Diapers for Chris_ Finished_ February 24, 2023

[spark]

 

 

This prologue is actually a postlude.  The true story will be how Chris gets to this point.   It's based on a book that I read from Victoria Green that only available on Barnes and Noble Nook (It's a good book).  

Prologue

It was just past 7:30, and I gave my wife the handwritten apology that I wrote to my babysitter.  I’m still not really sure what I did, except that I was rude to her, and that was enough to earn punishment.   It was actually a series of punishments, and I knew it would continue into tomorrow.

I wish Claire could trust me again and let me stay home alone, but those days have long since passed.  Claire hired Samantha, a twenty-one-year-old nursing student to babysit me during the day.  She told Samantha to treat me like any other child.  I guess I had kind of a bad day because Samantha put me in time-out a couple of times.   Apparently, I was rude, but I’m not sure what I said to make her mad.

Claire was angry when Samantha told her about my day.  She swatted me on my diaper.  It wasn’t very hard, but hard enough to get my attention and make sure I knew who was in charge.   I had to eat dinner from my highchair.   I hate it when she makes me sit in a highchair, but I didn’t earn the right to sit at the table. I was strapped into my highchair and ate dinner like a toddler.  At least Claire let me feed myself.  Sometimes she feeds me like I’m a baby, and if I’m really bad I get mushy baby food.

After dinner, Claire handed me a piece of paper and a pencil.   She said, “I’m very disappointed in you.  You were doing so well, but then you have a day like this.  You need to apologize to Ms. Samantha.  It has to be in your best handwriting, and it better be sincere.”

I hate writing with a pencil.  My handwriting is terrible, and I have a hard time thinking about what I want to say when I have to concentrate on my handwriting.   I begged, “Can I write it on the computer?  I write better than when I write by hand.”

“NO!  You’re writing it in your best handwriting.”

The highchair is tight and it is hard to move around.  It is much easier when Claire lets me sit at the table.  “Can I sit at the table?  I have more room to write.”

Once again, Claire denied my request.  “NO!  You didn’t earn the right to sit at the table.  Sit in your highchair and write your apology to Ms. Samantha.  When it’s good enough, I’ll let you out.”

My final bit of resistance was a general pout.  “I don’t want to.”  Sometimes that will make Claire mad enough to put me in timeout, which at least gets me out of the highchair.

It didn’t work this time.  Claire said, “I don’t care.  Write your apology note, and it better be good.”

Claire rejected my first attempt.  “Your handwriting is too messy.  Do it over!”   I tried harder on the second attempt, but once again Claire rejected it.  “No, this isn’t sincere enough.  I want you to tell her what you did wrong, and why you are sorry.”  Unfortunately, I wasn’t really sure what I did, other than being rude and arguing, and I wasn’t sorry about it. 

I’m sorry for being rude to you Ms. Samantha.  I need to listen to you, and let you take care of me.   I didn’t listen to you when you asked me to come to you so you could check my diaper.  That was wrong.  I should have let you change my diaper when you told me.  You are in charge, and I have to listen to you.  I promise to be better and will accept whatever punishment you give me.

Very Sorry

Chris

Claire read the letter and said, “Ok, that’s better.  It’s time for your bath and I need to get you ready for bed.”

“What?  It’s still early.”  I hoped my apology note and timeout was enough to get me out of an early bedtime.

Once again, Claire denied me.  She said, “I’m sorry, but you were naughty today. That means you’re cranky and need to sleep.”

I then whined, “Can I take a shower?  I don’t want a bath.”

Showers are one of the few adult things I get to do anymore.  It’s about the only time that I’m alone and can pretend that I’m still an independent adult who doesn’t need to be supervised all the time.  It’s a privilege and one that I didn’t earn.   “I’m afraid not, baby.  I can’t trust you to be by yourself.”

Claire took me to my nursery.  She felt my diaper and said, “Look at you and your soggy diaper.  You’re using your diaper like a baby, and that makes mommy proud.  I’m also proud that you waited until mommy checked your diaper and didn’t whine that you wanted me to change it.  I love you very much.”

It’s been three years since Claire put me back in diapers, and she still praises me whenever I pee or poop in my diaper.  Toddlers get praised when they use the potty and punished when they don’t.  I get praised for wet and dirty diapers and get punished when I ask to use the potty.

Maybe it’s some kind of Stockholm Syndrome, but I feel proud when Claire praises me.  Mommy wants me to use my diapers, so I do.  I’m not even allowed to ask somebody to change it.  I just have to wait until somebody checks my diaper and decides that it’s ready to be changed.  Fortunately, Claire checks my diapers frequently, and won’t let me stay in a soggy diaper very long.

After the bath, Claire took me to the nursery to finish getting me ready for bed.  She put me in a clean diaper and dressed me in my pajamas.  She took me to the couch and opened her blouse.   “It’s time to nurse on mommy’s boobs.  They are full tonight, so you need to drink a lot of my milk.”   Claire started lactating almost six months after putting me in diapers, and I’ve nursed every night since then.  She even pumps her breast when she is not with me, so I always have a supply of breast milk available.

I’m embarrassed to admit this, but breastfeeding makes me feel loved.  It’s made us closer than I could ever imagine.   I may no longer be a man in her eyes, but I can feel her bliss as I suck on her breasts.   Even when I’m bad and cranky, I still get to breastfeed from her boobs.  Breastfeeding is unconditional, and we always end our day on a high.  It’s the best part of this life.  I’m more at peace now than I ever was as an adult, and I know that I’m fully loved by my mommy.

I finished nursing, and Claire put me in my crib.  She kissed my forehead and said “Nite-nite.  Remember tomorrow is a baby day.”

I let out a soft whimper.   Baby days are my true punishment.   Claire uses timeouts, spankings, and apology notes only to get my attention.  They are immediate corrections that will quickly change my behavior.   She also keeps track of all of my transgressions, and when I get enough, she will announce that I earned a baby day.  It’s worse when I earn a baby weekend.  A baby day means 24 hours of no privileges.  I spend the whole day in a crib, highchair, or playpen.  If I’m lucky, Samantha won’t put mittens on my hands.  I just hope she doesn’t put booties on my feet along with the mittens.  I can barely walk in the booties.  The worst part of the baby day is that it lasts longer than just the whole day.   I have to earn back each privilege and it can take a couple of weeks to earn them all back.

[diaprbayb]

[Pampertimmy]

I am liking this so far. I hope there will be more.

[Little Baby Becca]

Hmmm....

[spark]

Chapter 1

Claire started this a little over three years ago.  We’ve been married for fifteen years, and it was a fairly traditional marriage for the first twelve.   I’m eight years older than her, and she was just starting law school when we met.  In the first years of our marriage, I was the primary earner and was an equal partner, maybe even the dominant partner in our marriage.  After all, I was older and made good money.  Claire was a student and didn’t have any income.  She relied on savings and my income to get by, but we did ok.

I was teaching math at a community college and did other things for the school.  It was a good gig that gave me a lot of time off.   Like most couples, Claire and I wanted to have children.  We put it off at first because she was finishing law school, and it took a few years to get her career going.

After five years into our marriage, the dynamic changed.  Claire was a practicing attorney and made decent money, and that allowed me to go part-time so I could pursue my dream of writing a novel.  I continued to teach one or two classes each semester at the college and write part-time.  Since then, I’ve sold a few articles to magazines but still haven’t finished my novel.  

It was also time to try to conceive.   Unfortunately, Claire never got pregnant. I’m infertile, and nothing we tried ever worked.   Claire was disappointed, so she dedicated herself to her career.  She became a partner, and more than tripled my income.

Unfortunately, I’m not the most ambitious person, and I’m kind of lazy.   Claire got frustrated, but always stayed good natured about it.  She would give me a list of chores, and there was always a guess how much of it I would finish.  

It was after a weeklong trip to Los Angeles that she finally reached the boiling point.  She gave me a list of chores she wanted to be done while she was away and begged me to keep the house clean.   I finished the first two, but then got distracted with video games.  She came home to a cluttered house of beer bottles, pizza boxes, and a sink full of dirty dishes.  She rolled her eyes and said, “Seriously?  This is how you leave my house.  I swear, it’s like I’m living with a child.”  She shook her head and went upstairs without saying anything else.  I gave her some time to calm down before I went upstairs to apologize.

I tidied the house up a bit.  It was still cluttered, but I managed to put most of the mess into nice piles.   I meekly knocked on the door and Claire snapped, “What?”

“I’m sorry.   I should have cleaned everything before you got back.”

Claire just shook her head and said, “You know what the sad part is?”

“That I have no excuse.”

Claire replied, “No, that’s not it.  The sad thing is that I expected this.  It happens every time, Chris.   Why should I expect it to be different?”

I didn’t have anything to say.  She was right.   I’ve always been like that.  I meekly replied, “I did tidy up just a bit after you went upstairs.”

Claire scoffed, “I bet it’s still messy.  Did you put away the pizza boxes?”

“Yes.”

“All of them?” I dropped my eyes because I didn’t throw them away.  I just kind of shoved them in the corner.  Claire snarked, “you’re just like Jack.”

Jack was a three-year-old, who was the child of one of Claire’s friends.   He is a sweet kid, but like most three-year-olds, he tends to leave a mess whenever he comes by.  I remarked, “Honey, Jack is three years old.”

“Yes, and what does that say about you? “

I protested, “I’m not a little kid.  I’m sorry, and I promise to do better.”

Claire gave me a sly look.  “You might be an adult, but you certainly don’t act like one.   Look, honey, I know that you will try, but in the end, we both know what will happen.   I’m not mad, because I know you mean well.  I just need to find out what you can handle.  It’s not fair to you if I expect more than what you’re capable of.”

I was a little upset about being compared to a three-year-old, but I deserved it.  Over the next few days, Claire gave me a list of chores.  Most of them were easy things, like doing the laundry, or emptying the dishwasher.  She wanted some yard work done.  There were some more complicated chores like fixing a light.   It was nothing too difficult, and I could have easily finished them in just a few days.

I was proud of myself on the first day.  I completed my whole list.  Claire got home to a stocked pantry, with no dishes in the sink, and I even made her a nice meal.   And much like a young child, I was eager to get Claire’s approval.  I asked, “Are you proud of me?”

“Yes, I am.” Those words meant a lot to me.

I did ok on the second day, but by the third day I began to slack off.  The sheets were still in the dryer, and the kitchen sink was full of dishes.  On the fourth day I went out to play golf, and left the house a little messy in my rush to leave.   Claire asked, “What happened?  I thought you were going to try harder.”

“I’m sorry honey.  John and I went to play golf, and I was kind of in a rush before I left.    I’ll clean it up in the morning.”

The next day, which was a Friday, I still hadn’t emptied the dishwasher, the sink was full of dirty dishes, and there were still wet clothes in the washing machine.   I was out doing some stupid thing.  I think I was shopping for a new video game, but I can’t really remember what it was.

I saw Claire’s car in the driveway and knew that she would be upset.  After all, I literally didn’t do a single thing, and that’s after I promised to clean everything up just the day before.  I preemptively said, “I’m sorry, I’m going to clean this up right now.”

Claire said, “It’s ok.  This is what I expected.  Come upstairs, I’ve got something for you.”

In hindsight, I should have been wary of Claire’s demeanor.  She seemed so calm and almost too eager to get me upstairs.  I thought she might have some sexy lingerie.  There was more anticipation when we reached the stairs and Claire said, “I’m not even disappointed in you.  Why should I be?  You’re the man that I married, and I might as well make the best of it.”

I got more excited when she said, “Sit on the bed and close your eyes and you will get a big surprise.”

I closed my eyes and kept them shut until she told me to open them.  There she was, holding a fucking DIAPER!  It wasn’t one of those medical diapers.  It had cartoon prints on it, just like the ones that Jack used.  Only this one was bigger.  “What the fuck is that?”

Claire had a huge grin.  “It’s for you. It’s your diaper!”

“WHAT!   I’m not wearing a GOD DAMNED FUCKING DIAPER!”

Mind you, Claire is a very good litigator, and it’s almost impossible to beat her in an argument.  Especially once she has the emotional edge.  Claire doesn’t get emotional when we argue.  She just calmly said, “Shush, let me explain something to you.”  Her words were gentle but firm.  “As I said, I’m not upset at you, or even disappointed in you.  But you left a mess in my kitchen, and there have to be some consequences.  What do you think those should be?”

I shrugged my shoulders and mumbled, “I don’t know.”

She replied, “Well, this is what I would expect from Jack and not a grown man.  Since you’ve shown that you can’t act like an adult, I sentence you to thirty days in diapers.”

“Thirty days in diapers?”

“Yes.  For the next thirty days, you will be wearing diapers.  You’ve lost your bathroom privileges.”

My anger was replaced with shock and confusion.  “Come on, honey, you can’t be serious?  I’m not going to use diapers for a whole month.”

I tried to debate, but you can’t debate the judge after they hand down your sentence.  She replied, “I’m afraid you are. You can see that I’ve taken out all of your big-boy underwear.   In fact, I’ve put all of your big-boy clothes away as well.”  She looked down at my crotch and commented, “and based on the bulge in your pants, I’d say that you’re a little excited about it.”

She was right.  After all, I thought I was going to have sex.  Despite my anger, the mommy routine was always a bit of a turn-on for me, and I’m ashamed to say it, but the curiosity about the diaper was also a turn-on.  Claire started to rub my dick, and said, “Let’s get these pants off of you before you make a mess.”  She pulled my shorts and underwear away.

I laid back on the bed with a fully erect penis and let Claire gently caress my cock.  Claire is gifted in bed, but hand jobs are her specialty.  I crossed the point of no return and needed just one final push.  Claire slowed down and asked, “You want to cum, don’t you?”

“YES! YES!”

“Ok, but I don’t want you making a mess in my sheets, so you have to do it in a diaper.”

“Ok, fine.”

“No, you need to ask for your diaper.  Ask me for a diaper, so that you can cum in it?”

At this point, I would say anything. “Can I cum in my diaper?”

“See, isn’t that nice.”  She was a little rushed as I was already spewing pre-cum.  She managed to get the diaper secured just in time.   Most of the cum ended up in the diaper, but some ended up on my stomach.   She cleaned me up and fixed the diaper so that I was more secure.  She slid some waterproof shorts over the diaper, handed me a t-shirt, and said, “Come downstairs when you are ready.”

It took a few minutes, but eventually, I got myself off the bed.  I looked around for some clothes, but there wasn’t anything to wear.  I just had that stupid diaper and a lite blue t-shirt with yellow balloons on it.   I needed to find my clothes.  I didn’t want to risk being seen in just a diaper, so I put the t-shirt on.  I hoped it would cover the diaper, but unfortunately, the t-shirt was just above my belly button.  The diaper was fully exposed, and I looked ridiculous with just the childish t-shirt.   I searched for my clothes, but every room was locked.  Even the bathrooms were locked.

I went downstairs and said, “Ok, Claire, enough is enough.  Where are my clothes?”

“I told you.  I put them away.  You have that cute t-shirt to wear.”

“No, I want my real clothes, this isn’t a joke.”

Claire rolled her eyes and said, “Do I look like I’m joking?  I already told you.  You will be wearing diapers for the next thirty days.  Those are your clothes and that is your bathroom for the next month.  Now, we need to take care of that potty mouth.  You’re going in timeout.”  Like a firm mother, Claire took my hand and said, “March, mister.”

She plopped a pacifier in my mouth.  “This is to make sure you don’t talk while I’m explaining the rules to you.  You used naughty words, so this is your consequence.”  She warned me not to spit it out, and not to argue.  She continued, “Let’s explain the rules for the next month.”

“Number one: you’re wearing diapers for the next thirty days.  Don’t even debate me on that.  I’m tired of living with a man-child.”  She paused to let that sink in, and the pacifier kept me quiet.  “Number two:  It’s not appropriate for you to call me Claire while you are wearing diapers.  That’s for adults.  Since I’m going to be your mommy for the next month, that’s what you will call me.  By the way, I’ve already told your mother about this, and she agrees with me.”  There was another short pause as she let me process that one.  “Number three:  I’m taking away all of your responsibilities right now.  No more chores, but no more extra privileges.  I’m in charge.  I decide when you eat, what you wear, and when you go to bed.    That’s especially true for your diapers.  No touching your diapers, and you don’t even get to ask me to change them.  I’ll check them, and I’ll change them when I see fit.   Now, I’m going to finish tidying up the kitchen.  You face the wall until I get you.  I’m going to start the timer over if I see you move.”

I don’t know why I didn’t resist, but I was powerless.  I was wearing just a diaper, so leaving wasn’t an option.  The only way I could improve my condition is to comply and wait until she was ready to negotiate.

I faced the wall and heard Claire’s friend Laura in the kitchen.  “Hi hon, I heard that Chris left a mess for you to clean up.”  I guess she noticed me because she asked, “Is that a diaper?”

“Yes.  Since he wants to act like a toddler, that’s how I’m going to treat him.  He is staying in diapers for the next month.”  I tried to cover up but I had nothing to cover myself with.   I started to run away, so Claire snapped, “Where do you think you are going?  Your time is not up yet.”

I begged, “Please, Claire, don’t do this to me?”

Laura barked, “Excuse me, young man.  I believe you are in timeout.  That means no talking until mommy gets you.   The adults are talking, so go scoot your tushy right back in that corner until your mommy gets you.”  Somehow, hearing those words from Laura was even worse than hearing them from Claire.   I meekly went to the corner and started to cry.

After a few minutes, and I don’t know how long it was, Claire rescued me from the corner.  She saw my tears and in a calm voice, said, “Oh dear, you’re crying.”

I cried, “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

Claire hugged me, “Honey, I’m not mad at you.  You just need to have consequences.  I know it seems harsh, but you’ll thank me later, I promise.”   She put her hand on my diaper, which was still dry, and commented, “Just sticky, no pee yet.  I don’t want you to hold in your pee, and you can’t use the potty.   You look tired.  Why don’t you go lie down while I fix dinner.”  I nodded, and then she warned, “but I better see a wet diaper the next time I check.”

I guess I was still in shock over the whole thing.  I didn’t understand why Claire put me in diapers and was speaking to me like I was a little kid.  I also didn’t know why I was letting her.  I knew that talking back would only make it worse, so I said, “Ok, I’ll do that.”

Claire replied, “That’s a good boy.  Mommy will wake you when dinner is ready.  Remember, I want you to pee in that diaper.”

I went to our bedroom and tried to find where she hid my clothes, but couldn’t find anything.  She even moved her clothes.   I checked Claire’s office, but it was locked.  I really did need to pee, so I let a little bit into my diaper.  I have to admit, it felt good.   I can’t explain it, but feeling that diaper swell was very nice.   I laid down on my bed and wondered how I would escape my sentence.   I guess I closed my eyes, because the next thing I remember, Claire shook me, “Honey, wake up.  Dinner is ready.  Did you have a good nap?”

I nodded and said, “I guess I did.  Claire, seriously why are you doing this?”

“I already told you.   You’ve been acting like an overgrown toddler, so that’s what you will be for the next month.  If you show me that you’re ready to be an adult, I’ll give you back your big-boy clothes.”  I started to protest, but she put a pacifier in my mouth and said, “Now let’s see if you were a good boy and wet your diaper for mommy.”   She put her hand on my diaper and said, “You did.  Look at you, peeing in your diaper like a good boy.  Mommy likes it when you do what she says.”  She hugged me, which I have to admit felt really good.   It had been such a long time since Claire gave me any praise and getting praised even for wetting a diaper was nice.

I got up and opened the drawer with the diapers, and Claire asked, “What do you think you are doing?”

I answered, “I’m going to put a new diaper on.”

“No, you’re not.   Only mommy gets to change your diaper, and that diaper can still hold more pee.  You don’t get to decide when your diaper is changed, even if you do a poo-poo in it.”

I protested, “You seriously want me to shit in this damn thing!”

Claire immediately rebuked me, “Chris!  We don’t talk like that in this house.  Go to the corner now.”

I tried to protest, “But-.”

“Corner, NOW!”  I waddled to the corner, and Claire immediately praised me, “Good boy.”  I wasn’t in the corner very long, and Claire came up to me and asked, “Are you sorry for saying naughty words.”  I nodded, and she hugged me again.  “Good boy.  Remember, mommy loves you very much and wants you to be good.  Now, let’s get some yummy dinner.”

While I didn’t like the baby talk, I loved how Claire was praising me just for complying with her.  I figured that would be the best way to convince her that I wasn’t a baby.  We sat down for dinner and she handed me a beer.  I asked, “You’re letting me drink a beer?”

Claire replied, "Of course, you were such a good boy when you peed in your diaper, so I’m giving you a treat.  Remember, if you are good and do what mommy tells you, you will be rewarded.  You’ll only be punished if you’re bad and don’t listen to mommy.”

Other than wearing just a diaper and an infantile t-shirt, it was a pleasant evening.  Claire and I had a nice dinner and talked, which didn’t happen very often anymore.  We usually ate our dinners alone and did our own thing in the evening.  This was like one of our old fashion date nights, but at home.  We shared a bottle of wine while watching a movie, and then Claire said, “Honey, it’s time for bed.”

That usually meant Claire wanted sex, which for us was traditional missionary style.   That was fine with me, not only because I was going to have sex, but she also would take the damn diaper off of me.   I practically dragged her into the bedroom, but then she resumed her mommy treatment.

She felt my squishy diaper and said, “Ooh, that’s a wet diaper!  Mommy is so proud of her little boy.  Lie down on the bed so mommy can take care of that squishy diaper.”  I got on our bed and Claire praised, “Good Boy!  Hands up! Put them over your head.”   I laid on the bed with my hands behind my head, which left me completely vulnerable.   Claire gently untaped the diaper and cleaned my crotch.  

She then got a new diaper and started to put it on me.  I looked at her with a confused look and said, “I thought we were going to have sex.”

Claire replied, “Not tonight, but mommy has something special for you.”   I was already hard, so it didn’t take much encouragement for me to cum.  She put the diaper on me, and I began to cum with just a little bit of rubbing.   She then laid down next to me and said, “Baby, suck on mommy’s boobs.”   She caressed my back while I sucked on her tits and she gently rocked me to sleep.

The next thing I knew it was morning and Claire woke me up.  This never happened, but somehow, I slept the entire night without waking up.  Claire felt my diaper, which was still mostly dry, except for the dried cum.  Claire scolded me, “That’s not a wet diaper.  Go stand in the corner until you go pee-pee in your diaper.”

By this point, I was thoroughly confused.  She praised me when I was wet, and she scolded me when I was dry.   I whined, “But I need to poo.”

“Ok.  Go stand in the corner, and you better have a messy diaper when I check it.”

I didn’t know how long I had, and I needed to pee anyway.  I put a big stream of pee into the diaper and flooded it.  I’ve learned that diapers aren’t good if you do a big pee.   I also had to poo.  On most mornings, I pooped right after I woke up and it happened almost immediately after I sat on the toilet.   I really didn’t have any option, and I started to fill the diaper.   Once again, Claire didn’t leave me in the corner for very long.  She came by and felt my diaper.  I thought Claire would tease me, but she praised me with a lot of enthusiasm.  “That’s a squishy diaper.  You put a lot of pee-pee in that diaper.”  She pulled the back of the diaper and said, “and poo-poo too.   That’s such a good poo-poo, what a good boy.”  She hugged me, “Mommy is so proud of you.”   She then encouraged me to get the rest out, “One more push for mommy.  Get all that poo-poo out.  Mommy wants a big stinky diaper!”  I pushed a little more into my diaper, and she hugged me.  “Good boy.”

I laid down on a pad and Claire said, “Hands up!”   My hands went behind my head and I let Claire have complete access to my diaper.  “Wow!  Look at all that poo.”  

She didn’t rush through the change, and she took a picture of me lying on the changing pad with the soiled diaper.  I asked, “Why are you taking a picture of that?  Are you going to post it?”

Claire admonished me, “Now why would mommy do that?  That would embarrass her baby, and mommy doesn’t want to embarrass you.  This is just for you and me.  It’s your first messy diaper, and I want to commemorate it.”

Claire finished and put another diaper on me.  She put me in another childish t-shirt and some rubber pants.  There was nothing to cover my diaper.   I asked, “Why do you make such a big deal when I use my diaper?”

“You know how Laura praises Jack when he uses the potty?”   I nodded, and she continued, “It’s the same with you, except Jack is learning how to use the potty and you’re learning how to use your diapers.”

[DannyDoo]

Wow, this is a great story!  Need I say more?

 

[aldl4811]

Dang, nice!!

[spark]

On 2/13/2023 at 6:52 PM, DannyDoo said:

Wow, this is a great story!  Need I say more?

 

Thank you.  I have to admit- it was rough when it took 2-weeks to get a comment.   I live off comments.

The good/bad news- I'm going to be in recovery from sugery.   When I get back- I can edit my stories, because I don't have that Job to take my time.

[wetdiaper55]

Great start..

[spark]

Chris finishes his first weekend in diapers

Chapter 2

I was totally confused all weekend.  I figured I would score some points by conquering some of the chores that I neglected.  Since I didn’t have anything to cover my diaper, I didn’t go outside, but I tried to finish the chores that I could do inside.  I changed the battery to the smoke detector.  When Claire saw me standing on a stool, she warned, “Be careful honey, you might hurt yourself.”  She saw me cleaning the living room and said, “Baby, don’t make another mess.  Mommy is going to have to clean up after you.”

I offered to make lunch and asked, “Would you like a sandwich?”

I was scolded, “Don’t go in the kitchen!  You’ll make a mess.  You have to ask mommy if you want a snack.”

I spent a good amount of time in the corner for a variety of offenses.  Every time I called Claire by her first name, I was sent to the corner and told to call her ‘mommy.’   I cursed a few times and was immediately sent to the corner when I did.  I was sent to the corner for not listening to her, or not stopping something when she told me to stop.  She checked my diaper frequently and sent me to the corner if it was dry.  I never stayed in the corner very long, at most only a few minutes, and she always made sure to hug me after my time was up.  I was praised when I complied and hugged when I completed my time.

Claire dressed me in a childish t-shirt that didn’t cover my diaper, and there was always a pacifier clipped to it to remind me to mind my words.  I don’t know where she got all those t-shirts. However, she didn’t treat me like a little kid all the time.   I ate normal food and ate at the table.   I moved around the house freely, and I did whatever I wanted.  Claire just wanted me to stay out of her way, listen to her, and not make a mess.

I hoped this would only last the weekend.  I figured she would get tired of changing a grown man’s diaper, and I didn’t know how she could make me use diapers while she was at work.  I obviously wasn’t going to use a diaper when I was alone, so I figured this would all be over after Monday morning. Unfortunately, she worked from home on Monday, which meant I had another day in diapers.

After finishing a meeting, she said, “we have to go to the store to get some supplies and I need to get you ready.” 

This was going to be the first time I left the house while wearing a diaper and I kind of panicked.  I asked, “Am I going to have to wear a diaper?”

Claire scoffed, “Of course.  You have to wear diapers all the time.”

“Are you going to dress me like a baby?”

This time Claire shook her head, “No, I don’t want to make a scene.”  She handed me a pair of pants and a polo shirt, which is what I normally wore to work, and said, “Don’t worry, nobody will be able to tell.”

She filled up a diaper bag with some supplies.  She had two diapers, baby powder, a changing pad, some snacks, and a pacifier.  I asked, “What’s that?”

“It’s your diaper bag, silly.”

I scoffed, “We won’t need that.  I’m not going to wet my diaper in public.”

Claire pointed to the corner and ordered, “Go to the corner.”

I protested, “Why?”

“Corner! Now!”  I shuffled to the corner, and Claire replied, “that’s a good boy.  You don’t get to talk like that.  You have no say in your diapers.   We are taking a diaper bag with us whenever we leave this house.”  I was there for a few moments, and then Claire asked, “Do you apologize for talking mean to mommy?”  I nodded, and she continued, “Ok, then tell me you’re sorry.  I want you to say ‘Mommy, I’m sorry.”

Reluctantly I complied, “Mommy, I’m sorry.”  This was the first time I called Claire ‘Mommy’ all weekend.

Claire hugged me and said, “Mommy loves you very much, but you can’t talk mean to me.”

We stayed out a few hours, and for the most part, it was completely normal.  She occasionally squeezed my diaper to see if it was wet, which obviously wasn’t going to happen.  She made sure to express her disappointment when she saw that it was still dry, and would say, “Don’t hold your pee.  You need to use your diaper.”   Fortunately, she never said that loud enough for anybody else to hear, but it was always embarrassing when she did.  Near the end of the trip, Claire pulled the back of my diaper to check it.  There is only one reason that a mother checks the back of a diaper, and that certainly wasn’t going to happen.  I protested, “You don’t need to do that.  I’m not going to do that here.”

Claire didn’t want to make too much of a scene so she just whispered, “Shush.  You don’t know that.”

After we got home, Claire praised me, but also made sure to punish me for my outburst.  She said, “You were very good with mommy today and I’m proud of you, but you also talked badly to me.”

I protested, “When?”

“You told mommy that I didn’t need to check your diaper, and you don’t get to do that.  You also didn’t pee-pee in your diaper as you should have.  Go stand in the corner and go pee-pee in your diaper.”  I went to the corner, and Claire made sure to praise me when I did.   It was about three minutes this time, and my diaper was wet when she checked.  That earned me another hug, and Claire made sure to say, “Mommy loves you.”   I lost track of how many times she told me that she loved me, or how many times she hugged me, but it was far more than what she had done in the previous five years.

[DannyDoo]

Classic Pavlovian conditioning.  Well done!

[spark]

4 hours ago, DannyDoo said:

Classic Pavlovian conditioning.  Well done!

That's the vibe that I'm going for.  

I've already told you where this ends, but this is all about the journey.  She is conditioning him to accept his fate.  

IMO- I think the key is the quick timeouts, which is exactly what you would do with a 3-year-old

[spark]

Chapter 3

Claire slowly regressed me further and further each day.  It was like putting a frog in water and slowly turning the heat up.  The frog won’t jump out until it is already boiling to death, and it was the same with me.  By the time I realized what Claire was doing, she already turned me into a baby.  We slept in the same bed for the first few nights, but then my diaper leaked.  Claire said that she didn’t want to sleep in pee, so she moved me to the small guest bedroom.  At first, Claire and I would go to bed at the same time, which was usually around 10 pm.  I used to stay up later than that, but Claire made me go to bed at the same time that she did.   Once I moved into the new bedroom, she moved my bedtime to 9pm.

At first, Claire let me take a shower after my morning poo.  It was just like I did while I was working.  That also meant my bedtime routine was nearly the same as before.  Other than getting my diaper changed, I just brushed my teeth and got in bed.  But a few days into this, after we finished dinner, Claire announced, “Ok, it’s time to get ready for bed.”

I protested, “What?  It is not even seven o’clock.”

My attempt to negotiate was thwarted when Claire pointed to the corner and said, “Go!”   Claire ignored my pouting as I stomped to the corner.  Instead, she praised my obedience when I got to the corner and said, “That’s a good boy.”

I expected her to lecture me about listening to mommy, or not talking back when it was time to let me out, but she didn’t do any of that.  She simply wiped my face and asked, “Do you want mommy to give you a bath?”

I must admit, I kind of liked the idea of Claire and I taking a bath together, but I was desperately trying to reclaim my independence.   I replied, “No, I can do it myself.”

Claire used a doubtful tone and said, “Ok?” but it sounded like she didn’t think I was mature enough to bathe myself.  She removed my soggy diaper, while praising me for having such a squishy diaper, and gently swatted my naked rear and said, “come back after your shower and mommy will get you dressed for bed.”

That became our new routine.  From then on, it was dinner, bath, snuggle time, and then bedtime.  I tried to help clear the table, but she wouldn’t allow it.  She told me, “That’s mommy’s job.  You’ll just make a mess.”

That night, we finished watching television and Claire turned to me and said, “Ok, it’s time for bed.”

I whined, “But I’m not tired. It’s not even ten o’clock.”   I suddenly realized that I sounded like a cranky child and changed my tone.  I used my most confident voice and said, “Can you stop talking to me like I’m a little kid?  I’m not a fucking baby.”  The last part came out more like a tantrum.

Claire didn’t argue.  She calmly stated, “You are a baby for the next thirty days.  Now go to the corner.”

I was in full tantrum mode, and screamed, “I DON’T WANT TO!”

Claire stayed calm and said, “You can either go to the corner, or you can leave.”

I was more in shock than anything else.   It never dawned on me that Claire would kick me out of the house.  I looked back at her and asked, “What?”

Claire replied, “You heard me.  If you’re going to stay at my house, you are going to listen and do what I tell you.  You’ve got thirty days in diapers, and we’re starting over because of that outburst.”   I sulked.  I knew I didn’t have anywhere else to go, so I went to the corner and faced the wall.  When I got there, Claire said, “That’s better.  You’re a good boy.”

After a few minutes, I cried, “I don’t want to be a baby.”

Claire hugged me and said, “I know honey, and if you’re good and listen to me, I’ll let you be a big boy when this is all over.  Until then, you have to listen to mommy and do what I tell you.  Do you understand?”  I nodded, so she continued.  “You’re cranky, so you need to go to sleep.  Let’s go to your room, and I’ll tuck you in.”  Claire got in bed with me and let me suck on her tits while I drifted off to sleep. The next morning Claire said, “you need more sleep, so your bedtime is now nine o’clock.”   When I protested, she said, “Do you want to make it eight o’clock?”

After I spilled some wine, I started to clean it up and Claire stopped me, “Don’t do that, you’ve already made too much of a mess?”

I replied, “That’s why I’m cleaning it up.”

“Mommy doesn’t need your help.  You just need to stay out of my way while I clean up the mess.”

After she finished cleaning the table, she handed me a sippy cup.  I asked, “What is this?”

“It is a sippy cup.”

Without thinking, I protested, “I don’t need that,” which got me sent to the corner.

I got to the corner and Claire said, “You spilled, so you need a sippy cup.”

On weekdays, Claire would normally wake up before me and then wake me up before leaving.   However, I woke up before she did that second Saturday.   I decided to be a good husband and make some coffee and have it ready for her when she got up.  I wanted to put her in a good mood, which I hoped would convince her to stop all of this. 

Unfortunately, when Claire saw me drinking coffee and watching soccer, she asked, “What are you doing up?”

I answered, “I made you coffee.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.  What are you doing up?  You’re supposed to wait until mommy gets you.”

I protested, “Why?  You never told me that.”

Then Claire sent me to the corner.  She said, “don’t talk to me like that.  You know better.”

By this point, I knew there was no point in fighting her.  I stomped to the corner, which she ignored, but that also meant I was there longer.   She eventually came over and hugged me.  I expected her to have a condescending tone, but she was apologetic.  She calmly said, “I’m sorry honey, I should have told you to stay in bed until I get you.   I don’t want you up when I’m not around.  You already went in the kitchen, and you aren’t allowed in there by yourself.”  She gave me a little bit of time to process and then asked, “Are you going to wait until I get you from now on?”   I nodded, and then she hugged me and said, “That’s good, baby.  I love you, and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

That afternoon she put railings on my bed.  They were high enough that I couldn’t climb over them.  I asked, “What is this?”

Claire had an evil grin on her face, “It’s for your bed.  It’s to keep you in there until I let you out.”

I whined, “But it looks like a crib!”

Claire replied, “Maybe if you stayed in your bed as you should, I wouldn’t have to do this.  But you got out of bed without my permission.”   I nodded, and she continued, “This way, you know to stay in your crib until mommy gets you.”  I realized I was now completely infantilized, and no longer had any level of independence.  I wore diapers all the time, used a sippy cup to drink, and now slept in a crib.

I screwed up every time Claire gave me any independence.   She let me stay home by myself on the first Tuesday, but didn’t want me to use the potty, even if I pooped.

I begged, “Can’t I just use the toilet?”

“NO! No potty.  You’re using your diaper.”

“But what am I going to do?”

“You are just going to have to wait until I get home, unless you want to go to the office with me.”  She left and said, “Ok, be good.  Don’t make a mess, and remember, No potty.”

I knew I was going to poo.  The bathroom was unlocked, and I definitely didn’t want to sit in a poopy diaper all day, so I pooped in the toilet and then peed in the toilet the rest of the day.   Unfortunately, Claire had an alert set up and her phone pinged after I opened the bathroom door.  It was all a test.  Once she got home, she asked, “did you use the potty?”

I have a terrible poker face but that didn’t matter. Claire already knew that I used the bathroom during the day.  I stammered, “Uh, um.”

Claire stopped me, “I already know that you did.  You peed in the potty four times.  You also didn’t do a good job keeping the house clean.”

She was right about that as well.  I had dishes in the sink, and there was a glass in my den.   Once again, I stammered, “I’m sorry.”

I thought Claire would be furious.  I deliberately disobeyed her, which I figured was a major offense.  If minor offenses got me sent to the corner, what would she say about this?  Her response caught me off guard.  She took a deep breath and said, “I guess it’s my fault.”

I was thoroughly confused.  “What?  How can this be your fault?”  I felt guilty, even though the only thing I did was use the bathroom when she was at work.

Claire replied, “I shouldn’t have left you alone.  You can’t follow directions, and you’re not ready to be left alone.  It’s not fair to you.  I think you need a babysitter.  Until I find somebody, you’re going to have to come to work with me.”

I was curious, “How are you going to find a babysitter for me?”

“You don’t have to worry about that.  That’s a job for mommy.  You have to come to work with me tomorrow.”

I pouted, “I don’t want to.”

Claire shook her head and said, “I’m sorry honey.  You’ve shown me that you can’t be by yourself.  Until you are out of diapers, you will have to be supervised.”

Fortunately, Claire put me in adult clothes for the day.  Unfortunately, she brought the diaper bag and exposed everything to her secretary.   Tracy, her secretary asked, “Is that your husband?”  She then saw the diaper bag and asked, “Is that a diaper bag?”

I cringed and tried to pull up my pants, hoping that my diaper wasn’t showing.   I looked at Claire, hoping she would give Tracy some kind of excuse.   Instead, she said, “Yes, these are for Chris.”

I wanted to run away, but I had no place to go.   Tracy asked, “Why?”

Claire looked at me and said, “tell her honey.  Tell Ms. Tracy why you need to wear diapers.”  I stammer when I’m flustered, or nervous, and I couldn’t talk.   Claire remarked, “I guess he is embarrassed, but I had to put him back in diapers.”

Tracy asked, “Like, is he having issues with his bladder?  I know that older people sometimes have bladder problems.”   Tracy was only in her early twenties and probably thought that at forty-five, I was an old man.

Claire shook her head, “No, it’s not like that.  I had to put him back in diapers because he acts like a toddler.  He left my house a total mess when I went to LA.  I decided to treat him like a baby for the next month.  Maybe then, he can learn his lesson.  I can’t leave him at home, and I don’t have a babysitter.  Do you know anybody who would be willing to babysit Chris?”

To my horror, Tracy replied, “I can ask my sister.  I know that she wants to make some money before she leaves for college.  She babysits, but that doesn’t pay a lot.  If you pay her enough, she might do it.”

Claire asked, “Is she eighteen?  I can’t leave Chris with a minor, because that might be trouble.”

Tracy replied, "She just turned eighteen.  I wouldn’t have suggested it if she wasn’t.”

I think Claire purposely made my time in her office as boring as possible.  There was nothing to do, and I was bored stiff.  She wouldn’t let me use the office WIFI.  I could look at my phone, but that was just about it.  The worst part was when Claire was in meetings and Tracy had to watch me, which was humiliating.  It was bad enough that I didn’t have anything to do, but then to be supervised by a young woman in her early twenties was even worse.

I didn’t want Claire to know just how bored I was, but she could easily tell.  She said, “If you’re bored, I can see if Tracy’s sister is willing to babysit.”

“But she is just a kid,” I protested.

Claire laughed and said, “She is old enough to babysit you.”

After sitting in her office for two days I agreed to have a babysitter.  Tracy’s sister met with us at the office on Thursday afternoon.   It was worse than I thought.  Rebecca was only eighteen years old and just finished high school a week earlier.  She looked younger than that.  She has a baby face with smooth skin and is just barely over five feet tall.  If I didn’t know better, I would have thought she was fourteen.

Claire asked her, “has your sister told you much about the job?  It’s an unusual babysitting job.”

Rebecca answered, “she told me that I would be watching over an adult.  I figure that might be easier than watching little kids.”

Claire laughed, “I’m not so sure about that.”  Claire pointed at me, “You will be babysitting this guy.  Do you know how to change a diaper?”

“Oh!”  Rebecca stammered for a little while and then collected herself.  “I do, but does he need diapers?”

“I’m afraid so.  Chris isn’t allowed to use the potty.”

It felt like they thought I couldn’t understand what they were saying.  I also knew Claire would scold me if I complained about it, so I just stood there listening.  Rebecca asked, “Why?  Does he have bladder issues?”

Claire answered, “No,” then she turned to me and said, "I think you should tell her.  Tell the young lady why you are wearing diapers, and need a babysitter.”  I guess Claire wanted me to own my punishment and admit why I deserved it.  I shook my head, and Claire gave me a stern look.  “You need to tell her, honey.”

I stammered, and said, “She is making me wear diapers.”

Claire then said, “Tell her why I put you in diapers.”

Reluctantly I answered, "Because I was bad, and made a mess in the house.”

Claire clarified, “Honey, you weren’t bad.   I know you tried your best.  I just can’t trust you to be by yourself, and since you act like a little kid, that’s how I have to treat you.  Hopefully, you will learn your lesson.”  She told Rebecca, “He wasn’t helping around the house and left my house in a mess.  I decided to treat him like a toddler and put him in a diaper.   That’s why I need a babysitter.”

I could tell Rebecca was hesitant.    She asked, “What would I have to do?”

Claire tried to calm her.  “I know it sounds weird, but I just want you to treat him like any other child.  That’s the reason I’m doing this.   If he is going to act like a child, I’m going to treat him like one.   I need you to be there in the morning, fix him breakfast and then lunch, and change his diapers after he uses them.”

Rebecca asked, “Even poo?”

Claire nodded, “Yes, even poo.  He usually poops in the morning.  Is that a problem?”

Rebecca blushed, “Not really, I guess.  I mean, I’ve changed lots of diapers, even some older kids who aren’t potty trained.   It’s just part of the job.”

Claire continued, “I don’t think he should give you much trouble.  You just have to make sure he doesn’t use the potty and keep an eye on him during the day, so he doesn’t make too much of a mess.  I’ll give you $25 an hour, and if you stay with us for the whole month, I’ll give you $5,000.”

My mouth gasped when I heard that figure.  I couldn’t believe Claire was going to give somebody that much money just to babysit me.  It never occurred to me how much money she was spending on all of this.   I saw the look on Rebecca’s face as well, and she said, “Wow!  That’s a lot of money.  That’s more than I made last summer.”

Claire showed Rebecca around the house and explained more about what she wanted when Rebecca came over the next morning.  It was especially embarrassing when Claire checked the back of my diaper.  She admonished me, “No poopy yet.  You’re not allowed to hold your poo.  Go to the corner and do your poo-poo.”  I shuffled off to the corner, and Claire praised my obedience.  “That’s a good boy.”  She then turned her attention to Rebecca and explained, “I use timeouts as a deterrent.   I send him to the corner if he talks back or uses bad language.  I don’t let him use my first name, so I’ve sent him to the corner a few times for that as well.  I also send him to the corner when I think he is holding in his pee or poop.  You’ve got to be strict, and don’t let him get away with anything.”   She then shared, “but I never leave him there very long.  Only a few minutes at most, and I always make sure to praise him when he is finished.  Let’s see if he has filled his diaper.”

Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t stop myself from pooping.  Claire was feeding me foods that encouraged me to poo and then gave me pills that soften my poop even more.   I started to poo before I even got to my corner, and more came out every time I exhaled.  Claire checked the back of my diaper, and praised, “Yay!  Look at the poo-poo in your diaper.  Mommy is very proud of you.”  She then explained to Rebecca, “I always make sure to praise him when he uses his diaper.   I don’t want him to feel bad about using his diapers.”  Claire took my arm and said, “Let’s go to your nursery and get you into a nice clean diaper.”   That was what she now called that little guest room, despite my protests.

Claire showed Rebecca the nursery and then had me get up onto my bed, which she called my changing table.  When Claire started to change my diaper, Rebecca remarked, “I can do that.”

I felt a little bit of relief when Claire asked, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, that way you can finish getting ready for work.  This is what you’re paying me for.”

I waited until Claire was outside of earshot and tried to change the dynamic.   I didn’t like having a babysitter at all, especially one that was just a kid.   I knew that I would never get the upper hand if I let her change the diaper, especially a poopy one.   Rebecca started to pull down my diaper, so I used my hand to block her.  I said, “Rebecca, you don’t have to do this.  I’ll clean up, change my clothes, and stay out of your way.  I’ll tell Claire that you were great, and you’ll get your money and everybody will be happy.”

Rebecca glared.  She put a pacifier in my mouth, and said, “First of all, she is ‘mommy’.  You can call me ‘uba-san’, which is Japanese for nanny.   I’m only going to say this one time.  I don’t know what you did, and I don’t understand why your MOMMY,” she made sure to emphasize ‘mommy’, “did this, and I don’t care.  All I know is that she is paying me a lot of money to treat you like a three-year-old, so that’s what I’m going to do.  You can be good and let me do that, and I’ll be nice, or you can be bad and fight with me, and then I’ll be mean.  What do you want it to be?”

Reluctantly I cried, “I’ll be good.”

Rebecca confidently remarked, “Good, now lie back and let me change your diaper.”

After we finished, we met Claire in the living room.  She was packing up to leave and commented, “I heard that.  That was good.  I think you will be great.”  Claire kissed me on the forehead and said, “Goodbye, sweetie.  Be good for uba-san, and I’ll give you a treat tonight.”

[Victoria Green Books]

Hey, Victoria Green here   I'm enjoying what you're doing with this story @spark! I'm excited to hear that something I wrote inspired you. 

I wanted to add that all of my books, including the one that inspired this work, are also available on Smashwords. 

[DannyDoo]

Spark, fantastic!  What a great new chapter.  My favorite.

[spark]

3 hours ago, Victoria Green Books said:

Hey, Victoria Green here   I'm enjoying what you're doing with this story @spark! I'm excited to hear that something I wrote inspired you. 

I wanted to add that all of my books, including the one that inspired this work, are also available on Smashwords. 

That's so cool that you've responded.   BTW- the book that inspired this story was: Diaper Discipline: A Strict Wife's Guide.  There was something about the dynamic between husband and wife and I decided to write something from the diapered little perspective.

 

I'm in workshop mode of a sequel in this universe.  It's a 3rd personal narrative that looks at Claire, Chris's (and others') life down the road

11 minutes ago, DannyDoo said:

Spark, fantastic!  What a great new chapter.  My favorite.

Thank you.  That was a fun chapter to write

[Victoria Green Books]

@spark - I'm glad that Diaper Discipline resonated with you! That book was very much a labor of love. I'm excited to see what you come up with next. 

[spark]

The story concludes.

Chapter 4

Rebecca’s first day was a series of battles.  I already spent seven days in diapers and was losing the battle to control my bladder.  I also wanted a bit of control, and not to be subjected to the supervision of an eighteen-year-old who had just graduated from high school.  I already lost part of that battle when I let her change my poopy diaper.  But I still hoped I could get her to see me as an adult, and not a small child.  I knew Rebecca was heading to UCLA at the end of the summer, so I asked, “When are you heading off to UCLA?  Have you decided on a major?”  It was just small talk, but I hoped she would see me as a wise man.    I always enjoyed helping young people with their transition from high school to college and I thought I could give her sage advice.

Rebecca blew me off.  She replied “Not for a while.  I get to spend the whole month with you.  Won’t that be nice?”

I was annoyed when she answered like I was just a toddler and replied.  “I’m not really a kid.   I teach at San Mateo College.”

She laughed, “Your mommy warned that you might get cranky.  Remember, I just changed your diaper, so I’m in charge.  Mommy wants you to write.  Go to your playroom, and I’ll be there in just a bit.”

I protested, “It’s a den.”

I settled into the den and then saw Rebecca holding a baby bottle.  I asked, “What is that?”

“It’s your water.  Mommy wants you to drink more water.”

“I don’t need a baby bottle.”

“Yes, you do.  I don’t want any spills.”

I snatched it from her and said, “Fine!”

She followed, “You need to say thank you.”

I angrily retorted, “Thanks.”

“That’s not how you say it.  You say, ‘Thank You, Uba-san.’”  Rebecca seemed to enjoy her power trip.

I sarcastically replied, “Thank You, Uba-san.”

I sulked most of the morning.  I was bitter and I knew that talking only got me in trouble.  We sat in silence until I stood up a little over an hour later.   She asked, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I need to pee.”

“That’s why you are wearing a diaper, use it.”

“Fine!”  I then let out a large stream that flooded my diaper.  “There, can you change my diaper, now?”  I was annoyed and was trying to make this as difficult as possible.

“Bad baby!  You don’t get to tell Uba-san that.  I’ll check and change your diaper when it’s time.  Go to the corner.”   I stayed in the corner for a little while, and I could feel the diaper leak down my leg.   Finally, Rebecca asked, “Are you sorry that you talked mean to Uba-san?”

I apologized, although it wasn’t sincere.  I was still mad and just wanted to be left alone.  She stayed in the den with me all morning, but I locked her out after lunch.  I was in the den by myself and didn’t let her in.  She knocked on the door a few times, but I ignored her.  Unfortunately, Claire had a key and opened the door once she got home.  She was furious and demanded that I apologize.

I answered, “I’m sorry, I just wanted to be by myself.”

Rebecca replied, “I accept your apology.  Hopefully, you will be better on Monday.”

Claire gave me a stern look and said, "You are not allowed to be alone anymore unless you’re in your crib.”

She grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the den.  I asked, “Where are we going?”

“You’re going to bed.  I’m sending you to bed early, and no dinner.”

“It’s not even six o’clock.”  I protested.

“That’s what happens when you’re naughty.”

Claire gave me other punishments over the weekend.  She made me handwrite an apology note to Uba-san, and then I had to write lines as well.  She took the door off the den and replaced it with a baby gate and then put a baby monitor in the nursery as well as the den.  She said, “I obviously can’t trust you, so I need to keep an eye on you.”

After that, my days followed a simple routine.  Uba-san watched me during the week, and I spent a few hours writing in the playroom, and then we went on a walk and had lunch.  I had to take a nap after lunch.  I always seem to whine when she told me it was time for my nap, which is typical for small children.  She would just laugh and say, “You need your rest, and Uba-san needs a break.”   Fortunately, the nap made the day go by faster.    I only left the house on weekends, which was also the only time that I had something to cover my diaper.  I got used to wearing just a diaper and a small t-shirt.

Despite my obedience, I was getting tired of the baby treatment.  I still had another full week left in my original thirty days, and I wanted a respite.  I mustered up the courage to approach Claire.  I said, “Claire, this is getting ridiculous.   I’ve done everything you asked, but I’m getting tired of the baby treatment.  This is cruel.”

I thought I was polite and respectful, but Claire did not.  “Go to the corner.”

“What?  Why?  What did I do?”

“Corner!”

I stomped to the corner and cried, “It’s not fair.”

This time Claire didn’t praise me because I was pouting.   She waited a few minutes, which seemed like forever in my mind, and then came to me.  She hugged me and said “I love you very much, but you know that’s not how you talk to mommy.  I’m afraid that you’ve earned yourself a baby weekend.”

I asked, “What’s that?”

“You’ll find out.  I’m going to treat you like you are a real baby.”

It was made worse by the buildup.  I watched as she brought in more implements of my punishment each day.  Claire brought in a highchair, which I figured I would have to use.    The crib was already in my room, but she put a changing table there as well.  But I still didn’t know what I was really in for until it started.

Claire came home on Friday and asked, “Are you ready for your baby weekend?”

I shook my head in horror and said, “No!  Please don’t do this.”  I begged, and even started to cry.

Claire had a compassionate look and said, “I know it’s scary, but you need to listen to mommy.   When you don’t listen, I have to punish you.  There are consequences for being naughty.”

“That’s when you send me to timeout,” I whined.

“Timeouts are only to stop you from being naughty.  This is to teach you a lesson.”  She held up a pacifier and said, “Open up.”  She clipped the pacifier around the back of my head, which made it impossible to spit out.

She brought me to the nursery and tapped on the changing table, “Climb up here.”   I did, and she praised me “Thank you, baby.  Arms out.”  I put my hands over my head and Claire said, “No baby, that’s up.  Show mommy your hands.”  I showed Claire my hands and she put a rubber ball in each hand.   She then strapped mittens over my hands.  My hands were cupped, and I couldn’t move them.  She put booties on my feet that had padding under them which made it difficult to walk.

She gave me a sponge bath and then brought me back to the nursery to finish with the diapers and onesie.   She dressed me in a blue onesie, and then said, “Ok baby, get in your crib.”   Claire connected my mittens to my waist and pulled up the rails to lock me into the crib.  She said, “Don’t leave, mommy is going to get your dinner.”   I thought that was ridiculous because there was no way I could get out of the crib.

Claire came back with four bottles and said, “Ok, it’s dinner time.”  She unclipped the pacifier, and handed me a bottle, “Drink all of this up.”   I struggled to hold on to the bottle, and Claire asked, “Do you need mommy to hold it for you?”  I shook my head but continued to struggle to hold the bottle in my mouth.  Claire said, “Let mommy hold it.”   She held the bottle against my lips while I sucked down the first bottle, and then gave me three more bottles of this chocolate mixture.   She then burped me, and said, “Lie down on this blanket, sweetie.” 

I laid down on the blanket, and Claire wrapped it tightly around my body, and then under my back.  The other side was wrapped tightly and then tucked in.  Just to make sure I couldn’t wriggle it loose; Claire pinned the blanket so that it was locked in place.  I was fully swaddled and couldn’t move my legs or arms.   Claire smiled, “Snug as a bug in a rug.”  She kissed my forehead, “Nite-nite, baby.”  I could barely roll over, and I had no idea how long Claire would leave me like this.  I couldn’t move the pacifier around and couldn’t make any noise.

I have no idea how long I was swaddled like that.  Claire occasionally came in and gave me a bottle of the chocolate mixture.  I guess the formula had laxatives and sedatives because all I did was sleep, pee, and poop.   I lost track of how many times I was given a bottle, but she changed my diaper three times before she brought me into the living room.   I think I spent an entire day in the crib.

I was relieved to be out of the crib, and free from the swaddle, but I still had the booties and mittens on.  The pacifier stayed clipped into my mouth unless I was given a bottle, and I was brought back to the nursery for two naps.  That evening I was put into the highchair, and Claire fed me jars of disgusting baby food.  It was the first solid food I had all weekend.

After dinner, I was brought back to the nursery and swaddled again for bedtime. The next morning Claire woke me up with a cheery voice, “Congratulations.  You were such a good baby this weekend, so now you’ll be one year old.”

I mumbled, “One year old?”  My mouth was tired from the pacifier, but I guess Claire understood my question.

“It means no more booties.  If you are good, I’ll give you more big kid privileges, but you have to earn those back.”  I was still spoon-fed and confined to a playpen for a few more days.  A baby weekend means that I lose all privileges for the whole weekend, and then gradually gain them back with proper behavior.  I got to feed myself on Wednesday, but I was still sitting in the highchair for a full week. 

I couldn’t tell hours from minutes, and my days started to blend.  Fortunately, I still had a mental count of how many days I spent in diapers.   I got to the thirtieth day and thought it was my last day in diapers.  I remembered that I had a tantrum and she told me that she started the count over, but I hoped she forgot about that.

Claire came into my playroom, even I started calling the den ‘my playroom’, holding some of my old underwear.   She asked me, “Do you know what these are?”

I answered, “Yeah, they look like my underwear.  Can I take this diaper off now?”

Claire laughed and said, “No, I’m sorry honey, I don’t think so.  I like you better this way, and I’m afraid that you might pee your pants.”

I let go of all of the pent-up emotion.  I put up with this crap for a whole month, and now she is telling me that it is permanent.  “WHAT!  That’s not fair.  You told me that this would only last thirty days.  It’s been thirty days.  It’s time to stop.”

Claire shook her head and said, “I didn’t say that.  I said that I would stop if you were ready to be an adult after thirty days.   I don’t think you are ready, and I like you this way.   You’re sleeping better, you’re healthier, and you’re not drinking anymore.   I think you’ve lost some weight because you’re eating better, and we aren’t fighting.  This is way better.”

I complained, “That’s not fair.  I don’t want to do this anymore.   I want to do things by myself, and what about my job?”

I didn’t know how Claire would respond.  Speaking like that usually got me sent to the corner.  “You don’t need a job.  I make enough money, and I don’t want you to have a job anymore.”  I was exasperated and on the verge of tears.  I was upset, but I couldn’t imagine leaving.  I only did this because I didn’t want to lose Claire.  Claire remarked, “You hate your job,”  which was true, “and you told me you want to write.  This will give you time to write.  I will even help you get freelance work.”

I protested, “But it’s not right.  I don’t want this all of the time.  I’m not a child.”

Claire asked, “Did you hate all of it?”

I had to tell the truth.    “No, I liked some of it.”

“What did you like?”

“You give me lots of hugs now.   How often did you tell me that you loved me before this?  You hug me every time my diaper is wet, and then tell me that you love me.  Whenever I get sent to the corner, you come back and say that you love me.    I think sometimes I said things just to get sent to the corner.”

Claire blushed and said, “Oh, that’s so sweet, and I do love you.”  She then paused, and asked, “Did you hate the diapers?”  I started to blush.  I knew that I kind of liked wearing diapers, but I wasn’t ready to admit it.   Claire smiled and said, “I knew it.”

I argued, “But we can’t do this forever.  I promise I’ll be better now.  I learned my lesson.”

Claire got deadly serious.  “Chris, I’ll be honest with you.  That ship has sailed.  I know that you haven’t changed enough, and you’re going to mess up.  I can’t live like that again.”

I pleaded, “I’ll be more mature.  I’ll clean the house.  It will be spotless.”

“I’m serious, Chris.   I’m not going back to what we had before I put you in diapers.   You have a choice.  You can leave, and I’ll grant you a no-contest divorce.  I’ll give you fifty thousand dollars and pay for a hotel room until you get a place to rent.  Or, you can stay, but on my terms.”

I shouldn’t have needed to ask, but I did.  “What are your terms?”

She replied, “This!  Diapers, crib, and everything else.  You will stay in diapers and listen to me.  I’ll be your mommy, and I’ll take care of you.”  

I asked, “So, I basically would be just like a child?”

“Not basically, you would literally be my little boy.”

"Can I take time to decide?”

Claire answered, “You don’t have to decide tonight, but you’re wearing diapers if you sleep here.  Your bedtime is still nine o’clock, and you’re sleeping in your crib.”

What option did I have?   I didn’t want a divorce.   Claire is the greatest thing that ever happened to me.   I would never get somebody like her again.  I would have a tiny apartment and a miserable job that I hated.   I could stay, have time to write, and pursue my dream.  I never had time to write before and couldn’t think of any stories.  I wrote more in the last month than I had in the previous five years.  I was flooded with stories and wasn’t stressed about life.  Being an adult is hard, and I’m not very good at it.  I took a deep breath and said, “I’ll stay here.”

Claire beamed and said, “Wonderful.”   She handed me the scissors and said, “mommy wants you to cut up all of your underwear.  You don’t need them anymore.”

[007specialk]

Awesome story and enjoyed reading.   thank you

[DannyDoo]

I REALLY loved this story, and I'm sad it won't continue.  But I appreciate you bringing it to a conclusion rather than leaving it open and never continued, as it happens in so many other stories.  Thanks for writing and sharing this story.

[spark]

20 minutes ago, DannyDoo said:

I REALLY loved this story, and I'm sad it won't continue.  But I appreciate you bringing it to a conclusion rather than leaving it open and never continued, as it happens in so many other stories.  Thanks for writing and sharing this story.

Thank you for your kind words.  I was glad that I could finish it.  I had to benefit of being on vacation and recovering from surgery, so I didn't have much to do.   There isn't much more that I do with Chris.  he is supposed to be this lovable ADD type of husband who has good intentions, but forgets what he is supposed to do.  He puts things in the wrong place or forgets to put things away.  He sometimes gets sidetracked, (not that I have any personal experiences with such things?).  He is already living a child-like life, and based on Claire's character- that won't change.  They can't have children, so Chris has become that child for her.  She is supposed strong, but maternal., and she doesn't trust Chris with a dog.

I do have a sequel that I'm workshopping which is part of the same characters, but not written from 1st person LB narrative, and won't have the MD/LB vibe.  It would likely be more in the MD/LG/lesbian weird nuclear vibe.   I hope that doesn't ruin the universe I've created

I'm not sure when I'll start to publish some of those chapters (I'm having a hard time setting it up), but I'll give a tease.  Three years in (around the time frame of the prologue) and Claire now thinks of herself as a single parent and finds companionship with a woman, and how they can reconcile an adult lesbian relationship with an AB husband, and there will also be an LG character, and plans for an LG-curious character (not LG, but wonders what the vibe is).

[Babypants]

This story is nicely structured, and given the ABDL context, the interplay between the two characters is well done.  I can't help but wonder, however, if you would have played their interaction the same way in a different context.  Does the name Maynard G. Krebs mean anything to you?  Maynard would have found Claire's obsessive/compulsive attitude to dirty dishes-- indeed, her entire bushel basket of neurotic behaviors-- a bit puzzling.  If life's journey is a long and winding road, Chris would pause at the various scenic overlooks, whereas Claire will always just keep on driving to her next self-appointed destination.  Does this make them an ill-matched couple?  Or a complementary one? 

[spark]

12 hours ago, Babypants said:

This story is nicely structured, and given the ABDL context, the interplay between the two characters is well done.  I can't help but wonder, however, if you would have played their interaction the same way in a different context.  Does the name Maynard G. Krebs mean anything to you?  Maynard would have found Claire's obsessive/compulsive attitude to dirty dishes-- indeed, her entire bushel basket of neurotic behaviors-- a bit puzzling.  If life's journey is a long and winding road, Chris would pause at the various scenic overlooks, whereas Claire will always just keep on driving to her next self-appointed destination.  Does this make them an ill-matched couple?  Or a complementary one? 

I think the overlook and drive to her destination analogy is accurate.  I'll add that Chris is the type of guy who would get sidetracked watching a butterfly and end 15 minutes late to his destination and Claire would be eying her watch to make sure they arrived on time.

I would call Claire controlling but I wouldn't say OCD.  The dishes are supposed to be 100% on Chris.  Chris is supposed to be a bit of a slob, and I wouldn't blame a wife for becoming frustrated with that.  Mind you, putting the husband into diapers and treating him like a three-year-old because of that is probably a bit of an overreaction, but that's the whole point of an ABDL story.

I didn't go deeply into their non-ABDL relationship.   I have a background in my mind, and I mentioned some of it in the first chapter.  They've been married 15 years, and Claire was a young student when they first met, while Chris is supposed to be about 7 years older than her.  Think 23 and 30, and Chris is the primary earner.  I think something to take away from it is that they were headed to divorce until she and he both accepted that it was a parent/child relationship and not a husband/wife relationship.

[Babypants]

53 minutes ago, spark said:

I think the overlook and drive to her destination analogy is accurate.  I'll add that Chris is the type of guy who would get sidetracked watching a butterfly and end 15 minutes late to his destination and Claire would be eying her watch to make sure they arrived on time.

I would call Claire controlling but I wouldn't say OCD.  The dishes are supposed to be 100% on Chris.  Chris is supposed to be a bit of a slob, and I wouldn't blame a wife for becoming frustrated with that.  Mind you, putting the husband into diapers and treating him like a three-year-old because of that is probably a bit of an overreaction, but that's the whole point of an ABDL story.

I didn't go deeply into their non-ABDL relationship.   I have a background in my mind, and I mentioned some of it in the first chapter.  They've been married 15 years, and Claire was a young student when they first met, while Chris is supposed to be about 7 years older than her.  Think 23 and 30, and Chris is the primary earner.  I think something to take away from it is that they were headed to divorce until she and he both accepted that it was a parent/child relationship and not a husband/wife relationship.

Very well stated.  I especially like the way you frame it in the first paragraph.  And your third paragraph goes to the heart of the challenge in trying to write quality fiction in a fetish setting.  The back story is frequently missing on the pages of this site, but it is the back story that makes the thoughts, words and actions of the character/s with narrative POV understandable and plausible to the reader.  So, was Chris a "slob" when they met, or did he become one after they married?  Did Claire marry him thinking that she could change him, only to discover the hard edge of reality after the fact?  Indeed, is Chris a "slob?"  How about Bohemian?  Beatnik?  Hippie?  Dreamer?  He is most certainly not a child, so in real life this relationship often does end in divorce because when one party exists and the other lives, there is scant room for meaningful communication.  And the long-term loser here, of course, would be goal seeking Claire, the stereotypical destination personality that never takes the time to stop and smell the roses (you have framed her personality beautifully here).  If she lives long enough, she will learn a profound truth that journey people seem instinctively to understand:

There is only one destination in life.

Death.