Changes chapters 1-9

Changes Chapter 1

The first few weeks after Bob came home from hospital were strange ones for the up and coming business manager and his wife Fran.

Bob had always been a winner, and Fran felt for him as she saw him struggling. Nothing dramatic, but little things. Shoelaces, belt buckles, even using the computer keyboard. Bob, once the model of high energy efficiency, was off his game.

The accident hadn’t left many physical marks on Bob. He had a still-weeping scar on his cheekbone and forehead, together with a pile of bandages from the hospital for Fran to change, and he’d recovered from a few bruises and a broken finger. It was the mental injuries which would regulate the speed of his full recovery, the doctors had told Fran as Bob finished his last physical therapy session as Fran waited to take him home.

Fran had felt sorry for Bob then, too. The months in hospital had diminished his once considerable strength, and Fran watched how Bob had to strain to move weights which Fran thought she could handle with ease. He needs time, the sympathetic staff had told Fran. The head theatre nurse had been especially supportive. Bob had been her last patient before she retired, and Caz had even offered to live in for a while to help Bob along. She’d had experience in patient recovery from trauma, and paediatrics before that. And she was a mom of four children, three daughters and a son, so she was clearly patient.

‘He will travel down his road, with your help, slowly,’ Caz had assured Fran. 'But with proper care, I think the pair of you will find the contentment of your old life. Maybe not quite the same, but loving and fulfilling for both of you nonetheless.

Fran had been glad of Caz’s kind words, but had refused the older lady’s generous offer, in favour of her visiting daily, to start with anyway. Fran felt that she and Bob should have some time alone, and in any case, she didn’t want to appear as if she couldn’t cope. Caz had waved them off from the hospital, and Fran had been touched to see Caz’s slightly plump form still watching the car as Fran turned off the hospital road.

Bob had slept much of the way home, and hadn’t been inclined to say much earlier. Fran was just glad to have him back. She helped Bob out of the car and into the sprawling house. He was sleepy, and mumbled about the hospital, Caz, coming home, and how much he loved Fran. Fran smiled as Bob’s mumbling so subsided, and he was almost asleep when she kissed him goodnight, and went back down the stairs to watch a little late night TV and have another coffee. She wanted Bob to sleep as soundly as he could for at least a couple of hours, and she wasn’t sure she could keep her hands off him anyway.

It was almost midnight when Fran went quietly to bed. Bob groaned a little as Fran got into the bed, and turned to face her, then seeming to settle back into sleep. Fran had just leant over her bedside table to turn off the light, when Bob mumbled something about Caz.

‘What, Bob? What about Caz?’ she asked him as he lay with his eyes shut.

Some time passed, then Bob put one hand to his face and rubbed his nose.

‘Diaper,’ said Bob, then relaxed his face and seemed to be going to sleep again.

Fran gave Bob a little push to the shoulder.

‘What, Bob? Diaper?? What diaper?’ she asked, quite shocked.

‘Caz, di….’ Fran shook Bob this time.

‘Caz?’ she asked, hoisting herself on one shoulder and speaking straight into Bob’s semi-unconscious face.

‘Did Caz put you in a diaper?’ Fran asked, giving Bob another little shake.

Bob became a fraction more animated. He spoke slowly and softly, then drifted off again.

‘Caz. Accident, diaper,’

Fran shook Bob enough that he opened his eyes, and looked a little blankly at her.

‘Accident?’ asked Fran.

All she could think of was The Accident. That’s what he was in hospital for. What did that mean?

‘What accident, Bob? Your accident?’ Fran asked, becoming exasperated at the slow release of information from Bob.

‘Bed,’ said Bob, closing his eyes again. ‘Wet bed.’

‘Oh!’ said Fran, feeling relieved. ‘You just had an accident in bed. I thought you meant…’

Fran didn’t know what she meant. But a wet bed was hardly an issue. She knew that Bob had been slow to toilet train, and had had a relapse of his bedwetting habit at 10, then another relapse at the embarrassing age of 18. Bob was 26 when they married. Fran knew Bob’s secret history before they married. He had wet her bed twice while they were just going out. The first time he’d blamed lack of sleep and alcohol, and wouldn’t talk about it, but the second time he’d been well rested and hadn’t had so much as a beer for days. That night, Bob had tearfully told Fran about being held back in kindergarten for a year because he was still n diapers, and of being diapered every night until he was eight years old. Then he’d had his relapse a couple of years later, and the next at 18. He’d spent two years trying to stay out of girls’ beds for a change, but had finally stopped wetting and resumed his old ways. Now he was admitting wetting again.

Fran’s heart went out to her husband. It must have been frightening to think ‘it’ was back again. The doctors hadn’t mentioned it, nor the nurses, so Fran assumed it had been a one-off, probably a while ago. Poor Bob, she thought. She put her hand gently on Bob’s fine blonde hair and whispered she loved him before turning over to go to sleep.

Caz visited the next morning. Fran had got Bob up and bathed - he wasn’t too confident of standing alone in a slippery shower at present - then they’d had breakfast together. Bob talked about his favourite items in the rehabilitation sessions. Bob needed some improvement in manual dexterity, and there were several quite interesting mechanisms the patients used, although Fran felt they weren’t quite as interesting as Bob made out. She’d seen the ones Bob was talking about. They were fairly simple devices; the sort of things kids might enjoy, but she knew that Bob had to ease back into the complex world of modern life. If he enjoyed using the manual dexterity devices, she would certainly encourage it. Caz was of the same mind, and after she had arrived following breakfast, she had suggested that rather than leaf idly through magazines which Caz doubted Bob was actually reading properly, he should try a bit of therapy with a few superannuated bits and pieces she’d brought from the hospital. Soon, Bob was set up on the floor in the living room, with some of his favourite ‘man dex’ items.

Fran felt odd watching Bob on the big rug. He was quite absorbed in the simple task of moving a circular wand across a convoluted piece of wire without touching it and setting off a little buzzer. It wasn’t hard - the ring on the wand was quite large and Bob was moving it slowly. But it held his interest. Then he spent a long time putting together a wooden dinosaur. There had been a bit left over, and Fran had squatted next to Bob showing him where had had made a mistake and where the spare piece fitted.

Bob was quiet at lunch, too. He talked about the dinosaur a lot, then told Caz how happy he was that she was there. He seemed to have forgotten about things before the accident. Even his mentions of the hospital were brief, and had a kind of distant quality about them. Fran was still happy. He was back, and if he’s living more in the moment at present, thought Fran, all the better for his recovery, probably.

Bob ended up spending most of the day on the floor with his therapy tools. He sat up with Fran and Caz for dinner, but had begun to look sleepy by the end of the meal, at about 7pm. Perhaps he was tired before that, because he spilled a spoonful of his favourite stew down his front, and wasn’t very happy as Fran soaked and scrubbed the front of his shirt. She didn’t think it was worth his changing if he were heading for bed soon, so he ended the meal in a wet shirt. He nearly spilled another mouthful, but was saved further scrubbing by Caz, who leaned over and caught Bob’s hand and the spoon just in time. She had then guided the spoon into Bob’s mouth, and Fran was intrigued by the way he relaxed and just let her do it. Caz glanced at Fran with a quick smile as she fed him the last few spoonfuls of stew. Fran was not sure what to think. Bob was obviously tired, but the sight of her husband apparently happily being fed like a child stayed in Fran’s mind as she got him not bed. It was quite warm, and Fran had helped Bob into just a t-shirt before she began to help Bob get his unsteady legs into the bed.

‘Wait! I have to say good night to Caz!’ said Bob suddenly, wobbling his legs back to the floor and getting to the door before Fran had realised what he was doing.

‘Bob!’ she said. ‘At least put some…’

She let him go.

‘underpants on,’ she concluded quietly as she heard Bob make his way down the stairs. She supposed Caz had seen plenty of Bob’s naked body, and wouldn’t be too shocked to see his boy bits dangling in plain view below his t-shirt. Fran did wonder that Bob was so oblivious to his appearance. She supposed that months of nurses dealing with his bare flesh had conditioned him to not caring to an extent.

The stairs would be good exercise, Caz had told her, although she had said he might need help if he as tired or just having a ‘bad day’.

Fran wasn’t sure she liked the sound of ‘bad days’ but she felt sure there wouldn’t be too many. She could hear Bob chattering to Caz, then say goodnight to her, followed by some muffled sounds that must have been a hug. In due course Bob arrived back in the bedroom. His t-shirt was even shorter than Fran had thought. He was bare naked from the base of his rounded tummy down, and his penis wagged this way and that as Bob told Fran some yarn about Caz. It was a disjointed tale, whatever it was about, and Fran busied herself getting Bob comfortably in bed while he prattled on. Fran sat on the bed, and listened while the pauses in Bob’s story became longer and longer, and he finally drifted off to sleep.

Fran had expected to have some deep and meaningful conversations with Bob since he was now home, but he didn’t seem too inclined, so Fran didn’t push it.

Having settled Bob, Fran went back downstairs and watched a movie before climbing into bed with her sleeping husband.

To be continued.

Re: Changes Chapter 1

Changes Chapter 2

The following morning, Fran woke first. She looked across at Bob, still sleeping soundly as he had been at night since he had arrived home. Fran stroked his sleeping cheek, then turned to swing herself out of bed, but something wsn’t right. Her hip was cold and clammy under her nightdress. Raising the bedclothes to investigate, she saw the problem. Bob had wet the bed, severely it seemed.

‘Oh, Bob,’ Fran said quietly.

She got out of bed, took off her wet nightie, then walked around to Bob’s side of the bed.

‘Bob,’ she said. ‘Wake up, darling.’

Bob opened his eyes, and smiled at Fran.

‘Bob, you have to get up. You’ve wet the bed, honey,’ said Fran.

There was no gentle way of saying it.

‘Need Caz,’ Bob said, and turned away from Fran.

‘Honey, Caz isn’t here. You have to get up so I can fix the bed. Please, honey,’ said Fran, holding Bob’s arm.

Bob groaned as Fran helped him to his feet.

‘I’m sorry Fran,’ he said.

The pyjamas Fran had been putting Bob into at night were sodden. Fran helped Bob undress and carrying his and her wet night attire in one hand, she took Bob to the bathroom. She dumped the clothing on the floor next to the bath and went through the process of running the bath and getting Bob into it. With Bob set, Fran took the clothes to the laundry and put them in the washer, ready to add the bedsheets.

Bob usually hasd his bath at night, so that morning’s bath ran Fran late. Caz turned up as usual, but this time before Fran and Bob had had breakfast.

Bob was still in the bath when Fran let Caz in. Fran explained what had happened. Caz didn’t seem surprised. She had changed Bob regjularly while he was in hospital, and his bedwettign had been becoming more frequent.

‘Why didn’t the doctors tell me?’ asked Fran.

‘I generally nursed him in the mornings,’ Caz had replied. ‘I had him sorted by the time the doctors did their rounds, usually. It’s quite normal in these cases, and Bob does have a history.’

‘You know about that?’ asked Fran.

‘Not in great detail,’ Caz said. ‘We had a very good, close relationship, and he told me a bit about his history.’

‘Wow,’ said Fran. ‘That’s his deepest, darkest secret!’

‘People talk to me,’ said Caz with a smile.

To be continued.

Re: Changes Chapter 1

Changes Chapter 3

‘My God,’ said Fran. ‘They sound like diapers!’

Caz put her hand on Fran’s arm as the women sat drinking coffee. Bob was still in his bath, and Caz was advising Fran on steps she should take if Bob’s bedwetting continued.

‘Well, strictly they’re called adult incontinence garments, but we do tend to call them diapers around the hospital. Not in front of the patients, necessarily,’ said Caz. ‘All I’m saying is that in Bob’s present condition, you may have to consider putting him back in diapers, at night, anyway, unless he starts having issues during the day.’

‘During the day?’ queried Fran. ‘How likely is that?’

‘That depends on Bob,’ Caz said. ‘I wouldn’t rule it out, though.’

Fran thought for a moment.

‘Diapers,’ she mused. ‘Couldn’t he just have a pad or something, or those pullup things? That would be less, well, demeaning, or at least, embarrassing for him.’

‘Fran, you said he wet heavily last night. And he was certainly a heavy wetter in hospital. He’ll need the protection of a full diaper,’ said Caz.

Fran looked at Caz. It was something of a shock to realize that your 30 year old husband would need to wear a diaper to bed.

‘I wouldn’t know where to even get anything like that,’ said Fran.

‘There are a lot of suppliers,’ said Caz. ‘Drug stores, specialist suppliers, the internet. It’s actually a more common issue than most people think. I bet your drug store ahs a range of adult diapers, plastic pants and so on. You can even get cloth ones, if you’re concerned about the environment. That’s what the plastic pants are for, although a lot of people use plastic pants over the proprietary diapers for added security.’

‘Bob in a diaper and plastic pants,’ mused Fran. ‘He’d be mortified.’

‘Fran,’ said Caz kindly. ‘It’s about doing for Bob what’s best for him. Your role at the moment is to look after him. I can help you with that. And I think you’ll find he would be quite accepting of the changes that may need to be made. After all, he’s accepted his need for physical therapy. Before the accident, before he needed the therapy, he wouldn’t have even considered spending his time sitting on the floor playing with his wooden dinosaur and so on, would he?’

‘Well,’ Fran replied, ‘It’s not really playing, I mean it’s therapy, isn’t it?’

‘The two are similar in some ways,’ said Caz. ‘In fact I was going to suggest that you get him some new things, for variation. Toys, at the right level, are just as useful as the manual dexterity devices he’s using at the moment. And a lot cheaper, too.’

Diapers, toys, thought Fran. In a way, it was quite an appealing thought. Fran and Bob had been wanting a child, but hadn’t been so lucky yet. Fran tried to ignore the odd little rush that went through her body.

‘I’d better go and get Bob out of his bath,’ said Fran.

She felt the little buzz again. Not so long ago, that statement would have been nonsensical. Now, it seemed quite natural. Fran stood up, and brushed her hand across her breasts for some reason, before smiling with slight embarrassment at Caz, who merely smiled back.

‘Make yourself another cup of coffee,’ said Fran. ‘I won’t be long.’

To be continued.

Re: Changes Chapters 1-3

Great start! I’m going to enjoy this one (as if that’s any different from your others). I like that we are getting a look into Fran’s head.

Re: Changes Chapters 1-4

Changes Chapter 4

It was well after 9am by the time Fran had Bob out of the bath, dried off and dressed. It wasn’t so much that he needed help as it seemed he wasn’t aware of the passing of time. That’s how it seemed to Fran as she tried to hurry things along, while Bob became distracted by various little things as Fran got out his clothes and tried to get Bob dressed and downstairs for breakfast in time for her to make her 10am appointment in the city.

‘For heaven’s sake, sit still,’ Fran found herself saying in exasperation as she tried to put socks on Bob’s feet as he waved them to and fro as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Finally, she and Bob headed downstairs where Caz, bless her heart, thought Fran, had Bob’s breakfast ready. Caz was going to mind Bob while Fran was out for the morning.

That had become normal procedure as well, thought Fran. After a couple of episodes of Bob, home alone, either making a mess as he tried to make a snack, or on another occasion even cutting himself slightly when his uncertain fine motor control failed him in cutting a boiled egg in half, Fran had followed Caz’s suggestion and had her stay with Bob if she went out for any length of time.

Fran had talked to Bob about his need for supervision. As Caz had said, he would at times resent it, and at other times seem quite happy about it. This particular morning, Fran had returned and had farewelled Caz who had things of her own to do, while Bob sat on what had become his rug in the living room, engrossed as usual in his ‘man dex devices’.

‘She said ‘sitting’’, Bob had complained to Fran once Caz had left.

Fran had become used to Bob’s disjointed conversation, and having to ask what he meant.

‘She was on the phone, and she said she was busy ‘sitting’ for me until later,’ Bob explained.

Fran understood.

‘Honey, it’s just a word,’ she told Bob. ‘It doens’t mean she’s, you know, babysitting, if that’s what you mean. She’s just here to give you a hand if you need it.’

‘I don’t need help,’ said Bob, pouting at Fran.

Fran sighed.

‘Bob, sometimes you make a mess, and remember when you cut yourself? Caz is here to help you at times like those.’

‘They were accidents,’ said Bob, invoking his all-purpose excuse for the events that Caz’s presence prevented.

‘I’ll talk to Caz,’ said Fran.

She felt that she had to give Bob some support, even if he was being unrealistic about his present life.

‘Anyway, Bob,’ she continmued. ‘I want to go to the plant nursery after lunch, then the hardware store. It will be good for you to get out of the house.’

‘OK,’ said Bob, and settled back to his devices.

Lunch was uneventful, except for Bob spilling his orange juice on his shirt and pants. Fran changed his clothes before going out. As she did so, she noticed that Bob’s underpants were damp in the crotch. She didn’t mention it to Bob. Fran did the laundry in the house, and even before the accident she’d noticed that Bob’s underwear was sometimes a little damp, or had dried yellow marks on the crotch. Bob usually wore dark trousers, so it hardly mattered, and they were never more than damp. Fran had put it down to male carelessness after using the toilet, but this mornign she knew that Bob hadn’t been to the bathroom. It made her wonder about the previous incidents, not that it mattered now. She had gradually replaced Bob’s white underwear with coloured versions. It didn’t prevent Bob from being damp, but it made the after effects less noticeable, which seemed a good thing.

The pair left the house soon after lunch, Bob in jeans and a t-shirt and Fran in her relaxed ‘round the house’ wear of tights and a loose woollen top over her own t-shirt. She would have gone without a bra, too, had not her genes precluded that. As it was, even her comfortable sports bra was not particularly constraining. Fran liked the feeling.

At the plant nursery, Fran bought a few new plants for the garden, and tried to keep an eye on Bob, who tended to wander off when they went out unless Fran kept tabs on him. Bob’s currently poor sense of direction meant that Fran would have to find him rather than he her, so Fran liked to keep him in sight. the plant nursery was full of aisles and bushes, so after losing sight of him a couple of times and having to call him, Fran took his hand the next time he reappeared.

‘Fran!’ Bob objected, pulling away from her.

Fran pulled back, to give Bob the message that she wasn’t about to let go.

‘I haven’t got time to keep finding you, honey,’ she explained.

Fran looked up at the clerk behind the counter after she spoke, to see the young woman there watching the interaction with interest. Fran smiled politely at the woman, and paid for the plants she had bought. On the way back to the car, she and Bob passed a young mother towing a boy of about six towards the car park.

‘Because we haven’t got time for you to keep wandering off, baby,’ the woman was saying. ‘Come on.’

As the child gave up his plans and followed his mother without further protest, Fran glanced at Bob who was staring at the child. He pulled at Fran’s hand again.

‘Bob, come on,’ said Fran, then felt aware of Bob’s embarrassment.

Can’t be helped, she thought, helping Bob into the car.

Fran took Bob’s hand again as they arrived at the big hardware store. Bob had always liked the hardware store, and Fran was definitely not going to have him ambling off to see whatever. She wanted to get home to get on with her day. Bob didn’t resist, and thankfully, Fran thought, didn’t see anything that caught his fancy that he needed to investigate.

Fran bought her bits and pieces, and headed back to the car with Bob still holding one hand while Fran pushed a trolley with the other. Bob stood next to her, handing her items as she loaded them into the back of the car. As Bob bent into the trolley to pick up the last few things, Fran saw the dark half moons on the denim of his inner thighs.

Shocked, Fran stopped Bob in mid-pick up.

‘Bob, honey, stop for a minute, darling,’ she said quietly.

To be continued.

Re: Changes Chapter 5

Changes. Chapter 5

‘What?’ asked Bob, standing up and looking at Fran.

‘Honey, you’re, you’ve wet your pants a bit,’ said Fran, looking sypathically at Bob.

Suddenly she saw not recovering Bob, distracted Bob who just wanted to play with his therapy toys, but old Bob. At least, someone who sounded like him, even if he didn’t know he’d wet his pants. Bob looked down slowly, spreading his legs a little.

‘Fran,’ he said, looking desperately at his wife.

'It’s happening again, isn’t it?'Bob looked helpless, then began to cry.

It was the first time Fran had seen Bob really cry. Poor thing, she thought. He is really upset. Fran found herself thinking that it should not have been so upsetting to someone who would be wearing a diaper tonight, and who often wet a little anyway. Still, she thought, if he feels irrationally upset, then he is still upset. Fran took a step towards Bob and embraced him, hugging him tightly.

‘It’s ok honey, I’m here. It’s ok this time. I’m, I’m here,’ said Fran as she stroked Bob’s back, only just stopping herself saying ‘mommy’s here’.

Then she felt the odd rush again. She hugged Bob a little tighter, enjoying the pressure of his warm body against her soft breasts. Fran blinked a couple of times, and let Bob free.

‘You didn’t know you wet your pants, did you, Bob?’ Fran asked him. ‘You didn’t feel yourself peeing your pants, did you Bob?’

Bob’s tears increased.

‘It’s ok, baby,’ Fran said, taking Bob’s head and shoulders in her arms and holding him against herself until his crying had abated to a soft sniffling.

When they got home, Fran decided to give Caz a call and see if she could visit for a while. She heard Caz saying to her flat ate, another senior nurse. The two ladies had been together since they both nursed in the same paediatric ward, although they now worked in different hospitals, and specialties. Caz was retiring from theatre work, and Dee was still in paediatrics, albeit a specialised area of the field. Caz had excused herself from Fran and put her hand over the phone after Fran had outlined what had happened.

‘Dee, I have to, ear, babysit for someone tonight. Oh, some people from the hospital,’ Fran could hear Caz saying.

Then Caz excused herself again from Fran, put the phone down and was gone for half a minute. Then she reappeared, telling Fran that she would bring some of the adult incontinence garments she’d mentioned, and also some things for Bob that she’d managed to find. Fran was relieved. If something was happening to Bob, she thought, Caz’s advice would be valuable.

Caz duly turned up. Bob was asleep by then, put to bed by Fran after she’s made him sit on the toilet for ten minutes to make sure he couldn’t wet before Caz arrived with his ‘diaper’. It was easier to say, Fran told herself.

Caz listened carefully.

‘Fran, it’s nothing we can’t cope with. It’s expected, even, in cases like Bob’s,’ Caz said reassuringly.

‘So, is it to do with what happened before, you know, his history, or is it something new, due to the accident, and will go away as his therapy works?’ asked Fran.

Caz smiled.

‘i think, Fran,’ said Caz, ‘That the loss of bladder control may be due to some underlying condition accessed, if you like, by both the reasons for his historical wetting and any current condition resulting from the accident.’

that sounded a bit ominous, thought Fran.

‘Well it’s not really loss of bladder control. I mean, he’s wet once at night, and just once during the day, except for those little damp patches, so he hasn’t really lost his bladder control,’ said Fran, clearing her throat.

‘At this stage, he hasn’t totally lost control,’ said Caz, as Fran’s mouth dropped slightly open. ‘But if he wasn’t aware he was wetting, then that could be an indicator.’

Fran felt surprised and a little angry, then her anger melted as she felt the little rush again. Caz smiled again, and put her fingers on Fran’s upper arm.

'its OK, Fran, he’s got you here. You’re the best carer he could have.

‘I’m his wife,’ Fran replied, then wondered why that was really relevant.

She still felt like a wife, sort of, but she knew she was also a carer now. That what she was described as in the literature she’d brought home from the hospital about caring for a recovering patient at home.

Caz reached into the handbag she’d brought in, and took out a few sheets of paper.

'Fran, this is advice on dealing in the home with incontinence. It’s very good. It’s from Dee’s paediatric unit, but the information is just as relevant to Bob’s case as it is to children. Especially considering Bob’s mental issue.

‘Yes, his mental issues,’ Fran repeated as she took the notes from Caz.

‘Just swap the word ‘child’ for Bob,’ Caz suggested.

Fran was silent. She glanced over the first two documents, two-colour pages giving suggestions for keeping bedwetter said and daytime diaper wearers comfortable. There didn’t seem to be any mention of ‘adult incontince garments’. Just ‘diapers’ and the children who wear them. Swapping the word child helped, thought Fran, but she was more interested in why she was feeling so excited. She looked at Caz’s smiling face a bit longer than she intended.

‘I’m sure you’ll be an excellent carer,’ said Caz, moving her hand from Fran’s arm and letting her palm rest on Fran’s elbow, let her fingers fall against Fran’s breast, swelling against the knitted wool.

‘Did he mess as well, or just wet?’ Caz asked gently.

‘Mess? No,’ said Fran.‘Just pee.’

Fran thought for a second.

'Has he, I mean, did he mess while, you know, in the hospital.

‘Only once or twice,’ said Caz. ‘While he was in the therapy unit. I was there each time, though, so there was no drama.’

‘Not when he was in bed!’ Fran said. ‘You mean when he was up and awake in the therapy unit?’

‘Yes,’ said Caz evenly. ‘It’s not at all unusual. I didn’t write it up because I’ve been involved in cases a little like Bob’s before. Spouses can have a hard time enough meaning the transition without being too shocked at the outset.’

Fran wasn’t sure she understood. Caz continued.

‘Fran, I have the results of Bob’s exit assessment. It’s built on observation all the way from admittance to his release. And I’ve had to add a few words about his state since he arrived here.’

‘You were spying!’ Fran said incredulously.

‘Not at all,’ Caz said. ‘I didn’t even know they wanted my input. You know the reasons I offered to help, we discussed them. But now there’s this, it turns out to have been a very fortunate arrangement. I can help you make the changes you need, Fran.’

Caz squeezed Fran’s arm again.

‘Have a look at the next page, Fran,’ said Caz.

Fran uncovered the next sheet of paper. She stared at it, reading the headings in bold several times. The rest was a mass of text.

‘What am I looking at, Caz?’ Fran asked, lowering the sheaf of papers down to the tabletop.

‘It’s a decision of the Guardianship Board, Fran. Bob’s your ward now. You have authority under the Guardianship Act.’ Caz looked serious. ‘The Guardianship Board has instructed that either you become Bob’s primary carer, or that he be committed to a, well, a home, an institution for people like him. As it is, he has to attend a group twice a week, at least until his next assessment, which is in three months.’

Fran was rocked.

‘Assessment?’ she said. ‘What assessment? They didn’t have my permission!’

‘Fran, they don’t need it,’ said Caz. ‘In the opinion of two qualified experts, Bob was reclassified.’

Fran felt as though she’s stumbled onto another planet.

‘Reclassified?’ she said. ‘I’ve never heard of it! Reclassified from what to what?’

Caz continued to use her calm tone.

‘Fran, there are various words for it, but the doctors have advised the Guardianship Board that he should be reclassified as a minor. He’s no longer an adult, Fran. Not in the eyes of the government and the law.’

‘A minor,’ said Fran, speaking slowly. ‘Under 18.’

‘Well, technically he’s an infant, now, but that does go up to 18, yes,’ said Caz.

Fran was looking at the man dex devices still scattered on the rug. Bob had gone straight there as soon as they’d got home. He seemed to have forgotten his wet pants, so Fran went to run a bath for him. When she came back, she found Bob with his dinosaur, moving it around the rug making growling noises. He had begun doing that, presumably for fun, Fran had thought. The joke had worn a little thin, though, and though he hadn’t done it lately, Fran wondered how much of a joke it was. She hadn’t told Caz, but Bob had not only wet his pants more on the way home, but he was very slightly messy as well, which he had also not noticed. Fran hadn’t even told him. Now the government was telling her that Bob wasn’t an adult any more, and that she was now his carer.

‘How long does this go on for?’ asked Fran.

‘As I said before, that’s up to Bob,’ Caz said. ‘Fran, I want you to know that I really care. I’m with you, Fran.’

As Caz finished speaking, they heard crying coming from upstairs. Both women got up to investigate.

To be continued.

Re: Changes Chapter 6

Changes. Chapter 6

Bob was lying on the floor in the bathroom, crying his eyes out. He was still covered in soapy water from the bath, but Caz noticed the pool of yellowish liquid on the floor around Bob’s hip, and took a glance behind his buttocks. She momentarily turned up her nose at the mess she saw there.

‘Poor baby,’ Caz said. ‘He must have wanted to use the toilet while he was in the bath, but found his control was broken merely by getting out of the bath. He’ll be in mild shock at the realisation the he has lost so much control. Hence the tears. I suggest we get him cleaned up and diapered without delay.’

Fran emerged from her own shock and remembered her feelings for her husband. She knelt by Bob for a moment, then gently pushed him onto his back.

‘Just so we can clean you up,’ Fran told him, then communicated with Caz in sign language; Fran pointing at the dresser where she’d put Bob’s new diapers.

Caz nodded. By the time Fran had Bob clean and respectable, Caz had a large, thick diaper ready for him.

Bob looked with concern at the diaper. It was only just after lunch. He hadn’t worn a daytime diaper since he as 20, and felt a cold horror that history was about to repeat itself.

Fran was struggling with her own feelings.

Sorry - back later. X

Re: Changes chapters 1-6

Changes. chapter 7

Caz and Fran had decided that Bob should have after his disaster in the bathroom, and Bob now lay in bed, wearing a thick diaper and plastic pants. He had felt absolutely ashamed of what had happened. He couldn’t help a few tears again as he buried his face in the pillow, thinking of his predicament. He knew things were different now, and that made it worse in some ways. He thought of his old job, and his friends at work. They were getting on with their lives, and so was he, he thought, but his life now meant worrying about keeping his pants dry, and looking forward to mucking around with his therapy tools in the big rug. He tried to remember his actual work, but all he could think of was a mass of complicated pieces of paper, and phone calls about complicated things to people. The memory was a little vague. Even Bob’s memories of his time in hospital were blurry. He knew he had been in hospital for a long time. All he could remember clearly was being changed by Caz.

Bob moved his legs, and felt the thick diaper between them. He had become used to Fran taping him into a diaper at night now, but this was daytime. He remembered being diapered during the day by Caz at the hospital, but he knew he didn’t normally wear daytime diapers. At least he didn’t think he did. He’d wet his pants the other day with Fran, though. Or was it yesterday? Bob tried to remember, but his brain didn’t seem to want to respond. It was hard thinking about it. He decided that he didn’t need diapers during the day, except sometimes. That seemed a satisfactory conclusion. He only wet sometimes too. He didn’t mess his diaper. What happened in the bathroom was because he had sat in the warm bath for too long, so that incident could be ignored.

Bob felt good about his conclusions, and turned to go to sleep. He noticed that his diaper felt different now, and squeezed his thighs together. He knew by now the feeling of a wet diaper. He could feel he was wet now, but didn’t remember wetting in the last few minutes. That was because he was thinking hard, he told himself. Anybody would have wet doing that. Bob turned his thoughts to his manual dexterity exercises. He smiled to himself, looking forward to using them again. Even though he had a diaper on, he thought, life was still good.

Downstairs, Caz was helping Fran come to terms with the new dynamic she faced in her relationship with Bob.

Short, again, but to be continued.

Re: Changes chapters 1-6

Changes. chapter 8

Fran and Caz looked in on Bob after their chat. He was sleeping peacefully, so the ladies let him sleep. It was late in the afternoon when Bob woke to see Fran standing by the bed.

‘Hullo, sweetie,’ said Fran.

Bob propped himself on one elbow, facing Fran. Bob smiled at her.

‘Nearly time for dinner, sweetheart,’ said Fran. ‘So you need to get up. Do you need a change?’

Bobs smile faded instantly.

‘Maybe a bit,’ he said.

‘A little or a lot,’ Fran said brightly. ‘We’ll have to deal with that. Up you hop!’

Bob had woken up quite clear-headed. He’d been in a bad car crash, he’d been in hospital, and now his recovery was well under way. The world was moving on, and he was ready to be a part of it, albeit with a minor medical issue affecting his bladder, he told himself. Fran’s Up you hop!’ had annoyed him. He wasn’t a child, even if he did have a diaper on.

‘Fran,’ he said, drawing out the word without really intending to. While he was wondering if that made him sound childish and what he could say to make him sound more grown up, Fran cut him off.

‘Please don’t while, honey. I’ve got a lot to do this evening and I’d like your cooperation.’

Bob looked unbelievingly at her.

‘It means I’d like your help, sweetie,’ Fran said. ‘So let’s get your diaper changed, and then we can get on with things. After that, you can play on the rug for a while before your bedtime.’

Bob was quiet. Fran had just explained a common long word to him. How dare she, he thought, then felt guilty. He had her say a long word, but didn’t quite catch what it was, so he was actually glad of Fran’s explanation. He felt better for admitting the truth to himself. He tried to remember the word, but realised that it had just been a jumble of sounds to him. Bob began to feel scared, before he was able to think clearly again. It was the here and now that mattered, and he… Bob wasn’t sure what 'he… ’ was going to do or say. He was suddenly aware of Fran speaking to you.

‘Hey, sleepy baby,’ said Fran, tousling Bob’s hair.‘I just asked you which of the toys on the rug you like best?’

Bob’s thoughts were spinning in his head, but he had to respond to Fran’s question.

‘The toys?’ Bob queried.

Fran nodded. Bob wasn’t sure if that sounded right or not. He thought of his wooden dinosaur, the wire buzzer thing, and his Thomas the Tank Engine. Caz had given him that when he was in hospital, but he had not brought it with him when he had moved home. It was hard leaving Thomas in the hospital, because although he knew it was a bit childish he had got used to it during his stay. The big blue plastic engine ended up on Bob’s bedside table, sitting there surrounded by medications, whatever of Bob’s cups and glasses there were there, and Bob’s pile of comics. Bob had even got into the habit of saying goodnight to Thomas before he went to sleep. The engine kept him company, he thought. What’s wrong with that?

‘Thomas!’ said Bob enthusiastically.

He was on safe ground here, he felt. She wasn’t talking about his diaper for once, and in any case, Bob was still excited over getting the toy back only the previous day.

‘He’s got a proper thing that goes choo choo,’ Bob said, feeling quite proud of the special feature. ‘Caz gave him to me when, when I was sick,.’

Bob immediately wondered if that sounded too childish, then reminded himself that they weren’t talking about any toy, it was Thomas, his friend. My friend, thought Thomas. He sort of is.

‘Well, you can play with him for half an hour before you go to bed,’ Fran said.

‘Can I?’ asked Bob, grinning at Fran, before wondering if that, too, sounded childish.

Fran smiled.

‘Of course, honey,’ she said.

Bob thought it best to stop thinking about everything so much, and was glad to take Fran’s proffered hands as she almost lifted him out of the bed. She’s pretty strong, thought Bob. He had seen her the day before pick up with ease a chair that Bob knew he would struggle with. Caz had told him that he wouldn’t be as strong after his stay in hospital as he was before. He hoped he could build up his strength again, but thinking about that just made him feel weaker.

Still, things were good. He could play with Thomas later, and he was always pleased to see Caz. He turned to the door and tried to pull Fran after him.

‘Whole, baby!’ Fran said, easily resistingbBob’s light tug and pulled Bob back to the foot of the bed. ‘First things first! We have to change your diaper. You can’t go and see Caz wearing you wet diaper, can you, honey? What would she think?’

Bob wondered what Caz did think as Fran got him comfortable on the mat on the floor, with his knees spread. Fran kept up such a chatter as she changed Bob’s diaper that Bob forgot about his thoughts about Caz and answered more of Fran’s questions about his toys. It was much easier to say than those other words, Bob thought with satisfaction.

Caz was sitting in one of the armchairs in the living area. In the other armchair was an attractive woman of about 30, ‘comfortably built’ and who was smiling at Bob. Bob tried to shrink behind Fran, but she pushed him forwards and introduced him to the woman.

‘This is Bob,’ Fran said.‘I’m Fran, and I’m his carer. Ive heard so much about you, Gina. You’re the perfect surprise for Bob.’

Bob stared at the woman, who smiled calmly back at him. Bob had met Gina at the hospital, one night when he was transferred to an unused four bed ward in the adjacent building. It was actually part of the sizeable paediatric unit, which made available one of its senior nurses to look after Bob. It was Gina. She was the last person he wanted to see. She and he hadn’t got on, and the four days and nights he had spent there weren’t happy. For a start he was a bit frightened to be by himself in a room at night, in the dark. That meant he wet the bed. What was worse, he had woken messy as well as wet on one of those mornings, and he had wet twice, he thought, or maybe a bit more, during the day because of the stress he felt. And Gina had spanked him. He didn’t think she was allowed to do that, but Gina said I wasn’t to tell anyone, and if I did, she’d find me and spank me much harder when she caught me. And here she was.

Bob shot his hand to his bulky crotch as he began to pee. He saw Gina looking straight at his diaper, and took his hand away, only to return it to try to pull down the front of the short t-shirt Fran had put him in.

‘It’s alright, Bobby,’ Gina said with a laugh. ‘I’m here to help. I’ve taken over in your old ward to replace Caz. I’m from paediatrics, but we’re somewhat short-staffed at the hospital, so I’m looking after the ward side of Caz’s old job for a while. Caz and Fran thought it would be a good idea for me to drop in, not just to give you a surprise, but to see you again. I also work at the group you’ll be going to, so I think well see a lot of each other. And I’ve certainly changed your messy diapers before!’

Bob realised that he had been peeing for some seconds. Distressed, he began to catch his breath as he looked helplessly at Caz and Gina.

Gina stood up. She took a few steps towards Bob and wrapped her arms around him. Bob stiffened at first, but after a few moments he relaxed, and pressed his face into Gina’s warm embrace.

Gently, Gina guided Bob to the floor, where he sat between Caz and Gina, while Fran was on the sofa nearby. Bob soon forgot about his distress, and began to show off Thomas to Gina.

‘I’m also here to tell you about your new Daygroup,’ Gina said once she had expressed sufficient interest in Thomas’s abilities.

‘You’ll be with some nice new friends, Bob,’ Gina said.

Bob had forgotten about his going to the group. He started to feel nervous again.

To to be continued.

Re: Changes chapters 9

Changes chapter 9

‘I don’t have to go to any daygroup,’ said Bob angrily.

He was too grown up, he told himself. Then he looked down at the bulky diaper, that had just been changed after he wet the previous one. It swelled beneath the hem of his t-shirt. It was partially obscured by Bob’s increasingly rounded tummy. He looked a tthe blue plastic railway engine he was pushing across the rug, then he looked up at the three maturely dressed ladies who were seated around him.

‘I’m a grown up,’ he said defensively.

Fran looked at Caz, then at Bob.

‘Bob,’ she said. ‘I want to talk to you very seriously. I want you to listen, because this is very important’.

Bob sat still. It was Fran’s tone rather than her words which impressed him.

‘Bob, do you remember at hospital when the doctors asked you lots of questions?’ she asked.

Caz had told Fran the background to the paperwork Fran had been given following Bob’s various assessments.

Bob thought. He was asked lots of questions in hospital, by everyone. He nodded slowly.

‘Well, Bob, those doctors have to decide what’s best for you,’ Fran said. ‘The government wants them to do that, so that you are safe and happy. There’s a thing called guardianship. Do you know what that is, Bob?’

Bob looked down in embarrassment. It was another of those long words that he didn’t quite catch. He tried to repeat it, but stumbled after ‘guar…’. He clutched his blue engine.

‘He won’t know,’ said Gina.

‘Shh, Gina,’ said Caz, nodding at Fran.

Caz leaned over to the nearby coffee table and picked up one of the pieces of paper. She held the paper up so that Bob could see it.

‘Bob, this is what they decided. They know you’re having trouble with complicated things at the moment, so they have made some decisions that are to help you. They know you’re a smart boy, Bob, but they know you need some help, too.’

Bob grinned. He knew he was smart, too. Fran told him that sometimes as well.

‘So, Bob, this is what they decided. You are a ward now, Bob, and Fran is your guardian,’ Caz said.

Bob looked mystified.

‘She’s my wife,’ said Bob. ‘We’re married.’

‘I know that,’ said Caz, ‘But now Fran is also your guardian, and your carer. I’ll explain what that means.’

Bob listened intently. Caz sounded very serious. He looked at Fran. She looked serious too.

‘Bob, when people are growing up, they become adults when they are 18 years old,’ Caz said. ‘Like Fran and Gina and me. Sometimes, though, to help people, the government says that some people aren’t ready to be adults yet, even if they have had their 18th birthday. It’s quite common. Some of those people ar elike you, Bob. They’ve had an accident that affects they way they cope with thos complicated things I was talking about. So for a while, the government makes these people not adults any more. Legally, its called, people like you are not 18 yet. It means that adults have to look after you. And you have to do what you are told by the adults who are responsible for looking after you, like Fran and me, and Gina too.’

Bob sat still for a moment longer, then looked despreately at Fran.

‘But I’m grown up!’ he said. ‘Aren’t I Fran?’

Fran looked at Bob with deep sympathy.

‘Bob, the doctors are right,’ she said. ‘You are not an adult now. You are a… you’re a ward now, an…’ she said.

‘You are legally an infant now, Bob,’ said Caz, cutting in.

Bob’s mouth opened, but before he could speak, Caz went on.

‘That doesn’t mean you are a baby,’ Caz continued. ‘It’s just a word they use. But you are not an adult any more, not according to the government and the law, and not according to your beahvious - how you are living. That’s why you are wearing a diaper, and playing with toys. That’s all normal for you now, because you’re not an adult any more. You don’t have to to feel upset or embarrassed, because that’s what everyone expects you to be like, however big your body is. And you’re not even very big, are you, Bob?’

Caz stopped talking, and the threee women looked down at Bob, who was staring down at his diaper.

‘For the last week, Bob,’ Caz said, ‘You’ve spent your time playing with your toys. Fran has helped you dress and wash, and even eat sometimes, and she’s put you to bed in your diaper. You’re a bedwetter now, Bob, and you need to be diapered every night and when Fran puts you down for a nap. You’ve been having daytime accidents as well, so you’re in daytime diapers now, too. You’re not potty trained now, Bob, but that’s OK, nobody expects you to keep your diaper dry. The three of us are adults, Bob. We don’t play with toys any more and we don’t need diapers like you do. We’ve been getting up, getting dressed by ourselves, and going to work. But you’ve been happy doing what you’ve been doing, haven’t you?’

Bob nodded. He wasn’t really sure what all this was about, but he had been really happy with his toys. And Fran loved him, he knew that. He was having accidents, so he did need his diaper a bit, but he knew he could stop that. He just had to think harder about being dry. He tried to organise his swirling thoughts as he got to his knees and waddled over to Fran. He collapsed onto her lap, his head between her thighs.

‘And next week,’ Caz added, ‘And the week after that, you’ll be playing with your toys as much as you like. That will be good, won’t it, Bobby?’ she asked him, using the diminutive name she had used at the hospital.

‘Yes,’ said Bob. Whatever they were talking about, he knew that was a good suggestion. Fran had only let him play when he had been good, helping her or getting out of the bath.

‘I think he needs another change,’ said Gina, looking at the sagging darker patch at the back of Bob’s diaper.

‘I’ll do it,’ said Fran, stroking Bob’s back as he embraced her legs.

Fran help Bob up and he waddled off after her to have his diaper cjhanged.

‘That wasn’t so bad,’ Caz said to Gina.

‘Do you think he understood?’ Gina asked.

‘I think so,’ said Caz. ‘Everything we said lined up with his reality. That’s his reference point. He tends to live in the here and now.’

‘So, where to from here?’ Gina asked.

‘Well,’ Caz said. ‘We need to make sure Fran’s OK with all this. We need to adjust her point of view, if necessary. I’ll talk to her and see where she’s at. At the moment, she simply cares about Bob. We need to make sure she knows exactly what her role is.’

‘Mommy,’ said Gina.

‘That’s right,’ said Caz.

To be continued.

Re: Changes chapters 1-9

Miss Sally, I know that you have heard it all before, But you really are a fantastic writer. This is why you get so many compliments all of the time. Since you are a maternally dominant woman, with an eye towards age regression. I believe that lends it’s self to your style of writing, and is precisely why so many of us regressive little ones are drawn into your work… It is easy to read your writing because of the exposed natures of the emotional journeys, that we follow through your characters… I know that I have told you this before… and it still stands true.

This story has been developing quite well, The past four chapters came together quickly, which is great for those of us who are on the edges of our seats, waiting for updates… Though there are quite a few typos… Which I am sure you may eventually get to.

I have noticed that your writing thens to be, primarily about the internal changes and dialogs that your characters are going through (which is why a lot of people identify with your work)… And the actions of the moments… And while you do use descriptors, you do not write a lot about the “cozy warmth of the sitting room, with the smell of cherry wood burning in the fire place” type of scenic descriptors… Ok well you actually did that a little bit recently, when you wrote the piece which incorporated hypnosis, without actually writing about the hypnosis, which you seem to also be doing in this story.

I know some people like to point out, that you write in the same troupe and often do not finish your stories… But the truth is that we all love your stories… Which is probably because you are writing from your heart and soul, and this comes across to our hearts and souls.

So I was wondering… How would you feel about somebody maybe taking one of your unfinished stories, and co writing with you? I do not mean just finishing one of your stories… But going along with what yo have written, and adding to it in the way of scenic descriptors and such… then maybe passing it back to you, if you might be inclined to continue the story lines.

I have friends who are artists, and musicians… and a lot of times when they are collaborating with other painters or musicians, they inspire each other, and bring more out of each other… Please understand that I am not referring to this current story, I am just speaking in general… I think that there may be a possibility, that when you get to that place in your stories, where you are not sure where to go, that having somebody else’s influence, may show you something that you may not have thought of… or a next step in the progression (of the regression, sorry I had to say that ).

This past weekend I used the wayback machine, at Archive.org… And read a lot of your earlier works that were published on SissyBecky.com. You have an awesome library of emotionally engaging stories… That are already classics in out community… I just can not help but think that if another artist/ writer dug up the old gems, blew the dust off of them, embellished them with fresh influence, and gave them back to you, to see if you may be inspired to continue on with them… These already classic stories, could become novelettes.

And really to be honest with you, I would like to eventually be allowed to use some of your work, to write a screenplay… And maybe make a very low budget independent film??? It’s kind of a dream of mine to make (non porno) AB/DL regression films… Our community does not have anything like that yet… And the emotional beauty that your stories involve us readers in, would be perfect…

I guess I should have maybe sent this as a message… But there it is.

Re: Changes chapters 1-9

Hi ababy

Everything you say is true, except perhaps for all the compliments!

I’m well aware fo my shortcomings, especially in finishing stories. I really am trying to work on that.

As to editing, embellishing, finishing etc any of my stories, please be my guest. I don’t feel that I own any copyright to the stories. I consider that once they’re published, they are for anyone to read or or use in any way they want. While I realise that I do have some kind of maternal, dominnat (sort fo) streak, and I undulge that in my writing, I also write to give pleasure.

So please, do what you wnat. I wouldn’t mind if you credited me with the original or the inspiration, but even that is not essential.

xx

Sal