waughymommy

[waughymommy]

Chapter 8: Dr Who

I waited three days before I relaxed in Abby's bed again, feeling the warmth puddle under me for the second time in my adult life. I didn't really have a detailed plan yet, just an end goal. I remembered the comfort and security of wearing a diaper to bed as a child, and the mental anguish of when my parents had declared me "too old" for diapers and decided I shouldn't wear them anymore. I remembered the years of shameful wet beds and cold wet winter mornings, wishing for the warm embrace of a wet diaper under my pajamas until my bedwetting had finally dribbled to a stop during puberty. My teen years had been a hormonal emotional mess of trying to bury and suppress the memory of my infantile night problem as I sought to become what I perceived as a normal adult male, my small stature adding an additional complexity to my already challenging adolescent transformation.

I remembered the surprise I had felt when the idea of wearing a diaper had surfaced in college shortly before meeting Emily, and then quickly burying that self-discovery so that I could be with the really hot and amazing chick I had met and somehow, despite her being way, way out of my league, I ended up marrying. Maybe now I could reach out for that comfort and security to dig me out of the hole I was in.

I couldn't just tell Emily though. I knew that for a fact. She had reacted with such disgust and revulsion the first, and only, time I had mentioned liking to wear a diaper to her. I'm sure she had long forgotten that afternoon. I had opened up a small part of my soul that I was a little uncomfortable with, and her reaction gave me the confirmation I needed that this little thing was not normal, not acceptable. Thankfully, we had moved on and she had never brought it up again. Hey, she had married me and stuck with me for more than twenty years.

The conversation over coffee had given me hope that now, maybe, if she thought I needed them perhaps she'd be more accepting. The obvious solution, then, was that I'd pretend to need them. It wasn't a great plan, but plans devised when one-third awake, and one-half drunk, rarely are. So here I was, laying in a rapidly cooling wet spot on a plastic sheet in my daughter's room.

Later that morning, Emily and I found ourselves together in Abby's room, sunlight pouring through the window onto the bed, perfectly framing the dark wet spot on the light green sheets as we tackled the aftermath together. The air was filled with the rich aroma of coffee, a comforting contrast to the awkwardness of the situation and hiding other less desirable smells.

Emily handed me a fresh set of pink sheets, the set that had gone in the washer just three days ago, her expression a mix of concern and determination. "Once is happenstance, Greg," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "Twice is a coincidence. If it happens again, though, you need to see the doctor."

I nodded, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief. "Yeah, I know. It's just... I didn't think it would happen again."

Emily gave me a reassuring smile, her hand resting on my arm. "We didn't really talk about the rules, either. I couldn't find that old paper."

Oh. The rules. "Yeah, well, that's OK, we were kind of busy that night," I said with a smile. For the first time in a long time, we had fooled around together, which was great, even if I still had been banished to Abby's room, with its plastic-covered bed, to sleep.

Emily smiled a contented smile. "Yeah, that was nice, wasn't it? Well, this is strike two. Think about what it means at strike three, beyond seeing a doctor."

True to her word, when the third incident happened to occur a few days later, Emily set up an appointment with our family doctor. Her luck was good, and due to a cancellation she got an appointment later that morning. With a kiss to my forehead over coffee, Emily volunteered to clean up my mess as I rearranged my meeting schedule to free up the appointment time.

As we drove to our family doctor's office, I felt a knot of anxiety in my stomach. The thought of discussing bedwetting with a stranger was daunting, but I knew it was inevitable given the path I was on. Vague memories of embarrassing conversations about the same topic as a child didn't help my anxiety.

Sitting in the waiting room of the clinic, I felt a swirl of emotions- embarrassment, anxiety, and anxiousness. Emily sat beside me, her presence comforting. The walls were adorned with pastel-colored posters about healthy living and the importance of HPV vaccinations, and the soft murmur of the receptionist's voice blended with the rustle of magazines being flipped through by other patients.

"Greg Thompson?" a voice called, and I looked up to see a friendly-looking Physician's Assistant, clipboard in hand.

I stood, smoothing down my shirt, and turned to Emily. "Would you mind coming in with me?" I asked, trying to sound casual. "I think it might be good for you to hear what they say."

Emily gave a little surprised look and then nodded, giving me a reassuring smile. "Of course."

She took my hand as we followed the PA, a woman in her thirties who introduced herself as Sarah, down a hallway to a small examination room. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, and I took a seat on the examination table, the paper crinkling beneath me. Emily settled into a chair beside me, her hand resting lightly on my knee.

"Hi, Greg," Sarah said, her tone warm and professional. "Let's go over a few things before Dr. Patel joins us."

I nodded, trying to ignore the knot of anxiety in my stomach. "Sure."

Sarah glanced at her clipboard, then met my eyes. "So, when you set up this appointment, you mentioned that you've been experiencing some bedwetting recently. Can you tell me a bit more about that?"

I hesitated, glancing at Emily before speaking. "Well, um... Emily actually set up the appointment, so I'm not... I'm not entirely sure what she told you. But yeah, it's happened a few times this week. It's... not exactly new for me. I had issues with it as a child, but it went away for a long time."

Sarah nodded, making notes. "I see. Do you know what age it stopped?"

"Well, it's hard to remember exactly,' I said, rubbing the back of my neck. 'It kind of tapered off... maybe around thirteen or fourteen? Might've had a few incidents when I was fifteen, but it's all a bit fuzzy now."

"Have you experienced any symptoms of nocturia or polyuria?"

I gave Sarah a blank look as I turned to Emily, "I'm not sure what those mean..."

Sarah laughed lightly. "I apologize for the medical jargon. Nocturia refers to waking up at night to urinate, while polyuria means producing an abnormally large volume of urine. Have you noticed either of these happening?"

"Oh, I see. Well, I have been waking up to use the bathroom, but I'm not sure about the amount..."

Sarah nodded, continuing to write before looking up. "And have there been any recent changes in your life? Stress, diet, sleep patterns?"

I shifted uncomfortably on the exam table, avoiding eye contact. "Yeah, you could say that," I mumbled. "Our daughter just left for college, and the house feels... empty, you know?"

Emily gave me a pointed look. "And the drinking?"

I tried to sink into the unyielding table. "Well, I guess I've been drinking a little more than I should..."

Sarah's expression was understanding. "That makes sense. Stress and alcohol can definitely contribute to these kinds of issues. You probably know this, but sometimes hearing it from someone else helps to make it a little& clearer."

Sarah continued, "And about the prostate concerns that you... Emily... mentioned when you called- you're right, it's less common at your age, Greg, but it's worth checking. We'll do a simple blood test to rule it out."

I nodded, relieved that it was just a blood test and not something more invasive. "And what about medication? Emily mentioned that too."

Sarah paused, considering her words. "There are medications that can help manage symptoms, but they come with potential side effects. It's something we can discuss with Dr. Patel if you're interested."

I shook my head, never a fan of pills or medications unless my life depended on it. Well, that and I didn't want to take medication for something I'd done on purpose. "I'd rather not take any meds if I can help it. Is that an option?"

"That's perfectly fine," Sarah said, her smile reassuring. "We can explore other options as well, like lifestyle changes and stress management techniques. It's all about finding what works best for you. Anything else before I get the doctor?"

Emily squeezed my hand as she spoke, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "The laundry has been... Well, it's really only been three times, but dealing with wet sheets isn't my favorite. It's like having a child again."

Sarah smiled gently, nodding, speaking a well-practiced response. "I understand. It can be overwhelming. There are a few practical things you can do to manage it. Using a waterproof mattress cover can make cleanup easier and protect your mattress. There are also absorbent pads you can place on top of the sheets."

"He is already sleeping on a plastic mattress cover. Our daughter, Abby, actually wet the bed almost every night until she was about 15, and she still has occasional issues now at 18. So I'm not entirely unfamiliar with managing this kind of situation."

Sarah looked interested. "That's good to know, Emily. How did you handle Abby's bedwetting?"

Emily straightened in her chair, her tone becoming more confident. "Well, we tried a lot of different approaches," Emily began, then paused, seeming to gather her thoughts. "We started with limiting fluids before bed and scheduled bathroom trips, but that didn't seem to help much. Eventually, we found that using protective garments at night was the most effective solution."

I felt my cheeks burning as Emily casually discussed 'protective garments.' Part of me was mortified, but another part - a part I was trying hard to ignore - felt a thrill of excitement

Emily continued as Sarah nodded encouragingly, "We used pull-ups for a while, but as Abby got older, we switched to diapers at some point because the pull-ups just weren't working for her. I did a lot of research on different products, and we even joined some online support groups for families dealing with bedwetting."

Sarah smiled, clearly impressed by Emily's proactive approach. "That's excellent, Emily. It sounds like you have a good understanding of how to manage this kind of situation. How do you feel about Greg potentially using similar solutions?"

Emily glanced at me, her expression softening. "Well, I wonder if what worked for Abby might not necessarily work for Greg. He's an adult, after all. But I'm open to whatever will help him feel comfortable and secure. I just want to make sure we find a solution that works for both of us."

Sarah nodded, her expression understanding. "That's a great attitude to have. Greg, how do you feel about potentially using something like Abby wore?"

My mind flashed to the cardboard box under the bed. The thick white diaper. The crinkling plastic. I blushed furiously. I couldn't believe that Emily was asking the PA this. I mean, yeah, sure, I was doing this because I had some deep-seated desire to wear a diaper, but Emily didn't know this and to have her come out and directly talk to the doctor about it? That's more than a bit much. I bit my lip and dropped my eyes. "I... I'm not sure. It feels a bit... I don't know, childish?"

Sarah nodded, a little smile on her face she was clearly trying to suppress as she turned to address Emily. "Well, it's something we often discuss with patients who are experiencing bedwetting. While it can be a sensitive topic, having the patient wear a 'protective garment'" (she even did the air quotes, her eyes glancing sideways in my direction while continuing to face Emily) "can help. But it depends on the patient and the situation. It might be a little early to take those kinds of drastic actions, with only three incidents, but given Greg's history and your history with your daughter I certainly understand your concern and desire to be prepared." She looked at me. "Greg, when you were dealing with this in your teens, did you wear anything?"

I shook my head in the negative as I continued to blush and stare at my shoes.

Sarah continued talking to Emily, her voice calm and professional as she continued on what sounded like a well-rehearsed script. "There are various options available, from pull-up style briefs to more traditional taped-on versions. Most of the products you find in the store that fit adults aren't great, but there are a lot of online options." She paused, then added, "If this continues and you're interested in eco-friendly options for him, there are reusable products available that might be worth considering. Everything from pocket diapers to prefolds and flats, like you might use with a b..." she caught herself, "child." She took a paper pad from her white lab coat pocket and scribbled a few lines on the paper before tearing it off and holding it out to Emily. "Maybe try some of these. You'll probably need to try a few options to see what works. It depends on how much he wets, how he sleeps, your laundry routine, how he feels about it, and so on."

Emily took the paper and looked at it. She nodded with a sigh. "Well, we're at strike three, so I think it's time to look into options. Having dealt with a bedwetting daughter, I'd rather get ahead of things." She looked up with a smile for Sarah. "Thanks for the pointers. I'm sure we'll find something that works."

"No problem. You can call the office and ask to talk to me if I can help more. Anything else before I get the doctor?" She looked at Emily, then me, then back at Emily.

I shook my head, unable to meet the eyes of the PA who had just given my wife diaper recommendations for me. Was this really it? Three "accidents" was all it took?

"Thanks, Sarah. I really appreciate it," Emily said for both of us.

As she left the room to get Dr. Patel, I sat there, reflecting on the conversation. That hadn't gone the way I expected, but at least it was over.

Emily squeezed my knee, her eyes meeting mine with a mixture of support and understanding. "I'm glad we came," she said softly.

"Me too," I replied, feeling a sense of gratitude for her presence.

When Dr. Patel entered, Emily did most of the talking. We discussed my history and the recent changes in my life, and he echoed her sentiments about stress and lifestyle factors. He suggested some strategies to try, like reducing alcohol intake and establishing a bedtime routine, and reassured me that we could revisit the idea of medication if needed. I let him rattle on, but Emily was much more engaged, asking questions and getting details, as I sat there on the exam table studying the various posters on the wall. Dr. Patel's hands were cool and clinical as he palpated my abdomen, asking me to cough at intervals. I focused on the anatomy chart across the room, trying to distance myself from the surreal situation I found myself in.

Following down the chart, he paused and looked up at me. "I see that you discussed some protective garment options with Sarah as well?"

Emily answered for me. "Yeah, washing sheets isn't my favorite, so I asked her about diapers for him."

I cringed at the "d-word".

Dr Patel nodded. "Makes sense, although I hope this resolves itself quickly with the lifestyle changes. With only three occurrences so far..." he paused... "But with your history..." He shrugged. "We'll see. We'll check the test results to make sure it's nothing to worry about." He gave a big smile, obviously well practiced to make a patient feel at ease. "The good news is you've already met Sarah, and she is our certified continence support specialist. Feel free to reach out to her if you need anything."

Emily returned the smile. "I'm sure I will."

The doctor wrapped things up quickly after that, and we exited the exam room. As we walked down the hall towards the exit, Sarah waved goodbye, and we left the office. I felt smaller than usual beside Emily as we walked to the car, holding hands. Part of me was thrilled at the prospect of wearing diapers again, while another part recoiled at the deception I was perpetrating. I wondered how long I could keep up this charade, and what would happen when the truth inevitably came out.

[waughymommy]

Sorry about the long delay. I had an offer of some feedback from a talented author that I took, and over the last month I've had quite the education as I wrote the rest of the story. It's certainly not perfect, but it's a lot better than it would have been. :) Of course, I'm still an amateur and getting better 😚, and any rough spots, inconsistencies, or generally bad writing remain my own fault! I did go through and update the first 6 chapters, but the changes are intentionally tiny and don't affect the story so far. More than 30 chapters to go...

Chapter 7: Memories

I stood in Abby's room, clean sheets in hand, ready to make the bed. As I tucked in the corners of the fitted sheet, my hand brushed against something under the bed. The unexpected touch sent a jolt through me as I got what felt like a papercut.

Looking to see what had injured me I reached down and my fingers encountered the rough cardboard of a box. I pulled it out, a cloud of dust bunnies rising and tickling my nose. Curious, I opened the box.

Inside were several bags. Youth-sized pull-ups and diapers - remnants of Abby's struggle with bedwetting. I knew she struggled as a teenager, but at some point as her body developed as might be expected she only talked to her mother about such things, and Emily must have helped her keep this secret from me. A wave of guilt washed over me, mingled with a strange excitement that made my cheeks burn with shame.

With trembling fingers, I pulled a white plastic diaper from the bag. The backing crinkled softly, a sound that instantly transported me back to my own childhood. I was suddenly seven years old again, lying in bed as my mother carefully fastened a diaper around my waist, her gentle touch both comforting and embarrassing.

"There you go, sweetie," she'd say, her voice soft and reassuring. "Try to be dry in the morning."

The memory was so vivid, I could almost feel the snug embrace of the diaper, the way it hugged my hips and made me feel secure. But with that security came a deep sense of shame, a feeling that I was different, somehow less than my peers who didn't need this kind of protection.

As I ran my fingers over the white diaper's surface, I marveled at how the touch and feel of a simple object could unlock so many deeply buried emotions. The soft padding yielded under my touch, and I found myself pressing it to my face, inhaling deeply. The faint scent of baby powder tickled my nose, bringing with it a rush of conflicting feelings - comfort, security, shame, relief.

My mind raced, comparing this moment to my experiences in college. Back then, when I'd experimented with wearing adult diapers, it had been purely about the physical sensation. I knew I was looking for… something…, but hadn’t found it. The diapers I'd bought were thin, utilitarian things, nothing like the thick, secure diapers of my childhood. They had satisfied a curiosity, but never truly connected to the deeper emotional need I was only now beginning to understand.

This diaper, though - it was the missing link. It bridged the gap between my past and present, explaining why my recent experiences had been so powerful. The thickness, the plastic backing, the baby powder scent - all of it combined to create a sensory experience that spoke to a part of me I'd long tried to ignore.

My legs suddenly felt weak, and I sank onto the edge of Abby's bed, the mattress protector crinkling beneath me. I held the diaper in my lap, staring at it as if it held the answers to questions I hadn't even known I was asking. A whirlwind of emotions swept through me - excitement at rediscovering this long-buried part of myself, anxiety about what it might mean, and a deep, gnawing guilt over the deception I was perpetrating on Emily.

How could I explain this to her? How could I make her understand that this wasn't just about bedwetting, but about a fundamental need for comfort and security that I'd been denying to even myself for years? The thought of her potential disgust or rejection made my stomach churn.

A noise from downstairs jolted me from my reverie. Emily was moving around in the kitchen. What if Emily walked in right now? I could picture her face, the confusion and disgust in her eyes as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. Would she think I was some kind of pervert? Would she be able to understand the complex emotions driving me, or would she simply recoil in horror? Panic seized me as I realized how this must look. My heart pounded in my chest as I scrambled to my feet, nearly tripping over the box in my haste.

With shaking hands, I shoved the diaper back into the box and pushed it under the bed. I could hear Emily's footsteps on the stairs now, growing louder with each passing second. I lunged for the sheets, my fingers fumbling as I tried to finish making the bed.

As I smoothed out the last wrinkle in the comforter, I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself. But I knew something fundamental had shifted. The connection I'd just made couldn't be undone. My hands tingled where they had touched the diaper, and my heart continued to race, a physical reminder of the emotional journey I'd just experienced.

I joined Emily in the kitchen, trying to act normal, but the weight of my secret hung heavy on my shoulders. I smiled and laughed, but inside, I was already bracing myself for the inevitable fallout. I had opened Pandora's box, and now I would have to deal with the consequences, whatever they might be.

The contrast between my past shame and my current curiosity was stark. As a child, I'd felt nothing but embarrassment about needing diapers. In college, it had been a secret thrill, but ultimately unfulfilling. Now, as an adult struggling with changes and uncertainty, I found myself longing for the comfort and security they represented, even as I grappled with the implications of that desire.

To be continued...

[waughymommy]

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[waughymommy]

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[waughymommy]

Chapter 6: Thick as a 🧱 Brick

The sun had risen enough to shine its direct light through the kitchen window, lighting the table where Emily and I sat with our coffee. I blinked as I sat, my eyes slowly adjusting. The events of the previous night were still fresh in my mind, and I felt a knot of anxiety in my stomach as I anticipated the conversation that was bound to happen.

Emily took a sip from her mug, her eyes searching mine. I could feel her weighing her words, trying to find the right way to broach the subject.

"So," she began, her voice gentle but direct, "about last night... Was it on purpose?"

That was not the opening I had expected, and the approach I had planned in the shower had no answers to that. I hesitated, the truth hovering like a beautiful hummingbird on the tip of my tongue. My deeply-rooted sense of marital preservation gave the hummingbird-truth a horrified look, took it out back, beat it senseless, stuffed it in a dark hole, and then blurted out, “Of course not! Why would you think I wet the bed on purpose?”

"It's okay, Greg," she said, an amused look in her eye. "I know things have been tough, and sometimes… unexpected things happen. It’s okay."

I looked down at my coffee, feeling a mix of shame and relief. "I was just... drunk and… I don’t know."

Emily reached across the table, her hand warm and steady on mine. "We all have our… needs," she said softly. "The important thing is that you're willing to acknowledge them so we can work through them together."

I nodded, the knot in my stomach loosening a bit. "I am. I want to work through this, Em. I want to stop drinking. I want to reconnect with you."

Her smile widened, a genuine expression of hope and understanding. "Good. Because I want that too. We've been through so much together, Greg. I don't want to lose what we have."

I squeezed her hand, the familiar comfort of her presence grounding me. "Neither do I. I know I've been difficult, and I've pushed you away, but I want to change. I want us to be... us again."

Emily nodded, acknowledging me. We sat there for a moment. "You know," Emily said, breaking the silence with a thoughtful look, "I miss having someone need me. Abby's off living her own life now, and maybe... maybe you could help fill that role, if you're willing."

I blinked, surprised by her admission. "What do you mean?"

She laughed softly. "I mean, I think you need some structure and accountability in your life right now. You’ve kind of fallen off the deep end. And I think I need someone to provide structure and accountability for. It would help me feel better too. I need a project."

I nodded, thinking that I understood what she meant. "I can do that. It would be good to have some help not having that next beer."

Emily's smile was warm, her eyes filled with a renewed sense of connection. She reached over and laid her hand on mine. Her loving touch was soft, electric, caring, and possessive, all at once. She paused and we just looked at each other for a minute.

With an amused little smile, but not breaking eye contact, Emily spoke first. "Yes, I think I can help you get your drinking under control… I think you do need some help there. Remember, when Abby was younger and she wet the bed, we tried putting those rules and consequences in place?”

I nodded and laughed a little. “Yeah, that was pretty stupid, really. She did NOT respond to that well.”

Emily smiled. “Yeah, that didn’t work at all for Abby. But you had said that they were based on rules that you had growing up. Right?”

I paused. “Um.”

“Maybe we can come up with something similar for us. Not as a punishment, but as a way to keep each other accountable."

I considered her words, the idea of structure and accountability appealing in a way I hadn't expected. "I think that's a good idea," I said. "We could both use a little structure in our lives right now. But I’m guessing when you say, ‘us’, you mean, ‘me’."

Emily smiled. “Well, yeah. I mean, the rules should be for both of us, because that’s fair. But yeah, I think they will apply mostly to you.”

I grimaced. “Um.” Just what I wanted was for her to be counting every beer.

“Well, I think I might still know where a copy of that is. Maybe we can use some of the ideas from it. Let’s talk more about it this evening.”

As we finished our coffee, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, a sense of normalcy returning to our interactions. We talked about Abby and her classes, Emily filling me in on the latest news that she had heard, compared to what she told me, which was, roughly, “Not much is new, Dad.” We discussed plans for the weekend and ideas for projects around the house. It felt good, this easy back-and-forth, the rhythm of a partnership being rediscovered.

When the mugs were empty and the morning had fully settled in, Emily stood and stretched, a contented sigh escaping her lips. "I should get ready for the day," she said, but there was no rush in her movements, no urgency to leave the moment.

I nodded, feeling a warmth spreading through me that had nothing to do with the coffee. "I'll take care of the dishes."

Emily paused with her hand resting on my shoulder as she passed by. "Thank you, Greg. For being willing to talk about this."

I looked up at her, gratitude and affection swelling in my chest. "Thank you, Em. For understanding. For not giving up on me."

She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "Never," she murmured, and then she was gone, leaving me with the lingering warmth of her touch and the promise of a fresh start.

As I cleared the table, an ember of my soul that had been repressed for twenty years had just gotten some oxygen. I hadn’t forgotten it, per se, but by an immense act of will, and love for Emily, I had boxed it up and stuffed it into the back of my mind. Over more than twenty years of happy and fulfilling marriage and family, that ember had smoldered, but last night had burst back to life. I knew what I wanted. I just needed to figure out how to get it. I felt a little guilty, scheming in my mind to mislead my wife, but it was a heck of a lot better than ruining our relationship by getting drunk every night.

Right?

to be Continued...

[waughymommy]

Chapter 5: Morning

 

I woke up to the pale light of dawn filtering through the curtains, a dull headache already forming at my temples. The events of the previous night came rushing back with a clarity that made me wince. What had started as a petty, still-inebriated act of defiance had turned into a mess I wasn't prepared to handle, physically or emotionally.

Lying there, the cold damp sheets clinging to my skin, I couldn't help but feel a wave of regret.  

"Good job," I muttered to myself. "You've officially outdone yourself in the stupidity department.  You REALLY need to stop drinking."  I sat up, the mattress protector crinkling beneath me, the cold wet sheets wrapped around me a reminder of my childish decision.  

I gathered the sheets, trying to ignore the clammy sensation against my skin, and made my way to the laundry room. The house was still quiet, Emily likely still asleep. I hoped to get everything cleaned up before she woke up, to avoid the inevitable confrontation. Here I was, a grown man, reduced to sneaking around my own house like a teenager trying to cover up a party gone wrong.

The washing machine loomed before me like an alien contraption. I fumbled with the settings, trying to recall Emily’s preferred settings for colored sheets.  Failing getting a specific type of wash going, I pressed random buttons in a futile attempt to start the machine.  Laundry before coffee is not something that should be legal.

The door creaked open behind me, and I froze like a guilty child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Emily stood in the doorway, her expression a mix of surprise and something else I couldn't quite place.

"Greg?" she asked, her voice soft but steady. "What are you doing up so early?"

I turned to face her, trying to muster a nonchalant smile. "Just thought I'd get a head start on the laundry," I said, my voice betraying the lie.

Emily's gaze shifted to the sheets, then back to me. Then to the wet pajama bottoms I was still wearing.  Understanding dawned in her eyes, then a flicker of amusement crossed her face before she met my eyes, and I braced myself for the inevitable lecture. But instead, she simply sighed and stepped into the laundry room.  She looked like she wanted to give me a hug, then thought better of it when she considered what I was wearing.

"It's okay," she said gently, obviously trying to keep her voice neutral. "These things happen."

I blinked, caught off guard by her unexpected kindness. "You're not... upset?"

Emily paused, considering, and then shook her head, a small, reassuring smile on her lips. "No, Greg. I'm not upset. I'm worried. You've been under a lot of stress, and it's taking a toll on you."

I looked down, ashamed. "I didn't mean for it to get this bad. I just... I don't know how to handle all this. Abby leaving, the empty house... us."

Emily reached out, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I know. And I should have been more supportive. But you need to let me in, Greg. We need to face this together."

I nodded, feeling the weight of her words settle over me. "I want to change, Em. I really do."

She squeezed my shoulder, then turned to the washing machine.  "You should put your pajamas in there as well…"

“But…” I started to say, but I stopped when Emily’s eyebrow rose.�� Yeah, the pajamas should be in the machine, and walking back to the shower buck-naked in the empty house was really no more embarrassing than doing it in pee-soaked pajamas.  I sighed, dropped my pajamas and underwear, and tossed them into the machine with the shirts.

Emily handed me a towel from the stack by the machine to cover up, which was an even better idea than walking back naked. "Why don't you get cleaned up? I'll take care of this."  Emily pressed a few buttons and the machine made its ding-dong-ding signal that it was starting.  

I hesitated, then nodded, grateful for her understanding. "Thanks, Em."

Later, as I stood under the warm spray of the shower, I let the water wash away the remnants of the night. I thought about Emily and the years we'd spent building a life together, and how I didn't want to let that slip away.  It didn’t take a genius to understand that doing stupid things like wetting the bed out of spite was probably not a winning move.

By the time I emerged, dressed and feeling more like myself, Emily had finished with the laundry. She was waiting in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in each hand.

"Here," she said, handing me one. "I bet you could use this."

Uh-yup.

To be continued...

[waughymommy]

Chapter 4: Falling Down

I stared at the ceiling of Abby's old room, the glow-in-the-dark stars she'd stuck up there years ago were now faded and peeling. The house creaked around me, every sound amplified in the emptiness. I reached for my beer on the nightstand, grimacing as I realized it was empty. Again. As September drew to a close, the leaves outside were beginning to change color and fall from the trees, mirroring the changes happening in our household.

How had it come to this? I was exiled to my daughter's childhood bedroom, drowning my sorrows in cheap beer while my wife slept alone down the hall. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the dull throb in my temples and the gnawing emptiness in my chest.

The first few weeks after Abby left for college had been... challenging. Emily and I had tried to keep busy, to focus on the positives. "Think of all the time we'll have for ourselves," she'd said, a forced cheeriness in her voice. But as the days wore on, the silence in the house became oppressive.

I started having a beer or two in the evenings to take the edge off. Just to help me sleep, I told myself. But two became four, became six, and soon I was stumbling to bed most nights, much to Emily's growing frustration.

"Greg," she'd say, her voice tight with barely contained anger, "it's 3 AM. Can you please try not to wake the entire neighborhood?"

I'd mumble an apology, knowing full well I'd do it again the next night. And the next. And the next. The fact that I worked from home just enabled the situation, as I had no reason to get out of the house or to be any more presentable than was required for a videoconference. My commute was a morning stumble down the hall to my office, and then an afternoon stumble from my office to the refrigerator.

The bathroom trips were the worst. I'd wake up every couple of hours, bladder painfully full, and stumble to the toilet. Each time, I'd feel Emily's disapproving gaze burning into my back as I returned to bed.

One particularly bad night, after I'd tripped over the laundry basket for the third time, Emily sat up in bed, flicking on the lamp. The sudden light made me wince.

"That's it," she said, her voice cold and final. "I can't do this anymore, Greg. If you're going to act like a child, you can sleep in a child's room."

"What?" I blinked at her, my alcohol-addled brain struggling to keep up.

"You heard me," Emily continued, pointing towards the door. "Go sleep in Abby's room. At least there, your constant bathroom trips won't keep me up all night."

I wanted to argue, to defend myself, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, I grabbed my pillow and shuffled out of our bedroom, feeling every bit the chastised child Emily was treating me as.

That was three nights ago. Three nights of tossing and turning in Abby's bed, which she claimed to be too small for her but more than big enough for me, surrounded by the remnants of her childhood. Three nights of Emily's silence at breakfast, her disappointment palpable across the kitchen table.

The mattress protector crinkled beneath me with every movement, a constant reminder of my fall from grace. I was exiled to my daughter's room while I acted like a sullen teenager myself. I couldn't help but chuckle darkly at the symbolism. Here I was, a grown man lying on a bed meant to protect against accidents, while I pissed away my marriage one beer at a time.

"You've really outdone yourself this time, Greg," I muttered to the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. They stared back, unimpressed.

I heard Emily's footsteps in the hallway and held my breath, hoping she'd pass by. No such luck. She appeared in the doorway, her face a mask of disappointment and frustration.

"I see you're hard at work solving the world's problems," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I raised my beer in a mock toast. "Just doing my part to support the local brewery. Someone's got to keep the economy going."

Emily's eyes narrowed. "And I suppose your liver is just collateral damage?"

"Hey, I'm nothing if not self-sacrificing," I shot back, taking another swig.

She shook her head, a mix of anger and sadness in her eyes. "You know, Greg, when I imagined us as empty nesters, this wasn't quite what I had in mind. I thought we'd travel, take up new hobbies. Instead, I'm living with an immature child again, only this time he's balding and can legally buy alcohol."

Her words stung, but I was too far gone to care. "Well, surprise! Life's full of disappointments. At least I'm consistent."

Emily's shoulders sagged. "I don't even know who you are anymore, Greg. The man I married wouldn't... wouldn't do this to himself. To us."

The door slammed behind her, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the ever-present crinkle of the mattress cover. I thought about Abby, probably sleeping soundly in her dorm room. Her mattress protector was silent, adult – a symbol of her growth and independence. Meanwhile, here I was, her father, reduced to sleeping on a bed that crinkled with every move.

The nights stretched on, each one a carbon copy of the last. Drink, stumble, crinkle, repeat. Emily's attempts to reach me grew less frequent, her patience wearing thin.

One particularly bad night, after I'd tripped over a pile of Abby's old stuffed animals for the third time on my way to the bathroom, I caught sight of myself in her mirror. The man staring back at me was a stranger - bloated, bleary-eyed, with a scraggly beard that would make a hobo proud.

"Well, well, well," I slurred at my reflection. "If it isn't Father of the Year. Tell me, Greg, how does it feel to be living proof that evolution can go in reverse?"

The reflection didn't answer, but the stuffed animals seemed to judge me silently from their perches on the shelves.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," I grumbled at a particularly judgmental-looking teddy bear. "You try dealing with an empty house and a wife who looks at you like you're something she scraped off her shoe."

I stumbled back to bed, the mattress protector crinkling loudly in protest. As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, I couldn't help but wonder how I'd ended up here. When had I become this person? This sad, pathetic excuse for a husband?

After another hour of staring at the stars on the ceiling, I felt I needed to pee. Again. Screw this. If she’s going to treat me as a child, then she can deal with it. Old yearnings and needs not fully explored or met, slowly rose from the hidden depths where they had been stashed. Something that I needed. Something needed to break the cycle. Something that wanted to push back against, well, everything. So I released my bladder. It felt warm, evoking hidden memories from my childhood. It was somehow familiar and comfortable. I fell asleep.

to be continued...

[waughymommy]

Chapter 3: Stepping Out

 

I stood in front of the hallway mirror, adjusting a button-down shirt  I hadn’t worn in a very long time. The house felt eerily quiet without Abby's music or the constant buzz of her phone notifications. Emily appeared behind me, already dressed in a sleek black dress that made her look years younger.

"Here, let me help you with that," she said, adjusting the collar of my shirt, straightening the back and settling the wayward collar points into place.

I hesitated, torn between accepting her help and asserting my independence. "I've got it, Em," I said, perhaps a bit too sharply.

She raised an eyebrow but stepped back. "Jeez, relax. Just trying to help."

I immediately felt a pang of guilt. "Sorry, I just... I can do it."

Emily smiled softly, that motherly look in her eyes that both comforted and frustrated me. "I know you can, honey. You ready to go?"

As we stepped out into the warm evening air, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension. This was our first real night out as empty nesters, a chance to rediscover ourselves as a couple rather than just parents.

The restaurant was one of those trendy new places downtown, all exposed brick and Edison bulbs. As we settled into our seats, I couldn't help but feel slightly out of place. The other diners seemed younger, hipper, more at ease in this environment.

“Well, this is... nice," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

Emily reached across the table, patting my hand. "It's okay if you're not comfortable, Greg. We can go somewhere else if you'd prefer." 

I bristled slightly at her tone. There it was again, that hint of motherly concern that both soothed and irked me. "No, no, this is fine," I insisted. "I'm just saying, it's been a while since we've been out like this."

We perused the menu, filled with items I could barely pronounce. "Quinoa? Acai? When did food start sounding like incantations?" I mused.  “I think these were spells in Abby’s boy wizard books.”

Emily chuckled, but I caught a hint of exasperation in her voice. "It's called being cultured, Greg. Here, let me help you pick something."

As she leaned over to point out dishes on my menu, I found myself torn between appreciating her help and wanting to assert my independence. I was a grown man, for crying out loud. I could order my own damn dinner.

The waiter approached, a young man with carefully styled hair and a hipster beard. "Good evening, folks. Can I start you off with some drinks?"

I glanced at Emily, raising an eyebrow. "What do you say, Em? Shall we live dangerously?"

She hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Sure, why not? It's not like we have to rush home to relieve the babysitter anymore."

As the evening progressed, we laughed and talked, sharing stories and dreams. On the surface, it was everything I had hoped our first night as empty nesters would be. But underneath, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were both trying too hard, performing the roles of a carefree couple rather than truly inhabiting them.

Midway through the meal, I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. The beer was going right through me, and I was debating whether to excuse myself to the restroom. Emily, ever observant, noticed my discomfort.

"Greg, honey, are you okay?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

I nodded, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... you know."

Emily leaned in, lowering her voice. "Do you need to use the restroom?"

I felt my face flush with embarrassment. "Emily!" I hissed, glancing around to see if anyone had overheard. "I'm not five years old. I can handle my own... bathroom needs."    

She held up her hands defensively. "I'm just trying to help. You looked uncomfortable."

I stood up abruptly, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Excuse me," I muttered, making my way to the restroom.

As I stood at the urinal, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. On one hand, Emily's concern was touching. She cared about me and wanted to make sure I was comfortable. But on the other hand, her motherly tone made me feel small. I was her husband, not her child. Didn't she see that?

When I returned to the table, Emily was sipping her wine, a look of concern on her face. "Everything okay?" she asked.

I nodded, forcing a smile. "All good, babe. Now, where were we?"

As the night wore on, I found myself increasingly aware of the dichotomy in our relationship. Emily's nurturing nature, which had been such a comfort during our years of parenting, now felt stifling when it was directed full blast at me with no Abby to roll her eyes and deflect it. Yet part of me craved that affirmation, that unconditional love she offered so freely.

We finished our meal and stepped out into the warm night air. Emily linked her arm through mine, and I felt a surge of conflicting emotions - love, frustration, comfort, and a desperate desire to be seen as the man I wanted to be, not the child she sometimes treated me as.

"This was nice," Emily said, leaning her head on my shoulder. "We should do it more often."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. How could I explain the turmoil inside me? How could I tell her that I loved her motherly nature but also resented it? That I wanted her to see me as an equal, a partner, not someone to be coddled and cared for?

As we walked to the car, I made a silent vow to myself. I would find a way to bridge this gap, to be the strong, capable man I knew I could be while still accepting the love and care Emily offered. It wouldn't be easy, and it wouldn't happen overnight. But for the sake of our relationship, for the sake of this new chapter in our lives, I had to try.

As we drove home, the silence between us felt different - not uncomfortable, but full of potential. "Ready for bed?" Emily asked, stifling a yawn.

I nodded, squeezing her hand, my hopes that 'bed' meant what I thought it meant clear on my face and in my voice.  With a smile I replied, "Lead the way."

to be continued...

[waughymommy]

Chapter 2: Moving Pictures

    “Dad, be careful!  A little more left!  Ok, up now…  wait!  Hold it there!”

    I grunted as the weight shifted above me.  Getting the loft up three flights of stairs was not supposed to be happening in 100-degree weather, but “someone” hadn’t considered the size of the elevator when I agreed that a loft in the college dorm room was a good idea.  That “someone” was now on the bottom end of three people trying to lift the heavy and awkward wooden structure up the twisting, unairconditioned stairs as the two people above me tried to learn geometry.  This was not working.

    Emily's calm voice cut through the tension. "Greg, breathe. We're almost there." Her steady presence, even in this chaos, reminded me why we'd been a team for so long.  Her tall body, fit from years of running, was as wet with sweat as I was as she pulled the top of the loft forward.  She tried to blow a loose strand of her brunette hair that had escaped from the ponytail off her face, but it fell right back over her nose.

    I gritted my teeth, suppressing a sarcastic retort. This was Abby's big day, after all. Instead, I managed to wheeze out, “You need to move the top towards the center and hold it so I can rotate my part around, “ I grunted.  “Just like we did every f-ing half-floor below,” I continued under my breath, gritting my teeth.  Finally, with a grunt and shove, and a little institutional-gray wall paint rubbed onto the stained wood, the loft made it to the top landing.

    “It’s going out of here through the window.”  I was exhausted.  This was the last piece, joining the boxes and suitcases and other loft parts that had made it up the elevator.  With all the freshmen moving in, the car was parked far away across hot blacktop.  “You owe me a beer.”

    “I can’t buy you a beer yet, Dad.”

    “It’s college, you’ll figure it out.”

    Abby gave a rare laugh, her I’m-A-Serious-College-Student demeanor that she had been cultivating seemingly since she was twelve cracking a little, and some of the fun-loving little girl that I knew was hiding in there, hidden from her parents during her teen years, showed through.  Between Emily, Abby, and I, we managed to heave the loft down the hallway and into her room.  I finally got a chance to sit down and rest.   

Emily, ever practical, was already moving on.  “Alright, let’s get the loft together and get you situated.  Our dinner reservation is in two hours, and we have a lot of work here…”  Always the one in control, Emily cut my break short, gesturing at the loft and the pile of boxes.  “Dad and I will get the loft together while you start putting stuff away, OK?  That way you know where everything is.”  Abby and I nodded, used to following Emily’s lead.

I found the bag of bolts and began assembling the legs and supports for the loft.  Soon we were all lifting the bed into place and the mattress from the college-supplied bed was on top, the metal frame broken down and shoved to the back of the closet to be replaced in the spring.  The loft loomed large in the small space, a towering structure that seemed to embody Abby's transition into adulthood.

"Well, that's the last of it," I panted, wiping sweat from my brow. "Your very own adult-sized treehouse, kiddo.  Don’t fall out."  I gave her a little smirk.

“It’s OK, Dad, I’ll get the sheets.”  While Abby didn’t actively tease me about my small stature anymore, she did still enjoy getting in a jab now and then to point out her twelve-inch height advantage on me.  An all-star middle on the volleyball team, she had definitely gotten her mom’s genes.   

“Here, put this on first.”  Emily reached into one of the boxes and pulled out a white square.  Pulling it from the package Emily handed Abby the waterproof mattress cover.  “You can just say that it’s because the mattress was yucky, or bedbugs, or whatever.”

Abby hesitated and then reached for the cover.  A flash of understanding passed between mother and daughter.  Abby felt the mattress cover, flexing it a little.  It was smooth, but not crinkly.  She quickly reached up much easier than I could have to slip the protective sheet on the mattress, and then hurriedly grabbed a fitted sheet and covered it.  “Thanks, Mom,” Abby said quickly in a quiet voice, turning to put more things away.  I didn’t say anything, but I was a little surprised.  I thought Abby’s ‘night problems’ had stopped some time ago.  Maybe they hadn’t.  It wasn’t something I talked to my 18-year-old daughter about; that was between her and her mother.

    The rest of the afternoon was a blur.  Unpacking, getting set, finding the dining hall, confirming that the student passes worked, barely making our dinner reservation, and then the goodbyes where everyone pretended that they weren’t crying as they gave quick hugs and kisses and went their separate ways.

    As Emily and I drove home, the car felt emptier than it ever had. Emily reached over and took my hand, her touch grounding me.  Four hours later, Emily and I crashed into our bed, exhausted.  The house seemed empty, even emptier than when Abby had been away at summer camp for a few weeks.  Emily pulled me in close, and I cuddled into the little-spoon position, feeling her ample breasts comfortably on my back as her arm over the top held me firmly.  Within minutes we were both asleep.

to be continued....

[waughymommy]

REBLOG IF YOU WANT TO BE KIDNAPPED AND FEMINIZE

,♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️

Be carful what you wish for beta boi, if you read this post and still choose to reblog you’re signing your life away. A feminist organisation will track you down,  abduct you and feminise you be on the point of no return. This post has all the consent we need. You have been warned!

[waughymommy]

This story hasn’t told me its title yet.  Still working on it, much like the story.  I’ve been messing around with this quite a bit, but I think I’d like to put the first part out there to gauge reaction.

This story is, of course, fiction.  The inspiration for this story is a real-life friend, going through a difficult time in his life, and some things he confided in me as he tried to figure his life out.  He is one of the very, very few people that know I wet the bed and wear diapers, I'm Brenda Waughy, Your Mommy 😘🍼🧷

 

Chapter 1: Prelude

Where the hell was that old cookware set?  Emily remembered throwing it down here when they moved in, but the pile of cardboard boxes that had stayed untouched in the back corner of the basement for the last twenty years was hiding it well.  A random box of her old college supplies, mixed in among so much other crap that they had promised to “get to” every spring since they had gotten married, bought their house, raised their daughter… it had been untouched for so long that now maybe Abby could make use of it as she moved into the dorm next month.     

Pushing aside boxes and digging deeper, she saw an old suitcase.  It was Greg’s, stickers from his European travels during college still plastered to the outside.  Attempting to move it aside, it was surprisingly heavy, and especially awkward as the plastic wheels fell apart from decay.  Curious, and her immediate quest momentarily forgotten, she pulled the suitcase out.  Popping the latches she opened it.   

Emily's fingers trembled as she lifted the first diaper from the suitcase, its plastic crinkled softly in the musty basement air. The flood of memories threatened to overwhelm her, but she forced herself to breathe deeply, steadying her racing heart. She glanced towards the basement stairs, half-expecting to hear Greg’s footsteps, but the house remained silent.

It was twenty-four years ago, back when they were just getting to know each other. They were sitting on the porch of his college apartment one warm summer evening, sipping an illicit glass of wine, when Greg had casually mentioned that he found comfort in wearing diapers. Emily had felt a strange mix of disbelief and concern swirling inside her.  She didn’t know what to do with it.  She remembered her dismissive reaction, laughing it off, saying it was just a phase. Greg had not brought it up again, and the conversation quickly moved on, aided by the still-new feeling of a little bit too much alcohol. Little did she know, that moment would embed itself in her mind, a memory she would suppress for more than two decades as they built their life and family together......

[waughymommy]

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[waughymommy]

[waughymommy]

COLLEGE STUDENT IN DIAPER 🧷

Chapter 6

"Willy, now that we're done cleaning, how about you take Evelyn out for the day, you can use our car." Said Aunt Kathy.

She handed me the keys to her Ford Fusion, not a cool car but then it isn't something even less out of style. I though.

"Thank you! I said as did Evelyn.

We both showered and changed our clothes to something more appropriate for a date and not cleaning.

As I was in changing my clothes, Aunt Kathy came in. 

"Willy, I, a, think it would be better if you were both diapered for your date. Evelyn is already in her diapers. I know you won't touch her until she is older, but I'm not sure I trust her with you. She thinks you are just perfect!"

I knew from her tone  of voice, that she wasn't really asking me but telling me.

She got into my diaper drawer as I was calling it now. She oiled and powdered me up, then put my diapers on, she slid the plastic pants up and then I heard a distinct "click."

"What the heck was that Aunt Kathy?"

"That's the locking mechanism, John Jr. used to take his off so we got locking plastic panties for him. Don't worry, Evelyn has the same type that you have just as clear as your panties."

I was lucky that my Jean's fit over my diaper, just verily!

I met Evelyn in the hall she was in a dress it was just an inch or two above her knees. I had to admit her legs were shapely and she was hot!

"Wow! I said, you're beautiful!"

"Glad you finally noticed!" She said with a smile.

I took her to the car and being the gentleman I am I opened the door for her. Getting in her dress rode up and I saw that Aunt Kathy was right. Evelyn was diapered just like I was.

After getting in I asked "Where the best place in town to get good food?" 

"Well, that all depends on how much you want to spend. There is Gerards, it's like $150 a plate! She said.

Then there is Applebee's, Red Lobster, and loads of McDonalds, KFC, Taco Bells."

"Red Lobster, where is it at?" I asked?

"It's the closest one, about 2 to 3 blocks away. She said

Turn left here. She said. Right on the next corner. We were there.

We went in and it wasn't very busy yet and were were in and out, still cost about $90.

We went another block or two and we were at the theater, this was in the opposite direction of the college.

We went in and she told me the movie she wanted to watch.

We got our popcorn, drinks and found our seats.

The movie hadn't started when two other girls came.

"Is this your boyfriend that you told us about Evelyn?" One of the girls asked?

"Yes Yolanda, yes Heather, this is Willy Sanders, we have been friends since I can remember!"

I thought they would move to another seat or two a ways away but they stayed. 

We sat there and soon the lights dimmed and the previews started they also had little trivia, some of it was just to easy like, "The line, Play it again Sam! came from which movie. "Casablanca!" I said. Twenty seconds later "Casablanca!" came up. 

They had another preview. Another trivia game came up. This time I didn't know it. I looked and all three girls were looking at me. The answer came up and it was some movie I was not familiar with it was Papillion or something like that.

Then the movie started, I was surprised Evelyn gave me her hand to hold in the dark. After the movie was going and she looked at he friends and they were engrossed in the movie. She moved her hand down and laid her hand and felt my diaper through my Levi's. The smile on her face said it all!

[waughymommy]

COLLEGE STUDENT IN DIAPER 🧷

Chapter 5

That evening at the dinner table. every time I looked up, Evelyn was staring at me. She would give me a smile when our eyes met. I would smile back.

The time came, time to get our diapers on.

I have and have not been dreading this all night.

Aunt Kathy took Evelyn and I and she cleaned us, powdered us up, then diapered us. Evelyn was  first. I stared up at the ceiling while Evelyn was diapered. When it was my turn, I looked and Evelyn had lifted her upper body up on an elbow. She was watching Aunt Kathy diaper me!

Aunt Kathy and Uncle John left the livingroom and Evelyn cam and put a hand on my diapered front. Being a guy and not knowing if she was going to squeeze me there or not, I grabbed her wrist and removed her hand.

"I can feel your man thing through your diaper!" Evelyn stated.

"Evelyn please don't touch me there,I, I am over 18 and what you want will get me thrown in prison. You are only 17 years old!" I said.

"I will be 18 in three months from today though!" She pleaded!

I started thinking, yep three more months.

"You can watch when mom diapers me, John Jr. used to."

"No I can't, Aunt Kathy would cut my testicles off and poke my eyes out"

Evelyn smiled and said "Yeah she would, wouldn't she! Willy just so you know I have always had a crush on you. I looked foreward to your visits here or ours to your place, they were always the best!"

"Don't tell anyone but I have always had a huge crush on you, you were always the most beautiful girl I knew by far!" I told her!

"You noticed me! With John Jr. being so sick, everybody seen him, I was an afterthought! You took me and I got to see you play football and play tag and other games John Jr. couldnt! The worst day of my life and the best was the day he died, does that make sense?"

"Evelyn believe it or not it does, I understand it. On one hand you lost your brother the only one you had, on the other people started seeing you, mainly Aunt Kathy and Uncle John!"

"That's it, that is exactly it! Thank You!"

Aunt Kathy came back, "What are you two up to, as if I didnt know! Did he kiss you Evelyn?" She asked?

I was shocked!

"No mom, he is 18 and scared of repercussions with the law, and you." Evelyn said.

"Me? Willy your mom and I we always thought you two would be perfect for each other!"

"You did?" We both said.

Neither one of had heard this theory before.

"Go ahead kiss her!" Aunt Kathy said.

At first I looked at Aunt Kathy like she had three heads.

I took Evelyn and I kissed her. I kissed her for another 10 seconds. Aunt Kathy had said "That's enough, that's enough" about 3 times.

We broke Evelyn had a huge smile on her face, "Wow, that was better than I imagined it would be!"

Aunt Kathy said "I guess I will have to keep an eye on you two!"

Evelyn went to her room and I went to mine.

Evelyn now knows how I feel about her! I though.

Aunt Kathy brought me a glass of warm milk.

She waited for the glass I drank it down.

20 minutes later the milk did it's job I fell asleep.

My dreams were of Evelyn and I getting married, it was heaven.

I awoke needing to pee like crazy!

I went to go to the toilet, dammit I was wearing a diaper, a cloth diaper. Even if I could get it off I could never get it back on again.

I looked at the clock 5:43, breakfast was almost an two hours and half away at 8:30am. No way I can last that that long! 

I remembered how disappointed Aunt Kathy was that I was dry yesterday. I started trying to wet the diaper, my toilet training was strong, my bladder wouldn't let a drop out. I wasn't peeing in a toilet. I got an Idea I went and stood in front of the toilet, I was good until I felt the warmness of my urine spreading inside my diaper. My brain said "Hey wait a minute it's not supposed to feel like this!" My bladder shut down again!

"I began to say it's okay I'm wetting my bed!"

My brain said "Is that all?" My flow started again. I was done and my brain said., "Hey wait a minute, were not a bedwetter!" If I hadn't of been done, I knew that a single drop wouldnt get out now! 

I went back to bed my penis was encased in a nice warm, but damp cocoon. That was my last thought before when my alarm went off and I got up to eat breakfast.

Aunt Kathy checked me and found me wet, I had to pee about 5:45am. She looked pleased and disappointed at the same time. 

After breakfast Evelyn and I were released from our diapers. With it being Saturday we cleaned the house top to bottom.

Evelyn and I had a few more opportunities to steal a few kisses.

[waughymommy]

COLLEGE STUDENT IN DIAPER 🧷🍼🚼

Chapter 4...

I went out learning the layout of Greenmore, the college was less than 3 blocks away. It took me less than 5 minutes walking there.

I also passed Ammon Grey High School. I was sure Evelyn went there.

I was 18, she turned 18 in about 4 months. Until then I needed to mind my P's & Q's as my dad used to tell me, what does that mean anyway?

I made it back to Aunt Kathy's house. She was just returning from her school, she tutored 3 or4 kids that were having problems doing their work. 

I'm not bragging but every year she has 3 or 4 kids she tutors, by the end of the year those kids have not only passed their classes but have surpassed several of their peers who were way ahead of them at one time!

I am a huge fan of Aunt Kathy, at one time I was one of those kids failing my classes, I'm ready for College now. 

We had Kraft Macaroni and Cheese for lunch. 

I went and watched some TV, one station played Dragnet, Adam 12, and Emergency. I always wanted to be a Fireman because of Emergency!

Today was the episode that they get their antique firetruck working  and were on their way to a parade when Roy and John come across a fire. At the end the front end of the building falls and lands on their fire truck ruining it. 

It was Friday my school started on Monday, I couldn't wait! I would have books to read, papers to write. The wait was killing me!

to be continued....

[waughymommy]

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