The Anniversary Trip

[justforfun]

The story began.

 

I had a relaxed smile on my face as my wife and I cleared security and headed to our gate.  We were finally on our way to our second honeymoon after 20 years of marriage and we were both in a very good mood.  I was looking forward to a few weeks away from the pressures of work, enjoying a first class trip to the parts of Europe my wife has most wanted to see.  I had arranged the entire thing in secret and given her the itinerary for our actual anniversary a month ago, to her immense delight.

 

My smile turned to a look of confusion as my wife pulled me in the direction of the family bathroom as we walked by, but I followed her as she took my hand.  As the door closed, I turned.

 

“Time for a quickie?  Aren’t we a little old for that?”  I started to pull her towards me, playfully.

 

My wife laughed her little laugh, still making my heart happy after all the years we had been together.  “We’re definitely too old for that.  But I do have something that will need your pants down.”  

 

“Huh?  What?”

 

I watched as she unlatched a table from the wall.  It was labeled “Assisted Needs Table, 300 lb limit”, the meaning of which I was still trying to figure out as she pulled a bag out of her carry-on, and from that bag pulled what looked like a…

 

“Honey, what’s going on?”  

 

She continued to spread out what looked like a padded mat on the table, and patted it, looking at me with a smile.  

 

“Trust me.  Sit here.”  She patted the table, and gently guided me over to it.  I allowed her to sit me on the table, which was at about chair height.  She bent down, and I watched as she took off one of my shoes, and then the other. 

 

“Honey…” I was a little more nervous now… “Talk to me?”

 

Instead, she kissed me full on the lips, and guided me back, rotating me so that I was laying on the table, her arm guiding my legs up and onto the table as well.  Keeping her lips on mine, she began to unbutton my pants, and I was beginning to respond.  My little brain started to take over, and having a certain set of expectations, began to forget about where we were, or what was happening, and just started living in the moment.  Soon my pants and underwear were off, and she pulled away.

 

“Do you trust me?”  Her smile had turned into a more of a Cheshire-cat grin.

 

I looked at her.  “Of course I trust you… but…” I gestured down at my… um… situation.  “Really, what’s going on?”

 

“Well, you gave me this incredible trip, and really wanted to do something for you.  Something I think only I can give you.”  She reached into a bag.  She pulled out a diaper.  A large, white, very thick, diaper.  She began fluffing it up with a loud crinkle.  

 

I had nothing to say, my mind locked on the fact that my wife was holding a diaper.  And I had no pants on.  And I was laying on a table.  A changing table.  A diaper changing table.  On a diaper changing pad.

 

“I remember the talk we had a year ago about why you wear diapers.  Lift up,” my wife said, gently, and I did, still not understanding.  “You told me about how they make you feel comfortable, and reduce anxiety, and just felt right.  Down.”  

 

I lowered my rear onto what was the familiar softness and bulk of a disposable diaper.  A disposable diaper that was clearly a thick, effective diaper.

 

“Well, I remember you wanting it to be someone else who chose your diapers and was responsible, and so I couldn’t ask you, but I did some research, and these are supposed to last 10 to 12 hours, so this should last the whole flight.  But I did bring some extras, just in case.”

 

Her words swirled in my mind, still mushy from the sensual excitement that I had been headed towards, but was quickly being replaced by something else.  I felt her pulling the diaper between my legs and moved my knees apart in response.  My little brain was figuring out that the anticipated romp was not going to happen, but the feeling of the soft inside of a diaper being placed over the tip of what was at the moment the rapidly shrinking center of my sensual world was not helping with any sort of clear thinking.

 

“You also told me that you felt a lot of guilt, which is why you don’t talk about this with me, but that when you were alone you played at being incontinent because then there would be a reason for you to wear diapers.  It wouldn’t be your ‘fault’ because you needed them.  Because you didn’t have a choice.  You wanted to have to wear diapers.”  I felt the diaper being adjusted, and I heard the unmistakable sound of a tape being opened, and felt the diaper hug me.

 

Another tape was fastened, and then another.  “And so, here’s the deal.  For our vacation, I’m putting you in diapers.”  The diaper was pulled firmly, and the last tape was fastened.  “It’s not your choice, it’s not your fault, and it’s not your guilt.”  

 

She smiled, as I remained, still, speechless.  Her voice took on a light-hearted tone as her fingers traced around the diaper, making sure that the leak guards were spread.  “I’ve taken care of everything, I think, and so I hope this helps you relax, reduces your travel anxiety, and, in general, I hope you enjoy it.”  She kissed me.  

 

“I, um.”  I didn’t know what to say.  She helped me sit up, and handed me my pants.  The white diaper poofed out and crinkled as I slowly pulled them up, processing what she had said.  “The whole vacation?”  I slipped my shoes on and tied them, adjusting my pants around the fluffiness in my pants, and wiggled a little.

 

“Yes, honey.  I’ve arranged supplies to be shipped to the hotels we’ll be at, and made some other arrangements.”

 

It felt like I had a pillow between my legs.  Looking at myself in the mirror as we washed our hands, the diaper bulge was… well… I guess if I was looking for it, it was visible, but my shirt loosely hanging camouflage it pretty well.  I knew, inside, this was something that I wanted… had always wanted… but this was my wife.  “Honey, this is silly.  I don’t need a diaper.  I don’t want to wear diapers.  Can we just stop this now?”  My wife just smiled and shook her head, opening the door for us to leave.

 

Leaving the restroom my wife looked at me as we walked, hand in hand, to the gate, the slight crinkle of my underwear barely audible if I tried to hear it.  “You don’t really have much of a choice now.  The only briefs I packed for you are the kind you’re wearing now.  And the pair you were wearing are back in the trash.  You are back in diapers now.”

—

As the plane climbed out and the flight attendant took our drink orders, I felt the bulk to the diaper I was wearing gently push my thighs apart in the comfortable first class seat.  My crotch had something of an androgynous bulge, and I made sure my undershirt and dress shirt were arranged to cover the white plastic sticking over the top of my waistband, even though that was additionally covered by the blanket in my lap.  I reached over and took my wife’s hand, leaning over the divider to be able to whisper in her ear.

 

“Honey…,” I started to say, before she leaned forward and took a folded sheet of paper from her purse, under the seat in front of her.  She handed me the paper.  As I unfolded it, I realized it had been crumpled up, and then unfolded, as if discarded.  I opened it.

 

It was my “cheat sheet” that I had put together for “The Diaper Discussion” I had had with my wife a year ago.  My daughter had just moved out to college, and I had decided that it was time to voice a part of me that had been repressed for 19 years.  I had put this part of me on a back shelf while we raised a wonderful, and now independent, daughter but when we became empty-nesters the need came back.  

 

The discussion had gone… not well, and my wife had reacted very cooly for some time after.  I had decided to not push things at the time, and continued feeding the need quietly, and in hiding, for the past year.  I loved my wife, and sought acceptance, not an ultimatum.  

 

I’m not great at communicating under pressure, so the sheet I now held was the “FAQ” I had written and printed for my own use.  I guess I had thrown it out after, and it now looks like it had been recovered.

 

“I saved this after our discussion,” my wife said quietly, looking at the sheet.  Her handwriting had been added in places, commenting on my own notes.  “I think that’s the most honest you’ve ever been with me, or yourself, so I’m taking that as what you really want, despite any protesting or complaining you may do now.  Ok?”

 

I looked at the paper with some trepidation, as it was true that I had spent weeks before “The Diaper Talk” working on this, polishing it, trying to make sure that it was indeed the most “true” I could be to myself.  And it was all laid out in my hands.  I nodded.  “You realize, honey, that some of this is… kind of extreme?”

 

She laughed.  “Nah, babe, I did a bunch of research online, and you’re pretty vanilla compared to some of the things I saw.  You’re going to be fine.  Trust me.”   She gave me a quick, but meaningful, peck on the cheek and her hand moved to give my crotch a little squeeze. “Let’s have fun with this.” 

 

I looked more closely at some of her notes.  Where my outline read, “Where do I buy them?” and listed a number of URLs and Amazon products that I had intended to use as examples, she had circled and highlighted a number of them, making comments about reviews of specific products from the shops.  They were the most absorbent out there.  I wondered which I was wearing.

 

Where my outline read, “Where and when do I wear them?” and listed, “Traveling, to reduce anxiety”, “Planes, to reduce need to use bathroom and resulting stress,” and “Where no one knows me, just because it relaxes me”, she had highlighted and circled the section and made a big note, “->EUROPE TRIP.”

 

And where I had noted, “How can you help”, and “Accept this as part of me”, and “Help remove guilt” she had drawn an arrow to “How to remove guilt”.  In that section I had typed a number of items but she had highlighted, “Someone else tells me to wear them, because then it’s not my ‘fault’.”  Her handwriting next to that made it clearer.  “Put him back in diapers. Make him use them without a choice.”  And, underlined twice, “Because _I_want_ him to wear diapers. ”

 

I looked at her.  She smiled at me with a devious smile.  “Maybe it took me a little while to accept this, but it’s just a part of you, and I do love you, you know.”  

 

I flagged the passing attendant down, and ordered another gin and tonic.  This was going to be an interesting trip.

 

–

 

I looked at my wife.  She was… confused.  She looked at me, the pages I had printed in her hand, a not-so-friendly look on her face.  

 

“What was I supposed to get out of this?”

 

“I wrote it…”

 

“Oh.”

 

She looked down.

 

“I’m not sure what to do with this.”

 

And then I woke up.

 

[diappernsfwboy]

hey  can i be in the story

[wetdiaper55]

I like the way this going

[Little Lamb]

Interesting way for a Start, eager for how it will develop

[mskvor]

Unfortunately, I don’t expect this story to continue. To me it seems to be a one-shot masterpiece. This is one of the cases where I would be happy to be wrong. Anyway, thanks Justforfun for sharing the story and if you feel like continue, I am sure that I won’t be the only one to be happy.

MS

[Eagle0769]

OMG a story from my dreams. ❤️

 

[justforfun]

On 8/27/2023 at 2:43 PM, mskvor said:

Unfortunately, I don’t expect this story to continue. To me it seems to be a one-shot masterpiece. This is one of the cases where I would be happy to be wrong. Anyway, thanks Justforfun for sharing the story and if you feel like continue, I am sure that I won’t be the only one to be happy.

MS

Well, that was my intent.  This was based on a dream I had... a fantasy within a dream... and I wrote it that way.

That said, the story itself is something I found interesting, so I'm thinking about expanding that part.

But yeah, it was meant to be a one-off.  Thanks for reading it.

[azchevy]

Please continue great story