Changes 1b: Wet Changes

I awoke the next morning, and I was immediately cognizant of how incredibly soaked my diaper was. So much so that reaching down and rubbing the top to get a better feel for the dampness was the first gesture I made. I looked over at my wife standing over me with a strangely amused look on her face.

“Morning baby! That thumb still taste good or you wanna pop it into my vagina for more flavor?”

I quickly became aware that I was sucking my thumb, and rapidly ceased doing so. I would have been mad at her, but the sexual suggestion added to it helped me feel she was simply making light of the situation. Today we were going shopping, which I quickly feared due to my present problem, and in light of the previous day’s wetting. After a nice shower and breakfast, we were on our way.

“Dear, you sure you feel ok going out without some protection?” she proded, echoing my ever-present fear.

“Of course, it only happens now when I’m occupied with other things or sleeping. I’ll be absolutely fine!” I assured her. I wasn’t as confident as I projected, of course, but I figured as long as I used the restroom upon entering and leaving each store there was no way there could be any problem.

“You know what, I’ll bring one just in case I feel it’s necessary ok?” That seemed to be enough to keep her happy, and we were shortly out the door.

I was surprised when I found that my plan was working out just fine: there was a little discomfort and a close call in the beginning getting out to the stores, but the going in the beginning and end of each visit held me over just fine.

That is until we shopped at Kohls. We spent quite a bit of time there, both trying on more casual summer attire we had yet to purchase for the season. I was getting to the point where I felt I could hardly wait any longer, and started to head to the bathroom, when my wife grabbed me by the arm, handed me my pocketbook, and instructed me to hold on to it, shuffling into the changing room before I had a chance to argue. I no longer felt comfortable going to the bathroom: it was one thing to wait for one’s wife outside her changing room, but walking around with a pocketbook was too much. Bolstered by my success up to this point in waiting it out, I stood there uncomfortable, but confident.
And somehow I remained confident up to the point when I felt a small amount of pee escape into my underwear, and of course, this caused me to completely stress out. Still, despite the drop I convinced myself I still had the situation under control; after all, how much longer could she be in there anyway.

The pressure released slightly again, this time allowing a trickle, and I felt a small amount running down my leg. The breaking point was reached, and I no longer cared about the pocketbook, hurrying as fast as possible over to the bathrooms. The movement caused pressure against my bladder, and, just yards away from my goal, the gates completely broke open. The entire front of my pants became saturated, and I could feel rivers running down both legs. Embarrassed and frantic, I rushed into the bathroom and immediately into a stall. I just stood there for what seemed like hours, assessing the damage, and softly weeping. I realized I had my wife’s phone in her pocketbook, and there was no way I could reach her to inform her of my situation. I decided to bolt it out of the bathroom and to our car as fast as possible.

I peeked out the door to see if anyone was close-by, and started out as soon as the path seemed clear. I was almost immediately stopped by my wife.

“There you are you little pain! I’ve been looking all over for you! You couldn’t just wait….”

Just then she noticed my soaked-through pants.

“I can’t believe you! I told you you should just wear the protection and you wouldn’t have to worry about this shit. It could have saved you so much trouble and I don’t know why it’s such a fucking big deal to you!”

I tried to struggle away from her grip to the car, and was surprised by how strong she seemed.

“NO NO NO! You’re not going anywhere, especially all covered in piss like that. We’re going to get you some new pants right now and get you cleaned up.”

“Ok,” I conceded," get me new pants and the wipes out the car and call me. I’ll quickly pick them up from you outside the bathroom"

“Oh no you don’t! You’re stubbornness got you into this mess and there’s no way I’m gonna just make everything all better. You and I are going to pick out new pants together, and I’m going to drag you into the women’s bathroom and clean you up myself like the little fucking child you are!”

I hung my head, pouting, knowing there was nothing I could say. The most embarrassing moment of my life was picking out new pants, just pants mind you seeing as it was clear underwear was no longer in the picture. And then, after buying the pants and everyone at the front seeing my situation, my wife had me stand in front of the bathroom’s as she got the diaper and wipes. She quickly and firmly pulled me in, took off my soaked garments, and cleaned off my waist, crotch, and legs as best as she could with the wipes. She then helped me into the diaper, giving me a firm slap against my diapered butt.

“There baby, all better now!” she exclaimed “isn’t that much better: no more worrying or wet pants.” She pulled me against her breast, and I found myself surprisingly eager to be comforted and rocked in her arms.

Really, I was glad to not have anything else to worry about as the day went on, not to say that I wasn’t concerned about wetting a diaper in public, but compared to what had just unfolded, that was certainly not the worst thing that could happen. The diaper, in fact, seemed to be a great aid in deterring my need to urinate; it seemed to pacify my worries over peeing, and I actually went a few hours before I felt I really needed to
go.

“Where are you going?” my wife asked as a try to sneak away to the bathroom.

“I gotta go, pretty bad, and anyway we only have one diaper with us, so you don’t really expect me to use it do you?”

“I guess you’re right, but you better hope those tapes will reattach alright.”

“I know I know.” I conceded, “I’m kinda worried about that too, but I mean, I was able to realize I had to go right now, the diaper’s really helping to calm me, even if it doesn’t get back on perfect I think I’ll be ok.”

“Well we’re almost done shopping anyway, and there’s no way you have to go all that badly. I’m sure it’ll keep you dry enough to last you until we get home.”

I realized she was right: we had only one more store to visit, but if the diaper didn’t go back on right, it could leak if the urge got as bad as before.

“C’mon baby, don’t worry so much about it and just relax. Just let it flow out nice and easy.”

My wife gently rubbed my stomach and pushed lightly on my bladder, sending a sharp shudder through what was already aching to find relief.
She pulled me tight against her, and though I didn’t try too hard, I found it tough to pull myself away.

I could feel my bladder slowly give in, and when I knew it was too late following the first little trickle, I pushed lightly to let the rest free to soak into my padded garment.

I guess she could feel something give, or just saw the twisted look on my face, but she smiled wide at me, pulling me closer and rubbing my back, telling me how proud she was of me.

I was a little confused by this, but realized that using the diaper was the right thing to do. I was glad how understanding and supportive she was being. Tears welled up in my eyes, more because I had to her help me through this than with frustration, as I felt some solace for the first time in this ordeal.

I wore a diaper for the rest of the day, even at home, though I never used it once while there. I was just glad to see my wife satisfied that I had it on. After all, I had been doing so many things to strain our relationship lately, I just wanted to see her happy.

Wearing a diaper to work was the hardest thing I ever brought myself to do. I could tell my wife realized this too, only flashing me an encouraging smile and not mentioning the uncomfortable subject.

Today would be the first full day of wearing a diaper, something else I was less than pleased about.

The morning was absent of any talk of my awkward day ahead, and for this I was incredibly grateful. As I pulled up my pants, I swore the bulge in the front and padding in the back seemed to stick out like a sore thumb, and I wondered how this hadn’t bothered me the day before. Surely the wetting had prevented the worry from even momentarily cross my mind, but now it was all I could think about. I looked through all my draws for something a little roomier, but I knew no such garment existed. I threw on my largest suit jacket, hoping no one would give it a second thought, and hoped for the best.

I guess the fear of visibility was really stressing me out, and I didn’t have close to the same luck in holding out on urinating as I had the previous day, once diapered. I found myself in the bathroom only ten minutes after entering work, a new diaper and wipes hidden away in a messenger bag. Not only was I afraid the diaper wouldn’t re-tape correctly, but I never realized before this moment just how loud the whole procedure was. It took me almost a half hour just to get out of the bathroom as I waited for fellow employees to leave so I could finish the task.
It was then that I realized, heavy hearted, that it was almost better to hold out and wait until after work to change into a new one, though in this case the fear of leaking was high in my mind. Obviously, things were getting exponentially worse, and I called the doctor to make an appointment as soon as I had a free minute. I would have preferred my own doctor, but I figured it was easier just to return to the same once since she was knowledgeable as to my problems so far and the treatment I was on. Treatment that, obviously, was not effective in the least. I was, at least, a little happy to find I could arrange an appointment first thing the next day.

I swore a few coworkers noticed the little extra padding, but no one said anything or gave any gesture. But, of course, the prospect left me more than a little on edge. Not only had I allowed myself to use the diaper for convenience, but I was using it a lot: to the point where it no longer just felt a little damp and warm, but I felt the wet heavy mass clinging around my waste, making me feel like little more than a big, wet baby. Every time I sat down I could feel the sodden garment press against me, and whenever I stood up I could feel it heavily hanging there.
It was affecting my interactions with my coworkers, and if they noticed nothing else, they surely noticed that.

But it wasn’t until an end of the day meeting that it happened: the diaper finally took up all it could handle, and I could feel a small amount of liquid dribble down my leg.

I became quite disturbed, and I could feel myself peeing a little. This pushed the diaper’s limit a little more, as I felt a decent stream flow down either leg.

I couldn’t take it anymore: in a forceful whisper I informed my closest coworker that I felt I was going to be sick, didn’t even stop by my office to gather my things, and ran straight to my car; the diaper felt as though it was slide right down my legs, and urine sliding down either one.

Not wanting my wife to see me like this, I purchased new suit pants, just like the one’s I had on, which put me in a similar scene as the day before, though I assured the cashier, without inquiry, that I has spilled a large drink on myself. I really hoped she could make out the scent of urine.
I changed into the new pants and a new diaper and headed home.

“How did your day go honey?” was what first greeted me upon entry, “especially with, well you know, your problem and all”

“I went as fine as it could I guess. Changing was awkward, but I don’t think anyone noticed.”

“So you used it right? You didn’t go through a ton of diapers changing them every time you went did you?” she inquired.

“Of course I used it,” assured her, embarrassed to admit such a thing to my wife, "and I changed into a new one before I came home. "

“Good boy!” she exclaimed to my annoyance, “I so proud of you and glad things went well. How’s the frequency going? Are you still able to hold out for a while?”

I just then realized it had been a good half hour since I had newly diapered myself, and should be feeling a strong urge to go. Maybe being in my own car and own house was allowing me greater comfort and control, I thought cheerfully.

Just then, I felt my wife’s hand reaching down the back of my pants.
I couldn’t believe it: she was actually checking to see if I was wet like I was some kind of little kid who could control himself…

“Looks like my baby already needs a nice, dry new one,” she cooed, “come with mommy and she’ll make everything better.”

I couldn’t fucking believe it: not only was my wife talking to me and treating me like a child, but I honestly could not remember when I had pissed myself. I was actually even becoming more like a child than I thought. Was I really almost completely incontinent?!

I gathered what I could of my manhood and firmly pushed her away.

“Get away stupid!” I screamed, my voice wavering on each word, “I’m a a… adult, and a man, and I can handle this myself! I’m not a baby! You’re not my mommy!”

I stormed off into the bedroom, teary-eyed.

My firmness must have really left an impression on her, because we hardly spoke another word to each other the rest of the night. In fact, things pretty much went on as they had been before all this mess began, and it was relief that for the first time in over a week I could think of anything other than pissing myself. Not realizing fully the thought behind it, I began doing little things around the house, manly task I thought to myself with confident conviction. I glued together parts of a kitchen chair that too often came lose, and adjusted the holsters for some blinds that often popped out and fell to the floor. After this, I worked up some plans for building a new dresser for our guest bedroom, something I’d been meaning to do for over a year. My mind had been so engrossed in these tasks that, again, I realized how much time had passed without feeling the urge to urinate. I checked my diaper and, again, was greeted by the realization of my worst fears: I was incredibly wet and had no recollection of when this had happened. To calm to rising frustration and fear, I continued to assure myself that the following day would bring relief in the doctor’s visit. I changed into a new diaper and sat down with my wife to watch some t.v.; I holding her and wrapping my arms around her comfortably, much in contrast to the last week’s trend.

This was much better, I thought to myself; I might be pretty much fully incontinent, but at least I was reaffixing the broken pieces of my manhood and self-confidence and security. Incontinent adults were not unheard of, but there was no way I would let myself revert into a scared infantile state. My wife deserved better than that and so did I, regardless of how terrifying the sudden changes of my body might be.

I felt sudden warmth spread across my crotch as I drowsily lay in front of the t.v., the only indication I had of what was taking place. For the first time all day, however, this didn’t send the same spreading fear throughout my being, and I slowly gave in to my fatigue.

I awoke on the couch, incredibly damp, probably to full capacity, and quite alone.

She really was taking my insistence seriously, I thought to myself with initial gladness for my retained dignity; but as I lay there, still half-awake, slightly disoriented and soaked, all I could think of was her embrace, her soft, comforting breasts, and her gentle care. I dejectedly changed into a new diaper and joined my wife in bed. I glanced over to her breasts with unaccountable longing, but denied myself the unfitting but inviting comfort.

As I lay there unnerved, huddled close in on myself, my thumb slowly found itself to my lips, and I gently sucked upon it as I drifted away.

Changes 1b: Wet Changes

great chapter, curious to see what twists lay in store for him, can’t wait to read more

Re: Changes 1b: Wet Changes

please continue story me loved it.

Re: Changes 1b: Wet Changes

This really is a great story. Thanks so much for sharing it.