Rested and refreshed, Sherry took to the day like a mower to a long field of green. She showered and dressed and made breakfast for herself and Mitchell (pancakes this time) before waking him. He must have drooled lightly in his sleep, as the corner of his pillowcase was damp. So was his diaper, but she didn’t want to further embarrass him by drawing attention to that.
“Sleep well?” she asked.
He nodded, his words stolen by a yawn.
Mitchell again ate everything that was in front of him and Sherry looked forward to the day when she could see a little more bulk on his frame. When they both had finished, she fetched the key to his chastity belt and unlocked him, freeing him to take a shower, brush his teeth, move his bowels and do whatever else needed doing. When he came back to his room and found her sitting on the edge of the bed, he lay down without comment. She diapered him, doubling once again, fastened the belt and left him to finish dressing.
She had just made it back down the stairs, however, when she heard him calling.
“Sher…ma’am?” he said, directing her attention to the top of the staircase. He’d donned socks and a black shirt but had omitted one critical component, leaving the bottom of his diaper to peek out between his legs. “My pants won’t fit,” he complained.
“Oh,” Sherry said, a touch embarrassed. She hadn’t considered that possibility – that probability, really – and she thought that made her neglectful. In some sense though, she felt deceived: he was thin and he wore his pants a little on the loose side. Still, she should have known.
“Wait just a minute,” she said, wandering off in search of her measuring tape. “Stay still,” she instructed as she pressed it around his middle. He seemed disappointed, as if he expected the pants predicament would grant him a reprieve from diapers.
“I’ll try to pick you up a pair today,” Sherry told him.
“I guess I’m stuck here in the meantime,” he lamented.
“You could go out like this,” Sherry teased. “But I wouldn’t recommend it.”
He didn’t smile.
After taking care of business on campus, Sherry returned to the shopping center near the highway. She felt bitter as she drove past the movie theater, the site of Mitchell’s betrayal. She wondered if she would ever be able to see anything there again without thinking of that day.
But by the time she entered Belk, her thoughts had drifted from anger and disappointment to men’s fashion. She knew Mitchell liked to wear jeans but she would prefer to see him in something neater. She held up two pairs of slacks, one Navy and one khaki, and her eyes danced between them in careful scrutiny.
“Something for the husband?” a nearby shopper asked. The woman was older, with a creased face and a strawberry blonde perm that screamed “salon special.”
“No, my s…” Sherry began before catching herself. Her son. She was about to call Mitchell her son. It gave her chills and reason to pause. Mitchell was not her son. She had a son and a daughter and despite everything, she loved them very much.
“My sister’s kid,” she fibbed. She decided on the khaki and added a pair of discount jeans just for the hell of it. On her way out of the store, Sherry thought call them, call them over and over again.
She caught some Heart on the radio on the drive back home and began to feel better. Listening to Annie Wilson belt out “Crazy on You” took her back to pleasant distractions, like a new paperback that had come highly recommended and a chicken recipe she was curious to try out. By the time she reached home, her anxiety had completely bottomed out.
“Mitch?” Sherry called as she walked her purchases up the stairs. “I have some new pants I’d like you to try on….”
He stood before her in his room with his cheeks flushed and his eyes glued to the floor. Sherry’s calm went up in a cloud of tiny, imperceptible smoke.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I…” he began, his words failing him once again. But she understood.
Link was bored. After Sherry left, it occurred to him that he was effectively trapped in that house. Maybe it was inadvertent; the thing about the pants, or maybe Sherry had planned it that way all along. Either way, it pissed him off. She should have seen it coming.
Still, it was a trespass he would have forgiven if he wasn’t so low on options. He’d left his PSP at D’s after it stopped working a few weeks back, which meant it was as good as sold. His budget laptop wasn’t for shit game-wise: FreeCell was like watching paint dry. He doubted Sherry’s movies were any good (bunch of chick flicks and period dramas, probably) and his friends couldn’t hold a phone conversation worth a damn. Besides, they’d probably want to know what he’d been up to, if he’d be coming out with them later, blah, blah, blah. And what would he say to that? “Sorry, dude, I’m diapered?”
Link gave his pants another try. He started with fresh pairs first, then went to what he had in the laundry. One or two pairs just about fit if he sucked his gut in, but they were uncomfortable as hell and gave him a Frankenstein walk. He wasn’t going to risk going out like that, not when he’d have new pants by tomorrow.
Boredom sent him in strange directions. He started looking at Sherry’s family photos; first the ones she had out and later the ones he found stowed away in albums. He was right about her: she was really hot when she was younger. Her hair was straight at one time and she had a killer smile. Her ex looked like a creep, even with a full head of hair. He looked like the kind of dude who looked like he could never quite escape the fabled disco era. Link decided Sherry’s daughter was kinda cute, if a bit fat and too young for him. He thought her son looked angry, moody and a bit constipated.
From the photos, Link advanced to Sherry’s bedroom. He felt a little weird being there, but hadn’t she been up in his room all the time lately? Besides, the way he figured it, it wasn’t fair that she should have so much privacy after she’d changed his diaper. Changed his diaper. And if she didn’t like him being here, she shouldn’t have left him home with nothing to do.
He scoped out her clothes first, moving from the business wear she donned for teaching to the jeans, the T-shirts, the sweaters. Some of it was old and little of it was overtly sexy but Link, in his way had come to appreciate it. When it came to style, D only had two modes: slutty and uninspired. Sherry, on the other hand, could be a real classy chick.
Before he knew he was going to do it, he was in her underwear drawer, sniffing her panties. It was an impulse thing, pure and simple, and he didn’t really mean anything by it. Still, he knew he’d catch one hell of a spanking if she came home and caught him then. His ass would be on fire for a week.
“What am I doing?” he asked himself. He was surprised by how loud his voice seemed in the emptiness of the room.
Link didn’t know when Sherry was coming home, but if it wasn’t soon he knew he was headed for trouble. He was already thinking about scaring up some wine and drinking and jerking off while sniffing her panties. It’d be tough with the diapers on, but he’d find a way.
“What the fuck am I doing?” he repeated, quieter this time.
But before he could further ponder this and other mischief, a trouble of a different sort overtook him. Breakfast had finally been digested and he had to take a shit, ASAP. This hadn’t been the case earlier when he was actually out of diapers, but it was the case now and there was precious little he could do about it. His mind rebelled at the possibility – no, the probability, really – of what could happen if he didn’t find a way to get that stupid belt off…
Sherry had been exactly 3 minutes and 47 seconds too late to help him. He wanted to hide from her when he heard her coming, but he knew that would do no good. So he stood flustered and ashamed, waiting for her. She had a bag in her hand again. Pants, this time; another belated gesture.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
‘I pooped my diaper’ hovered at the edge of his tongue but he couldn’t bring himself to actually say it. A wrinkling of Sherry’s nose told him he didn’t have to.
“Here, let me help you,” she said, pulling him toward her shoulder. He withdrew, not violently, but firmly enough to break her mild grip.
“Please,” he said. “Just unlock me.”
Link didn’t want to get mad at her, not when it was as much his fault as it was hers. But he didn’t want her affection just then. He wanted to act his age and suffer for it.
Sherry acquiesced and took off the chastity belt. Link then showered and cleaned himself up, cringing all the while. When he was done, Sherry was not around to re-diaper him, so he put one on himself. It hung a little loose in the hips and rode higher on the right side than the left. He didn’t really care. The only reason he bothered with the diaper was to see how the pants would fit.
After he’d tried both the jeans and the khakis and thought about how he wanted to spend the weekend, Link went searching for Sherry again. He just wanted to make sure everything was cool between them.
He found her sitting in the kitchen, her head propped up by one hand. A glass was out in front of her, half-filled (ironically) with wine. “They’re fine,” she said, questioning at first, but more forceful in repetition. “They’re fine. They’re fine.”
Link wasn’t positive, but he guessed she’d been talking to her kids. Try as he may, he couldn’t empathize. He attempted to put himself in her place, stuck here while the two kids she raised prospered (they’re fine) elsewhere, but he couldn’t feign the attachment. And when he thought of the next-closest thing – D fucking some other guy – all he felt was lingering relief.
Still, he could see pain in Sherry’s hand-shielded face and that did get to him. He felt bad about being in her room. Her privacy wasn’t the same as his. He had only flesh to bare and she, it seemed, so much more.
“Sherry?” he asked, dispensing with formality of ‘ma’am.’
“Yes?” she said. She seemed embarrassed and put a hand over the glass, as if he had not already surmised its contents.
“Could you fix my diaper?” he asked. “I don’t think I did it right.”
She looked him over and broke her sad-sack stupor with a chuckle.
“No, you definitely didn’t,” she said, holding up the uneven side. “Look at this!”
He laughed in spite of himself and she led him away by the hand to be re-diapered. Later, they would watch a movie together (“Being There,” which was old but actually didn’t suck) and he would remember thinking there were probably worse places he could be stuck.