Here is another story. I know I have two unfinished stories on this board.i do apologise - my damned job and a few other responsibilities have been sucking up my spare time. Sometimes, when I have a bit of a break from writing, I find it hard to get back in the groove. This is my attempt to do that. So, for anyone reading the other stories, I promise I’ll get back onto them. Meanwhile, here is one that sort of stands alone. I might continue this one too, if anyone thinks it’s worth it.
Millie and Steve - When a husband needs diapers.
“Honey, I know you’re unhappy about this, but there’s no need to sulk.”
Millie turned to Steve, her husband of six years as she drove through the suburbs to their doctor’s appointment.
Steve glanced across at his wife, then returned to gazing out the window at the neat, middle-class houses flickering past.
“Steve?” Millie continued. “This is exactly why we are going to see Janet. You can’t simply ignore your problem. It won’t go away by itself. In fact it’s getting worse.”
“It’s not getting worse,” Steve said grumpily.
He was not unhappy. He was damned annoyed. Millie had taken it upon herself to turn a minor issue into a big deal. She had not only involved bloody Janet Freeman, but her sister and her mother as well. ‘We all think you need some professional intervention’, she had said last night. ‘We all think…’. Well what if Steve didn’t think, he asked himself. Christ, he knew guys who were alcoholic, and their wives put up with it without ganging up and dragging them to the doctor. 'For better or worse, wasn’t it? So what if ‘worse’ was the occasional damp bed, or a bit more washing? She was overweight, anyway. When did he ever suggest she might seek ‘professional intervention’ about that?
“Here we are,” said Millie as she swung the car into a busy looking carpark. “And Steve, I want you to behave in here, OK?”
‘Behave,’ Steve thought to himself. ‘I’m not a child.’
“What do you expect me to do? Throw something?” he asked testily.
“I wouldn’t be surprised, actually, Steve,” Millie replied, pulling into a vacant spot. “I’ve known five year olds with the same problem who are better behaved than you.”
“Fuck off,” said Steve.
He intended to glare at Millie but all he saw was her jeans-clad backside getting out of the car.
Millie was looking across the roof of the car as Steve stood up.
“Steve, I won’t have that,” she said. “You can swear at your computer game, but I won’t have you swearing at me. Now I want an apology,” she demanded, staring at him.
Steve knew from experience that arguing with her was a lost cause. He would apologise, but only as a tactical move. It wasn’t backing down, it was just avoiding a lecture later.
“OK, Millie,” he said, “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what, Steve?” she asked, still staring at him.
Steve looked away.
“OK, for swearing at you,” he said.
Millie continued looking at him for a moment, then turned and walked towards the clinic.
“Steven Mitchell for Dr Freeman, 3 o’clock,” Millie said to the immaculately dressed receptionist in the foyer.
“Thanks, Mrs Mitchell,” the receptionist replied, “Please take a seat in the waiting area.”
The receptionist smiled at Steve as he followed his wife into a large area across the hall from the reception desk. It had once been a room of a house, and still had a fireplace in it. There was a low, magazine covered table in the centre and what we’re probably meant to be calming works of art on the wall. Steve sat down next to his wife and looked at the selection of leaflets on the old mantelpiece. He stopped when he saw one called ‘Boss of the bladder’ which featured a smiling young boy on the front.
Already in the room was a young woman with an unhappy looking, heavily diapered toddler, whom she was trying unsuccessfully to amuse with a series of toys from a plastic crate on the floor by her feet. Next to her sat an older woman with her daughter. The girl looked about ten, and didn’t seem to want to be there either. Join the club, thought Steve. The girl got up and went to the window. Her somewhat full dress had ridden up somewhat from the girl being seated, and Steve was surprised to see that the girl was wearing what could only be a thick diaper beneath a full panty. Steve looked away to catch a glance from the girl’s mother, who called her over and tugged down on the hem of her dress.
Steve got up to see if there were any magazines of interest on the table, but felt the familiar twinge between his legs, and sat down again. He hoped nothing had happened, but it was hard to tell sometimes. He squeezed his legs together to make sure. He wished he hadn’t lied about needing to go to the bathroom when Millie had asked him before they left for the clinic. That was typical of her. He probably would have gone if she hadn’t asked him.
“Steve?” asked Millie in a loud whisper, “Do you need to use the bathroom?”
“No, I’m fine,” he replied.
He risked spreading his legs a little, but jerked them back together as he felt another pulse.
Millie stood up, and crossed the hall to the receptionist’s desk.
“Excuse me,” she said, “Can you tell me where the bathroom is? My husband needs to use the toilet.”
Steve felt himself blushing as everyone in the room looked at him.
Millie had taken a few steps towards him.
“Steve?” she said.
It was the way she said it. Sort of like a command. Steve wanted to get out of the room full of eyes anyway. He stood up.
“I was just going to ask,” he said unconvincingly, looking at the floor.
“Second door on the right down the passage, sweetie,” said the receptionist with a smile as Millie’s hand guided Steve along the first few steps in that direction.
Steve felt his anger rising. It wasn’t just that Millie had ignored what he said, then asked the receptionist in front of everyone. The most embarrassing thing, the most condescending thing was that she had to put her hand not on his back, but on his bottom to guide him down the hallway. Not that she needed to touch him at all, thought Steve as he opened the door to the bathroom. He felt another slight spasm, followed this time by a definite spurt.
He shut the door and dropped his pants as quickly as he could before sitting on the toilet. That was Millie’s doing as well. Years of her complaining about his splashing, and making him sit to pee, at least whenever she was in the bathroom as well - back when they shared bathroom and shower time - had become ingrained in him. He even sat at work, or did, before the business closed. Now he was sure she listened at the door to see if he was sitting or not.
While he sat, peeing with relief, Steve inspected his underpants. They were wet in front, as he expected, but his trousers were dry. It’s a good thing he wore loose clothes. Millie was in the habit of buying them for him as well. Not that he cared, but she did favour the loose look for him. Meanwhile, she usually bought the tightest pants she could for herself. It drove Steve mad. Millie was slightly chubby, and her generous curves were accentuated by, for example, the tight jeans she had on today. There was no way she could leak a little bit and get away with it, thought Steve.
It had been six months now since Steve had stopped working. His old bogey of bedwetting had returned at about the same time as he had realised that he was going to find it hard to get another job with his now outdated skill set - at least not another job in the area, anyway.
The first time he had woken up wet, both he and Millie were shocked. When the event became weekly, then every night or so as it had been recently, Millie had insisted on one of her ‘serious talks’. This resulted, as usual, in Steve pouring out his woes to her, and learning little about hers in return. He wished he hadn’t admitted his youthful struggles with bedwetting, details of which were duly passed on to Millie’s overbearing mother, giving her another reason to dislike the ‘childish idiot’ who had prevented her daughter from finding a better husband.
Steve began to feel quite emotional as he recalled his mother-in-law calling him that to his face. It wasn’t fair.
The door opened,and Millie put her head around it. Of course, she didn’t knock.
“We can go straight in when you’re done. It’s the door across the hall,” she said.
Millie looked at her husband, sitting on the toilet and looking miserable.
“Are you crying, Steve?” she asked.
“No!” said Steve emphatically. “I just don’t want to be here, that’s all.”
“Steve,” Millie went on, in a more severe tone, “did you have an accident?”
“No I didn’t!” Steve replied, quickly standing and pulling up his pants and underpants together.
“Well… hurry up then,” said Millie and withdrew her head, leaving the door ajar.
Steve did up his fly and belt, and left the bathroom. The door across the hall was open, and Steve went in to find Janet Freeman and Millie in conversation at the doctor’s cluttered desk.
Janet Freeman was not Steve’s usual doctor. He and Millie usually saw one of Millie’s old school friends who had recommended this Janet Freeman as some sort of expert in Steve’s ‘problem’, the one that everyone in the place now seemed to know about.
“Hi Steve,” Dr Freeman said cordially. “Sit down over here and make yourself comfortable. Millie has been filing me in on some details of what’s bothering you.Perhaps now you could tell me in your own words what’s been happening.”
Steve wondered what Millie had told this woman.
“Well,” said Steve, “I suppose you mean, well, wetting the bed sometimes.”
“I do,” replied the doctor. “Can you tell me about it? You can call me Janet, by the way.”
Steve cleared his throat. He was glad he’d just been to the bathroom. He had the terrible feeling that he got when he found himself in trouble. As a child, on these occasions, he would usually wet himself. Even as an adult he found stress often led to damp underpants, but he was able to control that, more or less. Now, he thought gratefully, there wasn’t much left to pee anyway.
“Erm, well, a few months ago, after I lost my job, I had one or two times when I, erm, wet, during the night,” he said, glancing first at the doctor, who regarded him steadily, then at Millie, who’s look he couldn’t quite fathom.
“One or two,” repeated the doctor. “Now, after the first time, how long was it until the second episode?”
Steve thought for a moment.
“I’m not sure. A while. A month?” said Steve.
“One week,” interjected Millie.
“I see,” said Janet. “Thank you Millie. And after that?”
“A while,” said Steve.
He didn’t want to contradict Millie directly. She was an accountant, and was usually spot on with dates and numbers. The women watched him expectantly. Janet was wearing a skirt and had her pantyhose clad legs crossed. She stroked her knee with the back of her pen.
“It was four nights later, then on average, every three nights after that for two months,” Millie said calmly.
The doctor looked at Steve.
“Is that right, Steve?” she asked him.
Steve felt a rush of blood to his head. He stood up angrily.
“This is stupid. I want to go home!” he shouted.
“Steven!” Mollie said in a shocked voice.
Steve turned to the door, but Janet was on her feet in a moment and took him firmly by the arm.
“Sit down, please Steve. We’re trying to help you,” she said.
Steve looked at the doctor, then at his wife. They were in this together, obviously, just like Mollie and her wretched mother and sister. He overcame his urge to flee, knowing that if he did, he’d never hear the end of it.
“Sit down, Steve!” the doctor commanded in a clear voice.
Steve sat immediately, cursing how obedient he must seem. He sat, full of pity for himself, while Mollie continued with her timetable.
“I see,” said Janet. “And when did the daytime wetting start?”
That got Steve fired up again.
“They were accidents!” he said, blinking as tears began to form in his eyes.
He felt Janet’s hand softly on his knee.
“Shh, honey,” she was saying. “I want you to tell me about your accidents. Can you do that for me?”
Steve, still blinking, looked at her. She was smiling. Maybe she wasn’t such a bitch after all, he thought. He hadn’t had many warm smiles like that from Mollie lately.
“Just sometimes,” he began, “When she won’t stop the car, or if I’m waiting for her to unlock the door, or if she’s in the bathroom…”
“Yes, I see,” said Janet. “Those do sound like accidents. And what if Millie isn’t around, what about then?”
Janet glanced at Millie, then back at Steve, who was looking at his hands in his lap.
“Just sometimes, if I’m busy, or if, you know, I leave it a bit long,” he said, then was quiet.
“Of course,” said Janet. “And they’re just accidents too, aren’t they?”
Steve nodded. It was hard to figure out if he should be agreeing with Janet or not. He did have daytime accidents, but they were just that. He didn’t actually wet himself in the daytime. At least this doctor agreed with that.
“Good,” said Janet. “Are you finding this difficult to talk about, Steve?”
Steve nodded again.
“I thought this was just a checkup,” he said, still looking at his hands.
“And so it is, Steve, but I need to know a bit about what’s going on, too,” Janet said. “Now, would you like something to drink?”
Steve’s mouth was dry, and he felt quite churned up inside. A drink would be good, he thought. And the doctor was being nice.
“Yes please,” he said.
“Right,” said Janet, going to a small fridge in the room. “It’s raspberry flavoured,” she added as she poured clear red liquid from a bottle in the fridge into a plastic cup before offering it to Steve with another kind smile. Steve smiled and took the cup. He took a sip. It wasn’t bad. He took another few swallows, draining the cup.
He felt much better without a dry mouth, and licked his tongue around his lips.
“Any more?” he asked.
Janet laughed. It was a lovely, silvery laugh.
“No,” she said, “One cup is enough.”
Steve sat for a few moments, studying his hands again. He began to feel slightly light headed, but quite happy. Janet watched him, then reached out and took his arm, gently this time.
“Steve, I’d like you to rest in here for a few minutes,” she said, helping him up and guiding him through a door on one side of her office. Inside was a small room with a chair and a narrow bed quite high of the floor.
“Can you pop up here for a few minutes?” Janet asked him.
“Sure,” said Steve. “You’re very nice,” he added on impulse, giving Janet a grin.
The doctor laughed again, and left Steve lying comfortably on the examination bed.
“Just lie back and think of something you like doing, honey,” said Janet. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Steve grinned again.
“Thank you Janet,” he said as she closed the door.
Janet turned to Millie.
'Wow," said Millie. “Talk about oil on troubled waters. What’s in that?”
“A few things,” said Janet. “He was really having a hard time, and he’s in denial obviously, as you said. It’s a drug which helps people relax. It makes it easier for them to talk more openly about things which, well, like his wetting. It works something like sodium pentothal, the ‘truth serum’. Now, from what you told me on the phone, he’s at a stage where we need to make some decisions. I’d like him to come to those decisions himself, and that’s where the drug will help. He will be able to remember, in a way, making the decisions himself, and his commitment to any treatment will be that much stronger for that.”
“That sounds good, Janet. Is there some drug he can take for the condition, the wetting, though?” she asked.
“If it were just enuresis, I’d say yes, Millie, but the extent of the problem as you described it, and his reactions when I asked him about it, indicate to me that there is likely to be a psychological element to this as well. In any case, most of the enuresis medications on the market have side effects, or they can cause problems when the treatment stops. I think while we’re sorting out any psychological aspects to this, it’s best simply to manage the symptoms while we keep talking to him, and you keep observing.”
“We’re using the waterproof undersheet you suggested,” ?Millie offered.
“That’s good,” said Janet, “But how do you find that?”
“I don’t like it much, but it’s better than ruining the mattress,” said Millie. “Anyway, he sleeps in the spare room most nights now, anyway. We even call it ‘his room’. He calls it that, too.”
“I see,” said Janet.
“I’ll just look in on our patient,” she said, and went to the door.
She opened it a little.
“How are you going in there, honey?” she asked. “All good?”
“All good, thank you,” Millie heard Steve reply.
He certainly sounded calm and relaxed.
Janet closed the door quietly.
“As I was saying, Millie, I think we need to deal with the symptoms while we investigate any psychology behind this,” she said.
Millie returned her gaze.
“What do you suggest?” she asked.
“Well, it seems clear that he doesn’t have a realistic idea of his condition,” Janet said. “You said he wets every night now, and most days as well. So he’s really quite constrained socially, or he would be, if he socialised. You said that his only outings now are with you?”
“More or less,” Millie agreed.
“And that you make sure that he wears only dark, loose pants, and that his underpants are generally damp, or at least stained with urine?” Janet asked.
“Yes,” said Millie. “Tohe dark pants are to save him embarrassment. And me too, actually.”
“Mm,” said Janet. “Millie, does he soil himself?”
Millie was quiet for a moment.
“Well, he has done once. He was very upset. Crying, in fact. It was one of those ‘waiting for me to unlock the door’ times he was talking about. And, well, I think, well sometimes he offers to do the washing, and I have noticed that some of his underpants seem to have disappeared. So, there, ther may be more times.”
Millie looked away. It was awkward admitting, even to someone like Janet, that your adult husband soiled his pants. It was such an overtly infantile act. Millie glanced back at Janet, and was reassured by her kind smile.
“It’s ok, Millie,” said Janet.
The doctor put down the notes she was holding, and looked at Millie for a few seconds.
“You see, Millie, in the light of what you’ve told me, and in my own opinion, I think Steve should be put back in diapers, to put it bluntly. Certainly at night, and possibly during the day as well. It’s not just a precaution either, Millie. Steve needs to wear diapers now. Do you understand that?” she said.
Millie drew her breath in. She’d thought about this. She’d seen ads for incontinence garments, and thought about Steve, but they were mostly pads for daytime leakage, according to the ads, anyway. But to hear it out put like that by a soecialist in the field… Diapers!
“He’d never agree,” Millie said.
“Millie, that’s why I want to talk through this with him, and with you. That’s where that little cocktail,will help. I want him to reach the same conclusion as I have, and of course, I want to know more about the psychology of his behaviour too. I think we both do,” Janet said.
“I understand,” said Millie.
Her thoughts were swimming in her head. She knew that some old people had problems staying dry, but her was her husband, a man of only 27 needing to wear diapers like a toddler who hadn’t achieved toilet training.
“Before I get him back in, I’d like to ask you about something you said to me when you wee last here. About Steve,” Janet said.
“The stubbornness?” asked Millie, recalling the conversation.
“Well, yes,” said Janet. “You used the term ‘childish’ as well.”
“He’s not a child,” said Millie.
“No, he’s not, but his responses may be childish. Is that what you meant?” asked Janet.
Millie thought for a moment.
“Yes, he is a bit like that sometimes. He’s even thrown things, actually. And he never used to cry before, well, before this came along,” said Millie.
“Mm,” said Janet. “I’m wondering about that. I’m concerned that there may be an element of, well, of infantile regression involved here.”
Janet looked with concern at Millie’s stunned look.
“It’s probably worse than it sounds,” Janet assured her. “It’s a term which covers any regression to age-inappropriate behaviour.”
“Well wetting his pants is certainly that,” said Millie.
“Yes, it is, but that could be physical,” said Janet. “Or largely physical. It’s the other responses that concern me. Even here, a few minutes ago, when he demanded to go home, for example.”
Millie was looking quite distressed.
“I know, Janet. I think I might be in some denial,over that, too,” she said.
“It’s quite understandable, Millie,” said Janet, “This is new territory for both of you. I’ll get Steve now. Don’t be concerned if he seems a little out of it. His little drink can strip away a few inhibitions. If he is regressing at all, he may be struggling against it. Anyone would. This medication helps us to see the real situation without any overlays like that. So just respond, well, in kind, if you know what I mean. Treat him as he acts.”
Millie felt quite frightened by what Janet had said. It put into perspective not just Steve’s irrational stubbornness, but his other odd behaviour recently. Then there was the whole question of having the children Millie wanted so much. Millie often felt that she was built to be a mother, and here she was in a childless marriage. So far, anyway. Ironically, it was a childless marriage with a childish husband.
Millie wasn’t sure how she felt as Janet opened the door and called quietly to Steve.
Soon after downing the drink Janet gave him, Steve had begun to feel different. He didn’t mind being told to go and lie down. Janet was very nice, and seemed to like him. Millie was there too. He felt warm and comfortable when he thought of her, and suddenly wanted a cuddle. His mind was filled with memories of her big, soft breasts. He was glad she’d brought him to see Janet.
Steve lay back with a smile on his face.
Then the door opened, and Janet said his name. Steve sat up, and swung his legs off the high bed. He was a bit unsteady, and Janet helped out her arm which Steve gladly took. She led him into the other room. Steve’s smile widened as he saw Millie. He let go of Janet’s arm and rushed over to Millie, embracing the seated woman as best he could.
“Hey, honey, hold on,” said Janet, pulling Steve away from his surprised wife and leading him to a low sofa against one wall.
“Make yourself comfortable on here, Steve,” she said. “I know you’ve missed Millie, but I want to have a little talk. Is that ok?”
Steve nodded happily as he settled himself on the sofa.
“Now, Steve,” began the doctor. “Do you remember before, we were talking about your little accidents?”
Steve nodded again.
“Yes please,” he said.
Janet looked at Millie.
“He may be a little confused. That’s quite normal. The main thing is that we get to what is really going on in his head,” she said.
“Yes, OK,” said Millie, as Steve lay back on the sofa, still smiling happily.
“Now, Steve,” said Janet, turning to him and brushing his hair away from his forehead. “You’re not working at the moment, are you?”
Steve shook his head.
“I help Millie,” he said.
“I’m sure you do,” said Janet. “When you were working, how did you feel about it? Were you enjoying it?”
“It was too hard,” Steve said.
His smile diminished, and he looked solemn.
Millie knew he was having problems, and had in fact been demoted shortly before his employer’s closure. Millie had thought that might have triggered some sort of depression in him, but now it occurred to her that it may have been a symptom not a cause. Janet continued.
“I see. Now I want you to think carefully, Steve. We’re there some things at work that you used to be able to do, but you were finding harder and harder?”
Janet watched as Steve gave her question some thought,
“Yes,” he said. “I got into trouble.”
Millie had discussed with Janet how Steve’s role at work had changed from managing a sales territory and dealing with customers to ‘office support’ some months before the firm’s demise. Steve had resented the change, and particularly the promotion of a former female subordinate, but also seemed happier with the lowered responsibility. His bedwetting had become significantly more frequent around that time.
“Mm,” said Janet. “Now Steve, I want to ask you about wetting the bed. Is that ok?”
Steve nodded. Millie was surprised. The topic was taboo in their house. Steve would become angry whenever Millie brought it up, and he had sulked for days when Millie put him in the spare room on a plastic under sheet.
“Steve, do you think it’s ok to wet your bed?” Janet asked him.
“I can’t help it,” said Steve.
“I know that, honey, but how do you feel about doing it?” Janet continued.
“OK,” said Steve quietly.
Millie rolled her eyes, and got a sharp look from Janet.
“Steve, can you remember wetting the bed before, a few years ago?” Janet asked.
“And did it feel OK then to wet your bed?” asked Janet.
Steve nodded again.
“Did it feel OK because you were only little?” Janet asked.
Millie had told Janet that Steve had been a regular bedwetter until his early teens. He was 27 now.
Again, Steve nodded.
“Steve, who looked after you before, when you wet the bed?”
“Mummy,” said Steve.
“And who looks after you now?” Janet added.
“Millie,” said Steve.
Millie’s heart went out to Steve. She had a sudden rush of maternal feelings towards him, and uncrossed and recrossed her legs. It was a very pleasant feeling.
“Steve, this is a funny question, but is Millie sort of like mummy?” Janet asked.
“Yes,” Steve answered, with a loving look towards his wife which went straight to Millie’s heart.
Janet swung her chair around to her desk. Quietly, she put on a pair of thin latex gloves.
“Thank you for answering my questions, Steve,” she said. “Now, I want you to help me have a closer look at you. Can you open your eyes wide for me?”
Steve complied, and Janet peered into each eye in turn.
“And now, your mouth. Open wide please,” she said.
Once again, Steve complied. Janet produced a tongue depressor and inspected Steve’s mouth.
“Good,” she said. “Now, can you take off your top?”
She helped Steve up and as he held up his arms, she slipped off his shirt. She tapped here and there on his chest, turned him around and tapped on his back.
“You’re a big, strong boy,” she commented, which drew a grin from Steve.
“Now, Steven,” she said, “I want to look at your tummy. I need to take your pants down. Is that OK?”
Steve looked confused, and appealed with his eyes to Millie.
“It’s OK, sweetie,” Millie assured him. “She is helping you.”
Steve stood uncertainly as Janet undid his belt buckle. He put his hands to his crotch, preventing her from going further.
“Steve, it’s alright,” said Janet reassuringly. “I know your undies might be a bit damp. That’s quite alright. Do you think you might be a bit wet?”
Steve nodded slowly, and let Janet move his hands gently away. Janet continued to unfasten Steve’s black pants.
Slowly, Janet pulled Steve’s loose slacks to his ankles. Steve stood quietly in his white underpants. The little lump of his genitals was covered by a rough circle of wet cotton about six inches in diameter. Janet pursed her lips. She had felt that the front of Steve’s slacks were quite wet, although Millie’s strategy of dressing him in dark pants had hidden the dampness well. I addition to the wet circle were several yellowing rings of previous wettings.
Janet’s next, unprofessional, thought was to wonder how such a small package could possibly satisfy a robust-looking woman like Millie.
“May I just pull these down?” Janet asked kindly, pulling the waistband of the briefs to reveal Steve’s pale upper thighs and a small penis resting on two little testicles held tight against Steve’s body by a hairless, dark pink scrotal sac.
Janet could sense Steve’s tenseness. She recognised what she saw as definitely bring at the very lowest end of the spectrum of size for male genitalia. There was only a little sparse, blonde pubic hair. The whole was more or less prepubescent.
Janet held up the little penis between her thumb and forefinger. The testes beneath it were definitely prepubescent in size. Delicately, she released the penis and turned Steve around. There was no hair near his anus.
“Good boy,” Janet said and immediately regretted her terminology.
“Steve, you’ve had a little accident this morning, haven’t you?” she asked.
“Yes,” replied Steve.
“Do you remember when, honey?” Janet asked.
Steve shook his head.
“That’s OK,” she said. “We often don’t feel everything that’s going on, do we?”
Steve shook his head.
“I think we’ll just get these off completely, huh?” said Janet.
Steve nodded, and lifted each leg in turn as Janet stripped him completely.
“We can’t have you naked, can we?” Janet went on. “Let’s put your shirt back on and I’ll find you some nice dry undies to wear. How will that be?”
“Good,” said Steve.
Janet soon had Steve’s shirt on, and produced from a cupboard a pair of disposable pull-ups. Steve’s body language changed a little as he recognised what the puffy, white package was. He looked at Millie, and backed away slightly from Janet.
“Now Steve,” Janet said, “Before you say anything, these are not diapers. They are disposable underpants with a little absorbent padding in them, just like lots and lots of people wear and just like they sell in supermarkets anywhere. They’re not much different than the pads ladies wear for their periods. Their just for catching a little leaking pee. They are very comfortable and you’ll be just like all the other men and women, and girls and boys, who wear these. Do they sound like something you might need?”
Steve looked anxious, and put one hand to his genitals.
“I think you need to wear these, honey. Do you think you would feel more comfortable in these than in your wet old underpants?” Janet asked him.
Steve nodded slowly.
“Good,” said Janet. “Now, just to make sure, I want you to ask me if you can wear these nice special pants, and tell me why you need to wear them.”
Steve looked again at Millie, who nodded encouragement, and said, “Ask the doctor if you can, sweetie.”
Steve shifted his feet.
“Can I… can I please wear those?” he said after a moment.
“Certainly,” said Janet. “And why do you need to wear these special underpants, Steve?”
“Because I wet my pants,” Steve said in a quiet voice.
“Very good,” said Janet. “Now, let’s out these on, so if you have an accident you won’t need to worry about it and we can work on trying to make you better. If you have an accident, you can just throw these away and put in a nice, dry pair.”
While she was talking, Janet had gone to the cupboard again and replaced what she had been holding with a larger, bulkier garment.
Millie was a little surprised, then applauded to herself Janet’s tactics.
Soon, Steve was looking very well padded in his new pull-ups. It took a little tugging to get even Steve’s loose fitting slacks over the thick pull-up. It was very obvious he was diapered, but Steve seemed oblivious as Janet finished dressing him and turned him around.
“There you are,” she said. “All done. Do they feel comfortable?”
Steve’s mind was swirling with thoughts. He knew he needed to have these, and he felt grateful to Janet for letting him have them. He thought of the girl he had seen in the waiting room, and could feel the secret jealous feeling he had when he had seen her diaper, just melt away. He wanted to go out and play, just like he used to when his mummy changed his diaper years ago. He couldn’t help himself giggling. He was so happy.
“Thank you!” he said in an impulse to Janet and put his arms around her.
Janet laughed, and said, “I think you should thank Millie. She is the one who brought you in here.”
Steve turned and gave Millie a long hug.
“OK, Steve,” said Janet. “I want to talk about waking up in a nasty, cold wet bed. I’ve got something that will stop that, too. Would you like to know about it?”
Steve nodded enthusiastically.
After she had led Steve in a discussion about his night time wetting, Janet told Steve about the special night time pants she had for him. They were just like the ones he had, only they didn’t just pull up. They wrapped around him ‘like a nice warm blanket’ but he would need Millie’s help to put them on. Just like he sometimes helped Millie zip up the back of her dress.
The couple left the clinic, Millie in awe of Janet’s skill in getting her darling husband into the protective clothing he needed, and Steve happy in the knowledge that his condition was not something secret and awful, but something that made him special rather than bad.
Further,mSteve felt but could not articulate the feeling that he had been given a glimpse through a door into a special place that he wanted to be. These pants were from that place, and were his connection to it.
They stopped for coffee on the way home, and Steve was all smiles as he trotted along next to Millie, holding her hand. Everyone they saw returned his happy smile, and Steve felt better about the world than he had for years. He felt himself wetting in the car on the way home, but even that couldn’t dislodge his smile.