown very encouraging results, and one of my contacts has provided me with a supply.”

Anna looked worried. “I don’t want to hurt him or cause him any long-term damage. I could never do that.”

“Don’t worry. Greg will not experience any pain, and his loss of control will be gradual and in time, the evidence suggests that he will return to normal bladder function.”

After discussing the implications and details, Anna found herself agreeing to go with her mother’s plan, beginning immediately. Her first task was to head off to the shops while Greg was still away at soccer to buy six pairs of plain white men’s briefs. The boxers would go to recycling.

[Benjy]

Good Start.  Nice writing style. Please keep it up.

[kirababy]

good start, enjoying all the backstory, and see what is coming, yet no idea how it will unfold.

[SallyKAT]

That's an interesting start, and well written. Dr Kathryn Schwarz is clearly a clever lady. I wonder if her plan really will backfire, or whether she has an ulterior motive? The plot thickens!

Elfy's one of my favourite writers too, along with nautybaby.

 

 

[aldl4811]

Hmm interesting start and strong writing so far

[dribblez]

Thanks for the encouragement. Here's the next installment. I'm now away for a few days, so no more updates until the weekend.

 

Part Two - Weeks 1 to 3

Greg arrived home late that Saturday night, slightly the worse for wear after celebrating his team’s victory. He quietly slipped into bed besides his wife and was soon fast asleep.

The following morning, Greg was gently woken by Anna who had brought him a mug of fresh coffee.

“Ah thanks. I need that. You don’t normally treat me like this on a Sunday morning, but I think I could get used to it.”

The coffee contained the first tiny dose of what Kathryn called Mictulin. Each droplet would equate to an estimated 1% decline in bladder size and sphincter control, she said. For the first week, Anna was to administer just one drop every morning, leading to a 7% decline by the end of the first week. There would be no noticeable effect, she assured her daughter.

Having drunk his coffee, Greg headed for the shower, leaving his last remaining pair of pink boxer briefs on the floor. He was surprised to see Anna sitting on the bed waiting for him as he came back in naked.

“I went shopping yesterday, and decided to buy you a present,” Anna said. “Something to spice up our Sunday mornings.”

To Greg’s surprise, Anna produce a pair of white briefs from behind her back and beckoned her husband to come to her.

“WTF! When you said spice up, that’s the last thing I imagined,” he told her.

“You’ll see, big boy,” she said as she gently pulled the white underpants up Greg’s legs, before pushing him back onto the bed.

In truth, Greg was not very big, more a grower than a shower, thought Anna, as she began feeling his little limp cock through the cotton.

 

As she kissed her husband and gently massaged his cock, it did not take Greg long to come to the edge.

“Whoa! I’m gonna cum in my pants,” he moaned.

“Ssshhh. That’s all right, just lie back and let me do the rest,” Anna told him

Seconds later and it was too late. Greg had a large and growing wet spot on the front of his new briefs.

Anna held him tight and kissed him. “It’s OK, it’s OK. Just a little accident.”

Greg eventually cleaned himself up and went to his underwear drawer, only to find it empty except for a few pairs of identical white briefs.

“Where are all my boxers?” he asked Anna.

“In the recycling. I only want you to wear these from now on, and if you do, I promise you lots more special treats”.

Greg was stunned. This was not like Anna at all, he thought, but he had to admit that he had enjoyed their little play earlier. The problem now was that he was about to head off to play footie in the park, and he was sure that his mates would take the piss out of him for wearing tighty whiteys.

But he did not have a choice.

Greg had never really paid much attention to the underwear choices of the other players, but in the changing rooms he noticed that quite a few replaced their boxers with plain white briefs for the game, and nobody commented on his underpants.

The game over, the team headed back to the changing rooms and a shower. Greg showered with the rest and returned to get dressed.

“Nice pants Greg,” shouted Rob, one of his best mates.

“I know,” replied Greg. "All the rest are in the wash.”

Greg and the other players then made their way to the bar for a few drinks before heading home, and as so often one beer turned into two, and then three, and then four, and the atmosphere became increasingly loud and rowdy.

Suddenly someone yanked Greg’s shorts down to his ankles, exposing his white underpants to the rest of the bar.

There was a roar of laughter and calls of “tighty whiteys!” from the other customers.

Greg blushed and said “very funny”, as he quickly pulled his shorts back up.

He left shortly afterwards feeling slightly humiliated.

The rest of the week continued as usual, with Greg getting used to his new underwear. The only difference was that Anna initiated her new underpants sex game at every opportunity.

Greg thought to himself that if that was the price he had to pay for wearing white briefs, it was a price worth paying.

 

Week Two

 

On Sunday morning Kathryn told Anna to increase the Mictulin dose to two drops every morning. The result would be a 21% loss of bladder control by the end of the week, and it was possible that Greg would not notice any difference, she counselled.

And so the daily routine continued, interspersed with more underpants sex games, which Greg was really enjoying. So much so, that he began to have an erection every time he pulled on a clean pair of his new underwear.

He made sure that no one would pants him again after a game by wearing shorts with a belt, and life seemed good.

The only small embarrassment occurred on the following Saturday as Greg headed home after another night of celebrating his team’s success. As he walked down the long street he became aware of an increasing need to pee, and by the time he reached the front door, his hands were trembling as he put the key in the lock.

Greg sprinted up the stairs and again fumbled with the key to the door of the flat. As he did so, he felt a small spurt of pee escape into his pants, and by the time he had got to the bathroom, a second spurt had followed.

Greg’s shorts showed a wet spot the size of an orange as he went into the bedroom to get changed, only to find Anna waiting for him.

“Sssshhh, it’s OK. Just a little accident,” she purred as she initiated yet another game.

 

Week Three

 

Greg had his usual Sunday morning lie-in, as Kathryn discussed the plans for the coming week with her daughter.

“It’s all on track,” she said, before explaining that they would now reduce the dosage to one drop per day, with the target being a 28% loss by the end of the week.

“Again, he will hardly notice any difference, except that he may have to get up at night once or twice, and he will need to be careful with the beer. Another accident cannot be ruled out.”

And it turned out just as Kathryn said it would. Greg normally slept like a log all through the night, but this week he found himself having to get out of bed a couple of times to pee in the middle of the night.

On Thursday he went out with his colleagues from work as usual, and downed four pints before heading back home on the underground train.

With just one stop to go, the train came to a grinding halt in a tunnel, and nothing happened until the driver announced that there was a slight delay due to a signalling problem, but that they should soon be on their way again.

20 minutes went by, and Greg started to feel the effect of the beer. He crossed his legs.

Another 10 minutes went by, and Greg started to feel desperate. He stood up and unconsciously began to do a pee dance.

Suddenly the train lurched forward, and Greg lost control for a couple of seconds. He quickly sat back down and clenched. A wet spot was beginning to grow on the crotch of his chinos, and Greg was struggling not to wet himself any more.

By the time he reached the station, Greg was losing the battle, and as he sprinted up the stairs, he felt himself getting wetter and wetter. Out in the cool night air, his bladder finally released all that was left, and Greg was forced to walk home completely soaked.

Fortunately, it was dark, and he was just about to put the key into lock of the flat door when it was opened by Kathryn.

“Oh my, what have we here?” she exclaimed, eyeing Greg’s very wet trousers. “Looks like someone peed in their pants. You’d better take them off here, rather than trail urine through the flat,” she ordered.

Greg was about to protest, but one look from his mother-in-law told him that argument was futile.

Slowly he removed his wet chinos, and stood in his yellowish and now very cold wet underpants.

“Them as well,” she barked, before sending Greg to the bathroom to clean up.

Greg was mortified, but having showered, he soon found himself being comforted by Anna. It was really nothing. Accidents happen, and everything was going to be OK, she purred as she gently brought Greg to a climax in his clean white underpants.

 

[SallyKAT]

Good plot, dribblez! I'm looking forward to more.

[aldl4811]

really fun to read!

[kirababy]

enjoyed the additional chapters, and look forward to more

 

[Eagle0769]

This story is well written and fun to read.

I normal don't like forced stories but your writing for some reason

has me intrigued. The only sex this couple is having is his

wife jerks him off in his tighty whities?

[dribblez]

As promised, here is the next installment. Greg finds himself having to make a lot of adjustments to his lifestyle....

 

Part Three - Weeks Four, Five and Six

 

Week Four

 

“We’ll keep the dose at 1 drop for another week,” said Kathryn the following Sunday morning. “The target is 35%, which means more night time trips to the bathroom, and unless Greg has learned his lesson, at least another accident after drinking.”

As ever, Kathryn was right. Greg now found that he was having to get up once every night to pee. On Wednesday he decided to skip his usual post-training trip to the pub, and went straight home, where Anna was waiting to give him his usual reward.

On Thursday, Greg stayed for just one beer with his colleagues, and headed home early.

Anna was ecstatic that her mother’s plan was working so well.

On Friday morning, or as Kathryn would have it “33%”, Greg found himself only just making it into work without an accident.

“Boy, that was a close call”, he thought to himself as he did up his flies.

Saturday was football day as usual. This time it was an away game, and Greg was careful not to drink too much beer. Nevertheless, he did not quite manage it as he and his mates headed back to the train, and his jeans displayed a now familiar wet spot the size of an orange before Greg managed to make it to a toilet.

“Looks like you might want to wear a nappy next time”, one of Greg’s mates shouted. Greg blushed, and was relieved to see that the spot had dried by the time he reached his destination.

Anna spotted the yellow stain on Greg’s underpants, but decided to say nothing as she performed her usual ritual when Greg got back.

Sunday morning saw the usual weekly conference between mother and daughter as Greg slept.

“We’re going to double the dose again this week, which means 49% by next Sunday,” Kathryn told her daughter. “From now on, things are about to get interesting.”

 

Week Five

 

As with the previous Friday, Greg only just made it to work without an accident on Monday morning. On Tuesday he arrived with a small wet spot on his crotch. Miraculously, Wednesday morning passed off without incident, but Greg arrived home slightly damp.

Anna noticed as she removed his jeans. “Oh look darling, you’re already a little bit wet, and Mom has noticed that your underpants have been stained several times this last week.”

Greg blushed and felt a mixture of embarrassment and anger that his mother-in-law was now inspecting his underwear.

“It’s just once or twice, no big deal. It’s a guy thing.”

“No, you’re right,” soothed Anna. “It’s OK. It’s just that I think you might need a little bit of protection. I saw these things when I was out shopping today. They’re just little pads, a bit like the ones I have to wear when I’m having a period.”

Greg was really embarrassed now, and he looked in horror as his wife showed him a package of “guards” that her mother had purchased for him. She pulled one out of its plastic envelope.

“Look that’s all there is to it. Nobody will know, and it’s better than going around with damp underpants and having to worry about making it to the bathroom in time.”

Greg saw her point, but before he could say any more, Anna had started playing his favourite game through the damp cotton of his underwear.

Greg had a quick bite to eat afterwards and headed off for football practice, this time wearing a pad for the first time, despite some initial protests.

Nobody notice the slight extra bulge in Greg’s pants in the changing room, or if they did, nobody said anything.

Feeling slightly emboldened, Greg decided to stay for a beer after practice, and one beer became two before he left.

By the time he arrived home, the pad had absorbed several leaks, but it had done its job, much to Greg’s relief.

Anna praised him for keeping his pants dry, just as she embarked on yet another game which would only end up with Greg having an “accident” in his underwear.

Greg skipped after-work drinks on Thursday, but still arrived home with a wet pad. On Friday Anna gave him a spare pad to put in his rucksack. “Just in case”.

And he was glad that she had because Greg had arrived at work with a completely saturated guard.

To make matters worse, Greg had been having to get up every single night to relieve his bladder, and he was beginning to feel very tired.

On Saturday Greg had to leave the match early after he realised that his pad was leaking, and that he was wet between his legs.

On Sunday Kathryn announced that the dose would once again be reduced, and that the target for the week was 56%.

“I think we will see pretty much a repeat of this last week, but with slightly more frequent accidents.”

And she was right.

Greg was now taking two spare pads to work, and even then he had leaked a little into his underpants on a couple of occasions. Nothing too serious, and nothing too embarrassing, but it was a worry.

Greg started to think more and more about his slipping bladder control and how to manage it. At this rate he might soon need something more than pads, he told himself, but he quickly dismissed the thought.

For the first time, Greg had an accident at football practice. Not enough to embarrass himself, but he was glad of the spare pad in his bag after the session. Beers with the boys were not a good idea, he decided.

On Thursday Greg had to change his pad as soon as he arrived at work, and again after a long a very tedious staff meeting. He skipped the after-work drinks again, but still arrived home with a noticeable and growing wet spot on his chinos.

That evening Greg found himself in the middle of a family conference.

“I’m going to get straight to the point, Greg,” Kathryn began. “You have been wetting your pants more and more often, and we are going to need to do something about it. As you know, I have studied this field of medicine for many years, and in my professional opinion this is most likely a passing problem triggered by stress. The likelihood is that the symptoms will grow worse in the short term before you start to see an improvement.”

Greg objected. “I haven’t wet my pants, well, only once or twice, and the pads have been OK. I’m coping, and that’s the main thing.”

“He’s right, Mom,” Anna said. “Let’s not increase the pressure on poor Greg right now.”

“Well, if you are both sure about this, but I have my doubts,” Kathryn replied. “Anyway, I need a word with you Greg, in private.”

Greg was horrified, and he felt a small spurt of pee escape into his pad.

He looked at Anna, who smiled back sweetly and gave him an encouraging nod.

So he went with Kathryn into her bedroom where she reminded him that it was Anna’s birthday on Sunday.

“Oh shit. What with everything else going on, I clean forgot.”

“I thought as much,” said Kathryn. “So you and I are going to head off to the shops tomorrow to buy Anna a present. And I have booked a table for three for lunch on Sunday at Anna’s favourite restaurant.”

Somewhat relieved, Greg agreed and said good night to his mother-in-law. Needless to say, Anna was waiting for him in the bedroom for his favourite game.

Friday saw a repeat of the problems Greg had been having all week, except that this time Anna had given him a change of underwear and a fresh pair of chinos, just in case.

Just in case turned out to be a wise idea because Greg arrived at work with a very wet pad, damp underpants and some tell-tale spots on his trousers.

He was not going to be so lucky on Saturday.

 

 

 

Black Saturday and Week Six

 

After another fairly sleepless night which saw Greg having to get up twice, wetting his pad each time before he could get to the bathroom, Greg got ready to go shopping with his mother-in-law.

It was only a short distance to the mall, and so Greg decided that he did not need a spare pad or a change of underwear, despite Anna’s advice to the contrary.

Kathryn insisted on driving her shiny new BMW, and the first part of the shopping trip passed off without incident. Greg bought a beautiful bracelet for Anna on Kathryn’s advice, and after a couple more minor purchases, Kathryn suggested that they stop off for a coffee before going home.

Greg decided to order small coke rather than a coffee and was somewhat annoyed when a large coke arrived with Kathryn’s latte.

“You don’t have to drink it all if you are worried about wetting your pants,” Kathryn said in an unnecessarily loud voice as the waiter hovered.

“It’s OK. I’ll take that,” Greg said to the smirking waiter, hoping a thunderbolt would strike his mother-in-law dead as she sat slowly sipping her coffee.

Kathryn took so long to finish her small latte, that Greg had finished his huge coke without thinking by the time she was finally ready to go.

The pair headed back to the car and left the mall. Greg congratulated himself on surviving the trip without mishap and without strangling his mother-in-law, until she announced that she needed to go to HyperDM to buy a few things.

Greg sighed as Kathryn headed further away from home, and after a 30 minute grind through heavy traffic she pulled into the car park of the massive store.

HyperDM was the UK arm of a European retailing success that sold heavily discounted toiletries, scents and other products.

Greg was beginning to feel the effects of the coke and so duly followed Kathryn’s command to come with her, hoping that he would be able to use the store’s bathroom.

Once inside, Kathryn began a very leisurely stroll along the aisles, as Greg looked around for signs indicating the presence of a public toilet.

There were none.

“You haven’t listened to a word I’ve been saying, Greg. Now follow me. They stock some of Anna’s favourite brands here, and I’m going to help you choose them. Go and get a basket!”

Greg meekly headed back to the entrance and picked up a basket. Kathryn had meanwhile disappeared from view, and Greg spent what seemed like eternity trying to find her.

“Where have you been?” she snapped. “Now put these in the basket and come with me.”

Greg knew he was not going to be able to hold out much longer. “Um, Kathryn, I um need the bathroom. Urgently.”

“For God’s sake. It’s worse than having a child. Why didn’t you go before we left the mall? Well, you’re just going to have to hold on because they don’t have a bathroom here.”

Kathryn did not attempt to lower her voice, and several shoppers could not help but overhear the conversation. Greg was now holding his crotch and doing a pee dance.

“Come on Greg, they’re over there,” Kathryn boomed as she headed off to the perfume counter.

Greg took one step, but it was too late. A sudden spurt of pee caused him to clench, but seconds later he realised that a thin stream of pee was escaping into his pad. Then the dam burst and Greg’s pad was no match for the deluge. He was soon standing in a puddle of his own pee.

“Oh my God,” shouted Kathryn. “You’ve wet your pants again. Stay there while I get some help.”

Greg felt like running and running. Anything to get away from here, but he was too far from home, and it was too late to do anything about it.

Eventually Kathryn returned with a man who was about the same age as Greg.

“Hi, I’m Stephen, the deputy store manager. Don’t worry, we’re used to this. Now, let’s get you sorted out,” he said to Greg who was trying hard not to cry. “Come with me, and you too, madame.”

Stephen took Greg and Kathryn to a door marked “Private”, and swiped a card to let them in. “This is the staff room and toilets,” he said. “I think those shorts are a right-off, erm….?”

“Greg,” Kathryn replied. “His name is Greg.”

“OK, Greg. You stay here, and I’ll go and see what I can find. We don’t sell underwear or clothing here, but I can get you some trainer pants and as luck would have it, we are currently doing a promotion on a line of after-shave which includes some football shorts.”

Stephen returned after about 10 minutes carrying a couple of items. “Now, Greg, if you take off those wet things and clean yourself off with these baby wipes, I’ll make sure nobody comes in.”

Greg did as he was told, and his mother-in-law tore open the package Stephen had handed her, yanking out what looked like a large pair of padded white underpants with frills around the legs.

Greg pulled them up and found that the waistband came all the way to his navel.

Next came the shorts, which were, to Greg’s horror, genuine white football shorts that were verging on being transparent.

Kathryn bagged up Greg’s wet underpants and shorts, and the three headed out into the store.

Stephen took them to a checkout and handed the items to the lady, telling her quietly that the opened pack of incontinence pants were OK. “I showed them a sample,” he said.

Kathryn thanked him, while Greg stood staring at the floor, hoping it would swallow him up.

“Take care now,” Stephen smiled, and went back to work.

Kathryn and Greg headed for the door where a small girl asked her mother in a very loud voice, “Mummy, why is that man wearing a nappy?”

Kathryn laughed, as Greg sped back to the relative safety of the BMW.

The two sat in silence all the way home, with Greg on the verge of tears once more. He had never felt so humiliated.

As soon as they were back, Greg bounded up the stairs and headed for the bedroom, determined to tear off the hated trainer pants and shorts, only to find Anna putting away some clothes.

“Greg!” she cried, giving her husband a tight hug and several kisses. “It’s OK, It’s all OK.”

The pair spent a long time in each other’s arms, with Anna stroking Greg’s hair and calming him down. At length, her hand travelled down to his crotch, and she began massaging his limp and rather unimpressive willy before she led her husband into the bedroom.

“Oh God,” sighed Greg, as he surrendered himself once again, eventually exploding into his dry trainer pants.

That evening Anna and Greg went out for dinner at a new place just a short walk from the flat. Anna said he would not need his trainers, if he did not want to wear them. “It’s a five minute walk and you can use the bathroom there. But I think you should wear a pad. Just in case.”

Greg was relieved and managed to stay dry the whole time.

After his day from hell, Greg felt almost triumphant.

The following morning it was time for the usual mother-daughter conference.

“Week seven, and everything is on course,” Kathryn declared. “We go back up to two drops per day, and the target for next Sunday is 70%. Greg will have to go into pullup diapers from today, but we’ll call them special trainer pants. He will also need to take spares to work.”

Kathryn added that she did not expect a bedwetting this week, but that it would be wise to take precautions. “I bought a mattress protector and plastic undersheet for Greg,” she said. “He may not need it, but it’s best to be safe. He will however be very tired by the end of the week.”

Anna reminded her mother that she was due to go to a conference the following weekend, and hoped that she would be able to look after Greg.

“No problem at all. You won’t need to worry about a thing. Greg will be just fine.”

[Pierry Louys]

Great chapter!!!

[SallyKAT]

It's going well, dribblez!  : )

[dribblez]

Thanks Sally. The MIL from hell is about to make Greg's week a whole lot worse.

[Pierry Louys]

Now I am ansious to see more ! Are planing to post next weekend?

[dribblez]

A day off today, so here for Pierry is another installment.

 

 

Week Seven and another shopping trip

 

Anna took her husband his morning coffee.

“Just what I need,” said Greg. “I’m shattered.”

Greg had been up three times that night and had had to change his pad after the second visit to the bathroom. He was looking the worse for wear.

“Just relax, and enjoy the day,” Anna said, initiating what had now become a familiar ritual as she began stroking Greg’s penis.

Today was a major milestone, Anna thought, because Greg’s briefs were now about to become redundant, although it had probably not yet occurred to him that his big boy underwear was no longer adequate, even with increasingly frequent changes of pads. It was to be pullups from now on, and then, who knows….

Greg drank his coffee and showered. Anna was waiting for him on his return with his clothes and a pullup laid out on the bed.

“Anna, what the hell? I’m not wearing those!”

“I think it would be best, Greg. It’s a long drive out to the restaurant, and it’s better to be safe. You won’t need to worry about having an accident, and nobody will know what you are wearing apart from me.”

“And your mother, no doubt,” Greg said despondently.

“Mom is just trying to help, and she only wants what’s best for the both of us. And anyway, you’re going to need to wear these at work from now on, at least until you start to recover control. This will give you a chance to get used to them and to see that nobody will be any the wiser. Now slip these on.”

Greg gave in again, and then pulled on a pair of black dress pants. He inspected himself in the mirror and agreed that nobody could tell he was wearing anything out of the ordinary. And he had to admit that the new underpants were warm and soft. Quite comfortable, in fact.

Greg had a small accident on the way to the restaurant, and another slightly larger accident on the way home, but the trainer pants did their job. Anna duly gave him another reward for being so sensible.

As he slid beneath the duvet that night, Greg notice that there was something different about the bed. It crinkled slightly.

“Just in case,” he thought, and was soon fast asleep.

Greg would have slept like a log all through the night, but his bladder woke him three times, and each time he leaked on the way to the bathroom.

On Monday Greg went to work in a pullup for the first time, assured by Anna and a glance at the mirror that nobody would know. She put a spare and a small pack of baby wipes into his rucksack, “just in case”.

Tuesday was the same. Greg had not needed the spare, but was glad that the pullups had saved him from embarrassment on more than one occasion.

On Wednesday Greg decided to miss his football training. He could hardly turn up to the changing rooms in his new underwear.

On Thursday Greg stayed with his colleagues for just one small coke, dutifully arriving home in time for dinner, slightly damp but with his dignity intact.

On Friday Anna left for her conference, and Kathryn had some of her friends over for supper. She was a good cook, and Greg wolfed down his fresh pasta and pannacotta before heading for the bedroom where he had decided to spend a couple of hours online.

And that was the last thing Greg remembered before waking with the X-box controller still in his hand in what felt like a very cold and clammy bed. Gingerly, Greg put his hand under the covers, only to have his worst fears realised. He had wet the bed.

Quickly, Greg stripped the sheet. The duvet had somehow escaped. He showered and wiped down the plastic sheet with a couple of babywipes, before getting dressed in a pullup and a pair of shorts.

Greg took the sheet to the washing machine in the kitchen, and was about to put it in when Kathryn appeared.

She looked at the laundry, but said nothing and told Greg she would make him a coffee.

By Kathryn’s calculations, Greg had now lost 70% of his bladder function. Bedwetting and daytime accidents were now to be expected, and she was pleased to note from the subtle rustle and shape of his underwear under his shorts that Greg had now accepted his need for diapers, or at least training pants.

She made a mental note to remove Greg’s now redundant big boy underpants from their drawer.

Breakfast over, Kathryn announced that they needed to go shopping again. “The supermarket first, and then we need to get you some more supplies for day and night.”

Greg blushed before making a feeble attempt to escape. “Do I really have to? You know what I need. Can’t I just stay here for once?”

“No, Greg. You need to be involved and take control of your situation. Now get yourself ready.”

Once again Kathryn insisted on driving, and she spent what seemed like an eternity going round the supermarket. Greg now needed the bathroom, and had leaked a little into his pullup, but Kathryn insisted that he help her bag up the groceries first and take them to the car.

“I think we’ve earned ourselves a coffee and a croissant,” she announced, and headed back to the store with Greg trailing behind her.

Once in the café, Kathryn said in her annoyingly loud voice, “If you want to go to the men’s room, I’ll get these things.”

Greg shifted uncomfortably. “It’s OK, I’ll wait,” he said.

“Well, if you’re sure. I don’t want any more accidents,” Kathryn broadcast. A couple of heads turned and two teenage girls sniggered.

Eventually Kathryn and Greg sat down at a small table and Kathryn set out the cups and croissants.

“Um, Kathryn. I, um, need a change,” Greg whispered.

“Change? What do you need change for? I’ve got some coins here if you want.” As usual Kathryn spoke in an unnervingly loud voice.

“No, a change. You know.” Greg blushed.

“Ah, why didn’t you say?” Kathryn rummaged around in her bag and pulled out a pullup.

Anyone watching would have seen what was in her hand, but Greg snatched it and fled to the men’s room.

Fortunately, there was no one else there, and Greg quickly locked himself into a cubicle, pulled his shorts down and tore off the now well-used pullup. He did not have any baby wipes, so improvised with some toilet paper, pulled up his shorts and headed out.

The coast was still clear, Greg noted with relief. He quickly disposed of the used pullup in the bin, washed his hands and rejoined his mother-in-law.

Kathryn could not help noticing that in his hurry Greg had not checked his clothing and that the waistband of his pullup was clearly visible between the top of his shorts and the bottom of his t-shirt which was caught up in his underwear. She decided not to embarrass him further by pointing it out.

 “Right, one last stop and then home,” said Kathryn as they pulled out of the car park.

To Greg’s horror the one last stop was the scene of his humiliation last Saturday: HyperDM.

Greg meekly followed Kathryn in, relieved that at least this time he would not end up wetting his pants for all to see.

“Now, where’s that very helpful young man? Stephen was it?” bellowed Kathryn.

Greg blushed.

Kathryn went to the customer service desk and asked for Stephen who arrived about five minutes later.

“Good morning. And welcome back. It’s Greg, isn’t it? And, um, Mrs….?”

“Schwarz,” barked Kathryn. “Dr Schwarz”.

“What can I do to help you today?” Stephen asked.

“We need some advice on the best products to handle Greg’s little problem,” Kathryn said. “So we’ll need the incontinence section.”

Greg blanched, hoping that nobody had heard his foghorn of a mother-in-law.

Stephen led them to the incontinence aisle, and asked “day and night?”

Greg stammered, “um, yes. Day and night.”

Stephen explained that incontinence products came in different sizes and levels, depending on the extent of ‘continence issue’. “Is it urinary or…?”

“Just loss of bladder control,” yelled Kathryn, as though Stephen were deaf.

“It’s just a temporary thing, and it’s not that bad,” Greg said trying to get the experience over and done with.

“In that case, I recommend something like this,” said Stephen, pulling out a pack of Tena pullups.

“No. That’s what he’s wearing now, and he’s already gone through three so far today,” snorted Kathryn.

Greg was about to protest that it was only two, but thought better of it. At that moment Kathryn dropped her purse on the floor. “Pick it up for me, will you Greg?”

Greg bent down to retrieve the very expensive-looking black leather object.

“I see,” said Stephen who noticed Greg’s waistband peeking above his shorts. “In that case we are talking about what is called a fitted brief. Something like this.”

Stephen took down a pack of M4s. “These are discreet if worn with loose fitting trousers, and yet will give you the protection you need.”

Kathryn inspected the package and declared herself satisfied.

“For night time use, I would recommend the same product but with a stuffer and plastic pants,” Stephen said knowledgeably.

Kathryn insisted on close inspection of all of the products before instructing Greg to go fetch a trolley.

Greg had been hoping the ground would swallow him up, and worse still, he had started leaking into his pullup again. Stephen noticed the pee dance.

Greg returned with the trolley, and Kathryn loaded it up with six packs of diapers, five pairs of plastic pants in plain white and three packs of stuffers.

“I need to go and do some shopping of my own now,” she told the two men, “so if you take these to a checkout, I’ll see you back at the car.”

With that, Kathryn turned on her heels and disappeared down another aisle.

“She’s quite formidable, your, um…”

“Mother-in-law,” replied Greg.

“Look, Greg, you probably have not worn one of these before and there is a knack to putting them on. If you like, I can take you to the office and show you. The manager is off today, and there’s nobody else there.”

Greg was taken aback by Stephen’s offer, and struggled to reply. “I, um, I ….”. It suddenly occurred to Greg that he really could do with a change, and so he reluctantly agreed to accept the invitation, all the time wondering how Stephen seemed to know so much about these products.

“OK, thanks. That would be, um, useful,” he replied.

Stephen used his card to open the door, and he took a pack of the nappies and one of stuffers with him.

The door closed behind them, and Stephen turned to Greg.

“If it’s any help, Greg, I know how embarrassing and difficult this is for you. Incontinence in younger men is not as rare as you might think. I’m in the same boat as you, more or less. Although I don’t have a bossy mother-in-law.”

This broke the ice a little, and Greg laughed nervously. To his surprise Stephen unzipped his work trousers to reveal a white nappy with a slightly blurred blue line down the front.

“It’s a long story,” said Stephen. “But now you know.”

“I see,” said Greg. And unprompted he dropped his shorts to reveal a clearly very wet pullup. Stephen handed him some wipes and looked away, as Greg tore off the pullup and cleaned himself up.

Stephen then opened the M4s and took one out, fluffing it up slightly before handing it to Greg, staring diplomatically at the ceiling.

Stephen then took Greg through the steps, explaining to him how to add a stuffer at night.

“Let’s have a practice run,” he suggested.

After a few minutes of fumbling, Greg stood before Stephen in his first adult nappy.

“Not bad for a first attempt,” said Stephen, adjusting the tapes to tighten the fit. “You’ll soon get the hang of it.”

The two men left the office, with the now opened packs of Abena M4s and the stuffers, and Stephen told Greg to follow him. I’ll put these through for you. I think you’ve had enough embarrassment for one day.”

Greg thanked Stephen who handed him the receipt and a small card as he left to go and find Kathryn.

Greg looked at the card and saw that it had a mobile number and a message. “Call me anytime if you want to talk,” it said.

Greg turned to look at Stephen who winked back at him before disappearing into the store.

 

[Pierry Louys]

Wonderful chapter as always !!! Greg is finally back to nappies and have found a playmate !! I can only imagine the both wearing onesies and playing together in a playmat heheheh

 

ps now I want more like a spoiled toddler rsrs 

hope you give more until weekend

[dribblez]

? You may be in luck.

[dribblez]

Week Eight

Anna was due to return from her conference around midday on the Sunday, by which time Kathryn had already given Greg his daily dose of Mictulin. Worried that her daughter might be starting to get cold feet, Kathryn resolved to keep Greg on two drops which meant that by the end of the week he would have lost 84% of his bladder function. To all intents and purposes Greg was about to lose what little control he still had of his bladder.

Anna would return to find that her husband was now in thick diapers 24/7, for how long Kathryn seemed very vague.

As Kathryn had expected, Greg had wet his diaper overnight, but he had at least slept for a full nine hours.

Football and football practice were now out of the question for Greg, as was beer drinking with his mates.

Kathryn congratulated herself on completing the project ahead of schedule and rescuing her daughter’s marriage. She had supervised Greg’s diapering after breakfast and a shower before introducing him to a barrier cream and powder, “to prevent any nasty rashes,” she explained.

As it was a warm day, Greg pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, although he had absolutely no intention of going out in his nappy. Anyone who looked would have noticed Greg’s padded state, his rounded crotch and puffy backside, but nobody except for Kathryn and Anna was going to see him, he thought, and they knew the truth anyway.

Unlike his mother-in-law, Greg was feeling very low. Somehow his life had been turned upside down since her arrival.

At that moment his friend Rob texted him. “Hi Greg. Coming down the park today?”

“Sorry, no can do.” Greg replied.

“You OK?” came back the reply.

“Yeah, fine.”

“See you later,” Rob replied.

Greg felt like crying. No more football. No more nights out with the lads. Just nappies. He put his hand into the pocket of his shorts and felt Stephen’s card.

Greg thought long and hard before composing a message. “Hi Stephen. Can we meet up for a drink? Greg.”

“A bit tied up for the next couple of days. Annual stock-take. How about Thursday night?” came the reply minutes later.

Greg and Stephen went on to arrange to meet up in a quiet bar a couple of miles away from where Greg lived.

Not long after that heard the door buzz. No doubt it was one of Kathryn’s friends, he thought, and he decided to stay in the safety of the bedroom.

“Greg, it’s someone for you,” he heard Kathryn shout. Before he could think what to do, the bedroom door opened and Greg was shocked to see his friend Rob standing behind his mother-in-law.

“I’ll leave you two boys to it. If you go into the living room, I’ll bring you both a coffee.”

Greg was flustered, and Rob opened up.

“Hi buddy. Yeah, I could do with a coffee. Let’s take her up on her offer.”

Greg followed his friend into the living room, hoping that Rob would not notice the rustling coming from his shorts.

“What’s up?” Rob asked. “Are you sure you’re OK?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Greg. “Just a temporary thing, but it’s going to put me out of action for a little while. No footie and no beer for a few weeks.”

At that moment, Kathryn came in carrying a tray. “My back is a little stiff this morning, Greg. Be a darling and put the tray down on that little table for me, will you?”

Greg stood up without thinking, took the tray and as he bent down, Rob could not help but notice that his friend seemed to wearing what looked very much like a nappy. He decided not to ask any more awkward questions and said simply, “I see, mate. No problem. If you don’t want to talk to me about it, I understand, but if you do, you know you can trust me. We’ve been friends for too long to let anything get in the way.”

Greg thanked his best mate, and the two men settled down to talk football.

Eventually, Rob looked at his watch and said he’d better leave, or he would be late for the game. Greg stood up to show his friend to the door and felt a sudden warmth spread across his crotch.

“Remember Greg, if you want to talk just pick up the phone.” And with that he was gone.

Anna arrived home from her conference a couple of hours later, by which time Greg’s diaper had swollen further, creating an unmistakeable bulge on the front of his shorts.

Greg was relieved to see his wife and he gave her an unusually long and tight hug. Anna felt his crotch and whispered in his ear that she thought he needed a change before leading him to the bedroom.

Obediently Greg pulled down his shorts and lay back on the bed. Anna undid the tapes, commenting that the diaper probably had a couple more hours of use left in it before telling Greg that she had missed him, and that he deserved a little treat.

After she had cleaned up her husband and re-diapered him, Anna said, “Greg, I’ve been thinking. I know this is not easy for you, and that adjusting to wearing diapers for a while is going to take some getting used to, so I think you should take a couple of days off work with me, and we can have some fun together. What do you say?”

Greg had been dreading the prospect of going to work in a nappy and dealing with the logistics of his new condition. Anything that postponed the challenge was a no-brainer, he felt.

After a delicious lunch cooked by Kathryn, Anna persuaded Greg to head out to the country for a walk. “There should not be too many people there, and it will be lovely to spend some time together, just the two of us,” she said.

Greg replaced the revealing shorts with some looser fitting jeans, and Anna packed a spare diaper, cream, wipes, powder and a pair of loose fitting cotton shorts in her husband’s backpack, “just in case”.

Greg was a little damp after the 45 minute journey, and the two set off, hand-in-hand, for a walk along a river and through some woods.

Anna was ecstatic. She had got her husband back, and the plan had worked like a dream. As the couple entered a secluded meadow, Anna pulled out a bar of chocolate. “Let’s sit down for a few minutes and enjoy the moment,” she suggested.

Greg lay back in the grass and let out a sigh. It was as though all the frustration and anxiety of the last few weeks was ebbing away.

“Just a quick diaper check,” Anna said as she unzipped Greg’s jeans. “You’ll have to get used to doing this when I’m not around.” With that she put a finger into the legs of Greg’s diaper and gently squeezed his crotch. “Not too bad. I think you’ll make it home without a change,” she announced.

And Anna was right, although Greg was very wet by the time they arrived back at the flat.

The following morning Greg called his boss to ask for a couple of days off because “something unexpected had come up”, and Anna did the same.

After a lazy morning and leisurely breakfast, Anna and Greg went off for the first time in years to shop for food together. Before they left the supermarket, Anna asked her husband if he thought he needed a change.

“I think I probably do,” he admitted, and for the first time he changed himself in a restroom for the disabled.

That evening, the pair went for a walk in the park, and the following day they visited one of Anna’s favourite art museums before having dinner and going to the cinema. Greg needed two changes during the day, but congratulated himself on managing his new underwear. No leaks, and nobody had said anything to him about his nappies even if they had noticed, which he felt confident they had not.

The long weekend which had begun so horrifically for Greg ended on a much happier note, and despite some slight nervousness, the couple of days spent with Anna had convinced him that he could manage his nappies at work.

Greg could no longer keep count of his accidents, and sometimes he did not even notice that he was adding dribbling small amounts of pee into his warm nappy. In a strange way, he found that he was almost beginning to enjoy the feelings of warmth and security below his waist.

He decided to make an excuse and cancel his night out with Stephen. “Stay in touch, I’m here if you need someone to talk to,” Stephen replied.

And so another Sunday came round. Mother and daughter held their usual weekly conference. “We’ll take him up to 91% this week and complete the cycle next week,” Kathryn announced.

“I’m really not sure, Mom. The plan has worked so well, and I don’t see the point in removing what is left of Greg’s control.”

Kathryn was insistent. “We’ve got this far, and Greg is beginning to accept his new status. The risk is that control could begin to return too soon, and all of our work will be undone. We’ve got to see this through for both of your sakes.”

Anna reluctantly agreed to one more week, and Kathryn handed her a fresh bottle of Mictulin.

 

 

 

 

[Pierry Louys]

Good chapter and his mother in law is sooo evil rsrs 

[Sarah Penguin]

[dribblez]

Greg's story comes to an end.

 

Week Nine – The Shock

Greg was surprised at how quickly he was adjusting to his new, nappied life. Not that he had any choice, but he noticed that he was now able to change himself much more quickly and assuredly than a week ago, and he was much more adept at telling when he needed a change. If any of his colleagues had noticed that he was now wearing thick, disposable underwear, nobody said anything except for a few comments, some less polite than others, that his presence with the team for their weekly Thursday night drinks was missed.

He now had very little control left, and hardly noticed the many dribbles and trickles of urine making their way into his pants.

Anna had ordered him some extra thick night time diapers with childish prints on them, and he had to agree that this was a good move because he had leaked a few times at night, despite sleeping on his back.

The days and nights ticked by in what was now an established routine until Thursday evening when Greg arrived home with a thumping headache. Anna was not yet back from work, and Kathryn was over at her new house supervising the renovation, which was now in full swing.

Greg went to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom to find some tablets for his headache and began hunting through Anna’s huge stock of tablets and bottles to find some aspirin. As he did so, a small bottle containing clear liquid caught his eye. Mictulin, it said on the label. “Strictly not to be taken without medical supervision,” it said.

Greg put it back, wondering what that was all about, and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water to help down his aspirin.

Still puzzled by the mystery bottle, Greg sat down and googled the name Micturin. There were very few entries, but what he read left him in a state of shock.

His descent into incontinence had been planned and engineered, and there were no prizes for guessing who had done it.

Greg returned to the bathroom and put the small bottle in his jeans pocket, before going back to the living room where he sat with his head in his hands. His emotions were a mixture of shock, anger, sadness and betrayal, and he began sobbing uncontrollably.

How long he sat like this, Greg did not know. He had lost track of time, but eventually logic began to assert itself. It was clear, he thought, that he could not stay in the flat. He had to get out for the sake of his sanity and his health.

He quickly went to the bedroom and packed a few shirts, trousers, plastic pants, socks and a pile of nappies and stuffers. He almost ran to the bathroom and hurriedly packed a few essential toiletries and then left the flat as quickly as he could before Anna or Kathryn returned.

Luck was on his side for once because no sooner had he stepped out onto the street than he was able to hail a passing taxi.

Greg had no idea where he was going or what he was going to do, but somehow he managed to name a quiet bar a couple of miles away, and as he put his hand in his pocket to pull out his phone he felt the outline of the card Stephen had given him.

In desperation, Greg sent a text to the number. “Hi mate. Can we meet up? Golden Eagle, Haley Street N3. Don’t know what to do. Greg.”

He needed to talk to someone, anyone, and the very little Greg had seen of Stephen told him that here was someone who would at least be sympathetic. Failing that, he would just head for a hotel room somewhere where he could cry his eyes out.

The taxi was nearing its destination when Greg’s phone pinged with a reply from Stephen:

“No probs. On my way now. See you in 10.”

Greg paid the taxi driver and took his small bag into the bar where he ordered a whisky. He would have ordered something for Stephen, but realised he had no idea what his new friend liked.

He did not have to wait long on his own, and Stephen recognised Greg straight away.

“Hi Greg. I came as quickly as I could. What’s happened?”

Greg ordered a couple more whiskies and the two went and sat in a quiet corner of the bar.

“It’s hard to know where to begin,” Greg sighed, and slowly, tears brimming in his eyes, he told Stephen the whole story.

Stephen was stunned. “That mother-in-law of yours is one helluva bitch. I think you should go to the police.”

Greg thought for a moment. “No. Not yet. Kathryn is incredibly dominating, but I still find it hard to believe that she got Anna into this. I love…I loved Anna, and despite everything I don’t want to hurt her. It’s the betrayal and deceit that are so hard to accept.”

The two guys talked for a while longer before Stephen took the initiative.

“Look Greg, you can’t go back there. Not yet. It’s not safe. Have you got anywhere to go?”

“I’m going to put up in a hotel for the night and take it from there.”

“It’s up to you, but I’ve got room at my place. You are welcome to come back to mine until you get things sorted. It’s basic, but it’s a roof over your head, and I’d be glad of the company.”

Greg looked at his new friend in surprise and gratitude. “You don’t have to do this. That’s not why I texted you. Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Let’s go. I’ll fix us something to eat, and I suspect that we could both do with a change. I know I do.”

Stephen’s flat was about a half mile walk from the bar, and they were soon inside. It was not big, but it was clean and comfortable, Greg noted.

“Take a seat while I go and get changed. I didn’t have time before I left, and things are sagging a bit down there,” Stephen said.

A few minutes later, Stephen came back into the living room wearing just a T-short and fresh nappy.

“I hope you don’t mind. This is how I relax at home.”

Greg laughed for the first time. “I can hardly complain, can I?”

“I’ve left you a fresh nappy in the bathroom. Help yourself. One of the few advantages of my job is that I get a good staff discount. It comes in very handy.”

Greg took Stephen up on his offer and emerged a few minutes later wearing nothing but his nappy and his white T-shirt.

Stephen disappeared into the kitchen to knock up some pasta, and the two continued chatting and getting to know each other.

Dinner over, they settled down with a couple of cans of beer. Greg had avoided beer, and indeed any alcohol, for what felt like an eternity, and it soon made itself felt not just in his nappy but also in his fragile emotional state.

He could not help himself, but the trauma of his earlier discovery and Stephen’s kindness overwhelmed him, and he began sobbing like a small child.

Stephen quietly moved closer to his new housemate and put his shoulder under Greg’s head. The couple remained like that for a long time.

Greg eventually sat up and apologised.

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for,” his friend said. “I think we should try to get some sleep. It’s getting late, and I’ve got to go to work tomorrow. You can have my bed, and I’ll curl up here on the sofa.”

Stephen would not hear of anything else. You need the sleep more than I do right now. Go and get youself changed, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

The alcohol and Greg’s physical and mental exhaustion gave him a surprisingly good night’s sleep, and he emerged rubbing his eyes into the kitchen where Stephen was making some coffee.

As he did so, he gave Greg a spare key to the flat, and asked him what he was going to do.

“I’ve decided to go to work as well. Are you really sure about letting me stay here?”

“100%,” replied Stephen. “You can stay as long as you like.”

After a shower and a change, Greg was ready to leave but he realised he had left his backpack back at the flat. Stephen had a spare, and so he was all set for what under the circumstances was going to be a strangely ordinary day.

Meanwhile, Anna was beside herself with worry. She had not heard anything from Greg, and Kathryn was none the wiser. In the morning she noticed that Greg’s razor and toothbrush were missing, although his backpack was still in the hall.

He had not replied to any of her texts or calls until, at around 8.30 the following morning, he sent her a message saying simply, “Staying at a friend’s for a couple of nights. Greg.”

On Friday evening Greg announced that he had been food shopping and that it was his turn to make dinner. Stephen suggested that they had a night in with a few beers and the X-box.

The two chatted away as though they had known each other for years until Greg said, “Stephen, can I ask you something? Are you gay?”

Stephen laughed. “Yes, I am. Does it bother you? And you needn’t worry. You’re safe with me, young man.”

“It doesn’t bother me in the slightest,” Greg replied. “I think you are a great guy, by the way.”

And to Stephen’s surprise, Greg planted a small kiss on his forehead.

Stephen had that Saturday off, and the two guys tidied up the flat before heading out for a long walk through the park.

The fresh air and Stephen’s company were what Greg needed, and when they arrived home, Greg said he wanted to talk about where he was going from here.

“First, I need to go back to the flat to get some more clothes and stuff. With any luck, Kathryn will be bossing the workers around in the new house, and it will give me an opportunity to talk to Anna alone.”

“What are you going to tell her?” Stephen asked.

“That I know about the Mictulin, and that I can never trust her again. Our marriage is over, and we are going to have to sort this mess out. Also I never want to see her mother again, unless it’s in court.”

“Wow,” Stephen said. “For what it’s worth, I think you are dead right. Do you want me to come with you for support?”

“It's OK. I’ve got to handle this on my own.”

“How about if I drive you over and wait outside?” Stephen asked.

And together they went on to flesh out a plan.

Later that afternoon, the two guys drove over to Wellington Gardens. Greg had texted Anna while they were on their way and told her that he wanted to talk to her alone.

This was going to be one of the most difficult and important conversations of Greg’s life.

As Greg had hoped, Kathryn was out, no doubt laying down the law at her new house. He told Anna that he was not staying, and that he wanted to pack a few things before  they talked.

The tears rolled down Anna’s face, still unsure of what was happening.

After about half an hour, Greg hauled a huge and heavy suitcase into the hall.

“We need to talk,” he said coldly.

The couple sat down in the kitchen. “I’ll get straight to the point. I found this when I came home on Thursday, he said, pulling out the bottle, “and I did some research. I can’t believe that you would do something like that to me.”

Anna felt as if she had been hit by a speeding truck. “I, I, I....,” but words failed her. She began sobbing.

“Anna, it does not take a degree on quantum physics to work out what has been going on. You don’t even need to tell me. I have all the evidence I need, and I’m not going to make this meeting any longer or more painful than it needs to be. Our marriage is over. How could I ever trust you again? We’re both going to have to get lawyers involved to sort out the property, and I will be filing for divorce. As for your mother, I am thinking of going to the police tomorrow. Make sure she hears that. You need to talk things through with her tonight, and if she has any ideas of flying back to the States before this is sorted, I guarantee that I will go to the police. Got it? Call me at 11 tomorrow morning.”

Greg closed the kitchen door as he left and hauled his heavy suitcase and his backpack down to Stephen’s waiting car.

 

Week Ten

“How did it go?” Stephen asked as they settled in to the drive back to his flat.

Greg gave him a blow by blow account, adding, “Let’s see what happens tomorrow.”

That evening Greg and Stephen went out for a meal and returned home for a few beers.

“Can I ask you something else?” Greg said. “How did you end up in nappies?”

Stephen’s Story

“There’s not much to tell, really,” Stephen began. “Three years ago I got a job with HyperDM as they began opening their first stores in the UK. I had never heard of them before, but they paid well and in the induction they explained that their plan was a very aggressive move to take business from existing retailers with wafer-thin profit margins. That meant keeping staffing levels to an absolute minimum. Our hard work would be rewarded, they said, but loyalty had to be unconditional.”

“The jobs market was tight at the time, and the new branch manager was completely ruthless. She quickly sorted out the team that she wanted, and told us that part of the deal was a half hour break, and no more. Not a minute extra. She drew up a rota to ensure that no more than one employee had their break at any time.”

“That meant working five and sometimes six hours without a break. Completely illegal, of course, but she made it clear that there was no room for compromise. Anyone who felt they could not last six hours without a toilet break would have to wear a nappy, and we had to buy our own nappies, although we did get a good discount.”

“The only opportunity we had to change was during our half hour break, and as you can probably imagine, after a few months we got used to being padded up. Eventually I started having wetting accidents when I was off work, and after about 18 months I was 24/7.”

“At that point, the manager left and was replaced by Simon, my current boss. He did not realise what had been going on at first, but he was horrified when he found out. Staff are now allowed toilet breaks, within reason, but for those of us who started out when the store opened, it was too late.”

“To be honest, it’s surprising how quickly you get used to wearing, and even after all this time, there’s a part of me which enjoys the feeling of security they give you. I could have tried potty training, I suppose, but it’s difficult, and so that’s where I am now.”

“There are advantages, of course. I never have to worry about finding a toilet in a hurry, but it can get a bit warm in the summer. The biggest downside has been my love life, though. I used to date guys, but I have not had the confidence to do that for the last couple of years. Who wants a guy in nappies?”

Greg had been listening quietly as his friend spoke. The sad look on Stephen’s face at the end was almost overwhelming. Greg planted a kiss on Stephen’s lips, and held him tight.

“Let’s go to bed. It’s getting late,” Greg said.

For the first time they shared Stephen’s bed. “Just hugs,” said Greg. “And kisses.”

The new friends fell asleep in each other’s arms.

 

Sunday morning

Greg was clearly on edge as the minutes ticked away to 11 o’clock and the fateful call with Anna.

Stephen massaged his friend’s shoulders and did his best to calm his nerves as they waited.

Things were no different in Greg’s old home where for the first time in her life Anna had confronted her mother. The plan, which had seemed to be working so well, had backfired spectacularly and turned the lives of everyone involved upside down.

At first Kathryn had been angry and defiant. Greg had got what he deserved, and anyway Anna had enthusiastically gone along with the plan. If there was blame, Anna bore just as much responsibility as anyone else, she declared.

Mother and daughter argued and weighed up their options until late that night, and it gradually dawned on Kathryn that Greg, pathetic, useless Greg, held her fate in his hands. If he went through with his threat to go to the police her reputation would be trashed in court, and she could even end up in jail.

Eventually the two women reached agreement on a proposal which, they hoped, would enable all three of them to salvage what they could from this disaster.

Greg’s phone rang at one minute past eleven, and he shut himself away in Stephen’s bedroom, prepared for a long and difficult conversation.

He listened quietly as Anna outlined the course of action she and her mother had agreed, and the two then calmly discussed next steps. It was all over within ten minutes, largely because Greg had stuck to his guns and insisted that they avoid discussing who was to blame and that it was time for everyone to move on. There was no going back, he said.

The call over, Greg returned to the living room where his friend was waiting. Greg began confidently as he explained what had been agreed, but the immense stress and tension that had been building all morning eventually overwhelmed him, and he burst into tears in Stephen’s arms.

The two guys remained like this for a long time until Stephen gently felt the front of Greg’s nappy.

“I think someone needs changing,” he said, and he led Greg to the bedroom where he lay back on the bed.

Stephen opened the tapes on Greg’s sodden padding and pulled back the nappy to reveal his friend’s erect cock.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want me to do this,” he said, as he took Greg’s penis in his hand and began gently stroking.

Greg groaned in pleasure and felt waves of ecstasy as Stephen’s mouth closed around his cock. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” he whispered.

 

Epilogue

 

The following day, a Monday, Greg went to see a solicitor, as lawyers are called in the UK, to handle his legal affairs.

Anna had insisted to her mother that they needed to compensate her soon to be ex-husband for what they had done. Kathryn reluctantly agreed that the only way out was to make over ownership of 8 Wellington Gardens to her son-in-law, on the condition that he agreed not to go to the police.

The agreements were concluded a couple of weeks later, with Greg filing for divorce.

Kathryn returned to California, her fortune slightly dented but not enough to make any serious difference to her lifestyle. She would however be giving London a wide berth on her travels in future.

Anna stayed in the old flat next door and before long was in a relationship with a work colleague.

The bonds between Greg and Stephen grew closer and closer, and together they moved into the newly completed 8 Wellington Gardens. A year later they married, and Anna and her new partner were on the guest list, as were Rob and Greg’s old football friends.

Greg had come to accept his nappied state, and contrary to what Kathryn had said, he experienced almost no improvement in control. He knew however that if it had not been for Kathryn’s crazy plan, he would never have met Stephen.

He had never been happier.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Sarah Penguin]

Hmm kind of surprised Greg didn't drug them when he found the meds.  Enjoyed this story, dribblez :)

[dribblez]

Thanks Sarah. I enjoyed writing it. Hope to start on a longer story soon.