Tricked into Diapers (Chapter 7)


Tom woke up earlier than usual the next morning, his bladder painfully notifying him that a good pee was long overdue. Tom nervously slipped his hand inside his diaper, fearful of what he might find, and was relieved that it felt dry. Now, to get to the bathroom in a hurry. He laid back, unsnapping the duckie pins and throwing the diaper to the side. As he reached for his bathrobe, he jumped when he heard an angry voice behind him.
“Who said you could take that diaper off?” Nancy snapped, surprising herself at how strong she felt. “I told you to leave it on until I could check you. Now lay back down on the bed this minute.”
“But I really need to go,” Tom pleaded. “Look, the diaper is dry!” He was almost whining.
“You should have thought about your potty needs before you disobeyed my instructions. On the bed, now! As a reminder that you need to follow our agreement, we’ll put your diaper back on until after breakfast. Or would you rather have Lisa come in and check it now?”
Tom meekly laid down on the bed, defeated. Once again he had to endure the diaper being pulled up between his legs and the snaps of the pins. Fortunately, he thought, Nancy forgot the noisy plastic pants. He quickly covered himself with his bathrobe before she could rectify her mistake and then followed her downstairs.
Tom hesitated briefly when he saw Lisa already sitting at the table, reading the newspaper. Then he thought to himself, she won’t suspect a thing! Tom always came to breakfast in a bathrobe, and it covered the diaper completely. He relaxed and took his seat at the table.
It wasn’t long, however, before panic set in again. He had to pee badly. Lisa began glancing at him curiously as his face became more and more strained. I’ve got to do something, he thought, before she says something. Maybe if I let out just a little, not enough for Nancy to notice later, he could make it through breakfast undetected. He relaxed his bladder slightly and allowed a small trickle of pee to escape into his diaper. It felt so good he decided to release a little more. As he did so, his bladder let loose. Suddenly a great stream of warm urine gushed into his diaper. Tom couldn’t control it, and in a way didn’t try because the relief from the pain felt so good. Before long, however, he forced himself to stop, unsure of how wet he really was. Lisa was still in her paper; Nancy was scrambling eggs on the stove. Tom felt good that no one knew what had happened.
Nancy scraped eggs onto the plates and they began to eat. Lisa stopped soon, however, her fork halfway to her mouth, and scrunched up her nose.
“Mom, what did you put in these eggs? They smell funny.”
“Nothing, dear,” Nancy replied. “Same eggs as always.”
“Well, they smell bad to me. I’m not going to eat them. I’ll get something at school.”
Tom watched Lisa go nervously. It hadn’t occurred to him that the odor of his wet diapers would give him away. Nancy, though, didn’t seem to notice. She was even courteous to him this morning, twice refilling his glass of orange juice without his even asking for more. Tom decided to use her good mood as his chance to get upstairs, hide his soggy diaper, and change into his clothes. Getting caught without diapers wouldn’t be as bad as revealing that he’d actually used them.
Tom stood up to go, then stopped suddenly. Nancy’s face turned a deep red and took on an expression of anger and disbelief. Tom didn’t understand until he looked down at his crotch. A large wet spot circled the front of this bathrobe. The rear was even more wet and dripped onto the floor. On his chair was a glistening yellow pool. Tom couldn’t believe what he saw—he hadn’t wet that much, had he? He turned toward Nancy, trying to think of something to say, when she spoke first.
“Well, well, look at our big boy now,” she sneered. “Not only do you wet the bed, you can’t control yourself during the day! Turn around for a minute.”
Tom did so, unsure if he had any other option. Nancy pulled the backside of his bathrobe up, pulled the top of his diaper back and peered inside. “At least you didn’t poo-poo your pants, although I’m sure you must have that problem too. You are quite a sight. Eighteen years old, standing in my kitchen in sopping wet diapers, smelling like a two-year-old who hasn’t been changed in a week. What are we going to do with you?”
Tom wasn’t sure what to say, but knew he had to come up with some argument in his defense. Most of all, he wanted to get the confrontation over with so that he could get out of the diapers. Small trickles of pee had run down his legs and the bottom of the diaper pressed uncomfortably against his rear. As he shifted, his soggy crotch made an embarrassing squishing sound. Also, he realized, his wet bathrobe was visible through the kitchen window.
“I…I don’t know what happened,” he stammered. “Please believe me. This isn’t like me.” He could see that Nancy was unconvinced, and decided to give up all pretense of pride. “I’ll do whatever you say. Just please don’t tell anyone.”
“All right, here’s what we’ll do,” she replied. “I’m going over to Sherry’s house this morning—you’ll come with me. We’ll put you in a fresh diaper under your clothes, and we’d better use some plastic pants so that you don’t ruin her furniture in case of an accident. If you can stay clean and dry for three hours, without using the bathroom, it’ll show me that you do have some bladder and bowel control and we’ll confine your diaper wearing to nighttime. If my inspection of your diaper after that time shows that you wet yourself even slightly or, God forbid, soiled yourself, you’ll be in diapers around the clock. Is that clear?”
Tom nodded his assent. Three hours would be no problem and he would be out of nighttime diapers in a week by staying dry. No one other than Nancy would ever know. He was a tough guy, but smart enough to know how to cut his losses.
“OK, since you agree, let’s go upstairs and get you into a clean didie. The clock will begin as soon as you’re pinned in.” Nancy bit her lip as she followed her waddling victim upstairs. One more step, a crucial one, and it’s a cinch.
Nancy lowered the wet diaper off Tom’s loins and grabbed a warm washcloth. She was pleased to see that Tom still avoided looking at her during the change, which would make her task easier. “I’m going to clean you completely so that you can’t claim later that your diaper is wet from left-over pee,” she told Tom. As she spoke she pushed her washcloth-covered finger up Tom’s anus. He jumped from the unexpected penetration but said nothing. Good, Nancy thought, removing her finger. He was so distracted that he never felt the suppository enter him. Along with the powerful diuretic she put in his juice that morning, he didn’t have a chance. He wouldn’t last half of the three hours. Soon, very soon, he would be sitting at Sherry’s in a very wet, very dirty diaper.
As she finished pinning the diaper, Nancy looked at her watch. There was time to call the decorator before they left. She smiled as she reached for the plastic pants.