Twister

[tammie2]

Twister

 A Love Story

1.

            Jamie sat on the edge of the motel’s bed, staring morosely at the cramped shambles of a room that hadn’t been updated in fifty years and probably not deep cleaned in almost as long. The carpet was worn through and stained, the dresser holding an outdated television was missing a leg, and he didn’t dare even think about what the various streaks and blotches on the walls were. The dim overhead light cast eerie shadows that more than likely hid filth he’d rather not see. The shower lacked hot water and the water that did trickle out was tinged with rust. Thin walls conveyed every moan and curse from his neighboring guests. 

            It had been a week since a tornado tore through his part of town, demolishing his apartment building and most other structures in its path. He’d been out running errands at the time and therefore escaped injury, or worse, but every possession he owned other than the laptop he always had with him, his car, and the clothes on his back were destroyed. He was fortunate to have found a place to stay, as bad as it was, but it was never meant to be a long-term solution. What he hadn’t counted on was the housing shortage created by the tornado’s destruction that made moving somewhere more suitable impossible. His former apartment would eventually be rebuilt, but that would take years.

            Moving back home wasn’t an option. His mother died when he was four and his father tolerated his only son as more of a nuisance than his own child. It didn’t help that Jamie had stopped growing due to a disfunction in his pituitary gland. His father refused to spend his “hard earned dollars” on treatment, so Jamie would forever stay at a shade under 4’3” tall. The final straw occurred when he showed an affinity for computer programming and decided to go into gaming. His father accused him of pursuing a “sissy” career and kicked him out of the house when he was 16.

            Friends were also scarce. If he was honest with himself, they were nonexistent. Men didn’t take him seriously due to his small stature and youthful features. Women either laughed at any effort he made to get to know them or wanted to mother him. Co-workers at least dealt with him as an equal because his work was exemplary, but when it came time to go out for drinks at the end of the workday on Friday, he was never invited to tag along. Chances are the bouncer would take one look at him and assume his ID was fake anyway. Eventually he simply stopped showing up and let himself get fired.

            Which meant that crashing on someone’s couch was out of the question. It had to be an apartment. It wasn’t like money was an issue. Insurance provided a housing allowance. Beyond that, the video game he’d created in his spare time when work at his former job wasn’t challenging him had unexpectedly found a huge, almost cult-like following and provided him with income beyond his wildest dreams. A major gaming company paid him a generous sum for first rights to a sequel that meant he’d never have to work another day in his life if they bought the rights to produce it. But that was the other problem.

            His depressing surroundings stifled his creativity. Worse, someone had tried to break into his room twice that he knew of. If anyone stole his laptop and broke through his firewall, they’d also gain access to all of his notes and visuals he’d been working on for the past eight months and would have no problem selling his precious creation off to the highest bidder if they recognized what they had. His safety was also at risk. He needed to get out of here, fast. With a sigh, he powered up his computer and got back to the tedious task of filling out applications no one would read for apartments that were probably no longer available and sending them off into cyberspace. After a while, he didn’t even bother reading the descriptions. 

 

            Angie Nelson stared at her computer screen, chin in hand, her thoughts focused on the information in front of her. Clearly the young man hadn’t bothered to give more than a cursory glance at her listing for a room to rent. If he had, he’d have seen that her home doubled as a place of refuge for unwed pregnant women who’d been deserted by the baby’s father, rejected by their families, or otherwise had no support system and no place to stay. For a minimal charge, she offered room and board and a sympathetic ear to help them through a difficult time.

            Of the three rooms she had to let, only one was currently occupied and the tenant there wasn’t actually with child. Millie had first come to Angie’s place about eighteen months before, pregnant, alone, and scared, but had lost the baby a few months later. Angie let her stay on to deal with her grief and over time the two women became friends. Millie became a fixture as well as a valuable assistant with the other women passing through and by unspoken agreement was allowed to stay for as long as she wanted to.

            Besides, it wasn’t like the other two rooms had been in great demand lately. Angie assumed young unattached women were still having babies, but for whatever reason they weren’t finding her accommodations. Which brought her thoughts back to the application in front of her. Would it be such a bad idea to have a male rent one of the rooms for six months or so? Angie wasn’t desperate for money but could use the income to remodel and refurnish the third bedroom. She’d had a couple inquiries about whether she could accommodate older, special needs children and their mothers but had to turn them away. This Jamie kid’s cover letter showed how desperate he was. It might be worth a try to see if he’d pay a premium for the room, so that she could afford to buy the special needs crib, changing table, and other furniture she’d looked into. He could then move on to another apartment somewhere and she’d have one regular room and one special needs room. Her home would be bustling with business once more.

            Angie made note of Jamie’s information but didn’t yet respond. She’d have to discuss this with Millie. Millie’s own experience, which included an abusive boyfriend who left her when she needed him the most, had soured her on men in general. It’s not that she hated men, but that didn’t mean she’d want one living under the same roof. Angie powered down the computer and went off to find her tenant.

[kerry]

very promising start!

[tammie2]

2.

            “I don’t know, Angie,” Millie said as they sat at the kitchen table. “Your home is a refuge for unwed mothers-to-be, and part of what they’re escaping from are the fathers that put them in this position in the first place. It’s always been all female, and I’m not sure adding a man to the mix is the best idea.”

            It was exactly the initial response that Angie anticipated. Millie was projecting her own feelings about what had happened to her as well as her emotional response at the time, which didn’t seem to have abated much over time. She said nothing, though, waiting for her tenant to talk herself into agreeing. Over the last half hour, Angie couldn’t stop thinking about having extra income to create the special needs space, which could save her financially if business didn’t get better in the long term. She’d done the math in her head. It would only take about eight months of Jamie’s rent to give her the funds she needed for the remodel and furnishings. Assuming, of course, that he didn’t question the almost exorbitant amount she intended to charge, which her gut told her he wouldn’t.

            “On the other hand, I see your point about what you can do with the extra income,” Millie continued, her mind churning as she stared at a point on the wall over Angie’s shoulder. “If we do this—I mean, if you decide to do this—what precautions would you take to make his presence as unobtrusive as possible? I know it’ll be impossible not to pass in the hall or be eating at the table at the same time, but I don’t want him to be shaving in the bathroom while I’m trying to curl my hair or taking a shower. Or for that matter, looking at my undies when they’re drying on the shower curtain rod.”

            Angie smiled, knowing the decision had been made. “I’d give him the pink room. I know it’s smaller than the other bedroom, but it has its own bathroom. I guess I’d insist on a couple of rules, like no overnight guests or parties, some things along that line. We may not have to worry about that. From his application it appears that he’s some sort of IT consultant, so he probably never moves away from his computer and has no social life.”

            Angie couldn’t keep a straight face as she uttered those last words, and soon both women were sharing a laugh. Millie nodded her consent and the deal was nearly done. Angie sent off an email asking Jamie to call her to set up an appointment to come by for an interview as Millie grabbed a notebook to scribble down her own ideas about rules he’d need to follow.

 

            Jamie’s initial euphoria over being invited to look at a place—his only response to the multitude of applications he’d sent out—started to wane the more he went over the details in his head. The apartment wasn’t even on the outskirts of town, it was in a fairly remote location. Google maps appeared to show that the house’s nearest neighbors were a quarter of a mile away or more. Not a big deal since he had no job to get to and he planned to be so buried in his work on the sequel that socializing of any sort was out of the question. Even if he did have friends to go out with. And two meals a day were included in the rent, so ordering out or going to restaurants wouldn’t be necessary.

            But the meal situation came with a catch. It probably meant communal meals if there were any other tenants and having to make small talk and pretend to be interested in what they had to say. He wondered if the landlady would take offense if he asked to eat in his room. And were there other tenants? From the language of the ad and the photo online, this was pretty clearly a house, not an apartment building, so he’d be renting a room rather than his own apartment. Would it be just him and some crazy woman, where he’d be distracted having to look over his shoulder all of the time for safety’s sake? Is there a lock on his door?

            Jamie sighed. He knew he was creating wild scenarios in his head as a way of finding an excuse to reject the chance to move there. He was avoiding confronting the real reason having only a room, with limited privacy, would be an issue. He glanced over at the nightstand next to the filthy bed, upon which sat a plastic bag of fresh adult diapers, and at the plastic bag on the floor containing several nights’ worth of used ones.

            He didn’t consider himself a bedwetter, not really. There was nothing physically wrong with him if you didn’t count his lack of height and stunted development in his genital area that came along with it. It had been well over a year since he contracted the illness that made any movement excruciatingly painful, effectively making him bedridden. Trips to the toilet were tortuous, and he found himself putting them off until the last possible minute. As a result, he’d had several accidents. His doctor had a case of diapers dropped off as a stopgap solution. After a couple of days his condition improved and he limited their use to nighttime. One week later and he was able to stop using them completely. He threw the remaining couple of packs in the back of his closet and eventually forgot about them.

            Flash forward a few months to what should have been a happy and monumental moment of his life, but which came with unexpected consequences. Almost as soon as he signed the contract with the gaming company, his life became a stressful hell. The pressure to find inspiration and to match or exceed his previous effort was immense. His only respite from the stress was sleep. His illness had permanently weakened his bladder, though, so while he didn’t wet the bed, he still needed to get up once or even twice every night to make a trip to the bathroom. The simple process of waking up to walk ten steps would stimulate his brain just enough to cram it with thought of all the tasks he needed to do the next day, the pressure of timetables, and more. He couldn’t get his mind relaxed again so that he could get back to sleep. Once he got up to urinate, he was awake for the rest of the night.

            Soon he was so perpetually tired he couldn’t function. One night at 3:00 in the morning when he began to reorganize his closet in an effort to bore himself to sleep, he noticed the forgotten bag of diapers. A light bulb went off in his head. The next night before he went to sleep he put on a diaper. When he felt the urge to pee, rather than get out of bed he urged his body to go right there in the diaper.

            It took time, but eventually he was able to only half wake up when his bladder called, wet his diaper, then immediately go back to sleep. Some months later, he stopped waking up entirely. He was shocked the first time he slept eight straight hours, waking up with a soggy mess between his legs. He felt so refreshed, though, that he didn’t think too hard about it. Now, it had been months since he’d last woken up to pee, and every morning without fail his diaper would be soaked. One time as an experiment he went to bed without a diaper to see if his brain would wake him up. It didn’t. Nevertheless, at that time he made the decision to put off worrying about it. He had enough other problems to focus on. Once the program was done and off to the company, he’d focus on retraining himself.

            But could he manage to hide his diaper wearing in a home setting? There’d be the issues of disposal, storage, and the smell. As he went back and forth considering the pros and cons of moving into the home and risking embarrassment and possible eviction, a loud crash on the floor of the room above him shook his entire room. A large chunk of plaster ceiling fell at his feet, revealing a colony of cockroaches nesting within it. Jamie reached for the phone.

 

[tammie2]

3.

            “Before I show you the room, I thought we’d talk a bit to get to know each other better,” Angie said to a visibly nervous Jamie. They were sitting at the kitchen table along with Millie, who hadn’t said a word since the introductions but did her best to bore a hole into Jamie’s soul with her most effective death stare. His small stature helped alleviate her concerns about having a man in the house, but she still wanted to let him know who’s boss.

            “There’s not much to say about myself that’s not in the application I submitted,” Jamie replied softly. “After college I started out in the IT department of an accounting firm. In my spare time I toyed with developing a game that surprised me by selling enough copies that a reputable gaming company is paying me to produce a sequel. It was more than enough to enable me to pay for my room and board here. So that’s what I’m working on now. I pretty much stay in my room all day putting it together. I don’t make any noise, in fact other than at meals you’ll barely know I’m here.”

            He didn’t know it, but Jamie couldn’t have crafted a better answer to satisfy not only Angie but Millie. Still, Angie decided to press on.

            “You said that you’re looking to stay for at least eight months. You have to realize that we may have several unwed and pregnant women rotate through the other room during that time period. They’ll need privacy, quiet, and understanding as far as the emotional turmoil and physical challenges they’re undergoing. As well as some occasional drama. We have to be strict as to limiting the number of guests you can have, there’s to be no smoking or drugs, and no parties of any kind. When asked, you need to help with some of the minor chores such as clearing the table or doing dishes.”

            “Yes, Ma’am,” Jamie answered with an inward grin. He tried to envision himself hosting a wild, alcohol- and drug-fueled rager or inviting a woman to spend the night but the images his mind produced were ridiculous.

            “Let’s see,” Angie continued, consulting a scrap of paper on which she’d scribbled some questions she thought to ask. “Oh yes, one last thing. Do you have any medical issues we should know about?”

            Jamie was momentarily paralyzed with fear and uncertainty. Is wetting the bed considered a medical issue? Even if it is, is that something he should disclose? Or want to reveal? Not only would he be embarrassed simply to reveal his condition, he’d never be able to look either of the women in the eyes again for as long as he lived there. What would they think of a young adult who wears diapers to bed? And would this be a red flag that would prevent him from getting the room? He couldn’t bear the thought of one more night in that fleabag hotel.

            “Um, no Ma’am,” he finally stammered.

            Angie noticed his hesitation. The question was meant to be a throwaway anyway, and the boy didn’t seem to be in ill health. On the other hand, she couldn’t tolerate something that might affect any of her pregnant women. Still, the money would be nice. A sudden thought occurred to her.

            “Well, young man,” she began, “I don’t see why I shouldn’t take you on, at least on a trial basis. Given that you don’t have a steady paycheck, though, I do insist that you pay all eight months up front for my own protection.”

            A wave of relief washed over Jamie. “That wouldn’t be a problem, Ms. Nelson. Do you take online transfers?”

            Angie couldn’t believe her luck. She could start on the special needs room this very afternoon. “Let’s worry about that in a moment, dear. Why don’t I show you the room first?”

 

            “If you choose to stay with us, this will be your bedroom.” Angie swung open the door to what she and Millie called the “pink room,” and it was immediately clear to Jamie that it deserved that label. The walls were a light shade of the color while the trim was still pink, only darker. White curtains edged with pink fluttered near the open windows. On the walls hung assorted pictures of baby animals and ABC blocks. The bed was adorned in covers of lace. Soft carpeting, thankfully in a neutral color, felt soft beneath his feet.

            “I realize it’s not exactly how you would decorate it yourself,” Angie told him unapologetically, “but I’m afraid I can’t let you make too many changes. I don’t want to have to change it back for one of my clients eight months from now.”

            In truth, Jamie had never made any effort to customize the look of any bedroom he’d ever had. While this was a bit over the top, all he really cared about was having a place to work where he could concentrate that wasn’t infested, dirty, and dangerous. His eyes drifted around the room and he was thrilled when they landed on a desk near one of the windows. He pulled out his phone to check the wifi signal and it was strong.

            “It’ll do just fine,” he finally managed to say. “If it’s okay with you, I’m ready to sign a lease.”

            He didn’t even ask about the rent, Angie thought to herself, and immediately she added fifty dollars per month to the already exorbitant amount she was going to ask. Visions of herself on her laptop ordering special needs nursery furniture almost distracted her from the task at hand.

“I’m so very pleased to hear that,” she said. “When can you move in?”

            “Everything I own is in my car,” Jamie replied. “How about now?”

[tammie2]

4.

            Her bank account now plump with Jamie’s advance rent payment, Angie sat drinking a cup of coffee in the living room as she drew two columns on a legal pad, one for things to do for the remodel of the special needs room and one for things she needed to buy. She absentmindedly watched Jamie come inside and trudge up the stairs, a laptop bag over one shoulder and a half-full black garbage bag grasped in the opposite hand. Five minutes or more passed before she realized that he hadn’t come back down for a second trip. She made her way up to the second floor to find out why.

            She found his bedroom door closed, so she knocked and opened it in a single motion, startling Jamie, who was setting up the desk area. The garbage bag sat empty at his feet. “Dear, I don’t mean to intrude, but do you need help carrying in the rest of your things?”

            Jamie blushed. “I’m afraid this is all I have,” he said quietly. “The storm destroyed everything else. I haven’t had the time to go replace them yet.”

            “Do you mean to tell me that what you’re wearing now are the only clothes that you own?” Angie asked as she moved closer to the boy. He nodded, clearly embarrassed. “And that you’ve had them on for several days in a row?” Another slight nod. “That does explain one thing. I wasn’t going to say anything, but your shirt does give off a bit of a... a fragrance,” she said, looking for a polite way to say it. “I’m sure Millie would agree that we’d prefer that you freshen up before dinner, which is in about an hour. Normally you do your own laundry, but I’m about to throw a load in the wash and can add your clothes to it. Are you sure that you don’t have anything else you can wear in the meantime?”

            Jamie shook his head and for a few moments the pair stood looking at each other, minds racing to find a solution.  Angie finally made a decision and broke the silence.

            “Jamie, I hope you understand that you’d make an aromatic and fairly unpleasant dinner companion in your present state,” she said gently as she moved closer and put a hand up to his cheek. “I know it’s not your fault. It’s too late today to get to the stores and back in time for dinner, but I’m sure we can find something around here you can wear while your clothes are in the wash. Please go take a long, hot shower and place your clothes outside the bathroom door. I’ll take care of them from there and put some clean clothes in their place.”

            For a moment Jamie didn’t react. Instinctively he knew this wasn’t a good idea, but he’d been Angie’s tenant for less than an hour and didn’t want to get off on a bad foot. He also knew that she was right. It was easy to overlook odors while staying in the motel that had its own issues with smells, but here in these almost pristine surroundings he probably was a walking garbage dump and that Angie was understating the issue. He nodded silently, pushed a few buttons on his keyboard, and moved to the bathroom.

            The strong and steady water pressure of the shower, a contrast to the dribble of the motel’s, was a pleasant surprise, as was the seemingly unlimited supply of hot water. Angie told him to take a long shower and he meant to take advantage of the offer. The soaps and shampoo left behind by the prior tenant were understandably floral scented, but Jamie didn’t care as he lathered up and luxuriated in the comforting warmth.

            In the meantime, Angie gathered up his clothes and carried them to the laundry room. Holding them out at arm’s length as she examined them, she shook her head. “These aren’t going in my washer,” she said to herself. She grimaced at the particularly dingy pair of underwear. “In fact I don’t think there’s any way that they can be saved.” Instead of adding the young man’s clothes to the existing load waiting in the washer, she rolled them up and stuffed them in a plastic bag after which she made a special trip out to the garbage can, taking satisfaction in burying them deep among its contents. 

     Reentering the house, Angie enlisted Millie’s help and together they pulled a large storage bin out of the attic, carrying it into Millie’s room and setting it down at the edge of her bed. Opening the lid, Angie was immediately disappointed.

            “I thought there was more,” she said with a sigh as she looked at the random collection of clothing left behind over the years by the myriad of women who’d found refuge in the home.

            Millie picked up a jumper that must have been worn a tenant who was large to begin with and then gained an enormous amount of weight during her pregnancy. “I think you could fit two of me in here. Let’s start by sorting by size. Jamie and I appear to have roughly the same bone structure if you discount certain anatomical differences,” she said, cupping her breasts, “but then we need to subtract a couple of sizes. I doubt you’ve had any woman here as short as he is. If we can find a few things that I can barely squeeze into, he should be able to wear them if we do some strategic pinning and use a belt. Not a perfect solution, but it’s only for today and part of tomorrow.”

            “You get started,” Angie told her, pulling a floor-length bathrobe out of the pile. “I’ll be right back.” 

            Angie entered Jamie’s room just as she heard the shower water stop running. She knocked on the bathroom door. “Jamie, finding something suitable is taking longer than I anticipated. I’ve left something outside the door you can wear for now while you finish unpacking.”

            Jamie waited until he heard his door close before emerging from the bathroom. His elevated mood at being clean deflated slightly when he saw the garment Angie had left for him. The bathrobe was a silky yellow with pink trim and flowers, with lacy trim at the edges. “It’s only until the laundry is done,” he thought, resigned to his fate. And he didn’t want to appear ungrateful. Slipping on the robe, the last six inches of it puddling on the floor at his feet, he looked around for some underwear but could find none. The belt loops were at the middle of his thighs, so he removed the belt, making sure to tie the robe especially tight around his waist. He looked like a young girl trying on her mother’s clothes. Resigned to his fate for the next few hours, he moved back to his desk.

            “Any luck?” Angie asked as she returned to Millie’s room.

            “Yes and no,” Millie replied. “This blouse has quite a bit of lace around the waist area, but you wouldn’t see it if he wears these.” She held up a pair of lilac bib shortalls adored with appliques of kittens. “I tried it on and almost suffocated, but I think it might work. It’s a little loose in the stomach where it’s meant to stretch out as a pregnant woman grows, but it’s probably the best we can do. Unless he’d rather wear this.” She held up a blue skirt. “It’s plain, but of course it’s a skirt.”

            Angie sighed. “Beggars can’t be choosers I guess. Hand me all of those, I’ll let him make his own decision. Underwear?”

            “Not really,” Millie admitted. “There are a few pair of thickly padded panties designed to absorb leaks both before and after the baby, but even though they’ve been washed I don’t think he’ll want to wear someone else’s underpants that have been peed in. I know I wouldn’t. He can have a couple of my less favorite pairs as long as he replaces them when he goes shopping tomorrow. I don’t want them back after he wears them. For socks, he’ll have to make due with women’s footies. At least they’re plain white.”

            “Thanks for the help, Millie. I guess this will be an interesting conversation.” With that, Angie scooped up the clothing in her arms and headed down the hall.

[Kat5]

I want to say that this is very well written and reasoned out!

 

I actually feel kind of bad for Jamie here. Losing everything all at once to a natural disaster and then suddenly being homeless is ... rough. It leaves a mark on you down to your soul. Your first hot meal after two weeks of living off of crackers and peanut butter is a spiritual experience, to say the least.

And I know Angie wasn't intending to take advantage of a homeless person with nowhere to turn, but it does seem that she's going to try to be as nice to him as she can manage, so that's reassuring.

[kerry]

On 11/30/2023 at 8:34 AM, tammie2 said:

A large chunk of plaster ceiling fell at his feet, revealing a colony of cockroaches nesting within it.

Ew!!!

[BabySofia]

Interesting start to this. I think this could be something really solid, please take your time on this! Don't feel like you have to rush into everything as you write. Looking forward to more! 🙂

 

(If he has any of those diapers, they'd certainly work for that missing underwear! 😎 )

[tammie2]

Baby Sofia, it's already fully written--35 chapters, novel length. It ends up going in a direction I never intended. Stay tuned, I'll try to post every day.

[tammie2]

 

5.

            It was a quiet first dinner for the threesome as Jamie sat pouting in his seat, his grumpy expression never changing as he stared down at his food. Angie took advantage of his lack of eye contact to study the boy more closely. With his long, full hair nearly reaching his shoulders, his high cheekbones, plump lips, and naturally long eyelashes, he could easily pass for a woman with a little makeup. Or even a young girl with his clear complexion and youthful face and overall small size. The blouse he was wearing helped, of course. Angie smiled as her imagination added blush, lipstick, eyeshadow, and a pair of earrings. It was almost too easy to see a proper young lady in front of her. Jamie had picked the skirt over the overalls, which surprised her. She wondered if he was one of those feminine young men who liked dressing up as a girl.

            She could not have been more wrong. Inside, Jamie was fuming. He wasn’t happy with Angie for disposing of his male clothing, or with Millie for the delight in her eyes as she presented him with two pair of her panties along with an admonition not to enjoy them too much. A part of him begrudgingly admitted that the situation wasn’t their fault and that they were trying to make the best of an unfortunate situation. Besides, this would all be over tomorrow when he went shopping for clothes. His mind was so focused on the relief he’d feel dressed normally again that he never considered what he’d wear when he went out to the stores.

            “Thank you, it was very good,” Jamie muttered quietly as he rose from the table, taking his plate and silverware in hand.

            “You’re most welcome, dear,” Angie replied. “Just put them in the sink. You’ve had a busy day and can help clear the table another time.”

            Both women watched as Jamie hurried toward the stairs, anxious to get out of sight and hoping to get his mind refocused on his project for the remaining hours until bedtime. Millie’s gaze remained on the vacant stairway for a few moments before she turned back to face her landlord.

            “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked. “It’s almost like having another woman at the table after all. Or maybe a tween,” she giggled.

            Angie smiled. “If that’s what you’re thinking, then yes we’re on the same wavelength. Come, help me with the dishes and let’s talk.”

 

            Jamie leaned back in his chair, exhausted. He’d had a productive session with both the technical programming aspect and the plotting of his game. It was only 10:30 p.m. Normally he’d take a break, get a snack and maybe some coffee, then work well into the night. Tonight, though, he thought he’d quit early and get some sleep. He swiveled around and headed toward the dresser to grab a diaper from the bottom drawer but was startled when he heard a sharp knock followed immediately by the opening of his door.

            “It occurred to me that you probably don’t have any pajamas,” Angie said as she walked into the room, “and given that this is a home of women, we can’t have you going au naturel. This is the only thing I could find and it’ll have to do for tonight.” 

            “Thank you,” Jamie stammered as he accepted the proffered garment. He waited until they’d said their good nights and Angie had left before unfolding it. He wasn’t surprised to find a woman’s nightgown with embroidered flowers on the bodice and lace trim all around. It could have been a companion piece to the awful bathrobe. Grumbling, he added pjs to his mental shopping list. 

            Finishing his trip to the dresser, he pulled a diaper from the drawer and sat on the bed, worried. With no way to lock his door and Angie’s propensity to enter a microsecond after she knocks, he’d have to be careful when putting on his nighttime protection. No more diapering in bed, he thought, he’d have to use the bathroom floor. At least that door had a lock. Beyond that, though, he recognized Angie as the overly helpful sort who, intentionally or not, inserted herself where she didn’t belong. What if she decided to organize his drawers, or did his laundry some day and put his folded clothes away? He needed to either find a better place to hide his diaper stash or store them under a lot of other clothes. Another note to add to his list.

            Deciding to be extra cautious, Jamie put his ear to his door to listen for movement before moving to the bathroom with diaper and nightie in hand. By the time he nestled under a sheet, he was so emotionally drained that he fell asleep almost the instant his head hit the pillow.

            Jamie was a character in a scene in his new video game, heroically showing off his battle skills, when he heard a knocking from somewhere off in the woods along with a distant voice calling his name. Confused, his head swiveled from side to side seeking out the source of the voice, which seemed to be getting closer by the second. Suddenly he felt a hand grasp his shoulder from behind. He dropped his weapon, panicked, and jumped as hard as he could to avoid the unknown predator.

            “For goodness sakes, Jamie, it’s only me. You must have been having a nightmare.” Angie smiled as she sat down on the bed beside him, the frightened boy clutching his bed sheet up to his chin. “I’m sorry to have to wake you my dear, but it’s nearly 8:00. Breakfast is in ten minutes. It’s more informal than dinner. You can wear what you have on and dress afterward. I’ll see you downstairs.”

            Jamie waited for Angie to close the door behind her before he dared lower the sheet. Did he have it pulled up when she entered? Could she have seen his diaper? Or smelled it? As always, he could feel the heaviness that squelched between his legs when he shifted his weight. No time to think about that right now, he knew Angie valued punctuality. He quickly pulled back the tapes and rolled it into a tight, aromatic ball. Frantically he looked around for a safe place to stash it until there was a clear path to the garbage can in the kitchen, finally settling on pushing it to the very back against the wall under his bed. He gave his groin area a quick rinse to wash the smell of urine away, donned a pair of Millie’s panties, and rushed down the stairs.

            “How adorable,” Millie remarked as Jamie entered the kitchen. “In an odd way the nightgown suits you. Lilac may be your color.” She glanced downward. “Although bare feet really aren’t appropriate at mealtime. Perhaps we can find you some cute slippers when we go shopping later.”

            “‘We?’” Jamie asked. “I thought I’d just run out to the mall for a quick trip right after breakfast.”

            “It’s Sunday today,” Angie said as she moved away from the stove with a spatula piled high with pancakes, expertly flipping two on each plate with an agile flip of the wrist. “The stores out here don’t open until noon. Millie thought she’d keep you company to get to know you better.”

            “Besides,” Millie added sweetly, “you owe me some new panties and I’m kind of picky about getting just the right style. It’ll be fun. We can do a little shopping then get a light lunch together.”

            Inwardly he groaned, but there was no polite way to turn her away. “That’ll be fine,” he finally said before turning his attention to his meal.

            “Great,” Millie said. “Let’s meet downstairs at noon.”

 

            Jamie stood before the two women as they looked him up and down, having him spin around to get a view of the back, their faces dour and getting worse by the second. He’d debated a long time between the shortalls with the kittens and the skirt, finally settling on the shortalls as the less girly of the options. By necessity he wore the same blouse underneath that he’s had on the day before.

            Angie spoke first. “I’m sorry to be blunt, but it’s just not working. I’m struggling to figure out quite why because the outfit itself, while a bit gauche, isn’t all that different from what young ladies get by with nowadays. It’s something else...”

            “He looks like a boy trying to look like a girl and failing,” Millie jumped in. 

            “Exactly!” Angie said. “You hit it right on the nose. The poor child would be so humiliated.”

            “So true, I’m afraid,” Millie said sympathetically. “Unless...” She paused, hand on her chin, clearly thinking as she circled Jamie, at one point running her fingers through his hair.

            After a long minute, Jamie could take it no longer. “Unless what?” he almost screamed. This was worse than any nightmare that haunted his dreams. He needed to get to the store to reclaim his maleness.

            “You’re not going to like it, but hear me out,” Millie finally said. “What makes you stand out right now, what will draw the stares and caustic comments, is just what I said. You’re obviously a man dressing like a woman and doing a spectacularly poor job of it. Ideally we’d make your wardrobe more masculine, but believe it or not what you have on is the best we’ve got to work with. So instead of changing the clothing, we need to change you. With a little bit of work...not too much, mind you...I’ll bet we can have you looking enough like a girl that no one will give you a second glance. We’ll go to the mall as sisters, buy you some clothes for your non-existent brother, and come home. No one will ever know.”

            Angie let out a squeal of glee as Jamie’s jaw dropped. Angie spoke first. “Millie, it’s brilliant. Jamie, I know what you’re thinking, but what other choice do you really have? And it’ll be a secret among the three of us, kind of a shared experience that only we know about. I think it’s brilliant!”

            Millie could sense that Jamie wasn’t convinced. “Jamie, think of it like this. I’ll bet when you play video games you sometimes take the role of a girl or a woman, right? See, I knew it, and there’s no shame in doing so. This is no different except it’s real life. An adventure in the actual world, not just on a computer screen.”

            Jamie was confused. He really, really didn’t want to succumb to this crazy notion. Still, there was a certain amount of sense in what Millie said. But what really made up his mind was keeping his eye on the prize. Short of asking one of the women to pick up some clothes for him, which had disaster written all over it, this was his only choice. And by this afternoon he’d be back home with new clothes to wear. Men’s clothes.

            “Fine, I’ll do it,” he said reluctantly to the delight of the two women.

            “Excellent!” Millie told him, a gleam in her eyes. “Come by my room in fifteen minutes. Angie, no peeking, it’ll just be us two girls.”

 

 

[tammie2]

 

6.

            “Come on in, Jamie, don’t be shy. I don’t bite.” Millie sensed Jamie’s hesitancy and walked over to her doorway, taking his hand and leading him over to her makeup table, gently pushing on his shoulders to lower him onto the chair and facing him away from the mirror. “I know this will be a new experience for you, but all you need to do is simply trust me and let me work my magic. You might even find that you enjoy the pampering. First things first.” 

Millie secured a pink makeup bib around Jamie’s neck. “Wouldn’t want to spill on your outfit,” she said cheerfully. She then cupped his chin and brought her eyes close. “Good, very clean shaven. That helps.” Privately, she wondered if he had even started shaving. It was hard to think of him as being as old as he claimed to be.

“We’ll start with foundation, which is kind of like preparing the canvas for an artist. Give me your hand.” Millie didn’t have a wide selection to choose from, possessing only those that she liked for herself, but Jamie’s skin tone wasn’t that far off from hers, so it only took a couple of tries on his hand to find the right choice. She dabbed small dots of the cream all over his face then used a broad brush to blend it in. Stepping back, she admired her handiwork. The foundation alone took years off his appearance along with a giant step into femininity. 

Still, something was missing. Digging through her drawer where she stored seldom-used makeup, she finally found what she was looking for. Concealer. A few well-placed strokes later, Jamie’s face took on a very subtle sheen and his eyes seemed brighter. As she grabbed the eye liner, Millie paused and looked back at her subject, then put the eye liner back in its place. She had a decision to make. If she proceeded with a full adult makeover, at best the result would be mostly convincing but he’d appear more like a teenager mimicking what she’d seen her mother do. On the other hand, if she went the other direction, using Jamie’s youthful appearance and his juvenile outfit to her advantage, no one would believe that he wasn’t a tween or even a pre-teen. It was a no-brainer.

Millie found a plain, very light pink eye shadow and used it sparingly, just enough to add some femininity without also adding age. “Look up,” she told Jamie as she put a light coat on his eyelashes, which were already long and lush enough to make half the female population jealous.  She was much less subtle with the blush, giving him rosy cheeks more suitable for a young child than a woman. 

“No woman leaves the house without lipstick,” she told the boy, who hadn’t said a word the entire time and looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Would you like to choose the color?” Millie held out three options, all of them pink and each one resembling various shades of bubble gum. As expected, Jamie pointed to the lightest color.

“Excellent choice,” Millie said enthusiastically as she surreptitiously put Jamie’s pick in the drawer along with one of the other tubes, retaining the color that she would have chosen as a young girl. “Now pucker your lips like this.”

She stepped back to admire her work and had to stifle a satisfied gasp. In front of her sat not a young man or even a young woman, but fifth-grade girl. Give him a book bag and braces and he could be enrolled in the local grammar school, no questions asked. Still, she needed to add one more touch to complete the look. No, two more touches. And he won’t like one of them more than he won’t like the other.

“Almost done, Jamie, and I must say I outdid myself. No one will think you’re anything but a woman.” She deliberately avoided referencing his apparent age. “We just need to brush out your hair and we can be on our way.” She stood above him as she gently brushed out his tangles, then took a comb and created a part exactly in the middle of his head. Brushing half of his hair to each side, she took two small purple pony holders from her pocket and expertly added them near the ends of each pigtail. 

“Down to the last thing, dear. Give me one of your hands.”

Puzzled, Jamie reached out to her only to have Millie turn him around and pin his hand firmly on the makeup table with one hand while she deftly uncapped a light pink nail polish bottle with the other.

“What?!” Jamie exclaimed. “No way. This has gone too far!”

“Do you want to be convincing or not?” Millie responded, allowing a bit of irritation to enter her tone. Without waiting for an answer, she quickly colored all ten nails. She opted out of trying to put on a second coat or topcoat. Jamie had clearly reached his breaking point and she didn’t want to risk open rebellion. “Done. Now try not to touch anything for the next few minutes.” Again, Millie couldn’t resist stepping away to get a view from a distance. It was like looking at a work of art.

“Want to see what you look like?” she asked. “No? Okay, then, let’s go downstairs and see what Angie thinks.”

It’ll be over soon, Jamie kept muttering to himself as he trudged down the stairs. Millie tried to get him to pose in various positions but eventually gave up. She’d let him win that battle because she’d already won the war.

“Angie, come on in and see the young lady,” Millie called excitedly. Angie hurried in from the kitchen holding a dinner plate and dish towel. She almost dropped them both.

“My goodness, my gracious,” she muttered over and over. “If I didn’t know better even I would never, ever.... Jamie, you’re not only a woman, you’re actually pretty! You don’t need to worry about anyone at the mall guessing your secret. Did you thank Millie?”

“I think she’s stunned into silence,” Millie laughed. “But the end result is its own reward. Should we get going?”

“Not in those shoes,” Angie said. “I’ll bet we have a pair of sandals or flip-flops that will work well enough even if they don’t quite fit. And you’ll need something to carry your wallet in, dear, those shortalls don’t have pockets. Millie, can you help me see what we can find upstairs?”

The two women hurried upstairs and into Angie’s room. Angie hadn’t put the clothing box back in the attic yet, so they once more dragged it over by the bed and started looking for shoes.

“What did he say when he saw himself in the mirror?” Angie asked. “I mean, he looks like he’s twelve years old.”

“More like ten going on eleven,” Millie giggled. “And he studiously avoided the mirror. I think he’s traumatized. Once the makeup started to go on his years seemed to fade away along with any trace of masculine traits. I decided to go with it. Besides, he has no boobs so this will be more convincing.”

“It’ll be hard not to see his reflection at the mall with all the mirrors in the clothing department of the store. But I guess by then what can he do about it?” Angie pulled a pair of silver sparkly flip-flops from the box. “Might be a little small but should work.”

“Hold on, I think I have a purse he can use.” Millie dashed from the room and returned a few minutes later with a round purse designed and decorated to look like the head of a cat. “Don’t ask,” she smiled when Angie opened her mouth to speak. 

The pair called downstairs to ask Jamie where his wallet was. Angie entered his room while Millie made a detour to the bathroom. They emerged into the hallway at the same time.

“Can you hand me her purse?” Millie asked with a devious grin. Opening the zipper, she deftly placed a tampon inside next to Jamie’s wallet. “A young girl has to be prepared because you never know when Mother Nature will come calling.”

“You are so evil,” Angie said trying hard not to laugh. Together they went downstairs.

 

[tammie2]

 

7.

            “Before we go in,” Millie said as she turned off the car, “I have a suggestion. Appearance-wise, you’re 100% convincing as a girl. It’s your voice that’ll give you away. When it’s just the two of us, you can talk as you normally do, just speak softly so that no one overhears. When you’re faced with interacting with someone, such as a salesperson or whoever takes your order at lunch, best if you keep your mouth shut. I’ll cover for you and do all the talking. Try not to stray too far away.” 

            Once out of the car, Jamie began walking toward the mall entrance at a furious pace, anxious to grab the first pair of jeans he saw along with a couple of shirts. Millie shouted at him to stop as she scurried to catch up. 

            “I know you’re determined to get this over with as soon as possible, but you need to slow down. Remember, for the immediate future, you’re a girl and need to behave like one. Smaller steps. Also, you love to shop. We’re not going to make a beeline for the men’s department. Stop to admire the purses that are on sale, or to check the price tag of a bracelet that catches your eye. Bring out your inner woman.”

            In truth, Millie herself hated to shop and avoided it whenever possible. And Jamie didn’t need to sell his role as a girl, he looked the part too well. She was simply having fun and milking the situation at the poor boy’s expense.

            The second the pair entered the mall, Millie watched as Jamie tensed up, barely moving, his head swiveling from side to side studying the other shoppers and panic entering his eyes whenever anyone passed them by.

            “Relax,” she told him. “Act natural and don’t draw attention to yourself. See? No one’s paying you the least bit of attention. Here. Put your arm through mine. Just two women out for a day of shopping together. Ooh, look at this red dress. I wonder if they have my size.”

            Millie walked into a women’s fashion boutique, dragging Jamie with her. They were immediately approached by an attractive blonde saleswoman.

            “Is there something I can help you with ladies?” she asked pleasantly. “Twenty percent off today in the juniors’ department.”

            “Just looking, thank you,” Millie responded. She pulled Jamie deeper into the shop, checked a couple of outfits out, then turned and headed back out. “See, that wasn’t so bad, except the fashion that place carries is just horrid. I only went in there to convince you that your secret is safe. Now will you relax?”

            Jamie nodded, partly annoyed at Millie for putting him through that and partly relieved that he passed the first test. And it did have the intended effect. He was a bit more confident, although he continued to keep is eyes focused on the floor to avoid eye contact with anyone and everyone. Which is why he was startled by the bright lights as Millie led him into another shop.

            “Welcome to Claire’s!” enthused a girl clearly still looking forward to her high school graduation. “Aren’t you the cutest thing. Don’t be shy. Are you here to get your ears pierced today? We have a wide selection of cool sparkly studs.”

            Jamie froze when he realized the young woman was addressing him. He looked up at Millie, who had an amused smile on her face.

            “Just looking around, thank you,” she said. “But maybe another time.”

            Twice more they were approached by solicitous young women extolling the cool factor of ankle bracelets, friendship rings, and, one more time, their selection of earrings discounted with a piercing. It seemed like it took forever to circle the perimeter of the store and head back into the relative safely of the mall.

            “More confidence boosting?” Jamie muttered quietly, casting a disparaging glance at Millie.

            “Nope,” she replied. “That was just me having fun with you. Be thankful I didn’t ask one of those little cuties to walk you through the piercing process and then disappear when they guided you over to the chair. Now are you ready to get what we came for? Department store is right over here.”

            The pair had no sooner entered the wide doorway of the store than they were accosted by two women with perfume in hand asking if they wanted to try samples. Millie was able to audibly decline, but Jamie, afraid to open his mouth, must have given just enough of an indication that he was interested that the saleswoman next to him happily spritzed his neck. As they moved on, Millie leaned over and gave a sniff. 

            “Mmm, not quite what I would have chosen for you. I think you’d do better with a scent that’s a little more floral. Still, it’s a nice way to bring out your feminine side.”

            Unwilling to break cover by shouting, Jamie gave Millie what he hoped was an effective stare of utter distain. She appeared not to notice.

            “Menswear is past the shoe department. This way.” 

            Jamie didn’t think he’d ever be so happy to see a simple stack of blue jeans. Before he could get to them, though, Millie stopped to admire a pair of heels.

            “Look at these, Jamie, aren’t they adorable? Love the color, and the low heel gives them a feminine outline without sacrificing comfort. Hold up, I want to try them on. You’ve waited this long, a couple more minutes won’t make a difference.”

            Millie led Jamie to a pair of adjacent chairs, where she handed a salesclerk the shoe and asked for a size eight. After several minutes had passed, the saleswoman came back with two boxes and a long face.

            “I’m so sorry, but we’re out of that size. It’s been a very popular style. I brought you a nine because sometimes this manufacturer’s shoes run small.” She pulled up a stool as Millie extended her foot. The shoe slipped on easily and when Millie stood up to walk in them, the left one fell off with her first step. The woman was not to be deterred. “If you really like this style, I can call our other stores to see if any of them have your size in stock.”

            Millie frowned. “I don’t want you to go to all that trouble unless I’m 100% sure, and I won’t know unless I see it being worn.” Her face brightened as an idea struck her. “Jamie, what’s your size? Maybe I can make a decision if I see you walk in them.”

            Jamie froze and within the few seconds he hesitated the sales clerk had scooted over, produced a device out of nowhere, slipped off his sandal, and instructed him to stand up. He realized quickly it would be safer to play along than to try to stop the measurement already in progress.

            “Excellent!” the woman said with enthusiasm. “I brought a smaller size in case you wanted to match your mom. Let’s slip these on and give them a try.” She produced footies from her pocket and handed them to Jamie. A glance in Millie’s direction showed that she had no intention of coming to his rescue. He slipped them on his feet.

            “They seem like they were made for you, dear,” the woman said. “Why don’t you give them a test run.” Jamie walked about ten feet under the watchful eyes of the two women then returned to his seat.

            “Thank you, Jamie,” Millie said. “I don’t think they’re quite what I’m looking for but they suit you perfectly.” Millie turned to the sales woman. “We’ll take them.”

            The clerk smiled broadly before holding up Jamie’s sandals with a sour expression. “Would you like me to dispose of these for you?” she asked.

            “Yes, please,” Millie answered. “She’ll wear the new pair.” She rose and addressed the horrified young man. “My treat.”

            “Why did you do that?” Jamie whispered as they headed to the men’s department. “It’s not like I’ll ever wear these again.”

            “Would you rather have kept clomping around in those godawful sandals that didn’t fit you? They also offended my sense of fashion and it made me sad to see how uncomfortable they were for you. Rather than chastise me you should be thanking me.”

            “Thank you,” Jamie muttered reluctantly, his eyes laser focused on the stack of jeans. “I don’t need to try these on, I know my size.”

            Jamie quickly picked out two pairs of pants, one dark blue and the other one faded, then moved on to the shirts. Millie watched with amusement as he grabbed half a dozen without regard to style before throwing a bag of socks on top of his haul. Within three minutes he was taking his selection to the cashier. Millie trailed behind.

            The salesman at the register looked askance at the young girl as she placed a large number of items on the counter. He remained silent as she struggled to pull a large wallet out of her small purse, finally yanking it out and spilling its entire contents. A tampon landed on top of the pile.

            Jamie gasped and quickly stuffed the offending object back into the purse, glancing up at the cashier to see if he had noticed. He clearly had seen everything. Avoiding eye contact, Jamie pulled out his credit card and handed it to the man, who frowned.

            “I’m sorry, young lady, but to process your purchase I’ll need the actual cardholder to be present. Is your mother here?”

            Jamie blanched and was about to reveal his true identity no matter how embarrassing if it was the only way to bag up his clothes and head for home. He was fishing for his driver’s license when Millie came to the rescue.

            “I’m here. Sorry, I told her that this might happen but she wanted to say she bought her brother these clothes herself.”

            Without any further discussion, the clerk rang up the purchase, reaching over Jamie to hand the card to Millie after he’d scanned it. He bagged everything in one large plastic bag and gave it to Jamie. “Do you think you can manage it, dear?” he asked.

            Jamie headed to the dressing room to change but was cut off by Millie. “Not a good idea, Jamie. First of all, they won’t let a girl in the men’s changing area. It would also draw a lot of attention to you to enter as a woman and emerge as a man. Not even a man. Don’t forget your face and hair are made up to make you look feminine and there’s nowhere back there to wash it off. You’ll have to wait until we get home. Now, how about some lunch?”

            Jamie had to admit she was right and accepted defeat. They headed back downstairs on their way to the food court, but as they walked back out to the mall area Jamie stopped, fidgeting and looking distressed. Millie asked what was wrong.

            “I need to use the bathroom,” he said. “Badly.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

[tammie2]

8.

            Millie could see the desperation in Jamie’s eyes, not to mention his excessive fidgeting and the crossing of his legs. “You should have said something earlier,” she told him. “No problem, though, I think there’s a ladies’ room near the food court.”

            Jamie’s mouth dropped open. “But I can’t... I mean I shouldn’t...” he stammered.

            “You can’t exactly go into the men’s room looking like that, now, can you?” she said firmly. “We’ve already established that no one will ever know. Besides, you’ll do your business in a stall so no one will see your dangly parts. And from the looks of it, you won’t be able to make it until we get home. You really don’t have a choice.” She paused, noting that his panicked expression hadn’t lessened. “Jamie, it’s just a bathroom. It’s not like a secret society where you need to know a special handshake or pass a quiz on periods to use it. I’ll go in with you. We can be in and out in no time and get something to eat.”

            Jamie nodded as he felt a few drops of urine escape. At this point he had to go so badly that he’d use one of the mall’s planters if he had to. He shuffled as fast as he was able after Millie, afraid to take bigger steps if that meant spreading his legs. After what seemed like an eternity, he found himself trailing Millie into forbidden territory, his panties at this point more than a little damp. The first thing he noticed was two teenagers at the mirror, one fixing her lipstick and the other adjusting her bra. He abruptly turned away to face in the direction of the stalls, where he confronted a sight rarely seen in the men’s room. A line.

            “You’ll have to hold it a little longer,” Millie whispered. “You can go before me. I’ll meet you outside.”

            The line moved at glacial speed. At the passing of every minute, Jamie could feel his crotch get a little wetter. Glancing down, he was relieved to see that no wet spot was visible on his outfit. Finally, stalls on both ends opened up simultaneously. Millie headed toward one as Jamie speed-shuffled to the other.

            Once inside, Jamie reached for the buckle holding the strap of his shortalls on his left shoulder. His hands were shaking as he fumbled with the latch, having trouble focusing on the mechanics of getting it undone. Just as he pushed it free, his bladder released. “Noooo...” he groaned, rushing to sit down on the toilet seat so that the excess pee streaming down through his crotch would end up in the toilet bowl rather than the floor. The result was a tinkle much like the sounds emanating from the other stalls. 

            The relief he felt in emptying his bladder was more than offset by his panic at what to do next. He grabbed a wad of toilet paper and dried off his thighs, but the tissue was no match for the saturated crotch of his shortalls. Besides being suddenly itchy and uncomfortable, there was no way to clean up his accident. When he emerged from the stall, he held the shopping bag containing his new purchases in front of his groin area, pinning it against himself as he leaned into the sink to wash his hands. He glanced over to the stall Millie had used and saw that the door was ajar. 

            She was waiting for him just outside the restroom. “What took you so long? I’m famished.” The pleading in Jamie’s eyes gave her immediate pause. “Is something wrong? Are you alright? What happened in there?”

            “Can we go home now?” Jamie pleaded, his voice quivering.

            “Not unless you tell me what’s going on,” Millie replied. “And why are you standing so awkwardly. Here, let me hold that for you.” Before Jamie could stop her, she took hold of the plastic bag and held it to her side. She gasped and immediately handed it back to Jamie.

            “I thought that smell of pee was coming from inside the bathroom,” she said crossly. “How on earth did that happen? Toilets in the ladies’ room work exactly as those in the men’s room so you shouldn’t have been confused.”

            Jamie explained his issues with the buckle to unsympathetic ears.  “Well, you’re not getting into my car like that,” Millie told him. “And I’m hungry. Keep that bag well-positioned while we walk to the food court, then slide into a chair while I get us some food.” As they walked Millie surreptitiously fell back a half step in order to take a look at Jamie’s rear end. She didn’t have the heart to tell him about the large wet spot covering half his backside. 

            Jamie was relieved to sit down, the table hiding his shame, but kept shifting to try to find a position where the drenched fabric didn’t press against him. Just as Millie returned with two trays of food, a dreadful thought occurred to him. “I didn’t buy any underwear,” he said.

            “When you buy me panties to replace the pairs I gave you, you can get some for yourself as well. What? Do you really want to go back to the men’s department in that condition? I didn’t think so. You can order underpants online when we get home.”

            They ate most of their meal together in silence, which Millie eventually broke. “I’m not sure how you’re going to explain this to Angie,” she said. “You should know that she’s a real neat freak. If your lease is similar to mine, she has the right to terminate it for any number or reasons, including if you fail to keep the place clean or have any condition that would cause damage to the furniture or carpeting. Or just because she wants to. She went berserk when one of her tenant’s water broke in the living room and the poor woman almost got evicted. I don’t think she’ll be happy with a pants wetter living under her roof.”

            Millie smiled at the horror in Jamie’s eyes. Virtually none of what she’d just said was true but she was enjoying having some harmless fun at his expense. She wondered how far she could take it and decided to push it further.

            “Please don’t tell her!” Jamie almost shouted, drawing unwanted attention from nearby tables. “I can’t afford to lose this place. It’s the only one I could find!” he said in a much softer but still desperate tone.

            “I’ll make you a deal,” Millie said, “and it involves you doing something to actually make Angie a little more comfortable with your presence in the home and possibly secure your space there for the full term of the lease. She admitted to me last night that she’s not entirely on board with her decision to bring a man on as a tenant. Nothing against you personally, mind you, but she’s so accustomed to having all women in the house that she doesn’t know if she can enjoy meals with you at the table. She was thrilled that you wore a skirt to dinner last night and expressed a desire that you’d go a little further at meals.”

            Jamie stared at Millie as if she had two heads. “Are you suggesting...” he began, but was unable to finish the thought, it was so unthinkable. 

            “That you come to dinner dressed as a woman, complete with makeup and your hair done properly. I think at breakfast you can slide by with the nightgown or feminine pjs, and what you wear the rest of the day is totally up to you. So it would just be dinner. It would mean so much to her and in a way, you kind of owe her for taking you in.”

            Jamie sat lost in thought for several minutes. On the one hand, this was an absolute, ridiculous nightmare and he couldn’t believe the predicament he was in. Ask him a week ago and he’d have insisted that he’d never consider such a thing. On the other hand, if he were to lose this room, he couldn’t imagine going back to the fleabag motel or worse, living out of his car. He began to rationalize. It would only be for an hour every day and it would save him the embarrassment of having Angie or anyone else find out about the most humiliating day of his life. Still...

            “Okay, fine,” he finally said to Millie’s surprise and delight. “But no one ever, ever finds out about today. Not just Angie, anyone. And not just my accident, all of this.”

            “Of course, dear, that sounds fair. Now, if you’re done eating, we need to do some more shopping.”

 

            The pair headed back toward the department store, so Jamie was puzzled when Millie took a detour into a pharmacy. “You smell,” she explained, “and you can’t simply replace the wet panties with dry ones. We need to clean you up.” Jamie saw the sense in that but was still mortified when he found himself in the baby aisle. Millie picked up a pack of scented wipes and, as an afterthought, some baby powder. Jamie didn’t want to make a scene, so he said nothing.

            “Let me grab the panties you owe me then we’ll get you fixed,” she said once back out in the mall. Jamie couldn’t believe she’d make him wait even longer to get out of his wet things. The itching as growing intolerable and maybe he was being paranoid, but he swore he heard girlish giggling all around him. He clutched his shopping bag closer to his midsection.

            Silently he followed Millie into the women’s department, awkwardly standing among all of the women’s bras and undergarments. He closed his eyes and in his mind pretended to be at a ballgame, drinking beer and doing manly things. His reverie was broken when he heard Millie’s voice in his ear. “Your card.”

            He handed it over, ignoring Millie’s smirk when the tampon peeked out of his purse as he retrieved his wallet. He didn’t even ask to see the panties he was purchasing for her. Anything to speed up the process. When Millie returned and gave him back his card, he took a step toward section with women’s casual wear.

            “Not here,” Millie told him. “Unless you want to pay top dollar for the clothes you’ll only be wearing to dinner. Come with me.”

            He was again forced back into the main part of the mall and its throngs of shoppers. As before, he avoided eye contact and didn’t even see the name of the store that Millie dragged him into. Once inside, though, he immediately could see that it was aimed at teenage girls.

            “My name’s Christine and it would be my pleasure to assist you and your daughter today,” a young freckled blonde girl said mechanically, drawing scowls from both Jamie and Millie, but for opposite reasons. “Let me show you to our pre-teen section where I’m sure you’ll find whatever you’re looking for.”

            Without waiting for a response, the woman turned and walked away. Millie shrugged her shoulders and followed, leaving Jamie no choice but to bring up the rear. Within seconds they were deep among a forest of racks of brightly colored attire clearly meant for tweens and even younger girls. Millie politely dismissed the clerk by stating that she’d let her know if they needed help.

            Millie held a particularly homely dress up against Jamie’s front. “I know it’s hideous,” she whispered. “All I’m trying to do right now is find the right size for you, then we’ll quickly grab a couple things and get into a dressing room where we can clean you up. Then you can stay and hide in there while I do the actual shopping.”

            Millie shook her head, returned the dress to the rack, and picked up the next size down. This one seemed to satisfy her. “Incredible,” she murmured to herself when she looked at the size on the tag. She grabbed two more outfits in the same size, picked up a package of panties off a sales table, and signaled to Christine, who led them to the back.

            Before they entered the dressing room area, Christine paused to point to a sign posted on the wall which read “All children 12 and under must be accompanied by an adult.” “I know she’s still got a few years to go,” she told Millie. “But we can let her stay in there by herself for a little while if you come out to look for something new to try or a different size.”

            Jamie had never been so relieved to be anywhere as he was when Millie closed the dressing room door behind them, but his mood changed almost immediately when Millie leaned down to speak softly into his ear.

            “There may be others in here, so we need to keep up the charade,” she said. “Keep your voice low. Also, look up there.” Millie pointed a camera high up on the wall. “It’s to prevent shoplifting and drug use. We’re going to have to keep your boy parts hidden. It won’t be an issue once you get panties on but we can’t risk revealing yourself to the world cleaning the pee off of you. I’m afraid I’m going to have to do it and use my body to block the view of the camera.”

            As she spoke, Millie knelt on the floor, opened up the pack of baby wipes, and placed the baby powder container on the floor. Using both hands, she pulled Jamie’s soggy panties down and dropped them in the pharmacy bag, not making any effort to hide her disgust at touching Jamie’s pee. “Won’t be wearing those again,” she told him. She was now facing Jamie’s naked penis inches from her. She paused only long enough to make the observation that it seemed grossly underdeveloped compared to the genitals of the sexual partners she’d had, but maybe she’d just been lucky and this was within the norm. Somehow, she imagined that there would be more than a few wisps of fine hair.

            She made quick work of cleaning him up, wiping his member while taking care not to stroke it, then moving to other sensitive areas before finishing with his thighs. Not daring to have him turn around, she reached around to take a short pass over his rear and up his crack. She snorted in disgust at the streak left on the wipe. She handed Jamie a pair of panties before pulling out a handful of wipes to clean her hands, depositing them in the bag.

            Jamie looked at the panties in dismay. They were white cotton with pink kittens and purple hearts on them. “Just slip them on,” Millie hissed. “I didn’t have time to look at anything but size.” Jamie reluctantly did just that. As embarrassing as it was, the clean and dry panties felt wonderful. Millie, however, wasn’t done. She pulled the front of Jamie’s panties out and shook a generous amount of baby powder in, then repeated the process in the back. Excessive perhaps, but the room now smelled like a nursery instead of an outhouse.

            “Okay,” Millie said, rising. “Let’s pull those disgusting shortalls off you and get you in something else. She looked more closely at what she’d selected. “Let’s start with this dress.” She added the smelly shortalls to the bag then helped Jamie pull the dress over his head. “Wow,” she said admiringly. “Ugly as hell but it actually fits you remarkably well. Take it off and let’s try this romper.”

            And so it went. For the better part of the next hour, Millie made trips out to the shop floor and came back with arms full of a variety of outfits, setting aside some and hanging the rest on a rack outside the door. At long last, she declared them done but gave Jamie a lingering once-over. “Nope. Not quite finished.” She left the dressing room, tracked down Christine, and whispered to her conspiratorially. 

            Christine nodded, moved away, then returned and handed Millie a small package with a knowing smile. “I used these when I was her age,” she said.

            She returned to the dressing room to find a very impatient young man waiting for her. “You have a very small chest,” Millie said, “and these clothes are for girls who are just starting to develop. They’d fit you much better if you wore this”—she held a training bra out in one hand—“with these.” In her other hand, she had small breast inserts. “They’ll bring you up to just under an A cup.”

            Jamie almost forgot where he was and started to protest but was instantly cut off. “They’ll make you look better, and all girls want that,” she said. “And it’s part of the agreement we made earlier. If you want me to keep your secret you’ll say yes.”

            Jamie sighed in resignation, looking at what seemed to be an unnecessarily large pile of clothing in the keeper pile, some of which he didn’t remember trying on. He nodded his head, picked up the clothes, and followed Millie out of the dressing room to the cashier, out of the mall, and at long last out to the car.

 

[dyperaby]

Great story!

[tammie2]

 

9.

            Millie and Jamie each carried armfuls of bags into his room where they deposited the trove of clothing onto his bed. Jamie looked at Millie expectantly, thinking that her role in this whole escapade was now over and that she would leave. She showed no signs of doing so. 

            “Do you have a scissors?” she asked him as she stood by the end of his bed. “You can cut off the tags and I’ll help hang up the dresses and put everything else in drawers.”

            Jamie recognized that putting up any resistance would be more trouble than it was worth and that by working together the annoying task of handling women’s clothes would get done sooner. He couldn’t wait to get into a pair of jeans and a man’s shirt and then get online to order underwear.

            He started with the bags from the teen store and the pair soon got into a rhythm. He’d cut the tags and hand the garment to Millie, who hung up the dresses and neatly folded anything that didn’t need a hanger and place it in his dresser drawer. As he suspected, there were way more outfits than he had tried on and many of them appeared to be more juvenile than he would have liked. He was no expert in women’s clothing, though, so he figured he may be mistaken. It wasn’t like he was going to wear all of this anyway. A couple of outfits a week would be more than sufficient. The rest would collect dust for eight months.

            After about ten minutes, only one bag from that store remained. Millie came over and sat down with the bag between them. She reached inside and pulled out two three-packs of girls’ panties, one having been opened to retrieve the pair Jamie was currently wearing.

            “These are so adorable!” she gushed as she tore open the plastic bags. “Okay, maybe not something you’d pick out yourself but you have to admit how cute they are. They bring back such memories!”

            Jamie would admit nothing of the sort. The two remaining pair from the open package had more animals, one with puppies cuddling colored balls and the other with ducks holding umbrellas. The second collection was even worse, each pair adorned with a different character from My Little Ponies, according to the package. He took solace from the fact that he’d only need to wear them a day or so until Amazon could deliver the underwear he was going to order as soon as he could get Millie out of his room.

            “I know what you’re thinking,” Millie said, intruding into his reverie. “They’re for girls younger than you. Much, much younger. Don’t fret it. No one will see them under your dresses and such at dinner. If it bothers you that much, though, you could buy some plain panties when you order your boy underpants. Six pair should be enough since you’ll only be changing into them when you dress for dinner.” She noticed Jamie’s puzzlement. “You’re not thinking of wearing your briefs under girls’ clothes, are you? Those would definitely interfere with your feminine profile and are unacceptable.”

            Jamie felt deflated and wondered once again how he got himself into this mess. He pulled the next package out and groaned. Two more training bras. Millie gathered up all of the panties and bras and placed them neatly into the second drawer of his dresser.

            “That should do it for the women’s clothes. I trust you can handle the other things on your own?” As she spoke, Jamie turned over the bag the panties and bras had been in and one more item fell onto the bed. “Oh my,” Millie said. “I didn’t buy whatever that is. The checkout counter was kind of a mess and the cashier must have put that in our pile by mistake. Let’s take a look at what we have.”

            Millie picked up the mystery garment and held it aloft. It was a white baby doll pajama, with a pink bow in the center of the bodice and matching ribbons further down. The neckline featured a Peter Pan collar while the hems were trimmed with lace. It was short and would only fall to the upper thigh, exposing the wearer’s panties.

            “Well, this is a happy accident,” Millie said. “Now you have something to alternate with the nightie you already have. A girl should have at least two things to wear to bed. And it’s so pretty, it’ll be a delight to see you in this at breakfast.”

            Jamie felt deflated. He realized that in his haste while shopping, he’d also forgotten to buy pajamas. He’d add it to his online purchases, but he knew he was supposed to attend breakfast in women’s nighttime attire. If he didn’t wear this monstrosity once in a while, Millie would ask why. He looked up to see Millie approach his dresser.

            “Do you keep your pajamas in the bottom drawer?” she asked as she knelt down to open it.

            “No!” Jamie shouted, startling Millie. “I mean, no thanks. Please put it in my panty drawer.” In his distress and urgency to prevent her from discovering his diapers, Jamie didn’t even realize what he was saying, but Millie noticed and smiled. 

            “All right then, I’ll leave you to deal with your manly clothes by yourself,” she said with a touch of sarcasm that Jamie totally missed. She looked at the time. “Dinner’s in only about two hours. You might as well leave on that dress and your makeup until then.”

            Jamie watched as Millie exited the room, relieved to be alone for the first time all day. He felt satisfaction as he hung up his blue jeans and his shirts, validating who he really was. Maybe someday he’d use this horrible experience as a nightmarish scene in one of his videos. For now, he fired up his laptop and placed his order.

            “How did shopping go?” Angie asked as Millie entered the third bedroom. 

            “Um, fine, but I have a few things to tell you before dinner,” Millie responded as she gawked at the future special needs room. “But first, how did you get so much done in such a short time?” She gazed at the four walls surrounding her. Angie had added wallpaper displaying a pastel fairyland of castles, unicorns, and colorful landscape to the bottom portion of the wall that gave the room a Neverland kind of feel. She was presently on a ladder adding stickers of the three little pigs to the top portion of one wall already adorned with a montage of characters from nursery rhymes. The other three walls were the same. In less than a day, Angie had created a dream-like feel to the formerly functional but nondescript room.

            “I got an email that the furniture will be here next week,” Angie said as she pressed the Big Bad Wolf flat against the wall and smoothed out the wrinkles. “So I’m motivated to get as much done as possible before it arrives. I want this room to be every baby’s fantasy, even if they don’t know it. Still a lot to do but this is a good start. Now tell me, what do I need to know?”

 

            Jamie fidgeted at his spot at the table, growing uncomfortable at being the center of attention from the two women, Millie beaming proudly and Angie gawking. Millie had stopped by his room just before dinnertime to touch up his makeup, encouraging him to try it himself. He was thankful when she took down his pigtails and combed out his hair, then irritated when without asking she added hair clips with pink bows to each side of his head.

            “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to stare,” Angie finally said, breaking the awkward silence. In reality she did want to stare and to take in every feature. The added details of a young girl’s dress with the smallest hint of a pubescent bump on the chest, the hair bows, and the coloring on his cheeks from Jamie’s blushing made it impossible to see him as anything but a young girl still a couple of years short of middle school. “Millie told me of your idea to present yourself as a woman for meals to ease our discomfort at having a male in the house, and I can’t thank you enough for your thoughtfulness. I confess I was having second thoughts but your actions here tonight, and your intent to continue for all future meals, confirms that I made the right decision in taking you in.”

            “She even did some of her own makeup tonight,” Millie added, drawing a sharp look from Jamie. “No need to be upset, dear,” she said in response. “When you’re dressed as you are, and I must say looking so lovely, using female pronouns seems appropriate.”

            “I couldn’t agree more,” Angie said with a broad smile. “It doesn’t mean that we see you as any less masculine than when you’re in male clothes. In fact, I think voluntarily dressing all girly is a sure sign that you’re confident in your masculinity and mere clothing doesn’t change who you really are. Besides, it’s nice to keep up the illusion. So at breakfast and dinner, or any other time you’re dressed up as a girl, we’ll refer to you as ‘she’ and ‘her’ from now on.”

            Jamie didn’t like the way Angie’s comments sounded more like a decree than a suggestion. Right now, though, he was in a precarious position. This was only his second day here, his prospects for alternative housing remained bleak, and he already had enough stress in his life trying to get his new game back on track. He decided that this was an issue he’d raise later after Angie and Millie grew accustomed to his presence.

            The rest of the meal was pleasant enough with mostly small talk, although the two women occasionally found it necessary to instruct Jamie on how to hold his glass or cut his food in a more feminine manner. When dinner was over, Angie informed him that it was his turn to do the dishes. Before she retreated back upstairs, she hung a frilly apron around his neck and tied it in a big bow in the back. “Need to protect that pretty dress,” she told him.

            Jamie grumbled to himself as he washed and dried. He’d already conceded so much in the short time he was living here and hoped that this was the end of it. In the grand scheme of things, he just needed to concentrate on developing his game, bring it to the finish line, then reap the rewards. By that time additional housing in town should be available and he’d have a bigger budget for it. In the meantime, no one outside of Millie and Angie would know about any of what was happening under this roof.

            Once back in his room, Jamie made a beeline for the bathroom to wash off his makeup. To his surprise and consternation, there next to the sink were makeup removal pads, moisturizer with a sticky note attached telling him to put it on his face before bed, two colors of nail polish, and a small zippered bag with foundation, blush, eye shadow, lipstick, mascara and a few brushes. What he didn’t see was acetone to remove the polish currently on his nails. He opened a few drawers in the hope of finding some. No acetone, but what he did find was a hairbrush, feminine wipes, a hand mirror, and half a bag of menstrual pads. Were they here all along, left behind by a prior tenant, he wondered? He put the thought aside and began the task of washing all of the gunk off of his face. 

            Once clean, he felt better. As he exited the bathroom he considered changing into his new male clothes, but then again why bother. He’d had a long, exhausting day and would probably go to bed in a couple of hours. He’d leave the dress on. No one would see him anyway.

            As he passed his bed, Jamie paused and sniffed the air. Was it his imagination, or did he smell pee? Only then did he remember the diaper he’d stashed under his bed that morning. Frantic, he took one of the plastic shopping bags out of his waste basket and put the offending diaper into it, twisting the top of the bag to create a seal. He needed a better system, but more crucially he needed to find a way to get his used diapers into the trash without being seen.

            Another problem to solve, but he’d deal with it in the morning. By then he’d have two diapers to hide. For right now, he made his way to the computer table and started to work.

[tammie2]

10.

            As hard as he tried, Jamie couldn’t concentrate on his work. He’d made a good deal of progress over the last couple of days, but at the moment was distracted by the presence of four wet diapers in the bag under his bed. Angie had been spending a lot of time fixing up the vacant bedroom, which should have given him a clear path to the garbage can in the kitchen where he could bury the diapers deep underneath the other trash. Unfortunately, Millie had started to spend much more time at the kitchen table in order to get away from the noise Angie was making assembling furniture across the hall. He’d have to wait until both women were in bed tonight and make his trip downstairs with his odorous bag at that time.

            On the positive side, he was once more able to dress in his usual manly attire during the daytime, breakfast and dinner excepted. His underwear had arrived the day before and he had never been so excited to receive something so mundane. He didn’t even wait to wash them before tearing off the childish panties and putting on his new white briefs, storing the remaining pairs in a drawer. He still harbored some resentment at having to wear a nightgown and panties to breakfast and girlish clothes to dinner, but it was the price he had to pay for a safe work environment and a roof over his head so he’d put up with it for now.

            Having set a game plan for diaper disposal, Jamie’s focus returned to designing his video game. He was deep into a critical element when his focus was interrupted by a short knock at his door followed immediately by Angie stepping through. He still needed to get up the nerve to have a talk with her about respecting privacy.

            “Jamie, I’m so sorry to interrupt but I need your room for thirty minutes or so,” Angie told him. She placed a mop and a bucket of water of the floor. “As you can see I need to wash the floor. It won’t take long but then you need to wait for it to dry before coming back in. Millie’s down in the kitchen making cookies if you want to join her.”

            Jamie sighed. He thought about bringing his laptop and continuing his work downstairs, but figured he could use a break. A cup of tea and a cookie and a few minutes away from programming might help his brain subconsciously sort out an issue that had been stumping him.

            “Hey Jamie,” Millie said enthusiastically as he entered the kitchen. “I guess you got kicked out of your room too. You’ll have to forgive Angie. If you haven’t figured it out by now, to say she’s a neat freak is an understatement. She hates even the smallest mess or disorder, real or imagined, and zeroes in on it with zeal. So if she thinks the floors need cleaning or the tabletops need dusting, it’s best just to stay out of her way. Care for a cookie? Hot out of the oven.”

            Jamie thanked her and reached toward the cookie sheet to retrieve a cookie. As his hand reached its prey, though, Millie intercepted it and took it into her own, scrutinizing it and frowning. 

            “I understand why you didn’t want to remove your nail polish,” she said gently. “We girls like to have that little dash of color to brighten our appearance. But if you’re going to keep it on, you have to take care of it. Look, it’s chipped in places and, oh dear, you bite your nails, don’t you? A nasty habit we’ll work on breaking. Don’t go anywhere.”

            Before Jamie could respond, Millie was dashing out the door and on her way up the stairs. He barely had time to finish his cookie and begin wondering where she had gone off to when she returned, a bottle of acetone in one hand and another of nail polish in the other.

            Jamie eyed her suspiciously. The container of polish remover was only half full, a clear indication that Millie had it all along. As she took a chair and grabbed one of his hands, he decided to play along until his nails were free of their current color and then put a stop to this before she applied something new.

            “I’ve got to complement you again, Jamie,” Millie said as she rubbed a moist cotton pad over his thumbnail, “on your instincts with Angie. I don’t think you realized how close she came to tossing you out for no reason other than your gender. Dressing up all girly and pretty was a good start, but your decision to add nail polish was probably the deciding factor in her allowing you to stay. It showed true commitment on your part. Even now at every meal I see her sneaking looks at your nails and smiling.”

            Jamie remained impassive on the outside as Millie moved on to his other fingers, but his insides were in turmoil as his resolve to take a stand dissolved into nothingness. He had to mentally remind himself that this was temporary and, for now, necessary. His mind was still so caught up in processing this turn of events that he didn’t realize Millie had finished removing the polish on both hands and was still chatting.

            “...so that’s why we should move to something a little more bold this time. I know what you’re thinking. Purple with sparkles isn’t in this year. But I think it makes a statement. It shows that you’re not afraid to express your inner woman no matter what the fashion world would think. And don’t think Angie won’t notice. That’s the whole point.”

            Jamie watched in horror as Millie took her time getting every nail picture perfect. “Bold” isn’t the word he would use for the bright color being added to each nail. More like “tacky” or “aggressively obnoxious.” Given the opportunity, it would attract attention from twenty feet away. He’d have to make sure not to be seen in public until he could switch back to something less attention-grabbing. If then.

            Millie finished by applying a glossy top coat before blowing on Jamie’s hands and instructing him not to move them for at least twenty minutes. “Mmm,” she pondered as she looked downward. “I don’t think we should attack your toes in the kitchen. I’ll come by your room before dinner. No more cookies, now. You don’t want to spoil your dinner or your figure.”

            She proceeded to place the remainder of the cookies in a plastic bag, then tidied up the kitchen, all the time humming a happy tune to herself. Jamie sat and sulked, watching the second hand on the wall clock take its time making every revolution.

 

            In the meantime, Angie busied herself in Jamie’s room, first sweeping up the dust and debris then beginning to mop the floor. She prided herself on being thorough and pushed the mop head firmly under Jamie’s bed in order to clean all the way to the wall. At first it was no problem, but as she made her way to the end of the bed the mop met resistance. Angie pushed with more force with no better result. Sighing, she got down on her knees and peered into the darkness only to be met with a faint but distinct odor as she looked under the bed. Odd, she thought, and troubling. What is he trying to hide from me?

            Without any regard to Jamie’s right to privacy, Angie used the broom handle to bring the offending object within reach, pulling the bag out to where she could examine it. From the smell and feel, she hardly needed to open the bag to know what was inside, having had so many babies in the home over the years. Nevertheless, she was puzzled. Why would Jamie have used baby diapers in his room, and why did he hide them under his bed? She carefully untied the loose knot sealing the bag shut and looked inside.

            She was startled by what she found. Those weren’t baby-sized diapers. Quickly she retied the bag but by then the smell had permeated the room. Fortuitously, Millie walked by at that very moment.

            “Millie,” Angie called to her. “Do you think you could keep Jamie busy downstairs for twenty minutes or so? I’ll explain later.”

            “Sure thing,” Millie replied, turning on her heels and bringing the nail polish back downstairs.

            Angie took the bag into the bathroom, where she pulled out a thick garbage bag from under the sink. She pulled the new bag around the old one and tied it tight, sniffing to make sure it was sufficient to contain the odor. Satisfied, she placed it in the back of the hallway closet where she could retrieve it later. Returning to Jamie’s room, she opened his windows a little wider then began exploring. 

            “Eureka!” she muttered softly as she opened up his bottom dresser drawer. Inside were about half a dozen adult-sized diapers hidden under a few of his new shirts. She carefully rearranged the contents of the drawer to put them back as she found them, moving to Jamie’s closet. She wasn’t the least bit surprised to find an unopened package of the same diapers pushed deep into a corner.

            “So you have a secret,” Angie said to herself. Clearly he didn’t wear diapers during the day or she would have noticed. Doing the math, the four diapers equaled the four nights he’d slept here. Obvious, then, that he was a bedwetter. She should be angry that he kept this from her but oddly felt excited at her discovery and she didn’t know why. There must be an opportunity here somewhere that she’s not quite seeing. First, though, she needed to see if his issues extended beyond nighttime. Moving to Jamie’s hamper, she pulled out all of his underpants and panties and to her consternation, most of them were damp and a couple even had light streaks in the rear. She set aside the offending pairs and returned the rest to the hamper. 

            Angie let her mind focus on what she’d found while she finished mopping but didn’t see how she could use this to her advantage. What she really should do is kick the kid out for essentially lying to her by omission and creating a situation that would bring smells and messes into her neat house. But something was stopping her.

            Draining the bucket and putting the cleaning supplies away, she knew what her next step had to be. Once Jamie was back in his room, where hopefully the smell of the floor detergent was now predominant and would cover any lingering odor of urine, she’d have a discussion with Millie. Maybe she would know what to do.

 

 

[tammie2]

 

11.

            Jamie entered the kitchen for dinner and immediately sensed that something was wrong. Angie and Millie sat at their usual spots at the table but no table settings had been set out and the way they stared at him sent shivers down his spine. He paused mid-step and was uncertain whether to continue forward or beat a hasty retreat back up to his room.

            “Take a seat, Jamie,” Angie said sternly, making his decision for him. “First of all, you look very sweet in that jumper and the barrettes are a nice touch, although I think you could use some instruction on proper placement. And I love your nails. But we’re not here to discuss your wardrobe. Well, in a way maybe we are.”

            Puzzled, Jamie fidgeted nervously in his chair. He had no idea what direction this conversation was going until he watched Angie lean down and pull up a familiar plastic shopping bag which she placed on the table between them. Panic immediately consumed him and he felt sick to his stomach. His distress must have shown.

            “I see that you recognize this bag and are familiar with its contents,” Angie said matter-of-factly as she pulled one wet diaper after another out of the bag. The kitchen immediately took on the fragrance of an overflowing diaper pail. “And I have some comments to make. But first I’d like to hear an explanation from you.”

            Jamie’s mind reeled, unsure of how much to reveal. His eyes went from Angie to Millie and he found no answers from either’s expression. His normally fertile imagination failed to produce a story that anyone would believe, so he decided that the best route to take was to tell the truth. Sort of.

            “I’ve had a problem with change for most of my life,” he began. “We moved around a lot when I was growing up and my mom told me once that for the first couple of weeks in each new home, I would wet the bed. That continued into my teens then seemed to simply stop. Until after the tornado. Three of the first four nights at the motel I had accidents while I slept before I got that under control. I didn’t want anything to interfere with my situation here and I was scared of what you would think of me, so I took precautions and wore diapers.” He looked for sympathy in the eyes of either woman but found none. “I’m sure it won’t last much longer,” he added.

            For several moments no one said anything. Angie broke the silence. “And you didn’t think to tell me this during our interview when I asked about medical conditions?”

            “I didn’t know if it would happen,” Jamie said quickly. “And if it didn’t, it wasn’t something you had to know about. It’s embarrassing. And,” he added sheepishly, “I really, really needed to get out of where I was and this was my only chance.”

            His explanation was plausible, Angie thought, but she still had her doubts. She cast a side glance at Millie, whose barely noticeable head shake indicated that she too wasn’t fully convinced. Time to test his veracity by pushing on.

            “So tell me, Jamie,” Angie said. “Is the wetting issue confined to when you sleep? Do you have any daytime issues? If I decide to allow you to stay here, do I have to worry about your peeing your panties?”

            Jamie felt both concern that Angie was actually considering canceling his lease and relief that he could address her follow-up question honestly and in a way that strengthened his case. “Absolutely not,” he told Angie confidently. “I haven’t had a daytime accident since I was two years old and still toilet training.”

            Angie looked at Millie and nodded. Millie reached down to the floor to retrieve a second bag, which she placed next to the first one. Without comment, she proceeded to pull out three pairs of Jamie’s panties and one pair of his tighty whities. Slowly, deliberately, she turned the crotch of each out to be prominently displayed.

            “Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider your answer?” Millie asked. “Feel these. All of them are either damp or actually wet, and two of them indicate that you appear to have troubles wiping the other end. It makes us think that your potty training wasn’t completely successful.”

            “But that happens with everyone!” Jamie exclaimed. “I mean, everyone dribbles a little bit, right? So okay, maybe once or twice it was a little bit more than a dribble and more like a leak, but when I’m in the middle of solving an issue with my program or on a roll and don’t want to stop, I put off using the bathroom until I get to a point where I can pause what I’m doing. But it’s not really wetting myself, just a few extra drops. I mean, it never went anywhere but my underwear. No harm, no foul.” Jamie couldn’t believe the women thought this was even an issue. This was perfectly normal behavior, right?

            “Jamie, I need to ask you to step out of the kitchen for a moment,” Angie told him. “Don’t go far. Millie and I need to have a brief chat.”

            It didn’t seem brief to Jamie, who paced the living room wondering if Angie could legally evict him for something so minor, especially since he had taken prudent steps to make sure his bedwetting didn’t harm anyone. He must have walked over a mile back and forth before he was called back in.

            As before, Angie took the lead. “Jamie, we’re not going to evict you,” she began, eliciting a huge sigh from the boy. “But only if you agree to a few new conditions. As far as your bedwetting, I’ll be taking a few precautions of my own to protect my bed and to deal with certain other noxious issues. For one thing, every night either Millie or myself will tape you into your diaper. We need to make sure it’s on as tight and leak-proof as possible and that’s not something you can do yourself. Also, you’re to report to breakfast in your diaper so that we can keep track of your successes and failures, which will be recorded on a chart on the refrigerator. Are we good so far?”

            No, not at all, Jamie thought. He couldn’t imagine the humiliation of having either woman see him naked, and for the purpose of treating him as if he were a helpless infant. He’d already made up his mind while in the living room, though, that if he was given the chance to stay, he had no choice but to agree to anything Angie asked. He just never imagined it would be this bad. He nodded.

            “Good. That brings us to the second issue,” Millie commented as she took over the conversation. “Which is your deficient daytime toileting problem. Starting now, your trips to the potty will be supervised. Whenever you need to go, you will come find one of us and we’ll escort you to the bathroom to observe you and to use each trip as a teaching moment. We may also check your panties for accidents at any time or remind you that it’s time to use the potty.”

            “How long these rules remain in place is in our discretion,” Angie said. “And partly within your control. If the bedwetting stops and your underpants stay clean and dry, it might be a short time. If not, we may have to consider taking more drastic steps, but that’s a discussion for down the road if necessary. Now,” she said in a much more pleasant tone and with an air of finality, “doesn’t if feel good to have that discussion behind us and a plan in place? Let me get on with dinner. Millie, why don’t you take little Jamie to the potty and then you can both help set the table when you’re done.”

            Jamie sat still, dazed and shellshocked, not even realizing that Angie never sought his approval for this second set of rules. He watched as Millie stood and approached him, and he knew his life was about to take a bizarre and unwelcome turn.

            

            “No, I’m not going to leave,” Millie told him firmly, “the whole point of supervised potty trips is to keep watch over you and to look for traces of any accidents or bad habits while doing so. We also need to make sure everything gets where it needs to be and not on the floor or in your panties. Uh-huh, don’t touch. From now on a grown-up will unbuckle you or raise your skirt and pull down your underpants. That gives us a chance to see what condition they’re in.”

            Jamie was ready to die of embarrassment as Millie knelt down in front of him, reached under the hem of his jumper, and pulled down his My Little Pony panties, rubbing her thumb in the gusset and even leaning in for a sniff.

            “Good girl,” she said, “these are clean. Although I assume you put them on just before coming down for dinner. Now sit down to do your business.”

            Jamie sat back on the toilet seat and tucked his penis down so that it would be pointed into the bowl, drawing a clucking noise and look of disapproval from Millie.

            “I don’t like that you have to touch that dirty thing every time you go pee pee,” she said. “We’ll have to think of a way around that. Now are you going to pee or aren’t you?”

            “I can’t go with you watching me,” Jamie complained. He’d always had a shy bladder, even around other men. The fact that a woman was hovering over him impatiently waiting for him to urinate froze him up completely. He wasn’t even sure if he had to go or not.

            “I’ll give you one more minute,” Millie said, “before we deem this trip a bust and try again later. I need to talk to Angie about maybe having a second chart where we can keep track of the successes and failures of your daytime toileting as well as your bedwetting.”

            As slowly as the next sixty seconds seemed to pass to Jamie, he was still unable to perform. With a giant sigh of disappointment, Millie had him stand so that she could pull up his panties, but not before she dabbed the tip of his penis with a square of toilet paper. She made a face as she dropped it into the toilet and flushed, then moved to the sink.

            “Now watch me carefully. You need to wash your hands after every trip to the bathroom, even the unsuccessful ones. Use warm water, put about this much soap on your hands, then rub them together for a long time before you rinse them off. If it helps you can sing ‘Twinkle twinkle little star’ while you lather up. That’s about the right amount of time.”

            Jamie did as he was asked and drew a smile of approval from Millie. “Now you can go back to your little games in your room. Hopefully you’ll have better luck before you’re diapered for the night. I’ll see you in fifteen minutes to help set the table.”

            Jamie beat a retreat to his room, anxious to get away from this crazy woman. No sooner than he crossed the threshold of his room, though, than he saw the other crazy woman hovering over his bed.

            “Hello, Jamie,” Angie said sweetly. “I hope your visit to Mr. Potty went well. I’m just finishing up putting in a few additions to your room. This is a rubber sheet to make sure that if you leak, the mattress is protected. No need to be ashamed, dear, it’s just a sensible precaution. I use it for the women who pass through here as well. Pregnancy and birth wreak havoc on your bladder control and we always need to be prepared for when a woman’s water breaks.

            “You’ll notice the new item in the corner over there also, the diaper pail. Every morning after you’re taken out of your diaper, the used one goes in there. It’s your responsibility to empty it when it gets full and take the bag and its stinky contents out to the trash. The diaper pail will cut down on the smell quite a bit, but not completely. That’s what this is for.”

            Angie walked over to the dresser and grabbed hold of a pink and blue aerosol can, which she used to spray the air for a few seconds. An aroma of baby powder filled the room. “See?” she said, smiling. “Much better. You should use this periodically throughout the day even if you don’t think it’s necessary. The longer you stay in your room working, the more you get used to any odors and you won’t notice them.”

            Angie replaced the can and headed to the door, exiting with a quick “See you in a little bit.” Jamie sat in at his desk and stared at the blank screen on his laptop, trying to put the last few hours in the past and get back to work. It was only 6:00 p.m. He had at least five hours, not including dinnertime, to get some work done before bedtime. Time to get down to business.

 

            “Jamie, diaper time!” Millie sang as she flounced into the room, like Angie without waiting to be invited in. Jamie looked at the time on his laptop. It was only a couple of minutes after 9:00. He still had half the night ahead of him before he’d go to sleep. He opened his mouth to voice his objection but Millie anticipated him.

            “I know it’s not your bedtime yet,” she said, “but both Angie and I go to bed early to read ourselves to sleep and don’t want the bother of interrupting our private time in another hour or two to attend to your needs. Now, let’s try the potty again first, shall we?”

            Jamie begrudgingly followed Millie to the bathroom, where the earlier process was repeated, all the way down to Millie’s disapproval of Jamie touching his private area. This time his bladder was definitely full. To his dismay, though, he still couldn’t urinate with Millie staring at him waiting.

            “Again, really?” she finally said. “Okay, follow me to your bed and let’s get that diaper on.”

            When he reached his bedside, Jamie reached for the collar of his jumper to pull it off when Millie slapped his hand. “That’s my job,” she said. “Your job is to stay still and do what I say.” Jamie tried his best but still squirmed as Millie pulled the outfit over his head and pulled his panties off, depositing both in his hamper. She then carefully unclipped the barrettes Jamie had forgotten were there.

            “Lay down,” she instructed him. Millie opened his bottom drawer, pulled out a diaper, and expertly fluffed it up before placing in under Jamie’s bottom. She draped the front over his penis, winking and saying something about getting sprayed, then retrieved a container of baby powder that had mysteriously appeared next to the nursery spray on top of his dresser. She shook a generous amount all over his front then lifted his legs and did the same to his rear. Jamie closed his eyes and tried to think unpleasant thoughts as she rubbed it into his skin.

            Millie finally finished the procedure by taping up both sides, running a finger under his leg gathers to test the fit. She found the baby doll nightie, slipped it over his head, and stood back to take a look at him. Satisfied, she kissed Jamie on the top of his head, said good night, and was out the door. Seconds later, Angie entered.

            “Well don’t you look adorable,” she said, “and you smell nice too. I just thought I’d bring you a glass of milk and one of Millie’s cookies before I head off to bed.” She set a napkin with a cookie and a large glass of milk on his desk. “I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t forget, wear your diaper down to breakfast. And no tampering with it tonight. Good night, dear.”

            Jamie watched her leave then got up and shut the door to his bedroom. He wanted no more visitors tonight. He had deadlines coming up and lots of work to do.

 

 

[kerry]

I'm not a fan of the trope of "supervised potty visits" that refuse to acknowledge the existence of shy bladders. Still, this is a fun story.

[tammie2]

 

12.

            Jamie was disoriented when his alarm went off the next morning. He’d been up working into the early morning hours and normally would have skipped breakfast and slept in, but given the new rule requiring that he be submitted to a diaper check every morning he’d at least had the sense before crashing into bed to realize that his absence would not only be noticed, it could draw a punishment. Groggy, he reached for his phone to turn off the alarm and look at the time. Only five minutes to make it downstairs. Crap, he’d have to hurry. At least he wasn’t required to do his makeup or show up in anything other than the outfit he’d slept in.

            As he sat up, he immediately felt the squish of an extremely full diaper. He remembered that he’d emptied his bladder while still awake. His inability to use the toilet in Millie’s presence meant that he hadn’t gone to the bathroom for at least eight hours by midnight and the pressure interfered with his concentration, so he’d just let go. The diaper seemed to absorb whatever he released with no issues at that time, but in his sleep he must have wet it again. Maybe more than once. Standing, the diaper sagged under its weight. A trickle of pee ran down his left leg. Looking back at the bed, a wet spot the size of a dinner plate darkened his sheet. Jamie panicked, trying to find a fast solution to what he knew would be a big issue. 

            Before he could even process what was happening, he heard feet on the stairs and Millie’s voice calling his name. Seconds later, his door flew open. Instinctually, he put his hands over the front of his diaper, as if that would cover his shame. Millie froze for a second when she saw him, then took three quick steps in his direction. Stooping down on her knees, she cupped his crotch and bounced the soggy fabric up and down several times, gauging its weight, then glanced at the spot on his bed.

            “Oh dear,” she said as she stood, her hand glistening with moisture. “This isn’t good. Not good at all.” She walked to the bathroom without further comment to wash her hands then returned and faced the petrified young man, handing him a bath towel. “Walk very carefully down to breakfast, Jamie. If you start to leak, use this towel to catch it before it reaches the floor.”

            Jamie shuffled more than walked, knowing that stretching his legs too far would create gaps at his thighs, opening up a pathway for any excess urine to escape his over-stressed diaper.

When he finally arrived at the kitchen, Angie was placing a plastic garbage bag over his chair.

            “Place the towel on the seat before you sit,” she told him. “This isn’t a perfect solution, but I have a delivery today that should work better in the long term. I also think we’re going to have to supplement the diapers you wear at night since these appear to be inadequate on their own for such a heavy wetter. Jamie, you really should have said something.”

            “This has never happened before!” Jamie said, a little too loud and a lot too defensively. “It’s because you wouldn’t let me use the bathroom yesterday.”

            “You’re blaming us for your infantile behavior?” Angie answered crossly. “You were brought to the potty twice after dinner last night and it’s not our fault that you were unable to use it like a big boy. It’s also not our fault that you don’t recognize signals from your body that you need to pee or that you wet yourself in your sleep like a two-year-old toddler. Everything we’re doing for you is for your benefit, yet you seem to view it as a punishment. Well, young man, if you’re not going to act your age you can expect additional changes to the conditions of your tenancy.”

            Angie stopped there. Jamie waited nervously for her to explain exactly what additional changes she was referring to, but the conversation turned to other matters unrelated to his situation. He nibbled at his food but had little appetite. When the other women had cleaned their plates, Angie addressed him once more.

            “If you’re done, clear your place and you’re relieved of dish duty this morning. I’m afraid the odor emanating from your diaper is a bit more than I’d like to handle right now. Before you shower make sure you use the baby wipes on your dresser to clean most of the pee away then deposit that nasty thing into your diaper pail. You might even consider soaking in a scented bath. If you need some help washing, let one of us know. Then get those sheets in the wash.”

            Jamie didn’t need to be told twice. He practically ran upstairs, causing urine to run down his legs. He used the towel to catch it then pulled half a dozen wipes out to reach every crevice he could, wincing at the infantile smell of the wipes. Even with the diaper stashed deep into the pail, he still thought he could detect its presence. Reluctantly, he grabbed the can of nursery spray and sent generous amounts into the air. He shook his head at the idea of taking a bath. He hadn’t had a bath since he was a small child. He’d take a nice adult shower but resolved to keep it short in case the women decided to make good on their offer to help.

            Downstairs, Angie and Millie finished the dishes and sat back at the table. For a moment neither of them knew quite where to start. Millie finally took the initiative.

            “Well, that was interesting,” she said with a wry smile. “What kind of changes to his tenancy were you referring to?”

            “Honestly, I didn’t really have anything specific in mind,” Angie replied. “The words just kind of popped out of my mouth. I mean, the diapers I found under his bed were of course wet, but nothing like what we just experienced. If he continues to have problems performing on the toilet with one of us watching, we can probably expect accidents at some point as well as more overflowing diapers at breakfast. I don’t want to be cleaning up puddles or having to spot clean a carpet, but I’m not going to go back on supervised potty visits. No matter what Jamie thinks, those are for his own good. If he’s going to function as an adult in this world, he needs to act more like one and he shows no signs of being able to do that unless we assist him.”

            “If you want my two cents,” Millie said, “the first thing we need to address is the overnight diapering. I don’t know much about diapers that come in sizes big enough to fit someone his size, but we need to increase the absorbency, reduce the risk of leaks, and do something to control the odor. I couldn’t enjoy my eggs this morning.”

            “Agreed,” Angie said. “If you don’t mind, could you look into that? I’ve got a delivery for the special needs room today that’ll keep me busy, and another that we can use in the kitchen. As a suggestion, I think we need booster pads and a waterproof cover just like babies use. I’d be surprised if there aren’t plastic pants for adults, but maybe look into whether there are diaper covers as well. A nice design or a little color would be a nice addition and perhaps make him less resentful if I require that he wear them.”

            “Will do,” Millie replied enthusiastically. “I can do that this morning. Time to dive into the world of incontinent grown-ups and see what’s out there.”

 

            Millie was quickly astonished by what she found for adults who use diapers, and flabbergasted when she stumbled upon an entire industry for people who enjoy role playing as babies and toddlers. At first she was a little put off by the idea, but as she jumped from one website to another and did some research, she found herself getting more than a little excited about the task Angie assigned to her. She quickly transitioned from “ewww” to “how cute is that” as she scanned the clothing sites. She bookmarked possible purchases and found herself moving away from the sellers dedicated to minimizing the stigma of incontinence wear by offering plain, boring, and subtle clothing and instead focused on the more colorful and babyish options. She recognized that she might be taking some pleasure in making choices that would humiliate Jamie and that she was likely doing so out of residual resentment toward her former partner that got her pregnant then ran, but in the end she was having too much fun to care about her motivation.

            Staring with disposable diapers, she discovered that while the brand Jamie used was decent, there were others that were much more absorbent. That the best ones turned out to have designs more suitable to a one-year-old baby wasn’t her fault. She ordered a mixed case, added thick booster pads, and requested express delivery. Moving to a couple of other sellers clearly targeting the adult baby fetish community, she found wonderfully infantile diaper covers, some with a waterproof lining and cotton or bamboo exterior and others with an absorbent terry interior and waterproof exterior. She marveled at the selection and wished she could order dozens. In the end, after a delightful twenty minutes of pondering, she placed her order for eight pair. Almost as an afterthought, she found thick daytime pull-ups and training pants in assorted girly patterns. Angie would probably appreciate her foresight in buying protection to replace Jamie’s panties in case his wetting issues weren’t confined to bedtime.

            That should have been the end of her chore, but she was on a roll. Angie would reimburse her for the diaper covers, boosters, and training panties, but she was ready to continue her shopping spree on her own dime. Into her cart went a couple of onesies, some dresses that had her giggling uncontrollably, socks and booties, a bonnet, and adult-sized baby bottles, pacifiers, and bibs. It was a costly session, but she hadn’t enjoyed herself this much in a long time so the entertainment value was worth the expense.

As she went about her morning, she kept thinking of things to see if she could find as well as items she’d looked at and now regretted not buying. Soon she was carrying a notepad and pen with her, taking notes whenever she was inspired to add to the list. 

 

 

[D503]

Nice. Her own little wetting baby doll.

[tammie2]

 

13.

            Jamie did his best to avoid the two women the rest of the morning, which turned out to be easier than he expected. About an hour after breakfast while he was moving his sheets into the dryer, Angie got the delivery she was expecting. Large men carried big boxes upstairs after which she busied herself in the room with the door closed. Millie had also disappeared, her attention focused on whatever she was occupying herself with in her own room. The only sign Jamie didn’t have the house to himself was some soft singing from the spare bedroom and occasional laughing from Millie’s room.

            He appreciated the isolation and threw himself into his work, for over three hours focusing on fixing programming glitches and sketching rough takes on a couple of characters for his game. He could have gone on longer but for Millie walking in unannounced and declaring that it was “potty time.”

            As embarrassed as he was to be treated like a young child, Jamie had to admit that he’d had to go for a while. He followed Millie into his bathroom and waited as she struggled with the button on his jeans.

            “This is really tight,” she said, finally getting it loosened. “Now sit and get this done quickly, I’m in the middle of something I need to get back to.”

            Jamie slid onto the toilet seat and felt the immediate need to pee. Still, nothing came. Once he could feel the beginning of success by closing his eyes and pretending that he was all alone by a gushing waterfall, but at that same moment Millie became impatient and began tapping her foot loudly and the reality of her presence was more effective than Hoover Dam. She finally announced that time was up.

            “But I can do it, really,” Jamie whined to no effect. “Give me a little more time.”

            “Jamie we’ve been in here six or seven minutes. If it was going to happen it would have by now. Don’t you think I have better things to do with my time than stand in bathrooms all day? This is your problem and you need to fix it without wasting my time.”

            She bent down to pull up his briefs then paused, leaning in to give them a quick sniff. Her disgusted expression and a quietly muttered “good heavens” confirmed for Jamie that he hadn’t stayed as dry as he thought he had. Fortunately, Millie washed her hands without comment and strode back out of the room.

        Relieved, Jamie threw himself back into his work. Periodically he’d notice signals from his bladder that he should have listened to but was so involved that he put off the warning signs. He also didn’t want to give Millie the satisfaction of his asking for her help less than an hour after his prior bathroom trip. It wasn’t until he noticed that he was crossing his legs and practically bouncing in his chair that he knew he’d reached his limit. As he stood he thought he felt a few drops or urine escape into his briefs, so he briefly considered sneaking in a solo trip to his bathroom. No, he told himself, they’d hear the flush and he was already in enough trouble.

            He hobbled to the hallway, with every inch regretting putting off the inevitable. Angie had taped a “Do Not Disturb” sign to the door of the third bedroom, so Jamie turned to Millie’s room and gave a tentative knock on the door. Instead of calling for him to enter, the door flew open in time for Millie to see Jamie knee-knocked and trembling. 

            “Good heavens, Jamie, why did you wait so long? Come on, let’s try to get you to the potty before you have an accident.” She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him, canceling out any efforts he was making to resist his body’s urgent call of nature. Miraculously, they made it into his bathroom with no more than a couple of drops finding its way into his underwear. Millie kneeled down, pulled down his fly, and quickly moved to unbutton his jeans. As before, the button refused to budge. Only after twenty or thirty seconds did she finally succeed in freeing it, but just as she began to pull down his pants Jamie lost control.

            Millie stood up quickly and pushed Jamie back onto the toilet seat, his wet jeans at his knees but his briefs still in place. “Don’t bother with them,” Millie said with disgust, “they’re a lost cause at this point anyway.”

            Jamie sobbed as a gusher of urine soaked through his underwear and streamed into the toilet bowl. It seemed to continue for minutes before slowing. Even after he’d stopped going, dribbles of pee continued to trickle through the fabric and into the yellowed water below. Jamie buried his head in his hands.

            “Don’t move, mister,” Millie commanded as she left the bathroom. She returned a minute later with a plastic garbage bag, taking time to grab baby wipes from the top of the dresser on the way. “Stand up,” she said. Jamie’s hands went to the waistband of his briefs to pull them down but they were quickly slapped away. “That’s a grownup’s job,” Millie reminded him.

            She pulled down the sodden, discolored underpants and had Jamie step out of the leg holes. Millie balled up the jeans and underwear, pulled off his wet socks, and placed them all in the bag. Without comment, she began pulling wipes out of the container and wiping Jamie’s rear before moving to his groin area. Despite her delicate touch, the cold wipes seemed to shrink his penis as she held it in her hands. Jamie blushed at her amused snort. He was relieved when she finally began to move down his legs.

            “Looks like you have more laundry to do,” she told the now naked boy as she tossed the wipes into his wastebasket. Get in the shower again and once you’re dried off use your bath towel to mop up this floor. Then add it to the bag and throw everything in the washer. I’ll get you something to wear.”

            Jamie was about to step under the hot water when Millie returned with girl’s panties and a dress. He started to protest but was cut off. “Wearing boy clothes is a privilege I think you’ve lost for now,” Mille told him sternly. “You need something that won’t interfere with your toileting. With a dress, there’ll be no stuck buttons and no jeans to pull down. It appears that with you every second counts so this is the way we’ll address it for now. I can’t imagine there’s anything left in that little bladder of yours, but I’ll be back later for your next attempt.”

            Millie’s words cut Jamie to the core. He lingered in the shower longer than he needed to before reluctantly donning the dress and panties. After putting the wet contents of the bag into the washer and his sheets back on his bed, he felt completely drained of energy. He flopped onto his bed to ponder the situation, cursing everything from the tornado to his shy bladder to the women taking advantage of the housing crisis. Within minutes, he’d fallen into a deep sleep.

           He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep when he felt his shoulder being shaken. “Jamie, you need to wake up. Family meeting downstairs,” Angie said. She didn’t wait for him to follow and exited the room. With a heavy feeling of dread, Jamie forced himself to rise and head for the stairs. He was surprised to see the two women sitting on the couch smiling at him. Off to the side, a lumpy blanket hid whatever lay beneath.

           “Jamie, I know you expect me to yell,” Angie began softly. “But I understand your perspective and to some extent realize what happened today wasn’t your fault. I know some men, even a few women, have trouble doing their business while others are nearby, and I imagine it’s even harder when you’re the center of attention. But given what we’ve seen of your potty issues, and the necessity of addressing them if you’re to continue to live under my roof, we can’t give up the supervised toilet trips. 

           “You have to know that taking you to the bathroom isn’t the best use of our time either. You’ve seen that I’m busy every second of the day, and Millie could be working on various projects I’ve given her or just addressing her need to relax and watch some television or read a book. If it takes ten minutes every time we take you potty and you go six times per day, that’s an hour of our time that could have been spent doing something more productive than standing in a bathroom, which is an inefficient use of our time. Not to mention that incidents like earlier today are extremely unpleasant, and bashful bladder or not they have to stop. But before I get to the solution I’ve come up with, I think you should thank Millie for helping you out today.”

          Jamie mumbled some thanks, surprised when Millie walked over to him to give him a hug. He was confused at the lack of anger but wary of the other shoe that would be dropping.

           “There, that’s better,” Angie beamed. “Now, onto the solution, which I think you’ll admit is brilliant and fixes both your difficulty going and our desire not to spend all day in the bathroom waiting for you to pee. Not to mention the inevitable accidents when you don’t go often enough. So, voila!” Angie leaned over and in one swift motion pulled the blanket aside. Jamie blanched.

          Sitting prominently in the middle of the living room was a toddler’s training potty, complete with splash guard, positioned in the middle of a waterproof pad adorned with colorful baby animals. The potty itself was yellow and decorated with images of rattles, diaper pins, and baby toys. Incongruously, pink leather wrist and ankle restraints had been added along with a strap meant to go around the user’s waist. Jamie stared at the proud women in bafflement.

           “Don’t you see?” Millie enthused. “Instead of bringing you to the confined area of a bathroom, you can use this portable potty that we can move from room to room. That way we can multitask while waiting for you to go. For example, I could watch my show here in the living room or Angie could make dinner while you’re on the pot in a corner of the kitchen. If it takes you thirty minutes to pee or poo, that’s okay because we can stay busy. And because we’ll be focused on something other than you, you should be able to go in our presence. If not, we can even leave the room and use the little devices we added on to keep you from moving off the potty chair and let you do your business all by your lonesome. Of course, that might also mean that you sit there a little longer on a full pot until we come back.”

        “I know it’s a lot to take in right now,” Angie added, “but I’m sure you’ll come to see its wisdom with time. There’s no time like the present to get started. Come here, Jamie.”

         Robotically, Jamie obeyed, and soon found himself squeezed onto the potty while the two woman congratulated themselves on their “brilliant” idea. As time passed with no results, Angie and Millie realized it was time to start dinner. Angie moved behind the little chair and wrapped the heavy band around Jamie’s chest, fastening it behind him, while Millie secured his hands and feet in the restraints. Angie picked up the remote and turned on an old Dora the Explorer program. Satisfied, they turned toward the kitchen.

         “Oh, one more thing,” Angie’s voice came from behind Jamie. “While you get a pass on your accident earlier today, I’m afraid you broke the rules by sleeping without a diaper on. If you plan to nap, you need to find one of us to assist you with protection. Expect a spanking before bed.”

         Jamie sat immobilized, frightened, and upset. This situation started out weird but barely tolerable but had snowballed quickly. He stared, half watching the colors flash across the television screen as he considered his next move. Before he came up with even a bad plan, he felt movement below and looked down to see urine hitting the splash guard before noisily dropping into the bowl of the potty below. As if the mere act of using a baby’s potty wasn’t bad enough, the sound of muffled cheers from the kitchen added to his shame. He closed his eyes and started to cry.

 

 

[little won]

Thank you for sharing your amazing talent with us. I truly enjoy all your stories. You rock! Thank you!

[D503]

A nice touch adding the restraints to the potty chair. Imagine when a visitor comes - say, a tradesman - and he immediately goes to stand to escape only to spill pee everywhere with the potty strapped to him and revealing his "manhood" in the process.

[tammie2]

14.

            Jamie wasn’t sure what to do. It had been at least half an hour since he’d peed in the potty but neither woman had come to let him out of his binds. How long did they expect him to sit here? The odor was beginning to rise into the air. Worse, he felt rumbling in his bowels and knew what that portended. Surely they didn’t mean for him to use the potty chair for that function and would bring him to the regular toilet. He was reluctant to humiliate himself further by calling out that he needed to go number two and decided to wait a bit longer for someone to come rescue him. If no one did by the time he counted to sixty, he’d have no choice but to summon them.

            His body, unfortunately, had other ideas. He’d reached twenty-two in his head when a sudden, fierce cramp hit his midsection, followed immediately by an uncontrollable voiding. The sound of his poop hitting the pool of urine and the stench that followed did what the passage of time had not. Within seconds, both women were at his side. Far from being repulsed, they acted as if he’d just won an award.

            “Congratulations, Jamie!” Millie cooed. “Using the potty for the first time is such a big step forward in a child’s development. It’ll be the first smiley face sticker on your chart!”

            “And I’m sure it’ll be only a matter of time before you can move back to using the grown-up potty,” Angie added encouragingly. “All you have to do is show us that you can perform when we’re watching and keep clean and dry otherwise.”

            Despite their words of praise and their cheerful tone, Jamie didn’t feel like celebrating. He’d just been told that he’d be using this child’s potty chair for the foreseeable future. If there was ever an incentive to overcome years of a shy bladder, this was it. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice Millie produce a roll of toilet paper and baby wipes out of nowhere.

            “Up, up,” she said firmly. Much to Jamie’s chagrin, Angie seemed to take great interest in watching Millie wipe his genital area. “Now bend over for me.” Jamie did so and wanted the floor to swallow him up as Millie parted his ass cheeks and wiped thoroughly, twice with toilet paper and once with a cold baby wipe. “Always remember to wipe from front to back,” she told him.

            Millie pulled out a couple more wipes to clean off her hands while Angie pulled up Jamie’s panties, taking care to examine the crotch as she did so. “Looks like not quite everything made it into the potty,” she told Millie before turning back to face Jamie. “Follow Millie to the bathroom, dear.”

            Millie made a fuss about having Jamie watch as she poured the contents of the bowl into the toilet, then had him say “bye bye” to his waste as she guided his hands to the handle and pushed it down together. Still holding his hands, she pulled him to the sink and squeezed soap onto them, rubbing it into a lather with her own hands before bringing them under the faucet to rinse. “Good boy,” she said when they were done.

            “Ah, good timing,” Angie said when the pair reentered the kitchen. “Dinner is almost ready. No sense in getting comfortable in the living room. We should give it a chance to air out a bit anyway.” As he made his way to his seat, Jamie could smell air freshener spray drifting in from the next room.

            He was about to sit down when he suddenly stopped. “What is this?” he asked as he stared down at his chair. Beneath the chair was another waterproof mat similar to the one under the potty chair, although this one had colorful letters and numbers mixed in with images of fruits and vegetables. The cushion normally resting on top of the chair was gone, replaced by a baby blue and yellow plastic seat similar to the potty chair but with raised sides and no hole in the center. Like the potty, it had a form of seat belt to secure its occupant but no other restraints were visible.

            “Just another precaution, dear,” Angie said as she stirred a pot. “Based on the condition of your diaper this morning, we thought some protection for the chair was prudent. Don’t worry, we don’t need to buckle you in. You’re not an infant after all.”

            Already beaten into submission by his experience on the potty chair, Jamie slid himself up and onto the seat without comment but as soon as he did so began sliding off of the slick plastic. His problem didn’t go unnoticed.

            “Oh dear, I guess we need to fasten you in after all,” Angie said, moving in his direction. She moved behind the boy, put her hands under his armpits, and pulled him up straight then quickly secured him with a three-point strap, one from each side and the last one up over is crotch. Once she pulled the straps tight, Jamie was trapped. The additional height of the seat meant his feet dangled above the floor. Seeing his predicament, Angie and Millie went on either side of him and carried the chair closer to the table. 

            Angie dished out pasta with generous portions of sauce, placing vegetables and a slice of Italian bread alongside it on each plate. Jamie instantly faced a new issue. He was several inches higher than before and could barely reach the table with his arms. By extending his fork with his fingertips he was able to stab the food, but the fork’s hold was precarious and in bringing food to his mouth it would occasionally fall onto his chest, and once a piece of broccoli tumbled to the floor. He refused to ask for help and none was offered, but after a glob of red sauce fell onto the front of his dress Angie rose from the table, wetted the corner of a dish towel, and dabbed the stain before it could set. She then tied the same towel around Jamie’s neck without comment before returning to her seat.

            Already being treated like a child, Jamie felt even more so when Angie and Millie didn’t include him in their conversation, focusing instead on some trip they were planning. Jamie lost interest early, which was fine because the logistics of eating tonight took all of his concentration. He finished dinner before the talkative women and wished he could leave the table, but had to wait to be released. Finally, Angie came over and undid the buckle, but not before using the damp portion of the towel to dab sauce from Jamie’s face. He raced upstairs to his room.

 

            Nine o’clock came all too early for Jamie. He’d been so distracted by the events of the day that he’d only now started to work on his game. To make up for it, he knew he’d be up late again, but this time he’d make sure to go to the bathroom when given the chance. He docilely took Millie’s hand as she led him downstairs and didn’t say a word as she locked him onto the potty chair. This time she turned on a show she was interested in rather than cartoons, which suited Jamie fine. She positioned the potty chair so that he was in her line of vision, but he’d have to contort to see her.

            It took a while, in Jamie’s mind hours but in reality about fifteen minutes, but eventually he was successful in releasing his bladder. His relief was palpable, both physically and emotionally. The sound of his splashing urine should have alerted Millie, but she waited until a convenient time to pause her show before attending to him. In what was becoming routine, he let her wipe him, listened to her praise and followed her prompts, and didn’t stress when she commented on his damp panties.

            Jamie automatically made a straight line to the changing table in his room and laid on it while Millie gathered the supplies. “Not so fast, mister,” Millie said sternly. “Don’t think we’ve forgotten your punishment for taking a nap without putting a diaper on first.” She sat down on the side of his bed and laid a towel over her lap. “Lay over my knees. Given that this is your first offense, I’ll go easy on you.” Once Jamie was positioned, she pulled the back of his dress up and rubbed her hand over his panties, as if she were strategically searching for the area that would hurt the most.

            Spank, spank, spank. The pain was minimal, more like a sting, but with each progressive swat it hurt a little bit more. By the time Millie reached ten, Jamie had tears in his eyes. He started to rise up, but Millie pushed him back down. “Not done yet,” she told him. This time, she pulled his panties down below his butt and started again, a little bit harder. Spank, spank, spank. The pain was unbearable by the time she reached seven, and after the tenth one Jamie was bawling.

            “Really?” Millie asked derisively. “Those were just love taps compared to what would’ve happened if you’d wet yourself during your nap. Don’t be such a baby. Now get your behind over to the changing table.” Jamie hobbled over, rubbing his bottom as he walked. Millie watched the view from behind, amused and, to her chagrin, a little bit aroused.

        Neither side spoke as Millie went about her task of diapering the boy in a businesslike manner. For his part, Jamie closed his eyes as Millie stripped him, pulled the baby doll nightie over his head, and positioned the overnight diaper under his bottom. His eyes flew open, though, as she pulled it up between his legs. She noticed his surprise.

            “I put in a booster, so it probably feels thicker than usual. It may take some getting used to but clearly you need one.”

            Jamie couldn’t argue with that, although he didn’t expect to ever be as wet as he was this morning again. He learned from his mistakes. Once Millie was finished and on her way out, he pulled down the hem of the nightie, filled his water bottle, and got himself ready for a long night in the fantasy world he was creating. Had he paid more attention and looked at the diaper he was wearing, he would have seen the prancing unicorns and pink trim that covered every inch of the outside.

 

 

[tammie2]

 

15.

            For the second day in a row, Jamie needed the alarm to wake up in time to get to breakfast. He’d been up until 4:00 a.m. working, not by choice but because so much time had been devoted to his toileting the day before that he had to make up for lost time. He’d definitely need a nap if he was to make it through the day.

            As he sat up, he hesitantly felt the sheet all around him and was relieved to find that it was dry. The same couldn’t be said for his diaper. Getting up to his feet, the weight of it startled him. Even dry, with the addition of the booster his legs had been spread apart enough to give his gait a noticeable waddle. Now, soaking wet, he almost had trouble walking at all. Maybe I should crawl, he mused, but then again the women might actually enjoy that and begin to enforce the behavior.           

            He entered the kitchen to the usual sight of Angie at the stove and Millie scrolling through her phone at her seat. Both women smiled at him. Millie summoned him over with her hand.

            “Time for your morning inspection,” she announced, “although I think the condition of your diaper is pretty obvious even at a distance. Maybe we need to start using the kitchen scale to weigh them in the morning to check your progress in staying dry. I’m pretty happy with these new diapers,” she continued as she lifted the hem of his nightie, “They absorb a lot more, and needed to. This booster is way past capacity.”

            “New diaper?” Jamie thought. He looked down and was shocked to see the childish designs wrapping his midsection. “Millie, where did you get these? And what was wrong with the plain ones I bought?”

            Millie put on her best pouty face. “I thought you’d appreciate the effort I put in to help you out and avoid another spanking. I did the research and these diapers hold almost twice as much as your old ones. The fact that you look so cute in them is just a bonus. And given how this one’s only maybe one more wetting away from leaking, you should be thanking me.”

            Millie rose to scribble a note on the chart on the fridge while Jamie waddled over to his chair, sighing as he saw the booster seat. The thicker diaper made squeezing in even more difficult than the day before but after some effort he made it. Angie did the honors of securing him before pushing his chair in from behind. Without asking his permission, she pulled a dish towel out of a drawer and tied it around his neck.

            Oatmeal was a little easier to manage than the pasta from the night before, but Jamie still managed to drop some onto the towel. Neither woman commented and acted as if it was the most natural thing in the world. In fact, Jamie couldn’t help but notice how in stride they took his diapering and all that went with it. To him, it was beyond unusual, it was freaky. He tried to insert himself into the conversation this time, mentioning his late night and his probable need for a nap in an effort to extract some sympathy.

            “I’ll finish up here if you want to get him on the potty,” Millie told Angie when they’d all finished eating. Again, Angie wet the towel and wiped Jamie’s hands and face before releasing him. Together they went to the living room where he again suffered the indignity of having his diaper removed and examined. Unlike Millie, Angie didn’t turn on the television but sat in the chair next to the potty with her eyes fixed upon him.

            Her fixed gaze again caused his bladder to freeze up. After the longest quarter hour he could imagine, during which time Millie came in and took a position on his other side, they gave up. “I’ll bring him upstairs,” Angie said.

            Jamie was puzzled as to why Angie needed to accompany him to his room. To check his bed for wetness, perhaps? She made her intentions clear once they’d both made their way through his door.

            “Up on the changing table, Jamie,” she instructed as she placed his nighttime diaper into his pail, wrinkling her nose at the odor that escaped while she did so. “You can have your shower later. Given your lack of sleep, I’m concerned that your body may betray you and you’ll fall asleep before you have time to find one of us and ask to be diapered. So I’m going to put you in a clean diaper now to be on the safe side.”

            Jamie noted that she wasn’t suggesting it as a precaution, she was just stating a fact. He was too tired to argue and, with some difficulty, pulled himself up onto the table and awaited his fate. Angie pulled another of the fantasy-themed diapers Millie bought out of his drawer, which had somehow ended up there without his knowledge, and fluffed it out. She nodded with approval. 

            Angie cleaned him thoroughly with the scented baby wipes and started to open the container of baby powder but paused. She thought for a second then grabbed a bottle of pink lotion off of the dresser and put a generous glop on her hand. She spread it around his still reddened bottom before moving to his front side, where she started to rub it down the shaft of his penis. Involuntarily and to Jamie’s great distress, he began to respond.

            Angie immediately pulled her hand away, darted an unhappy glance at Jamie, and muttered “We need to put a stop to that.” Without another word, she wiped her hands clean of the lotion by rubbing them on his chest, sprinkled powder all over front and rear, and taped him up. Once more uttering words Jamie couldn’t make out, she exited the room.

 

            Just after noon, Angie and Millie sat at the kitchen table having a light snack and drinking tea. “Pretty quiet up there,” Millie said.

            “Probably fell asleep,” Angie responded. “Is it just me or does he seem to be getting worse in his pottying rather than better? Can I see the chart?”

            Millie reached over and pulled the colorful potty chart off the refrigerator door. It was nearly full of scribbled notes made by both women. Together they leaned over it and began to read.

            “In his defense,” Millie said after a few silent minutes, “it’s only been a couple of days. And it looks like he hasn’t gotten worse, he’s stayed pretty much at the same level.”

            “A level that started out with nowhere to go but up,” Angie retorted, having worked herself into a lather. “I mean he’s an adult, not a toddler. It’s not too much to ask that he act like one. What additional steps can we take?”

            As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Puzzled, not expecting visitors, both women hastened to answer it. Instead of a live person on the doorstep, there sat a pile of packages of various sizes almost as tall as the women.

            “Oh my, they’re early!” Millie squealed. “Help me bring the packages in, Ang, and prepare to have some fun.”

            The woman stacked the boxes and assorted other packages in the living room. Millie went to the kitchen to get a knife, almost skipping in her excitement. Angie was growing more curious by the minute.

            “Okay,” Millie began breathlessly. “Remember when you asked me to look into coverings for Jamie’s diapers that would add another layer of protection from leaks? That’s what I started to do, and some of these packages have those, but then I kind of got carried away. Wait until you see some of the cute stuff I bought!”

            By chance, the first box they opened contained plastic pants and diaper covers. There were a dozen pair of plastic pants, a few in plain colors such as white and pink, but most of them had nursery prints. Angie picked up one with babies and bottles and another with baby animals and colorful polka dots. She felt each for thickness and nodded her approval but said nothing about the designs.

            Next came the diaper covers, which made the nursery print plastic pants look plain by comparison. Ducklings with umbrellas, unicorns, colorful spirals and stripes, and more, in a variety of colors. Two pair had lace strewn across the bottom. About half had plastic on the inside, the other half on the outside. Angie looked concerned.

            “Was this really necessary?” she asked. “I mean, they’ll definitely be up to the task, but don’t you think they’re a little bit...um....girly and infantile? He’ll never agree to wear them.”

            Millie was nonplussed, her enthusiasm undiminished. “He won’t really have a choice, will he? As far as being girly, he’s already wearing dresses and puts on makeup and does his hair for dinner. Do I need to explain the infantile part?”

            “I don’t know, Millie,” Angie insisted, although a slight smile gave her away as images of Jamie wearing these panties flashed through her mind. “Let’s just see what happens and deal with it then. This is what I asked you to find. What’s in all of these other boxes?”

            For the next fifteen minutes, Millie opened box after box and displayed onesies and playsuits, dresses, training pants, adult-sized bottles and pacifiers, two large bibs, and more. A colorful pile continued to grow at her feet.

            Angie looked her friend in the eye. “You know what this is, don’t you?” she asked gently. “You have baby fever. Most childless women go through it. Changing Jamie’s diapers triggered a deep-down desire to have a baby of your own. You projected that desire onto him and I’m afraid went a little bit off the deep end. I’ll find a way to get him into the waterproof panties and we can certainly make use of the bibs, and the training pants will ease my concern about dealing with daytime accidents if they’re coming on next. But everything else? These frilly dresses and baby outfits, the bottles, and so on? I’m going to have to say no to those. I’ll admit they’re cute, and maybe we’ll have a use for them with a special needs child at some point, so for now we can store whatever we’re not using in the nursery. The lacy-bottomed diaper covers too.”

            Millie’s face showed her disappointment, but she knew Angie was right. “Sorry. You’re probably right. But dammit,” she smiled, “if you ever really need to punish him...”

            Angie laughed. “I’ll keep it in mind. Now let’s get this stuff upstairs before he sees it. In fact, this would be a perfect time for the grand unveiling. It’s not quite done, but do you want to see the special needs room?”

            Millie happily accepted the offer. It took two trips, but the women brought everything upstairs and put it on Millie’s bed before stepping across the hall. Angie put her hand on the doorknob, deliberately stalling, until Millie reached over and turned the knob herself.

            She gasped. It was a dream nursery in every respect, except everything was larger. A twin-sized crib sat against one wall, with fairy sheets and matching bumpers along the shiny wooden rails. A mobile with pink and blue bunnies hung high above it; Angie pushed a button on a multi-button remote control she held and the mobile started spinning slowly and playing soft music. Mozart, Millie thought. Small speakers were built into the pillow side of the crib. A changing table against the opposite wall had a waterproof cushion with raised sides as padding. Underneath it sat stacks of diapers and changing supplies. An expandable, comfy-looking nursing chair allowed the mother to feed her baby sitting up or lying down. Everywhere she looked were thoughtful touches, from the zoo animal clock on the wall and matching lampshade to an oversized rocking chair and rocking horse. She couldn’t take it all in.

            “Do you want a quick tour?” Angie asked. “First, as you can see, it’s geared toward older, larger children with the developmental age of a baby or toddler. That was the situation with both children I had to turn away because I didn’t have the proper set-up, so I figured I’d do it this way. See how the crib rail against the wall arches halfway over the top of the crib? When you raise the drop side the top of the rail keeps going in another half arch to meet up with the first, therefore creating a sort of domed top that allows the child, even a teenager, to stand up but prevents them from climbing out. Also, the side bar can only be lowered from outside the crib so there’s no escaping once inside. These Velcro straps on the changing table are hospital grade, impossible to get out of, although I’ve added hand and wrist restraints similar to those on the potty chair to be safe. There are stirrups at one end for easy cleanup after messes.”

            Angie continued, her pride obvious. “This chair-couch is designed to let an adult-sized child lie comfortably while nursing. The rocking chair will work for cuddling an older child but bottle feeding might be a strain. The rocking horse is large enough that even an average adult’s feet won’t reach the ground. See the highchair in the corner? Also fitted with restraints and the tray swings out on one side. These diapers under the changing table are extra-large cloth ones; I was waiting for you to do your research on absorbency before ordering some disposables.”

            As she prattled on, Millie marveled at her attention to detail. Picture books for varying age groups, a wooden playpen with high rails that had extra panels to expand for larger kids, every type of accessory from bottle warmers to a video baby monitor set high in the ceiling. She did notice one omission, however. 

            “Where would the mother sleep?” she asked. “I assume she’ll want to be in the same room, or that you don’t want one client to claim two rooms.”

            “Right,” Angie said. “That’s one detail that’s still to be completed. See this section of the wall behind the rocking horse? That’s where the Murphy bed will go. I had to order a custom-made bed and it’ll be a month or more before it’s ready.”

            “Well, you did think of everything,” Millie admitted. Just then, they heard Jamie’s laptop beep in the next room. “I guess Miss Sleepyhead is finally awake.”

            “One of us should probably check his diaper,” Angie sighed. “Which reminds me. Does he ever get aroused when you change him?” She recounted her experience earlier with the lotion. “I think that’s something we need to address, at least for as long as he’s still in diapers. I don’t consider it appropriate at any time, but what if we have a babysitter at some point? I guess I need to call Dr. Evans. She may have something that’ll work as a temporary solution.”

            Millie began carrying the items Angie rejected for Jamie’s use from her bed into the new nursery, hanging up the dresses and neatly folding the other clothing before stashing them in drawers. She easily found room for the bottles and pacifiers under the changing table. Everything that Jamie would be wearing she brought down to the washer.

            Meanwhile, Angie stopped by Jamie’s room for a diaper check. She found it damp, which meant he’d dribbled during his nap, but declined his request to take it off and let him put underpants back on. “We don’t waste things in this house,” she explained. “And that diaper can still hold a lot more. We’ll suspend potty training for this afternoon. If you need to pee, just use the diaper. I won’t count it against you.”

            Jamie had been interrupted at a critical juncture of his programming, so his mind was elsewhere and he barely hear what Angie had said other than he had to leave the diaper on and use it. The fact that she’d used the phrase “potty training” had escaped him completely.