- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
As I felt the pleasant vibration again, I knew I lost. This was the third time in the last hour that I was being rewarded without consciously letting go, and it was only Tuesday.
It had started close to three months ago. My wife and I were playing around in bed, openly discussing some of the more kinky aspects of our desires.
“So, I know you like wearing them, but what about wetting them?”
I hesitated. “Yes, I like wetting them.”
“Because that’s what they are for. If I wet them, then I can sort of pretend that I need them, which somehow lessens the guilt of wearing them.”
“Do you usually just wear one, or do you change once you’ve wet one?”
“Well, I’ve done stints of several days, even two weeks once… but usually it’s just one and done, if you know what I mean.”
“So, what about messing them? When you wore them for two weeks, did you do everything in the diaper?”
That was an easy one. “Wetting is OK, but not messing.”
She laughed. “Yeah, I have to agree with that.” She looked at me a little more inquisitively, her hand touching the side of my face. “If pretending that you need them lessens the guilt… would you like to have wear them? Like a baby?”
“Not a like a baby. The whole baby thing is not for me. But I think it’s a fantasy to have to wear them… nice to think about here in bed, but probably not what I really want.”
“I wonder if it’s even possible to un-potty train an adult.”
My answer here probably came a little too fast. “Well, there are hypnosis files, but they didn’t work.”
Her dark eyes flicked to mine.
“So you’ve tried?”
I sort of gulped. “Yes.”
She got out of bed, intentionally and very intimately climbing over the top of me, and walked naked to the closet. She pulled out a bag I thought I had hidden better, and produced an Abena M4 and some powder. As she walked back, she opened up the diaper and told me to lift up. Sliding the diaper under me, she spread powder over my diaper area. She taped up the diaper, doing a fair job for the first time putting a diaper on me. A few adjustments, and things were fine. She said nothing the whole time.
Climbing back over me, she cuddled into my arms, her hand resting on top of my diapered groin. “I Love You, you know. I know about that bag. It’s OK. There are only a few left; you should order some more.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just stayed quiet and held her close.
Two weeks later, we were in a similar position. She was cuddled into my arms again, and looked up at me. “I see that the case of diapers arrived. Do you want to wear one?”
Yes… yes, I did. I just looked at her and smiled. She went to the closet, got a diaper and powder, and diapered me again.
“I’d like to make a bet with you,” she said as she pulled the diaper up between my legs.
“I’ll bet that I can un-potty train you in one week. I need some time to get it ready, but that’s the bet, if you choose to take it.”
“So, if you win…”
“If I win, you’re un potty trained, and in diapers.”
“Interesting… not sure I really want that, but interesting. And if you lose?”
“If I lose… well… what do you want? How about I’m in diapers for two weeks? Something I don’t want, but at least I might understand a little more about them if I lose.”
I thought about it. It sounded good to me. I really doubted that she could un-potty train me in a week. I mean, I’d done some extended stretches longer than that, and never had the least problem afterwards. And then I’d get two weeks of her in diapers, which would be fun.
“OK, deal. When does it start?”
“I need a few weeks to get everything together. I’ll let you know.”
I realized that she had been kneading the front of the diaper, and I was rather excited again.
As the next few weeks passed, I was not allowed to open the various packages that came, and she spent a lot of time in our her home office on “work”. We worked for competing companies, and it was not unusual for us to not be able to talk to each other about what we were working on. We handled it by having separate offices. Her office was filled with computers, workbenches, and other tools to work on the card readers, digital signs, and other prototypes that she built, while my less cluttered office was mostly used for the programming I did.
It was not usual for her to disappear behind a closed door during crunch time at work, and I didn’t question anything.
Earlier this week, I was tied up. Not an unusual thing; we both enjoy a little light bondage with some soft rope and blindfolds. We had just finished a rather marathon session, and she was laying on my chest basking in the afterglow. She turned her head so she could look at me.
“You remember the bet we made?”
My mind was thick and slow.
“About un-potty training you?”
Oh, right. “Yeah?”
“I think it’s time to start.”
“Urm. Ok. What does that mean, exactly?”
She got up and I admired her naked body as she threw a robe on. I heard her walk into the hallway, and her office door opened. She returned in a minute holding a box.
“Here’s how it’s going to work.” She smiled broadly, and I realized that my hands were still tied. I started getting a little nervous. She pulled something out of the box. “Remember this?”
Uh oh. I slowly nodded my head. Some time ago we had talked about chastity play and I had gotten the device. We played with it for a little bit but we decided that it really wasn’t something either of us were really into.
“I made a few modifications to it.” She pointed at the red box mounted on it. “First, there’s this. A little control box using some off-the-shelf components. And, there’s this, a few parts that will help us out. There’s a flow meter, which goes here.” She held up a part which looked like a short catheter with some thin wires handing out and a mushroom head on one end, which she spread some lubricant on and slipped into the end of my penis. “We’ll use a little of this skin-safe adhesive to hold it there.” I tried to struggle a little bit, but a quick grip of my balls settled me down. She applied something from a bottle onto the end of my penis, and the mushroom end of the flow meter was pressed to my skin. In 10 seconds, she let go.
“Then we put this on.” She took the CB-6000 rings and moved them into position. “And lastly this.” She lubed up the inside of the CB-6000 tube, and slid it on, the wires from the flow meter being run inside the tube to the red box mounted on the CB-6000. I craned my neck to see, and realized that the red box covered the area normally occupied by the lock.
She pulled out her cell phone, and launched an app. “Let’s see if this works. First, let’s lock it.” She pressed something on the phone screen, and I heard a tiny click from the box. A green light started blinking intermittently on the box.
“Great. You’re locked in.” She retrieved a diaper and slid it under me, pulling it up between my legs but not taping it. I continued craning my neck, struggling to see what was happening down there.
I started to say something, but she hushed me. “Wait, wait, now, for the fun part. There are two other surprises that I added. Can you pee a little bit? You’ll like this part.”
“I can try…” It took a few seconds of concentration, but I felt a little pee escape. When I stopped, I felt a very pleasant vibration on the bottom of my dick and my balls. It felt very good.
“That’s the reward. Whenever you wet, you’ll be rewarded. Now, on the other hand…” she pressed a few buttons, and suddenly I felt a little prick, like someone just stabbed my dick with a pin.
“Ouch!!!” I said, trying to simultaneously sit up and reach down to the affected region, a motion which was impossible with my hands still over my head.
“That’s the punishment. It will be light at first, but if the device detects that you haven’t peed in a while, it will remind you. If you pee often enough, even a little bit, then you won’t be punished. Over time, the algorithms will change, though. I get feedback right here”, she said, showing me a graph on her phone, “that tells me when and how much you peed, and I’ll be adjusting the settings over the week depending on how you progress.”
She closed up the diaper, fastened the tapes, and untied my hands. I sat up, and she sat down beside me, rubbing my wrists for me.
“So, this is the experiment. You remember the bet… this lasts a week. At the end of the week, on next Sunday, I will remove the device and you’ll have the opportunity to go without diapers. If you have more than one accident, or ask me for a diaper because you think you will, you lose. You’re in diapers, and we’ll put the device back on for a week or two to make sure the job is done.
“If you make it through 48 hours you win, and I will start my two weeks in diapers. If you give up in the middle of this, meaning you take the device off, then I don’t want to have anything to do with diapers. No more diapers in the house, no more changes, no more talking about them. And in the worst cases, I may choose to share certain information, and pictures of you, with my friends. But only in the case that you quit in the middle. Understand?”
I understood. This was going to be interesting.
“OK, I think you’re going to have an interesting night, so I prepared the guest bedroom for you. You should probably drink a lot of water. I love you.” She kissed me, and left the room.
That night was indeed interesting. I left our bedroom and stumbled over to the guest room, feeling the unfamiliar weight of the device hanging inside the diaper. At least the diaper helped to hold it up, so there was not much weight.
The guest room looked much as it always did, with the addition of a plastic bag lined pail with a few diapers on the lid, obviously intended to be the diaper pail. As I pulled back the covers and got into bed I heard the distinctive crinkle of a loud plastic sheet, and could tell that there was a pad there as well. She was expecting results.
As I tried to get comfortable, the device made sleeping on my front or side, my preferred positions, very uncomfortable. I finally managed to get settled in sleeping on my back, and lay there for a while thinking about what was happening.
I don’t know how long it had been after I drifted off to sleep, but the sharp little pin stick of the punishment shock woke me up quickly. It took me a second to figure out what to do. I relaxed as much as possible, and the little pressure in my bladder released. I felt the warm vibration of the reward, and reached down until I felt the unyielding hardness of the device block my way. I hadn’t even thought about that aspect of it.
It didn’t take long to get back to sleep, luckily. Several more times during the night the pattern repeated. I felt a little shock, woke up, released a little pee, got a reward, and went back to sleep. At first I worried a little about leaking, but then realized that the bed was well protected and didn’t worry about it. After all, she expected it.
I woke up in the morning to a full, leaking diaper. Not being sure when the last time I had peed was, and not wanting to deal with another shock, I peed a little and enjoyed the reward. Unsure of what was expected, I grabbed one of the diapers on the pail and some wipes, and quickly changed myself, tossing the used diaper away. A little powder, and I felt much more comfortable. Pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, I followed my nose downstairs to the kitchen where the smell of cooking bacon led me.
“Good morning, sweetie!” my wife said as I joined her by the stove. She had an apron on to protect her, as she was only wearing a large t-shirt and panties. She reached down and felt my crotch before I realized what was happening. “You changed your diaper already?”
I kissed her good morning. “Yes, it was soaked. That smells good!” I grabbed one of the already cooked strips cooling on the plate, and she handed me a coffee.
“So, why so nice to me this morning?” I asked, nuzzling her neck as she moved the last few pieces of bacon onto a waiting paper towel to cool.
“Well, I’m kind of curious how this goes. We didn’t talk a lot about it last night. How do you feel about all this?”
I thought for a moment. “Well, it was definitely a surprise. You sure know how to keep things interesting. But, what’s up with the chastity belt thing? Do we not get to have fun this week? And where did you get this setup?”
“No, silly, the tube is just there to hold the equipment in place. It happened to be a convenient place to mount the box. The box… I made. It’s using one of our new low power chips, so you’re sort of a test subject. In fact, I sold this project to my boss as a potential way to help train bedwetters… so you’re unofficially a guinea pig. Of course, you need to wet the bed before I can try to cure you! He doesn’t know about that part of the firmware.”
She assembled me a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast, and we went over to the table and sat down.
“Speaking of such, let me tell you a little more about the device and the programming. I think it’s actually pretty cool.” She’s such an engineer. She could look at a device that was locked to my balls that gave me shocks to train me to wet my diapers and think it was cool.
She explained that the microcontroller and battery were sealed in the box. Using bluetooth, it could communicate with her or my phone, and get programming from a web server from that app. It would also report everything from my body temperature, to how much I peed, when I peed, and even what my state of erection is.
“It can measure that???”
“Yeah, there’s a little pressure sensor on the inside of the tube. As you get hard, the pressure increases. I haven’t quite figured out what to use it for yet, but I’m sure I’ll find a use for it.” As I said, such an engineer…
The device could also be controlled directly from the phone, and she demonstrated by turning on the vibration for a few seconds. She held her finger over the punishment button with a grin on her face, but relented when I pleaded to not be shocked. She then showed me that the device knew that I had not released any pee recently, and showed me the countdown… 45 seconds until my next shock. I peed a little, and saw the time reset to 20 minutes as the vibrator turned on for a few pleasurable seconds.
She demonstrated that she could randomize the time, change the shock and reward strengths, and vary the percentage of time that I got a shock or reward. She also showed a ton of graphs and timelines showing when I had peed, when I had gotten shocks and rewards, and as she promised a line showing my level of erection. Wow.
I asked about cleanliness… after all, how could I keep clean with this thing locked on?
“It’s not a punishment, you know. The chastity tube is just there to hold the training device in place and make sure you hold up your end of the bet. We’ll take it off every night for a good shower, and we can fool around whenever we… I mean I… want”, she said with with a teasing smile.
She showed me the phone, and the line showing my excitement was ticking quickly upwards.
The morning went pretty well. I did a bunch of chores around the house. While I was shocked a few times, I got better about making sure I let out pee every so often. Of course, I was choosing to let it out, so I was fully in control. I was just trying to let it out often enough to not get shocked. And, I’ll admit, the vibrator felt quite good. I realized after a little while that the more pee I let out the more intense the reward, so I drank a bunch of water and diet soda so increase the volume.
After about three hours, my wife came up to me with a diaper and a changing pad and felt my crotch. “Yeah, you are pretty wet, aren’t you. The app on my phone is set to tell me when you’ve let out a liter, and by the looks of it you do need a change.”
I hadn’t even realized how wet the diaper was. All the little pees had added up. She motioned me over to the couch and spread out the pad.
“I can change myself, you know.”
“I know you can, and feel free to when you want a change, but I feel a little more involved this way. And I can make it more fun,” as she pulled down my sweatpants and lay me back on the couch. She slowly massaged my diaper, which I could not feel at all through the plastic tube. But, the kisses on my stomach and her gentle caress put me at ease as she unfolded the dry diaper below me, and removed the wet one. A few quick swipes with the baby wipes and she taped up the new diaper. Not all that unpleasant, I admitted as she folded up the changing pad and tossed the wet diaper in the trash.
After lunch and a few more chores I could tell I my diaper was heavy between my legs. I changed myself this time, putting on another M4 before I settled in my for my typical Sunday afternoon nap. I turned on the TV to an afternoon game, and settled down on the couch. My wife came in and game me a kiss, and as she left I saw her playing with her phone.
The game was boring, and it was not long until I drifted off. It seemed like only minutes later that I felt the slight bite of the training device, and I woke up with a start. Realizing what had happened, I relaxed and felt my diaper warm, and I drifted back to sleep.
I don’t know how many times this repeated over the course of my nap, but when I awoke the game was over, and my wife was standing over me holding a diaper, wipes and a changing pad. I realized my hand was down my pants, in my diaper. I tried to discreetly pull it out under the blanket that covered me.
“Hi sleepy head. Feeling better?” She motioned for me to lift up, and slid the changing pad under me. I helped to slide off my sweatpants.
“Yeah, I didn’t sleep all that well last night, for some reason,” I replied with a little sarcasm, “So it was nice to get a good nap. Even though I kept getting waking up.”
She slid the dry diaper under me and untaped the wet, swollen M4 I was in. “Well, when you start wetting in your sleep then you won’t have to get woken up.” She cleaned my up, pulled out the wet diaper, and taped the clean one on. My sweatpants were pulled back up and she gave me a quick kiss as she pulled the changing pad out from underneath me.
It was time to prepare dinner, and Sunday is steak night at our place. And steak night is my night to cook. I took the nice ribeyes from the fridge, and started preparing them for the grill… a little salt, a little pepper, some soy sauce, and that’s about it. Good steaks don’t need much, and these were the best. Let them sit on the counter for a few minutes to get near room temperature while I prepared the veggies and the rest of dinner.
My wife came in and gave me an appraising eye. “You know, it’s really not all that obvious what you’re wearing, except for this…” She reached over and gave me a little wedgie by pulling the pack of my diaper up. “Have to be careful about having your plastic pants poking up when others are around!” She paused. “As you know, I’ve been working on this for a while, so I have some things for you.” She gave me a big smile. “And MOST of them are to make your life in diapers easier, because that’s the nice kind of wife I am.”
“So, ‘most’ of them make my life easier?” I said. “What about the others? And if you were so nice maybe I wouldn’t be here in diapers to begin with!”
“Silly, it’s not my fault you’re in diapers. You made a bet.” She kissed me. “And diapers are just the way you chose to handle it.” She kissed me again and left the room, leaving me to finish the peas I was quickly steaming.
When she returned, she was carrying what looked like a shirt. “Arms up! This is a stickup!” she said jokingly. When I turned around and raised my arms with a smile, not knowing quite what to expect, she quickly pulled my t-shirt over the top of my head.
“So a little fooling around before dinner, then?” I asked a little hopefully, giving her a big hug and sticking my bare arms up her shirt as if I was about to strip her shirt as well. She giggled in ticklishness a little, and shrugged away.
“No, not right now. I don’t want mushy peas, so do this quick. Put this on.” She pulled the new shirt over my head, and I realized it was actually a snap crotch onesie. Pulling my sweatpants to my knees, she reached through my crotch and pulled the back flap to the front and did the snaps up. As I watched her, I could see that the diaper was already a little wet. When had that happened?
“Now get back to dinner.” I turned back to the stove. She continued, “You have several of those, now. They’re in your shirt drawer. When you need to be discreet, you can wear one. For instance, now, so that all the neighbors can’t see your diapers sticking up above your pants like a two year old as you go outside to grill.”
I pulled the peas off, and put them in the strainer. They were done perfectly. “Isn’t this a little babyish?”
“No, this is just functional. They make these for adults to use too, you know. And it says right on the sales page that it also keeps hands out of diapers that shouldn’t be there.” I blushed. She had obviously caught me.
After dinner and a bottle of wine, we relaxed together on the couch. Her hand was massaging my crotch gently, and she smiled and kissed me on the mouth when she felt the reward vibration from inside the diaper.
“Did you do that on purpose?”
“Wet. Just now. Was that on purpose?”
I nodded. It had been. My bladder had been a little full, and I had intentionally relaxed and released.
“Hmm… well, it’s just day one. Can’t expect everything to happen at once.” We snuggled together for a while.
“So,” I had to ask, “what other things did you get to make life easier? And more importantly, what are the other things you got? That implies you got something that would not make my life easier?”
She laughed and cuddled even closer, her head resting on my chest. “Well… there are some surprises. Some things, like the bed pad and plastic sheet you’ve already seen. And the onesies. I got you some new pajamas, too.”
“Ok… so, again, what are the things that are not going to make my life easier?”
“There are a few surprises, but let me show you one right now. Come on upstairs, and let’s get you cleaned up for bed.”
She got up and took my hand. We went to the bedroom. “Wait here.” She disappeared into her office for a second and came back with a box.
“So, this is something we can do, or not. If you say no, that’s fine, but they you had better agree to do what I tell you without it’s help.” She looked at me as if she were trying to decide if she should show me or not.
“So… what is it?” If she were this nervous about it, it didn’t sound very good for me.
“So we need to get you clean every night. So, I need to take the device off. But I also need to be able to get the device back on you without a long argument or a struggle. You agreed when we made the bet that if you pull out in the middle of the bet then no more diapers, and I have a few pictures that may make their way onto the net. Right?”
“Well, here is a way to make sure we don’t need to make good on that threat.” She pulled the item out of the box. It was three straps and some chain. “This goes around your neck, like this..” She fastened one of the straps around my neck, and fastened it with a click, “and these bracelets go around your wrists.” She fastened the other two straps around my wrist. They were made of what looked like clear plastic, not terribly thick, except for what was obviously the locking mechanism, which was an opaque tan plastic box maybe an inch square and a quarter inch thick that both ends of the strap ran into. Looking closely, I could see little wires running through the plastic, but I could not see any key holes. There was a tiny blinking yellow light on one corner.
“Now, the nice thing about this is the chains can be quickly added or removed”, as she she put a bracket to the front of the collar, capturing a link near the middle of the chain. A similar bracket clipped to each bracelet, capturing a link of chain about a foot from the collar. I quickly figured out that I could reach only down to the top of my chest with my hands. The little leds blinked green now, seemingly happy to be doing their job.
She looked at me and took my tethered hands in hers. “This is optional. It’s not really part of the deal, other than I think it would help keep you honest. If you don’t like the idea, and think you can stay honest without it, just say the word and I will remove them. If you’re OK with it, I’m going to take off your diaper and your trainer and wash you up in the shower. I’ll make it a VERY enjoyable experience. OK?”
I realized that her hand was again gently massaging the front of my diaper, and as I released a little pee I felt the reward vibration add to the stimulation. How could I say no? I nodded.
She kissed me on the mouth as she began to pull my pants down, using a toe with her leg between mine to get them to the floor. She reached down between my legs and unsnapped the onesie, pulling it up around my chest. I was wondering how she was going to get it over my head with my hands fixed as they were, until I realized she was had her phone behind my back and was doing something. I heard two little clicks, and the chains fell away from my wrists. She pulled the onesie off, and refastened the chains, this time even higher, so that I could really only touch my neck and my shoulders.
She kissed me again and I felt her hands running over my body, as it to show my the difference between the state of my hands and hers. The kiss continued as she took off all her clothes in what seemed like one move, leaving her nude in front of me. I tried to reach for her wonderful breasts, but my hands couldn’t get there. Her hands running around the top of my diaper, around the leg bands, and over the crotch, sent waves of electricity into my crotch.
She guided me, wanting much more, over to the shower.
“We should get used,” she said, as she slowly peeled each tape, “to making sure you’re in a safe place before taking your diaper off.” I watched, breathless, unable to do anything to help.
“And look at this! Still safely locked up where we left it!” A few more buttons pressed on the cell phone and the device unlocked, my penis getting fresh air for the first time in a day. The wires from the flow sensor were unplugged, and the tube was removed. She turned the shower on and proceeded to wash me, taking great care to make sure I stayed very excited.
After I was clean, I was still harder than a rock. She brought me into the guest room, and the changing pad and a diaper were open and waiting. I lay down on them. She pulled something up from behind the headboard, and it clicked to my collar.
“Ssshhhh…. I just need to wash the device. Don’t go anywhere.” Another kiss as she pulled the diaper up between my legs, laying the front on top of me without taping it. The diaper looked like a lean-to on top of my excitement. As if she fully expected me to pee myself. Ha. Well, nothing I could do, so I lay there and thought in very explicit terms what wonderful things I would have done to her if only my hands were as free as my dick.
A minute of running water later, she came back in carrying the trainer. She had on a robe, which fell to the floor as she climbed on top of me. Pulling back the diaper, she mounted me, obviously very wet herself, and finished what we had started.
After a few minutes, she was laying on top of me. “Perhaps we should have done that before your shower”, she whispered in my ear. “Oh well, maybe tomorrow night.” She had the flow meter re-installed in a few seconds, and quickly slipped the tube over my now-limp penis, using the remaining natural wetness as lubricant. It slipped right on, sending another jolt of energy through my loins.
I tried to reach for her, to flip her over and take her again, but I was brought up short by the tether to my collar. She completed locking the trainer on. “See, that’s why you’re locked up. Otherwise we’d never get you back in this thing! You’d just take me over and over and over! We’d never get any sleep!” She had a point there, I guess. She kissed me long and hard as she pulled the diaper up between my legs and taped it up.
Reaching for her phone, she tapped something and the chains dropped away. The collar and the bracelets stayed, though.
“Urm, can you release these too, please?” I held up my arms to her.
“I think those can stay. They’re clear, so they’re pretty unnoticeable. If you need to go out of the house we’ll decide then, but in the meantime I want to show you something else I got you.” She went to the closet and pulled out what appeared to be pajamas. Then I saw that it was all in one piece. It looked like a babies sleeper.
“Oh, c’mon honey, now THAT’S babyish.”
“Yeah, it is a little babyish, but it would REALLY make me HAPPY if you’d wear it tonight.” She was still naked. I said ok. I’m way too easy.
She slid the sleeper up my legs, and I put my arms in. There was a long zipper that ran from inside my thigh all the way up to my neck, which she zipped up. I was actually pretty warm and comfortable. It was the click at my neck again that gave me pause.
“Honey, what was that?”
“Well, this is kind of an experiment too. Again, you can say no to it, but I’ll make it worth your while to say yes.”
“But what is it?”
“Well, when you start wetting at night, we need to know if your diaper will take it. So, this is just going to make it so you can’t change your diaper tonight.”
“That’s it? There’s got to be a better way than this…”
“Well, it also does things like keep your hands out of your diaper, which we’ve already established that you have a problem with…”
“I’m sorry honey but no, there’s got to be a line here. This is it. Please take it off, now.”
She pouted. She slipped her robe on. She pressed something on her phone, and there was a click at my neck. I was able to pull the zipper down, and I started taking off the sleeper.
She was already out the door, and by the time I followed her to our bedroom I got there just in time to hear the door knob lock. The message was pretty clear.
I headed back to my room and sat on the bed, the crinkle of my diaper and the plastic bed sheet loud in the silence. A particularly intense ZAP got me in my groin, and I quickly let a stream into the waiting diaper as I lay down to sleep.
As with the previous night, I was woken up intermittently by shocks throughout the night, and my morning I woke to the alarm clock and a very wet diaper and bed pad. Once again, I changed my diaper and tossed it in the can. Before putting the fresh diaper on I visited the bathroom to take care of some things that I didn’t want to do in the diaper.
Throwing on pants and a t-shirt I took the wet pad and the sheets to the washer and tossed them in. I felt a little pressure in my bladder and released it immediately. It seemed like the shocks were getting stronger, and I wanted to avoid them.
I found my wife in her office with a bagel and coffee. She was on a work call already, so I left her alone and went to the kitchen to fetch my own coffee, then to my office to get started on my own work.
Over the course of the morning, I got very engrossed in my work project. A particularly difficult bug was being seen, and I needed to reach deep into the code to find it. I kept a glass of water at my desk, and released my bladder whenever I felt pressure. It wasn’t until close to noon that I realized that I had been concentrating all morning, I hadn’t gotten shocked, and my diaper was leaking into my chair.
“Oh, yuk”, I said, intending it to be to no one.
My wife “Yuk what?” answer surprised me, and I turned to see her standing in the doorway.
“Urm. Actually, I think my diaper leaked. The chair is wet.”
“You didn’t notice the wetting?” She seemed almost gleeful.
“I knew I was wetting a lot, and it was all on purpose, I just didn’t realize how much it had been.”
“Ah, well, two things. First, let me get you something.” She left the doorway for a second, and came back carrying a chair pad. “You should probably get used to sitting on these. In fact, I think you should sit on one wherever you are, be it here, or on the couch. I don’t want to lose furniture over this. And second, let me see your phone.”
She traded the chair pad for my phone, and left again for a second. I placed the pad on my chair, and followed her. She went into her office, plugged my phone into her computer, typed a few commands, and waited a few seconds.
“You now have an app that will interact with your trainer. Obviously you don’t get ALL the controls,” she smiled, “but I enabled the functionality where it will tell you when you’ve peed a certain amount; you can set the volume yourself. That way, if you wear a different diaper you can adjust it if you need to.”
Most of the app functionality was locked out, but it did had a home screen widget that she showed me, showing a bar graph in the shape of a diaper that turned yellow. Maybe I wouldn’t place that on my home screen.
The rest of the day passed similarly. Twice during the afternoon my phone buzzed reminding me to change, and when I ignored the second one my wife came over and changed me herself. Dinner was quick, followed by a diaper change, and we both went back to our offices to continue working after dinner.
About 9PM, she came in with the chains. She was naked. “Ready for your shower?”
I wasn’t really at a great stopping point, but again, she was naked. It’s hard to argue with that.
I helped her by pulling off my shirt, and she locked the chains on again. I followed her into the bathroom and once again she made the chains worth my while. Once again I ended up tethered to the bed, locked back in the trainer, and relaxing after a healthy climax.
She was pulling the diaper up between my legs when she stopped.
“You know, for the last two nights, you’ve really flooded the diaper, wet the bed, and kind of made a mess. Would you like a more absorbent diaper?”
I thought about it. It made sense. “But these are pretty much the most absorbent I can get. And two is getting pretty expensive.”
She smiled. “True. That’s why I’ll suggest this.” She pulled a large white cloth out from under the bed. “From what I read, this cloth diaper will work a lot better at night. How about we try it?”
I kind of laughed at the “we”; it wasn’t “we” trying it, it was “me” trying it. Cloth diapers weren’t really my thing, but it was clear the M4’s weren’t cutting it for night time. I sighed, and acquiesced by lifting my butt off the disposable. She slid it under me, and I saw that it was actually two diapers in a stack. It was very thick. I went to touch it, and I realized my hands were still restrained. “Honey, could you please release my hands so I can help you?”
“I read online how to diaper an adult with cloth, so let’s see how this works. You just hang out.” Like I had a choice.
She twisted the inner diaper, then pulled the outer diaper straight up. The twist formed a little pocket that my hard plastic crotch fit nicely into. She grabbed four pins that had obviously been pre-positioned from the bedside drawer, and quickly pulled the diaper tight. Not that I had much experience with cloth, but it seemed secure. I could not even feign surprise when she pulled out the plastic pants. She slid them up my legs, and tucked in the diaper.
“Now, that sleeper… it’s actually designed to help hold thick diapers in place at night. I think you’ll actually be more comfortable wearing it. The zipper isn’t designed to stay in place without the lock, but what if I gave you the ability to unlock it from your phone? Would you wear it if you could take it off whenever you wanted to?”
She was pretty obviously not going to give in. And, if I could unlock it, then it wasn’t like it was really locked on. I was tired, so, once again, I nodded. The sleeper came out of the closet, and with some prodding at her phone my hands fell free. She helped me into the sleeper, and I noted the click when the zipper was at the top. She was right, though, the sleeper acted sort of like a onesie, and held the bulky diaper in place securely.
Before she left the room, she got my phone, and with some more prodding showed me how to open and close the lock as she had promised. Then, we both went to sleep.
Tuesday morning began like Monday, with the alarm blaring. I felt like I had slept a lot better though, as I didn’t remember waking as much in response to the zaps. I felt down around my crotch. It was dry. Well, maybe the trainer was broken and wasn’t punishing me if I didn’t wet. As I stood up, the weight of the cloth diaper around me put an end to that thought, as I felt it’s weight on my shoulders as the sleeper held it up.
Changing in the morning seemed a little more complex, so I wandered into my wife’s office. She was already up, of course, intently looking over mechanical design drawings of some random part for work.
“Good morning,” I said, “could you help me?”
She turned around and got up. “Of course honey, no problem.”
We went back into the guest room where I had slept, and she unlocked the sleeper and helped me out. I lay down on the changing pad. She looked at the soaked diaper. “Ok, how are we going to get that wet diaper off you?” She thought for a second, and pulled another bed pad out of the closet. Putting that on top of the first, and both of them under me, she pulled off my plastic pants. The smell of a very wet diaper hit my nose, and I winced. She didn’t even make a face, though, as she removed the pins and took the diapers and the top pad away in a single pile. She quickly put the disposable that I didn’t use last night under me, cleaned me up with some wipes, and taped me up. As I sat up, she kissed me as she handed me the wet diapers and pad, and told me to stick the whole thing in the washer.
After toasting a quick bagel and grabbing some coffee, I again felt the need to visit the bathroom. I carefully untaped the tapes of the still-dry diaper I was wearing, and sat down to take care of the morning’s business. After finishing, I taped the diaper back on and went to my office.
Immersed in my work, I wet when I felt like it and changed once when the phone suggested I should. It was right, as there was just a small round wet spot on the pad on my chair. I quickly changed into another M4 and replaced the chair pad with a dry one, my mind never really leaving the world of code that I was immersed in. Lunch time came as a surprise when my wife knocked on the door with a sandwich. I ate in my office and continued my work.
By 5PM I was exhausted. I had only moved twice in the afternoon, both times for changes. I spent most of the afternoon on the phone with other team members. On the bright side, I had found the bug and pushed the fix to QA for verification, and I felt relieved. A nice complimentary email from my boss acknowledging the hard work also helped my mood.
As I finally stood up to stretch, I felt the reward vibrator kick in. There must have been some drops stuck in my urethra, I supposed, which had dribbled out when I stood. No big deal.
My big stretch was finally interrupted by a knock on my door. “So what do you want for dinner?” I heard, as she cracked open the door and peered in. “Can I come in?”
I had already closed everything up, so it was safe. She came in and hugged me, feeling my diaper.
“How about we go out for dinner? Nothing major, we could just get burgers or something. But I need to get out of this house, and you need to get used to going out diapered up too.” She was rubbing my diapered bum, and I could tell the wetness went all the way back.
I was a little nervous. “Honey, these diapers are way too thick…”
“But I think you have some thinner ones stashed away, don’t you?”
I did. There were some M2’s in the bag. I sighed. I did want to get out of the house.
She went with me into the guest room, where she cleaned me well and helped tape on an M2. I got one of the onesies from the drawer and put it on. A looser pair of my jeans did a pretty good job of hiding anything, and the loose long sleeve shirt hid anything else. I looked in the mirror.
“Urm, honey?” I pointed at the collar still locked around my neck. Surprisingly, I hadn’t really noticed it during the day.
She took her phone, tapped something out, and the lock on my neck clicked. The collar
“What about these?” I held out my wrists.
“The shirt will cover them. You’ll be ok.”
The long sleeve shirt did cover them. I shrugged. Another battle for another day.
The drive to our regular watering hole was only a few minutes. As I climbed in to drive, though, I realized how uncomfortable it was going to be with the device locked on, so we switched places. While I was climbing out of the passenger seat at our destination, I once again felt the reward vibration kick off. Huh, must have been some trapped urine again.
We knew the hostess, and she pointed us to a booth in the back of the largely empty place. Our usual waitress came by and it was not long until we both had drinks in front of us. The large frosty draft of a premium amber ale was a sweet reward for the days hard work.
We talked in general terms about our day, and about the vacation we were planning for the summer. Two or three times, I don’t remember, I let the quickly processed beer out into the waiting diaper. I had a second beer when the food came, and she switched to water after her single glass of wine.
Her phone alarm went off. “Uh oh.” She looked at me. “How’s your diaper?”
Uh oh was right. I put my hand down, and my diaper was clearly beyond ready for a change. I hoped I hadn’t leaked.
I looked at her. I hadn’t thought to bring a change. “What should I do?”
She reached into her large handbag and pulled out a smaller black bag. “I thought you were the boy scout. Go change.” She smiled and handed me the bag.
Luckily, the bathroom was very close to our booth, and I quickly slipped in. Inside the bag was a pack of wipes, an M2, and an M4. I entered a stall and pulled my pants down. I unsnapped the onesie, released the tapes, and wadded up the very wet diaper. I used a few wipes to clean up a little, and pulled the dry diaper between my legs. I had just gotten the first of the four tapes fastened when someone entered the restroom. I froze.
The person walked over to the stall I was in and pulled on the door. I hoped to god the latch held. They then went into the stall next to me. I was so nervous. As the person made a bunch of noise flushing the toilet and pulling out a toilet seat liner I slowly pulled the diaper up between my legs. The crackling of the plastic diaper seemed unbearably loud. The person next to me seemed to be settling in for the duration, and I could hear what sounded like he was playing some game on his phone. Great.
I stood there, motionless, for what felt like 10 minutes, but was probably only 2. Screw it. I quickly pulled up the diaper and taped it in place. I didn’t know this person. Who cares, I kept telling myself, as the loud sound of tapes being ripped from their backing and stuck to the diaper echoed in my ears. The diaper crinkled like thunder as I snugged it in tight and adjusted it. Even the sounds of the snaps popping closed sounded like gunshots assaulting any sense of privacy I might have had. I pulled up my pants, grabbed the bag and the wet diaper, and went to the sink. I quickly tossed the used diaper in the trash, washed my hands, and got the heck out. As I was sitting down, shaking a little from the overly public experience, I felt the reward buzzer tingle. What was that? I guess I just wasn’t paying attention, and the beer wasn’t helping.
My wife looked at me, a little concerned. “Everything OK?”
I caught my breath and took a long drink of the beer to calm down. “Someone came in. It was a little more public than I expected.”
“You did change though, right?”
“Did you use the thick one or the thin one?”
“The thin one.” I was relaxing a little now.
She looked at me for a second. “Do you want another?”
I gave her a confused look. “I just changed. What do you mean?”
“No, silly, another beer.” I looked down. Mine was empty, still clutched in my hand.
“If you’re having dessert, then I will. Otherwise we can just go home.”
She had dessert, and I had another beer. Definately buzzed, I was peeing a lot. Halfway through the third beer, her phone signaled again.
“Wow, those thin ones don’t last very long.”
It couldn’t be time to change yet. I hadn’t peed that much. Had I. I reached down. Sure enough, it was pretty clear that the diaper was nearing saturation. Huh.
“Can we just go home? I don’t want to do that again. What if someone comes in again?”
“Well, you’re going to need to get used to it. No one cares. Just go do it.”
Stumbling just a bit from the effect of the three beers, I went back to the restroom. Empty.
Not wanting to waste time, I quickly went to the stall, pulled down my pants, unsnapped the onesie, pulled the tapes, balled up the diaper, and opened the bag for the dry one.
I stopped. Only the M4 was left. Crap. I paused. It would be so obvious that I was wearing a diaper. Why had she brought an M4? Why?
As I was standing there holding the folded diaper in my hand, I felt the reward vibration. What the heck was that for? I looked down, and a small stream of urine was landing on the front of my pants. CRAP! I clamped down, and the flow stopped. It had just been a little dribble, but the front of my fly was wet. I felt a sinking feeling as I realized I didn’t have much choice about wearing the diaper. The beer was obviously affecting me. I pulled the M4 open and got it taped up before anyone came in, fastening the onesie over the bulk of the diaper. My pants pulled up, but barely. The bulkiness of the diaper along with the training device used all the available space in the relaxed fit jeans. I used some toilet paper to sop up some of the wetness, and when I pulled my shirt down it pretty well covered the wet spot.
Taking the bag and the used diaper, I tossed it out and washed my hands. I felt like I was waddling back to the booth. My wife saw me and smiled. She was staring at my groin.
“If you just relaxed and walked a little more normally, I don’t think that anyone would suspect a thing, you know.”
“There was only a thick diaper in there,” I said accusingly as I sat down.
“I know. I figured that if you needed two changes in the time we sat down for dinner, you needed the thicker diapers.
“But it barely fits under my jeans!”
“But it does fit under your jeans, and it’s really not noticeable. Now you won’t have to change as often. Less chance of embarrassing situations like last time, right?”
I finished my beer quietly. I didn’t want to tell her that I had peed without control in there. It was too much. We paid the check, and headed to the car. Getting into the passenger seat, I again felt the reward vibration, even though I don’t think that I intentionally let go. Whatever, I was heavily buzzed and it felt nice. I relaxed and let even more out, enjoying the feeling. I put my head back as my wife took my hand away from my groin and replaced it with her own. It felt nice. I woke up a few minutes later when we got home.
I was obviously tired, so we agreed that it was time for a shower and bed even though it wasn’t very late. I was not in a mood to fight anything, so I just relaxed as she replaced the collar, took off my clothes, attached the chains, and led me into the bathroom. She started the shower, and stripped herself. She removed my sodden diaper and the training device before we showered. It wasn’t quite as intimate as the last two nights, but she was gentle and caring, and soon I was led back to the guest room. As before, the tether to the top of the bed was attached, but I didn’t really care. She left me on top of the diapers with them pulled up between my legs but not pinned. Buzzed and sleepy, I waited for her to finish washing the device.
She came back in, and after looking at my closed eyes slipped the training device back on with a kiss. She was just finishing up the pins on the diaper when the vibrator went off. My plastic pants weren’t even on. This time, I know it was not intentional. And I was tired, but the alcohol’s effects were wearing off. As I felt the pleasant vibration again, I knew I lost. This was the third time in the last hour that I was being rewarded without consciously letting go, and it was only Tuesday.
As she helped me into the sleeper, she didn’t say anything but I think she saw the look in my eye and knew. The click of the lock on the sleeper seemed awfully final.
She smiled a little and lay down with me on the bed, holding me. She smelled so perfect, and my head lay on her wonderful chest. She kissed me on the top of the head as I fell asleep.
Wednesday dawned early. I knew I had half-woken a few times during the night in response to the shocks, but I didn’t really remember how many times it had happened. The diaper, though, was soaked. Not surprising. I went to get my wife, and she again helped me through the process of removing the sopping cloth diaper, and replacing it with a disposable.
I decided that I was going to maintained more control today. I wasn’t going to lose this bet without a fight, if for no other reason than I hated to lose. And, I was beginning to realize what the stakes were. If changing in a public restroom filled me with fear that I was going to wet my pants during the change, then that alone was a good reason to win. I still didn’t think that wearing diapers was so bad, but it was becoming more obvious to me that the complications around it that made it difficult.
So, I resolved to win. And I did quite well during the day, really. I actually used the toilet a number of times, although the presence of the chastity cage made it a sit-down, rather messy affair. I consciously peed enough to keep the shocks away, but I made sure that every time I released pee it was intentional. I felt silly being proud that I had control, but I did. Maybe I had been wrong last night. Maybe I could still win this!
By late in the day, I was confident enough that I even stopped wearing a diaper. I just use the toilet every 15 minutes, which while it was annoying did mean that I could maintain control without punishment. My wife, absorbed in her work, didn’t seem to notice.
It was the wine with dinner, I think, that really did it. We ate in. My wife was making a nice chicken, and I opened a bottle of wine. She surely noticed that I was running to the bathroom rather often, but still didn’t say anything. We enjoyed a glass of Chardonnay while she finished the preparations. I stayed out of the way, trying to keep her from noticing that I wasn’t wearing any protection.
We sat down for dinner and I poured the second glass, when I felt the punishment shock and I jumped. I immediately felt the reward vibration.
“Are you OK?” My wife looked at me with some slight concern, as I paused, frozen. Had I just wet my pants? I felt around, but there was only a small wet patch.
I smiled. “Yes, fine. Just a little shock.” I made a mental note to get up and use the bathroom in 15 minutes, looking at the clock to mark the time. I didn’t need another surprise like that. I didn’t think that it would take all that long for my pants to dry; by the time I got up it shouldn’t be noticeable.
The dinner was really good, and my wife was in a very good mood due to wrapping up a project that day. The second bottle of wine was opened, and I was even more relaxed when the shock hit again. Dammit! I didn’t feel a reward vibration, but I did feel a large warmth spreading out below me.
This would be harder to explain away. My wife was looking at me again.
“It’s working, isn’t it?”
Yeah, it was working. I mumbled a “mmmm”, and again changed the subject, talking about her day. I tried to ignore the cooling wetness below. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was. Maybe I could get away and change my pants before she noticed.
When I stood to bring the dishes to the kitchen, the extent of the damage was obvious. Even leaning my napkin tucked in in an attempt to hide the wet spot, it was obvious that the wetness covered my whole crotch, and even wet my pants down the legs a way. I wasn’t hiding anything. She noticed.
“Urm… that’s a heck of a diaper leak, there…” Her tone on the word ‘diaper’ indicated that she didn’t think that a leak was really the problem.
“Yeah, I’m not wearing one.” I’m not good at lying after a bottle of wine.
“I can see that. Why not?”
“Because when I was wearing one it was too easy to just let go. Without one I used the toilet.”
“You’re still trying to win this, huh?”
She paused. She started putting things in the dishwasher. “I’m trying to figure out what to do here. On the one hand, you are right. We never actually said you need to wear a diaper. That’s true…” She drew out the ‘true’, and I waited for the ‘buuuuuut’….
“Buuuuuut…. I also don’t want all the furniture ruined. Look at the chair.”
I looked. The cloth cushion was obviously soaked.
“So, what are we going to do about this?”
I said nothing, just looked at her sheepishly.
“OK, since you have nothing, here’s the proposal. It has nothing in particular to do with the bet. If you’re having problems with control, for whatever reason,” she looked at me meaningfully, “you need to protect the furniture. You can wear protection, or you can carry around a chair pad, or whatever you want, but you’re responsible for making sure your ‘problem’ doesn’t damage anything. OK?”
That seemed reasonable. “OK”
“So go take care of it. I’ll do the dishes.”
It didn’t take long to change my pants and pee in the toilet, but after that I did put a diaper on. No use risking anything right now.
After helping clean up the dishes we settled in on the couch to watch some TV. We spooned, me holding her. An hour later, she jumped a little bit, and her hand moved down to my crotch. Then the couch. Then she jumped up.
She didn’t quite shout, but her elevated tone made it clear she wasn’t happy. “You’re leaking!” She looked at the couch. There was a wet mark. She also had a wet mark where I had been against her.
“You’ve got to be more careful! I told you I am NOT going to let you ruin furniture!” She was getting more exasperated as she continued. ”Part of the deal was that you could manage your own diapers, but if you can’t do it properly then I will!” She stalked upstairs as I lay on the couch.
Had I really peed that much? The device helped hold me pointing down, which should have made the side position I was in not such a big deal. I was kind of surprised that the crotch was fully saturated, and the diaper was clearly in need of a change. I got up. Just then she re-appeared. She was carrying cloth diapers and a bed pad.
“Lay down on this.” She put the pad on the couch. Her commanding voice wasn’t really leaving a lot to argue with. She pulled my pants down and put the cloth diaper under me before removing the disposable. She quickly pulled up the diaper and pinned it, then slid the plastic pants up my legs. After disposing of the wet diaper, she got me back up and proceeded to clean the couch. Luckily the micro-fibers had done a good job, and it wiped up pretty easily. She put the bed pad back down and gestured for me to lay back down. Cuddling back in, she resumed the show we were watching. After a few minutes her hand drifted back, patting my thickly padded bum.
An hour later it was time to go to bed. The usual ritual began… the chain attaching my hands to my collar, the intimate shower as she played with me, and tethered by my collar to the bed, laying on the doubled cloth night diapers as she washed the device. She came back in, and dropped her robe, climbing on top of me. It didn’t take long, with her hands caressing my body, for me to be ready for her.
As she slowly mounted me, she leaned down to kiss me. As my excitement continued to climb, she was whispering in my ear.
“Remember how you told me that you wanted this because you wanted it to be OK to wear diapers, in your mind? How it would reduce the guilt?”
She continued moving up and down. My response was limited to, “Mmmmm……”
“Well, you had two accidents today, one at dinner, and one on the couch.”
“It’s because you didn’t wear a diaper, and then the one you chose to put on wasn’t the right choice for laying down on the couch, right?”
The action was getting a little faster, a little more intense. “Mmmmmmmmmmm……”
“I think that I should be the one responsible for making sure you don’t leak. Would that be OK with you? No guilt at all if you leak on the furniture? All my problem? Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“OK, I’ll make sure that you’re wearing the right diapers all the time.” Her whisper in my ear coincided with a little move she made, a little faster stroke, something that put me over the edge. She joined me. She lay on top of me for a while before she got up, cleaning herself off using the still open diaper. She reached for the ring and tube attached them, pulling the front of the diaper up to cover them. Four quick pins and some plastic pants, and the sleeper. The zipper again locked with a click. Releasing the tether to my collar, she climbed up on the bed next to me.
“It’s OK, you know, “ she said. “I know that you really want to wear the diapers, but feel that you have to try to win the bet. That’s fine. But I know I’m on the side of what you really want. If you really don’t want to wear them then I’m sure you’ll be able to go a day without problems on Sunday. OK?”
I stayed silent. She took silence for acceptance.
“From now on I’m going to be responsible for checking your diapers, and making sure you’re wearing the correct diaper for the circumstances. I may change you myself, or tell you to change, but you don’t need to worry about when to change, or what to wear anymore. I think that will be less stress for you. OK?”
I nodded. That didn’t sound so bad.
“OK, I love you. Sleep well.” She kissed me again, and went to her room, leaving me laying there. Sleep followed quickly. I had very strange dream that the toilet I was using was vibrating, but I didn’t wake all night.
Thursday morning I wasn’t the least bit surprised to find a wet diaper. I got up and tried to use my phone to unlock the sleeper, but instead I got a shock that felt like a kick in the groin and a message that said, “Permission Denied.”
“Ouch,” I grunted, startled, and stormed around the house looking for my wife. I found her in her office. “What the heck is this?”
She turned around in her chair. “What is what?”
“The lock won’t let me open it, and it shocked me when I tried! It really hurt!” I was pissed.
“Oh, sorry. Yeah. I kind of forgot about that. I removed your permissions for the lock after we talked last night about how I was going to be responsible for your diapers, but I forgot that there was a punishment if you tried to unlock it. I’m sorry, that really was unintentional.”
She took my hands in hers, and the look on her face seemed to tell me that she really was sorry. “Well, please don’t do that again. It did really hurt.”
“OK, well, don’t try to release any of the locks again, but I’ll remove the option so you can’t even try. Let’s go get you changed.”
We went back to my bedroom, and the lock yielded to some code on her phone, opening up the sleeper. She changed me efficiently into an M4 after giving me a chance to use the bathroom to take care of other business, and she handed me a onesie and some sweatpants to change into. Coffee and breakfast followed, and I went to my office to work.
About two hours later, there was a knock on my door. Deep in concentration on the problem I was studying, I grunted. She cracked the door open.
“OK to come in? I need to check you.”
I looked up. Nothing terribly proprietary was out, so I nodded. She came over and felt my crotch, weighing the plastic covered garment.
“Yep, you’re pretty wet. Time for a change. Let’s just do it here.” As she took the changing pad she was carrying and spread it on the floor, I started to protest.
“I can change myself. You don’t need to do it.”
“Well, I’m responsible, I don’t mind, and I need to see how wet it really is.” She patted the mat and looked at me. I got out of the chair with a deep sigh, laying down. She grabbed the side of the sweatpants and started to pull them down.
“Lift, please.” I lifted my butt off the mat, and she slipped them down to my ankles. She unsnapped the onesie, pulled it open, and then opened up the new diaper and slid it under me. “Down.” I laid my still-diapered butt on the dry diaper. “This way, if you have a leak while you’re being changed it will just dribble into the new diaper, not onto the floor.” She looked at my crotch. “You’re getting a little red in a few places. We’re going to have to take care of that. I’ll get some supplies next time.”
She used some wipes the clean me up, then slid the wet diaper out from under me as I lifted again. “That wasn’t very bad at all. Quick and easy,” she said as she taped the dry one up, snapped up the onesie, and left me to pull up my pants as she balled up the wet diaper.
The “next time” that she had been referring to was, apparently, lunchtime. She knocked on the door again, and I invited her to enter. I had started to become a little nervous about leaks, so I was glad to see her.
“It’s about time,” I told her, “‘cuz I think I’m getting close to leaking.”
“Yeah, I was busy too. But remember, it’s not your fault, and not your problem if you leak.” She kissed me and took my hand. “Come in to the bathroom. We need to handle your rash.”
I followed her, and stopped at what I saw. Scissors. Razor. Hair removal cream.
“Oh, hell no.” I said, pulling back. She kept a hold of my hand.
“You’ll be a lot more comfortable like this, I promise. The hair is making it harder to keep clean and dry, and you’ll appreciate it.”
I stayed firm. This was another step too far.
“OK, then,” she said, with a gleam in her eye, “what if I do it too?” I stopped pulling. “I don’t really want to either, but then at least you can say it is a play thing that we both try, and not just because you wear diapers.”
I reluctantly acquiesced. If she was willing to go all in like that, then I guess I could too. She removed my diaper and brought over the chains. “I need to remove your trainer to get everything, so let’s get these on.”
“If I promise to be good and let you put the device back on, would you leave those off?”
She paused. “You PROMISE to be good? I would be a lot easier to have help… Remember, if you don’t, I’ll post a picture online, and you won’t like that.”
I promised, and she removed the device. For the next 30 minutes we played with each other, scissoring, razing, and creaming. By the end of it, we were in the shower, both smooth, both exploring the new feelings. There was no hair above my thighs, or below my belly button. She was just as smooth. I had to admit, it felt pretty good.
The high came down when she produced the device. I reluctantly allowed her to lock it back on. She lead me back to my bedroom, spreading out a waiting diaper for me to lay on. She produced a bottle of baby powder, which she had not used before. She explained that it would help absorb some of the moisture, and will also help with chaffing. I also found that it made the diaper feel even softer, although I did grouse about the babyish smell.
I finished dressing myself in the onesie and sweatpants while she also got dressed. We went to the kitchen to fix sandwiches, and I couldn’t help but enjoy the new feeling of the diaper, almost like warm silk was wrapped around me. It seemed to move and caress in new ways. Out of habit, I wet it.
In the early afternoon I was back at work when the knock at my door came. The warm soft caressing diaper had turned into a wet soggy mass already. It was not without some relief that I invited her in.
“Didn’t take long to soak that one, did it? I think we’ll put you in something that will last a little longer.” As she spread out the mat on the floor, I saw that she had brought a cloth diaper and plastic pants along. I opened my mouth to start whining, but then realized it didn’t matter. A diaper was a diaper. If I went longer between changes, then so much the better. I lay down on the mat and waited while the damp-but-relatively-thin M4 was replaced with the dry-but-thicker cloth and plastic pants. Again, a liberal dose of the powder was used.
As she packed up to go, she told me that she had been tweaking the training algorithms, and that the device would be receiving it’s new programming wirelessly sometime this afternoon. “You probably won’t see much difference at first, but if patterns change then that’s why. And by the way, you might want to drink a lot more this afternoon; you’ll probably need it.”
“What do you mean by that?” I was fastening the snaps of the onesie and pulling up my pants.
“I think it’s been too easy for you to hold of going until just before you know that a shock is going to happen. So, we’re changing things up. Hopefully it will make the training a little more effective.” She paused. “I think that the training direction that I had been going on was the wrong one. I mean, I was thinking more of Pavlov, where you’d do something in response to a stimulus. I’ve been reading more, and I think that’s the wrong model.”
“So what’s the right model?”
“Well,” she smiled, “if I tell you then I don’t think it will be as effective. So, just go with the flow. Or just let it flow. Or something like that.” She gave me a devious smile as she closed my office door.
It was not long after I returned to my office to work that some of the changes started to be obvious. They first is that the old 20-minutes-between-shocks timing was gone. The second was that the shocks were much stronger. Third, there was no reward when I released my bladder in startled response to the zap.
It took most of the afternoon, but I thought I figured out most of the changes. The shocks now came at a random time, but the further apart they were the stronger the zap. Given that even the smallest zap was painful now they were definitely something to avoid, rather than a reminder. Also, the rewards were more random. Sometimes I got them, sometimes I didn’t. It seemed the strongest, most consistent rewards were for small, almost constant releases. The longer I waited, the less common and less pleasant were the rewards.
Between the shocks and the rewards, by the end of the afternoon I was heeding her advice and drinking water and tea almost constantly, leading to almost constant peeing. She changed me twice more during the afternoon, almost clinically. She’d come in and make small talk while I laid on the floor on the changing mat. Unsnap the onesie, pull down the plastic pants, pop the pins, remove the wet diaper, slide a new diaper under me, butt down, pull it up between my legs, replace the pins, plastic pants back up, snap the onesie, check to make sure the diaper was inside the pants, and back to work.
It was my night to make dinner again, and I pulled some pork chops out of the freezer. I felt a little pressure in my bladder, and felt the nice rewards as I reached to the back of the closet for a potato(e) to mash. As I was slicing an apple for the ‘smothering’ part of the porkchops, I released again, this time with no reward. As I turned on the stove to warm the frozen green beans, I released again, this time with a pleasant reward. By the time the chops were ready, my wife was standing there with another diaper.
“Hi honey! Thanks for making dinner. Looks great. Let’s just take care of this before dinner. It looks like you’ve been wetting a lot.”
I felt the front of my diaper. It was definitely heavy. “OK, where?”
“Just come over here on the carpet.” She spread out the changing mat on the floor, placing the supplies beside it. I went over and lay down.
“Yeah, you’re certainly wet. Looks like you took my advice about drinking water?” Lift butt. Plastic pants down.
“Yes, I did. The shocks really hurt now, you know.” I said it with a little bit of a whine. Release pins. Remove wet diaper.
“Yes, I know they do, and I’m sorry it has to hurt. But they really have to be something you want to avoid. If you just wait until you get a shock to pee, like you had been, then when we remove the device you’ll stop.” Put clean diaper under me. Butt down. Pull it up between my legs. It was very thick.
I looked down. “That’s much thicker than the last one.” She was pinning it on, my legs spread.
“These are some new diapers for you. Night weight, they said. You’ve been soaking the thinner ones, which is good, but since I don’t want you to leak and I’m responsible for it, I’m going to put you in these around the house.” Plastic pants up, which barely fit over the bulk. “They should last a little longer so I don’t have to change you every hour and a half like this afternoon.” She struggled to pull the onesie together and get it snapped in my crotch. It was about as thick as the doubled cloth diaper she had used on me last night. “Now lets eat some dinner. I’m hungry, and that looks great.”
A nice white bottle of wine went with dinner. I felt like I was sitting on a pillow, but it was a pillow that was getting progressively wetter and heavier over the course of the meal.
“You remember that we’re supposed to go out with the Smiths tomorrow night, right?” She asked.
“Can we cancel that, given my, um, situation?” The vibration happened to be going off as she asked the question.
“Well, we could, but I think you’re going to have to get used to this, ‘um, situation’. Are you going to hide in the house forever?” I paused. No, I couldn’t do that. But, I’d be fine as soon as she took the trainer off, right? I just had to make it to Sunday. I guess she was reading my mind, as she added, “Well, if you want, here’s a compromise. We can cancel tomorrow night, but I get to pick what we do on Sunday, for your test. And I promise it won’t be with friends.”
I nodded. In the best case, I’d be able to hold off until I had the stupid device off. In the worst case, at least the inevitable was delayed.
The thick diaper was very noticeable, but the onesie snapped between my legs held it comfortably in position as I sat at the table. I felt like I was sitting on a pillow, my legs spread and my crotch a bulbous asexual bump between my legs. I tried to be conscious of every time I emptied my bladder to maintain control, but there were one or two times that the reward kicked in when I had not knowingly let go. Maybe it was just reacting to the left over moisture from the last time.
After cleaning up from dinner, my diaper was checked and found to be fine, so we settled down on the couch for some relaxing TV time. It wasn’t until it was time for bed that we went upstairs for a shower and a change. She held out the chain, and I realized she was expecting me to connect it to the wrist restraints and collar that I had forgotten were even there.
“C’mon, you trusted me earlier.” I just didn’t want to deal with it. She didn’t want to deal with me.
“Put them on. Now.”
“But I will be very good, and you didn’t need them before,” I continued to whine. She was walking over towards her phone on the bedside table with a purpose. I realized what she was going to do, and my attitude change instantly.
“Oh, I’m sorry honey. I didn’t mean it.” I held out my hands, just as the very painful shock hit, leaving me gasping. She looked at me in the That-Hurt-Me-More-Than-It-Hurt-You way.
“This isn’t a debate,” she said gently. “I feel better when you’re not in a position to argue about anything, I’m tired, and you’re wet, and you don’t smell very good.” She walked up to me, and I stood there as the onesie was removed over my head before the chain was locked to the to the collar and cuffs. The shower was rather quick and efficient, the device was removed and washed, and before long I was on the bed, chain locked to the headboard, with the locking sleeper being put over the thick diaper. After I helped get my arms into the sleeper, she surprised me by locking them back in the cuffs before releasing the tethering chain.
She looked at me. “Let’s not have any arguments about this any more, OK? It goes along with me being responsible for your diaper. I’m going to leave it on you for the next three nights, as a little reminder.” It was said gently, but as she had said, I was not in a position to argue. She helped me get into my bed, the plastic mattress protector crackling away, and gave me a kiss goodnight before turning out the light and closing the door.
I slept poorly that night. Not able to easily adjust the blankets, turn over, or pretty much do anything other than lay on my back with my legs splayed frog-style due to the bulk, I was awoken several times over the night as I was zapped with various levels of power.
I woke Friday morning thinking it was Saturday, until I realized that the meeting reminder on my phone was prompting me that I had my weekly staff update meeting to call into in 15 minutes. Uhg. The chain holding my wrists had released at some point, but the sleeper was still locked. I knocked on my wife’s closed office door and stuck my head in when invited.
She was on the phone, and gestured that I should take the changing pad and diaper stack sitting on the chair beside her and lay it out on the floor. Continuing her discussion with her coworker about resource needs and schedule changes to some program, she unlocked the sleeper and changed me into a dry diaper. Wearing only the diaper and plastic pants, I was handed the pile of wet diapers and shoo’d out. I dropped them in the wash, made a quick cup of coffee, threw on a onesie and some sweatpants, and called into my meeting to begin yet another day of work.
Throughout the day I was still doing my best to be conscious about when I emptied my bladder. I noticed that I was trying to not walk near the bathroom door. It just felt wrong. Several times I went to use the toilet, but when I got near the bathroom I just didn’t feel like it. The diaper was easier. Of course, I was consciously using the diaper, so it stayed in control.
After focusing on my work for most of the day, it was mid-afternoon when my wife asked if I wanted to go out shopping with her. I gestured at the thick white plastic covered lump around my waist. “No. Not like this.”
“It’s OK. I’ll put a more discreet diaper on you, and you can wait in the car. C’mon it will be good to get out.” I sighed. She returned with a Molicare M2, which after she changed me into it seemed as thin as a pair of regular underwear after the pillow-like cloth I had been wearing. Under the snapped onesie, it was hardly noticeable. Manipulating her phone, she unlocked the collar and cuffs, a tiny click signalling that I could pull them off. I dressed in a pair of loose shorts and an untucked shirt over the onesie. I doubted anyone could tell.
With the confidence of a discrete diaper, I joined her in the grocery store, relaxing a little with the realization that I could get out of the house without a problem. I hadn’t even realized that I had felt trapped in the house before, and I felt a wave of gratitude to my wife for convincing me to get out. It was the right thing.
We were in the produce area when my wife glanced at her phone, then somewhat discreetly cupped my crotch. I was wet. Really wet. Without mentioning it, we both sped up the remaining shopping. Time to get home.
After checkout, as we were passing the restrooms, she looked at me. “You should change here. I brought a spare for you.”
Realizing just how wet I was, I agreed with her. I poked my head into the mens room and found it empty. Perfect. Not as perfect was when she pulled the translucent plastic grocery containing another diaper, a package of wipes, and a small bottle of powder out of her huge purse, and just handed it to me. I looked around again frantically, but no one seemed to be interested, or care. Quickly tucking it under my arm I entered the room and quickly went into a stall. The change went quickly… drop my shorts, unsnap the onesie, and pop the tapes on the used diaper. Pull it off, pull out a couple of wipes, and clean up a little. As I was cleaning, a few drops of pee fell from the trainer and landed on my shorts. I guess I should have positioned the new diaper to catch the drops… note that for next time. Pull the new one on, sprinkle a little powder, position and tape, snap the onesie up and pull up my shorts.
Of course, just as I was finishing up the door opened, and someone walked over to the urinal. I quickly wrapped up the used diaper, and walked out of the stall, discreetly dropping the used diaper in the trash with a ‘thunk’ on the way to the sink. Wash my hands, and I was out of there. I had survived. I let out my breath as I exited the restroom.
“You’re getting pretty quick at that,” she said as we continued out the front door and walked to the car. “It’s not so bad, is it?” She gestured towards the wet spot on my shorts. “I guess that’s why I’m changing you, though, isn’t it? When you do it, you make a mess…”
I agreed that it wasn’t that bad, but really, I still intended to win the bet. I once again wondered about that, though, as I knew I was already wet when we got home. Not soaked, but the yellow lines were slowly turning blue. I redoubled my efforts to be conscious about it when I was letting go, and it wasn’t long before I was again being changed into one of the thick cloth diapers and plastic pants.
She prepared dinner and wine, and afterwards we pulled up a favorite movie that we hadn’t seen in awhile. The cuddling on the couch got frisky, but when she had undressed me down to my diaper, she stopped. I tried to keep things going.
She “Let’s go take a shower… you’re kind of smelly, and it’s not exactly a turn on.” She was dressed in only a black bra and panties, and I followed like a lovesick puppydog as she pulled me upstairs to the shower. I put the collar and cuffs on myself, and our fooling around continued as she washed me in the shower. Free of the trainer, my excitement was obvious, and the restraints only helped to heighten it as I tried to hold her perfect breasts, always kept slightly out of my reach.
After toweling us off, she laid out the changing pad and diapers for me on the bed. I did my best to nibble her ear, her shoulder, and anything else I could until she finally turned around, kissed me deeply, and pulled me over onto the waiting cloth. I barely noticed as the tether clicked on as her breasts dangled in front of me. As she slid up and down on me, she laughed as I tried to sit up, to reach her, to hold her. She bent over, her mouth by my ear, and whispered how it was nice to be in control occasionally. Not of everything, just a few things. How it made her feel important to me. How she knew that diapers were important to me, and now she was part of that. How it excited her that someone depended on her. How she didn’t want all the power in the relationship, just a little. How her control of my diapers was just enough. How I looked cute with a puffy butt. How much she loved me. And then, remarkably simultaneously, it was over.
We lay there for a little, with her in my arms, still inside her. After a few minutes, she got up and wiped herself off using my diaper, and the pulled it up and pinned it into place after replacing the trainer. Quietly, gently, the plastic pants were pulled up, the cloth diaper tucked in all around, and the sleeper zipped and locked. The cuffs and collar remained, as a reminder of whining about them last night. I said nothing.
She gently guided me to my bed, and lay down with me as I fell asleep.
That night I slept very, very well, and woke up Saturday morning feeling refreshed. The diaper was very wet, as usual, and the collar and cuffs were still on. I found my wife in her office, scrolling though some data. She turned. “Just checking to see how you’ve been doing, and tweaking the algorithms a little. Only one more day to win this bet!” She smiled at me. “Let’s get you cleaned up”.
She unlocked all the clothing, and let me use the bathroom. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to go in there. The need to take care of #2, though, overcame the bad feeling, and I suffered through a few minutes to take care of business. I got up and left as soon as I could.
Today was household chores day, and we had a bunch of work both inside and outside to attend to. I asked her for a more discreet diaper so I could work outside. Soon I was in a single layer cloth diaper, and after breakfast I proceeded to mow the lawn, trim the bushes, do some garage cleanout, and all the other basic chores that needed to get done. The hard work in the sun made me thirsty, which in turn meant that the thin cloth did not last nearly as long as the thicker diapers, of course, and I needed to stop for a change every one or two hours. Several times I tried to use the bathroom, but it just didn’t seem right, and I changed myself, or was changed, on the couch or the bed.
By the time dinner time rolled around we were both exhausted, but the chores were done. We decided to go back to our favorite pub, and after the shower ritual I was re-diapered in an discreet disposable, dressed in fresh clothes, and very very ready for a beer. Halfway through the meal I was unsuprised when the bag that she handed me contained only two thick M4 diapers, but numbed to the humiliation after a week of diapers and two beers the change went uneventfully. My shorts bulged slightly, but the untucked shirt, dark room, and the onesie seemed to provide enough discretion. The used diaper landed in the trash with a thunk as I walked out after washing my hands.
There was some good live music going on, and so we hung around for a little while listening and talking. The third and fourth beer made the walk home a little more challenging, but it wasn’t until I got home that I realized just how wet I was, and that the back of my shorts were wet. The diaper had leaked. I tried to get upset at my wife, after all, she was responsible for my diapers! She was supposed to keep my from leaking! What if others had seen?
My actual mumblings, though, went largely un-commented on as she helped me in to bed after laying out some dry cloth diapers. I took off my clothes, and lay back and rested as the cuffs, collars, and chains were attached. I barely was conscious as the heavy disposable was removed and the doubled night diaper was pinned on, followed by the plastic pants and the sleeper. The chain between the wrist cuffs and collar was again left in place.
As my wife was kissing me goodnight, I had a blurry realization that I hadn’t gotten a punishment shock in a long time. What if it was broken and she used this as an excuse to prolong the training? I didn’t want this to last any longer than it had to.
“I think the battery in the trainer is dead. I don’t think it’s working.”
Her brow furrowed, and she looked at her phone. “Why don’t you think it’s working?”
“It hasn’t shocked me recently.”
She played with her phone some more, and looked at me sweetly. “No, it’s working just fine, honey. Don’t worry about it. I love you.” Her hand went down, and rubbed the front of my diaper a little. In my inebriated state I just closed my eyes and enjoyed it, quickly passing into sleep.
Sunday morning was the big day. Time to see who won the bet. The fact that I was waking up with a very soggy diaper was not a good start. My wrists were still chained to my collar, so I waddled down the hall. I found my wife was still sleeping. I headed down the stairs to try to start coffee.
The cartridge based coffee maker was easy to operate even with hands like a tyrannosaurus, and soon I had two cups of coffee. Adding the milk was a little harder, but I managed. Carefully climbing the stairs with two precariously carried cups of coffee, I earned a warm smile as I presented it to my just-waking wife.
She propped herself up on one arm to receive the warm gift. “So I suppose you want out? You still think you can win this bet?” Her warm smile was a rewarding thank-you.
“Yep, I do. I’ve been practicing the last few days, and I think I’ll be fine.”
“All-right.” She reached for her phone charging by the bedside, and twiddled a bunch of settings, entered passwords, and soon there were a few small clicks as all the devices unlocked. “Why don’t you go take a shower and clean up, and I’ll join you?”
I couldn’t say no to that. It would be the first time in a week I could wash myself. Soon the water was hot, I had stripped everything off including the trainer, and she was joining me as I opened the door and stepped in. I enjoyed the ability to wash myself, and we both took turns soaping, touching, caressing, and holding each other. It wasn’t long before my excitedness became the main attraction, and I lifted her up and on to me. We stood locked together for a few seconds before I heard her whispering in my ear. She was grinding gently.
“Remember the terms of the bet. To win, no more than one accident over the next 48 hours. And if you put on a diaper because you think you’ll have an accident, you lose. Right?”
“Right. And if I win you’re going to be the one in diapers for TWO weeks.” I smiled at the thought, as remote a possibility as it was.
“And if you lose, you’re going to be put back in the trainer for a while until it’s permanent. But I’m feeling REALLY good right now, and I’m so confident that I’m going to win that I’ll let you have two accidents before you lose.” She was grinding harder. “Because you let me pick what we were going to do today.”
She ground even harder, and I was up against the shower wall, huffing and puffing myself. She clenched, reaching climax, as she whispered in my ear, “We’re going to go see my parents.”
I stopped cold, any thoughts of my finishing completely gone. “What?”
She looked up at me, basking in both the afterglow and the knowledge that she had me. “Since we didn’t go out with our friends yesterday, you said I could pick where we went today. And I want to go see my parents. That was the deal.”
It was the deal. She was right. But this was wrong. “You want to expose this to your parents? What will they think? They’ll never talk to me again!” I was starting to freak out a little. I turned the shower off and got out, wrapping myself in the safety of the large fluffy towel.
“Hey, you said you were going to win this. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine, right? You think you can win this, right? Don’t worry about it.”
“But what if I have an accident?”
She had transitioned into her soothing, calm-me-down voice. “You can win this. You can do this, right? And if there is a problem, we’ll just blame it on a temporary medical problem that the doctors haven’t figured out yet, but I’m sure they will soon.” I was calming down. I could do this. “No one can get mad at you for having a medical problem, right? And you’re going to win it anyway.” I could do this. I was going to win this.
I found out that she had set up brunch plans for an hour from now, so we finished getting ready. I was very conscious of holding my bladder, and I went to the toilet every 10 minutes, even though I hated going into the bathroom. It just felt wrong.
Her parents only lived 20 minutes away, and I have rarely concentrated on one thing for so long. Hold my bladder. Hold my bladder. Hold my bladder. Do not lose focus. Any conversation my wife attempted to start I ignored, and after a few minutes she stopped trying, with a smirk on her face. Hold my bladder. Hold my bladder. I could do it. Hold my bladder.
I had never before been so grateful to pull into my in-law’s driveway. I made a beeline for the guest bathroom to drain the few drops that had accumulated since I left home. When I went again 10 minutes later, just as the mimosas were being distributed, my mother in law looked at me curiously. When I went for a third time just 15 minutes after that, brunch was being laid out on the table and I felt her eyes on my back. The fourth time, in the middle of eating, I saw my wife and mother in law whispering when I returned, stopping suddenly when they saw me.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what they were talking about, but what was I going to do? I was very worried that if I didn’t go often, I’d end up having an accident. That was, I was sure, worse than being talked about.
I almost made it. I was so close. We were starting to make our excuses about the busy day we had ahead of us. It was probably the second mimosa that did it. Damn alcohol. I was sitting on the couch when my wife’s eyes went wide, staring at my crotch. I froze. I could feel it releasing, and as much as I tried I couldn’t clench. Luckily, there was not much there, and the damage was limited to a very obvious wet spot.
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry!” My wife said rushing to my side. She guided my shocked self quickly into the bathroom, leaving my in-laws staring in shock behind me. I was almost in tears. I had just peed myself in front of my in-laws. I sat down on the tub and my wife sat beside me. “It’s OK. I already told my mother that you were having some problems, which is why you’ve been running to the bathroom so often.”
“But I just wet my pants in front of them.” I had a thought. “Urm… did you bring anything I can change into?”
She paused. “No, I didn’t. I’ll get something from my father. Let me have your wet stuff and I’ll do a quick wash and dry.”
Running a load of wash would take a while, and I just wanted to get home. “Let’s just go. Please. I’ve had enough.”
There was a gentle knock on the door. My wife went to answer it, and I heard her and her mother talking in hushed tones just outside the door. Not so hushed, though, that I couldn’t hear parts of the conversation.
“…didn’t realize it was so serious… …just have to get him to the car and get home…”
“…seeing a doctor… very embarrassed…”
“…from your grandfather… in the garage… be OK…”
My wife came back in, closing the door behind her. She looked at me. “My mother would like me to ask you if you’d like something to wear home.” She paused. “There’s still a pile of stuff from when my grandfather passed away in the garage. There are some Depends. I told her you wouldn’t want to use that.”
I didn’t even reply. I just looked at her. Was she crazy? There was no way in Hell I was going to wear her grandfathers Depends. It didn’t look like she expected me to agree, and she handed me a hairdryer from the closet before she went outside to talk to her mother again. I pulled off my shorts, and a minute under the hot blast from the dryer removed the wet spot. After I replaced my shorts, I replaced the hairdryer in the closet.
“… get a pad for the seat…”
“… I’ll be right back.”
Her mother was just leaving as I opened the door. She looked back by reflex, but quickly turned back around and headed for the garage. My wife was waiting.
“I’ve already said goodbye, let’s just head for the car. My mother is going to get a something to protect the car seat. Just in case.” She took my hand, and lead my embarrassed and numb self to the front door. Her father was nowhere to be found, and we quickly exited to the car. Her mother was already there, placing a disposable chair pad on the car seat. I assumed it was from the garage, but I didn’t ask. A half-used bag was on the ground, and she picked it up and placed it in the back seat.
The big hug from my mother-in-law was unexpected. She’s not normally the touchy-feely-huggy type. She looked me in the eyes. “I’m sorry that you’re having problems, but it’s OK. You’ll make it through it. You’re still young, so just do what you need to do to figure out what’s wrong, and everything will be OK.” She glanced over at my wife, and lowered her voice to where only I could hear it. “You know, it’s not the end of the world if you have to wear a little protection against dribbles now and then. You’re not the only one in the world that has had problems, you know.”
My mother-in-law smiled at me. “Just take care of yourself, OK?” She gave me a hug, and I mumbled something thanking her for breakfast and sorry about the excitement and everything as I slumped into the passenger seat on top of the disposable chair pad.
The drive home was quiet, and I concentrated on not having a second accident. When we arrived home, I went and took a shower, alone, to try to rid myself of some of the dirty feelings I felt. I had wet my pants. In front of the in-laws. And I only had one strike left.
I went into my office to find some peace, but only found a long list of bugs from work that had been assigned to me. I just didn’t want to deal with that on the weekend, particularly this weekend. Even the tech websites that I browsed for a break weren’t interesting. After 15 minutes I started toward the bathroom, but I almost decided that I didn’t need to go. I just felt wrong walking by the open bathroom door. I forced myself to go inside and let out the few drops that had accumulated.
Every 15 minutes I did the same, for the whole afternoon. For dinner, I had only water, and kept the fluids to a minimum. I was looking forward to sleeping in the same bed with my wife, but she begged off with a headache and I found myself back in the guest bed with the plastic mattress cover, “You know, just in case…” The diaper pail was still there, and I opened the window to allow the room to air out a little more. I read for a while, and turned out the light. I hadn’t lost yet, but I was down one strike and barely 12 hours into the test.
Monday morning dawned with my wife standing over me. It was clear I was in a puddle. I was barely surprised. “That’s second and last strike, you know. If you do it again, you lose the bet.” She smiled.
I yawned and stretched. “That’s OK, things are going better today, and I’ll be able to get to the bathroom as I need to. Tonight I’ll just pull an all nighter.” Getting up, I bundled the wet sheets and pajamas into a ball and brought it to the washer, starting the load. A quick shower and breakfast, and I was soon engrossed in work. Every 15 minutes, though, the alarm on my phone rang, and I would dutifully trek to the bathroom, shake off the uneasy feeling, and drain whatever I had. Lunch came and went, and soon it was dinner time. The interrupts kept my day from being very productive, but it was the only way I could possibly make it.
“Good heavens, are you still trying to win?” My wife was in the door, doing her best Count Rugan impression from the Princess Bride. I had to laugh. “Want to go out for dinner? Pub?” It did sound good. It was not a good idea, though.
“I don’t think I should. If I drink, I’ll lose, and if I don’t drink, Frank will annoy the hell out of me.”
She laughed. Frank was the bartender, and as his regulars he felt the need to engage us in conversation. A standing joke was to tell Frank that he needed to shut up or bring us a beer. He’d usually bring us the beer and continue with whatever story he was telling.
“We’ll grab a booth.”
“No, I shouldn’t go”
“I’ll go then. You can have leftovers.”
“Well, that’s not fair.”
“Come with me then. I really need a glass of wine, and we’re out of white.”
“I don’t want another accident in public!”
She switch to Black Knight from the The Holy Grail. “What are you going to do, pee on me?”
My response was immediate. “I’m invincible!”
“You’re looney.” She paused. “What if…” She paused again. “What if I let you wear a diaper, but it wouldn’t count against the bet. Well, the diaper wouldn’t but if you wet it it would. That way you can come with me, you can just have water or whatever, and if you do have an accident no one will know. Except me, of course.”
That sounded like a horrible idea, really, but her mind was obviously made up about the pub. At least this way I wouldn’t risk a public accident. I sighed. She took it as acceptance and disappeared briefly, returning with a thin disposable that she handed to me.
“Remember, if you wet it, you lose the bet. And you know I’ll check.”
I put the diaper on, a onesie to cover it, and we headed to the pub. I only had water, and continued the 15 minute periodic pilgrimage to the to bathroom. Frank only bugged us slightly, especially after I told him that I wasn’t drinking because I had a bad case of whooping west nile virus, cough cough, and alcohol enhanced the transmission rates to ugly bartenders. He laughed, but took the hint and mostly left us alone.
I have to say I was somewhat surprised when I managed to make it back home with the stripes still a happy yellow. My wife was in a frisky mood, and I was happy oblige. We started downstairs, but moved upstairs after a while, ending up on the bed in each others arms, both spent, her several times.
It was as I was laying there that I felt my wife reach down and pat the mattress, then get up suddenly. “You wet.”
“No I didn’t. That’s the wet spot.”
“Urm. No. That’s a big pee spot. And you’re dehydrated.” I looked. It was a big spot. A big, clearly dehydrated-pee-yellow spot. That smelled like dehydrated pee. Clearly centered between my legs. “That’s two beds you’ve wet today. And a couch.” She smiled. “You know what that means…”
I was stunned. It seemed so anti-climactic, especially after working so hard the last two days to not have a problem. And here I was, laying in my own pee. Again. I was still in my own thoughts as I realized with a sinking feeling that my wife was slipping something around my neck, and before I could react I realized the collar was locked with the tether attached. By the time I tried to sit up, it was too late.
“Honey, one more chance. I’m sorry, it was just the sex, and the climax, I mean, you were so wonderful, and I just forgot. Please, give me one more chance.” I tried to sit up again, but the tether kept me on my back.
“You lost. Say it with me. Yoooooou Looooooost.” She was definitely gloating, almost doing a little dance. “And here I was almost thinking that giving you that extra strike might have been a bad idea!”
“But I’ve been so good, and got so close. C’mon, honey please.” I was whining, and I knew it.
She stopped and looked at me, suddenly serious. “How about double or nothing?”
I didn’t even hesitate. “Sure. Whatever, please just give me one more chance.”
“Are you sure? You don’t even know the terms yet. Are you sure you want to do this?”
I paused. She was right. “What are the terms?”
She held up the cuffs and chain. “Lets get these on first. I don’t want to have to fight you later.”
“Do I have to?”
OK, then. If it meant I got another chance, so be it. She made me put the cuffs on myself, their little LEDs indicating that they were not coming off without the right signal. She attached the chain even shorter than usual, giving me just inches of movement.
“So, here are the terms. You have until noon tomorrow. Since I don’t think that you’ll be able to make it, you’ll be wearing a diaper until then. If you wet that diaper, even a little, you lose. If you do lose, the trainer goes on until I decide to remove it. I will continue to have full responsibility for your diaper changing, and will be taking more direct control over when you can remove your diapers. You may lose certain other privileges depending on how cooperative you are. Lastly, and most importantly, you’ll become the first subject in Phase II. Do you accept these terms?”
“Obvious question… what’s Phase II.”
“Well, you’re doing very well I think, and I’ve actually gotten into this whole behavior modification thing. It’s amazing what kinds of changes in a persons behavior we can cause just with some subtle carrots and sticks that are consistent and automated. It’s a really interesting experiment.”
Again, she’s such an engineer. And I’m obviously the test monkey. Guinea pig. Lab rat.
She continued, “Officially, the project I’m working on now at work is titled ‘Behavior Modification Through Automated Immediate Stimulus’, which sounds very academic but so far has been sold as looking for better ways to address bedwetting. The stopping of it, normally, but obviously your case is a little different. Phase II is a little more advanced… I will try to address some other behaviors of yours. No, I won’t tell you what.” She smiled sweetly.
“How long will it last?”
“Until the study is over. When I decide it’s over. I don’t know.”
“And if I decline?”
“Well, you’ve already lost, so as we agreed when we set up the bet you get another little while on the current program, and we’ll do our best to make your diapers a permanent addition to your wardrobe.”
“And if I’m able to make it? What’s your double? A month in diapers for you?”
“At this point, you’ve already lost that bet. The upside for you is only that you might not have to wear diapers for the rest of your life. If you make it, I’ll let you out, and maybe even help you by using you in the ‘official’ program to make sure you’re actually dry.”
She held all the cards, I realized. The best I could do, I thought, was to try to make it to noon tomorrow. The only way out was if I was actually able to make it. Even if it meant I had to stay up all night.
“If I take the bet, will you remove the trainer?”
“OK. But the moment you lose it goes back on.”
“Can I use the bathroom right now?”
“Then I’ll take the bet.” She released the tether and the chain between the collar and cuffs, but of course the collar and cuffs stayed on. I got up, and since I was already naked I made it to the toilet, sat down, and peed. I returned to find my wife in the other room, laying out a diaper. I paused.
She looked at me. “I don’t want have to wash the sheets again. If you want another chance, these are the terms.” She pointed at the waiting diaper. I went over and lay down. As she pulled up the thick cloth between my legs and pinned it, I realized that if I did lose, I was giving up the last night without a diaper for what would likely be a long time.
After making sure I had on the plastic pants, she retired to her room. I threw a onesie on to hold everything together. Determined to stay up all night, if necessary, I went to my office to work. Every 15 minutes when my phone alarm rang I trekked to the bathroom, unsnapped the onesie, unpinned the pins on one side, peed what I could, and put everything back together.
It must have been 4 in the morning when I woke with a start, nearly falling out of my chair. I panicked. Yep, I was wet. Crap. But my wife was asleep! If I simply changed out the diapers before she got up, she’d never know. I wasn’t wearing the trainer, so there was no electronic record of my failings! I just had to make it until noon. The pile of clean diapers was in my room, and I quickly grabbed dry ones, unpinned the wet diapers and re-pinned on the replacements. Now, what to do with the wet ones? It was too loud to run a load of wash right now. I’d have to hide them and wash them later. I got a plastic trash bag, and hid them in my office.
I risked a cup of coffee; the risk of falling asleep and peeing again was worse than the risk of the caffeine causing other problems. Soon it was 7 AM, and I heard my wife’s alarm, followed shortly after by the sound of the shower. I started a cup of coffee for her. A few minutes later, she emerged, only a little bleary eyed.
“Good morning honey.” The cup of coffee brought a smile to her face.
“You look like you stayed up all night. Everything OK?” She looked meaningfully at my diaper.
“So far.” She shrugged, and went into her office and closed the door. I figured it was that kind of morning.
She stayed there all morning. I heard her on the phone for substantial parts of the morning, and it sounded like she was dealing with a pressing work issue. For my part, I continued using the toilet every 15 minutes, even though the lack of sleep was definitely catching up. At 11:30, though, I figured I had a chance to make it. I had even taken a chance and slipped a load of laundry with the diapers I had wet mixed in with a bunch of clothes. I had managed to get the load washed, dried, folded, and even put away before she emerged from her office at 11:50. She looked harried and annoyed.
“Come into the bedroom”, she said quickly, in a way that indicated she was in a hurry and still thinking about something else. I followed behind her. “On the bed, let’s check and see if you’re still dry.”
I lay down. This was the moment. I was still dry. She would check, and I would win. I watched her hand go down between my legs and unsnap the onesie. She pulled it up. She started to pull open the top of the plastic pants, when I realized that her other end had just clicked the tether to my collar. Dammit, she was getting good at that. She stepped back, the plastic pants snapping back against my waist. I tried to sit up, but once again I was held on my back, unable to move, by the tether to my neck.
She looked at me, clearly disappointed. “I didn’t think you’d make it, but I expected you to try harder than this.”
I acted innocent, of course. “What do you mean? It’s still dry!”
“Why are you wearing a different diaper than what I put you in last night?”
I paused. How to answer this. I didn’t have a good excuse. How did she know?
She snickered, reading my mind. “You look like a toddler, there. Laying in a diaper. Trying to think up an excuse. There is only one diaper with a green serge at the top. All the others are blue or pink. You were wearing the green one last night. Now the diaper you’re wearing so proudly has a blue serge thread. Why.”
I just looked at her. Why indeed. Busted….
“You could have just taken that one off when I went to bed and saved it, you could have put a disposable liner in it… I can think of a bunch of ways you could have tried to cheat. Not that you would have gotten away with it, but I’m rather unimpressed with your lack of ingenuity. Oh well, come clean. You had an accident, right?”
“OK, then as we discussed yesterday, you lose the bet, as you know.” She left for a few moments, and then came back. She applied the chain to hold my hands at the collar, and proceeded to remove the plastic pants and unpin the diaper. The familiar trainer was quickly applied. I didn’t fight it. All I could do was watch in resignation.
“What’s that?” I asked, as she was putting a thin paper thing on top of the diapers. She slid it under me after asking me to lift up.
“Since you lied about when you changed your diapers, I’m going to be determining when and where you get changed. This is to make cleanups easier.”
I was still confused. I looked at her.
“You’re not going to be able to choose when to use the toilet for a while. You will be using your diapers for everything. This is to make cleaning your poop easier.”
I was horrified. “Honey, I don’t like using my diapers for pooping! I’ve never done that! That’s disgusting!”
She laughed. “Well, I’m glad that you accept that you like using your diapers for peeing. But you lied about changing your diapers, and the consequences are that you lose that privilege. The pooping in them is just a side effect. I’m sure it will be unpleasant for both of us.” For some reason I rather doubted that it would be as unpleasant for her as it was for me.
She was pulling up the plastic pants, and I realized that the material was much thicker. The waist had a belt, and I was unsurprised as a little LED blinked green as it was closed. I looked at the on the clock on the bedside table. It was 12 noon. A strong shock signalled that it was time to pee. I did.