The arrangement -- 1

John squinted in the bright slanted light of the early summer evening as he fished his house key out. He fit the worn key in the lock and turned till the handle opened with a muffled pop and the door squeaked open. John’s eyes adjusted to the dim as he stepped into the stillness of the warm living room of the small cabin where he and Allison lived.

He lay down his brown leather satchel on the chair near the door and paused for a moment, listening for the sound of Allison in the house. Her old car was already parked in the driveway per the routine, as she worked just a few minutes away in the village and was usually home before John. There was no dinner smell coming from the neighboring kitchen, and no sign of Allison, no sound at all. Loosening his tie with one hand he called out, “Are you here, baby?”

He heard small padding footsteps and the creak of an old floorboard in the back bedroom before she appeared in the hallway arch. Allison, as always, was quietly radiant. She stood in the arch, dimly lit by the yellow light reflected off the wood of the living room floor and from the pale sky outside the windows. Her nearly black hair hung in rippled strands down her back and over her chest and she eyed him, saying nothing, with a gaze that was uncertain, relieved, loving. She wore a teal sleeveless blouse that left her tiny shoulders bare past its ruffled edges, cupping her small firm breasts beneath before following the curve of her torso down to her narrow waist, widening below to follow the line of her hips. Beneath the blouse was the line of a simple white undershirt that just concealed the cleft of her breasts. She wore a pair of calf-length white pants that hugged her figure, no shoes, and John admired the beautiful curve of her wide soft hips. The fabric of her pants near her crotch was bunched up and wrinkled, giving a subtle but distinct impression of a v-shaped mound over her lower stomach.

She stood with her bare feet apart looking at him another long moment, and without speaking softly crossed the room towards John, keeping her feet wide and swiveling her hips in a slight waddle he had come to recognize in her that made him love and need her from a place that came from the very root of himself. As she got nearer in the quiet of the house John could hear the unmistakable plastic rustle of her diaper coming from under her pants. Before he could speak, Allison had crossed the steps between them and tucked herself into John’s chest, her head not reaching his chin, leaned into the large safe warmth of his body and pressed her face into the buttons of his shirt. John wrapped his strong arms around her, leaned his cheek against the top of her head, and cupped her small shoulder blades in his big hands.

“You OK pumpkin?” he asked in his soft baritone as he began to slide his hand lower toward her waist. Her diaper gave off the familiar sweet smell of baby powder meshed with the sharp wet smell it often carried in the evening, but today John also noticed a deeper, muskier scent behind it. He slid his hand down the flaring curve of her round diapered ass, feeling the padded fullness of her shapely ample flesh under the thin material of her pants until he reached under the base of seat and felt the warm heavy mass trapped there. He instinctively patted her seat and, keeping his hand firmly locked onto her, pulled himself away to look at her face again. Allison gave only a small whimper and burrowed into him further.

“What happened?” he asked. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. He noticed as if for the first time the tiny freckles on her cheeks and the slightly large nose she was so self-conscious about, and he suddenly felt a surge of love for her move up and through him.

Talking into his chest, somewhat muffled, she said, “I had an accident. A bad one.”

“You did?” he asked in exaggerated surprise. She nodded. He held her wrapped in his arms for a long moment before replying in his soft low voice, “Hey. It’s alright, baby. No big deal.”

“When did this happen?”

“I stopped at the market coming home. In line. It was taking forever and I just…”, she trailed off. John waited.

“And?” he asked.

“And it just happened, standing there while I was trying to get my wallet out of my purse. I don’t think anybody could smell but…”

John wrapped her tightly in his arms again. “Shhhh, that’s alright baby. It’s ok. Shhhh.” He rocked her for a few moments, then again looked down at her and drew her chin up with his finger till her honey colored eyes met his. “Let’s have a look at you,” he said, holding her at the end of his arms. Her eyes looked shy and vulnerable and in need of help.

Standing apart from her, he looked down at her body to inspect the state she was in. The front of her pants bulged out slightly beneath her beltline, drawing up parallel lines of fabric near the base of her inseam and forming a distinctive wide flat gap where her thighs met. He slowly turned her around and she acquiesced hesitantly, as if in some secret dance shared only between the two of them. From behind her padded figure was a dead giveaway. Her round and shapely ass, already large for a woman of her small stature, flared even further out from the line of her back with the padding beneath, looking full and healthy but absent of the usual cleft between the cheeks of her buttocks, and at her seat the firm bulge that had formed with the weight of the trapped mess gave her perfect bottom a squarish profile that could only be one thing.

A shock of contradictory emotions poured through Allison as she stood motionless with her back to John, waiting as he inspected her. She could feel his eyes moving slowly over her body, could smell her full diaper and feel the warm weight around her crotch, and caught in a place of total exposure she felt a crash of feelings tugging each other in her mind: Mortification at her state as a grown woman lacking such a basic piece of her independence; vulnerability to be so exposed before the man she loved; total safety and protection in her needful condition; the relief in feeling loved and cherished like a baby, but also the fear and excitement of finding herself so entirely in John’s power and at his whim. Her insides churned in a way that was delicious and agonizing. Still she waited.

John loved the sight of her.

He let himself stare another few long seconds then turned Allison back to face him, locked her eyes to his, and offered decisively, “Let’s go get you changed, huh?” reaching out to hold her hand. Allison nodded her head. With her waddling behind him he led her back towards the bedroom, hearing each one of her crinkling steps as she moved.

In their bedroom John opened a towel on the edge of their bed and lay Allison gently down on it, her legs dangling off the end. He first unbuttoned her pants and pulled down the zipper, pulling each leg from the cuff until the waist was finally past of the curve of her hips and the snug pants slid off onto the floor. Beneath her pants the buttons at the crotch of her white onesie were now revealed, hugging her body and extending upward into what looked like an ordinary shirt under her blouse. He pulled her up to sitting by her hands and worked the blouse clumsily up over her head, and she giggled before he lay her back down on their bed.

John stood looking at Allison lying back in her simple white form-fitting onesie for a few more delicious moments. Her long dark hair was spread around her head on the plain gray bedspread and her arms were back in a gesture of surrender. She lay there with her eyes on his where he stood over her, a tiny devious smile creeping over her face as he let his glance slowly move from her face, down the sinews of her neck to the low mounds of her breasts, down again to her flat stomach and pinched waist, down to the inviting billows of her hips, to finally to the bulging crotch of her diaper hidden beneath the buttons of her onesie, squeezed between the soft pale flesh of her thighs. He stood breathing in the smell of her full diaper and feeling his cock rise in him as if acted on by an electric current. He had never wanted her more, had never needed anyone as much as he needed her.

His erection was growing by each pulse of his heart, but John forced himself to focus the task. Allison had to be diapered, and John had to take care of her; that was the arrangement. With a small snap he delicately released each of the buttons at her crotch and lifted back the tails of her onesie, revealing her hairless belly above and her thoroughly soaked white diaper under it, releasing a new wafting smell of her wet and her mess. John felt the hem of her onesie was already damp where it had been near her diaper, and she was lucky she hadn’t leaked into her pants more badly – or more visibly. He pulled the onesie up and over her head, and then suddenly there she was lying before him, her small torso and pale breasts bared, her nipples standing erect, trying shyly now to cover herself with her arms as she lay exposed before him in only her thick full diaper. As before, John couldn’t stop himself from pausing to stare at her delicate, vulnerable perfection.

Her face emerging from behind her upheld arms, the smile on Allison’s face had grown to a grin as she watched him stare at her nakedness. He noticed her watching him, smiled at himself and swiveled to reach to a tiny wooden box on the dresser behind him. John picked her favorite blue pacifier out of the box and pushed it gently into her mouth. Allison lay back again and sucked, her eyes fixed on John’s face while he peeled back each tape on her diaper with its characteristic tearing noise. As the final tape pulled free, John opened her diaper and folded the wet front away from her.

The smell hit John strongly now, musty and animal, with the strangely sweet perfume of baby powder overlaid. She had long since given herself to staying entirely waxed free of hair, and was as smooth beneath her diaper as the day she was born. A faint pale bloom of the powder was still visible over her slit, her pubic mound, and the rest of her slightly tan skin that had been hidden beneath the white plastic covering. Over the past three months John had noticed she seemed to especially enjoy being powdered, the phase of their ritual when he would gently shower her in snowy powder from the bottle and lightly rub the talc into her skin before taping up her diaper after he’d changed her. For Allison, who in her life before John had lost much and had far too little for help, even in her hours of worst need, the smell and John’s gestures made her feel infinitely loved, infinitely safe and protected, and made her feel all the more attached to him and the impossible life they had found together. John paused again to admire the sight in front of him, of Allison’s exposed being lying on the opened diaper. Now she was very messy, and John noticed a look of embarrassment pass her face as she suddenly resurfaced to the awareness of her predicament, and she let out an involuntary whimper. “It’s alright love, let’s get you cleaned up,” he encouraged.

John set the yellow box of baby wipes next to Allison on the bed and began to work, gently and methodically wiping away the old baby powder and mess from her labia and her pubic mound one clean wipe at a time. Finishing her front, John moved to her small tight ass, occasionally taking her two ankles in one of his large hands to lift her bottom up or roll her to her side to allow him to clean her fully. Allison lay still and let him move her, let him lift her and wipe her, the whole time sucking hungrily on her pacifier and watching John’s face and his hands at work.

After a few long sweet minutes, Allison lying in a half-reverie feeling the almost sharply cold clean wipes against her most sensitive skin, John made his final wipes with a fresh cloth near her labia and it came away clean. As he was just leaving the area he gingerly drew his finger straight up her slit, starting from her opening and dragging slowly past her clit, feeling a slippery wetness along her that was not just the remnant of the moist wipes. He looked at her wordlessly, smoldering, feeling an inward ache in his whole body collecting itself through his chest and bundling up tightly into the base of his penis. She returned his same look, still sucking her pacifier.

John lifted her ass a final time and rolled up her soiled diaper up on itself, letting her legs fall and tossing its warm weight into the plastic pail next to their dresser. The air was heavy now with the smell of dirty diapers, the combined smell of baby powder, wipes, stale pee and her mess. Now Allison was completely naked, her legs dangling over the edge of the bed on her changing towel, splayed and waiting. She locked her eyes onto his, her lips wrapped tightly around the pacifier in her mouth.

John’s careful composure broke then.

He tore the buttons of his shirt open with one hand while unclasping his belt, moving as quickly as possible to meet her. His shirt was off, then pants and belt hit the floor heavily while he tore off his socks. The elastic of his shorts barely cleared his erection before these too were hurriedly stripped.

John paused for the briefest moment to stand before Allison, erect and breathing heavily, his eyes never away from her. Allison eyed John’s nakedness with unconcealed anticipation.

Then in an instant he was on top of her, pressing her body into the softness of the towel and the bed beneath her with his weight, grabbing her two outstretched hands, moving his hips into hers and sliding himself into her hot wet depths while she moaned behind her pacifier. John reached to her face and cast the toy from her mouth before kissing her full and long, sliding himself deeply, slowly, insistently into her. Like so many of the other reactions in her body she could once control, her first orgasm came upon her swiftly and unstoppably, and caught her by surprise as it always did. John was thrusting into her slowly and deeply, and as the wave grew, grew, leapt to ever more impossible heights and finally crested her whole body began to contract, clamped off her rhythmic moaning, her voice catching in her throat. All she could do was silently arch herself up towards him, try to hold onto him, let herself drown beneath the crashing torrents of pleasure coursing through her body.

Re: The arrangement – 1

The two of them lay together on their bed, the sheets kicked into a knot at their feet. John was stretched on his back looking out the skylight above into the blue glow of the late evening, feeling the warmth and weight of Allison’s body wrapped into the crook of his arm. The dark river of her hair poured over his chest where she lay drowsing. Their bodies were spent and satisfied, naked but for the thin cool sheen of their sweat. The two drifted along together like dissipated opium eaters in their own separately sweet post-coital reveries.

A flock of three dark birds flashed past the window. John glanced down carefully to look on the subtly Italian feature’s of Allison’s sleeping face, her tall nose and prominent cheeks, the long lashes of her eyes, her high forehead and small sharp chin. He noticed too her tiny hand positioned in front of her mouth in a loose fist as she unknowingly sucked on her thumb, and watched for a while the rhythmic rise and fall of her body as she breathed.

They were both tired from the long week behind them, and still groggy from the dopamine burst that had landed them here in this blissful half-sleep, but it was Friday night and John was growing restless and hungry.

“Aa-aalll. Baby Allie,” he sang just above a whisper. He stirred himself slightly, and her eyes squinted hard and opened. She pulled her thumb from her mouth hurriedly and inhaled sharply, then mumbled,“Mmmf. Hey.”

“You hungry little one?” A long pause.

Her voice brightened: “I could eat. Where you thinking?”

“Worry about that in a minute,” John said. He gingerly extricated himself from her and got up, moving to the dresser.

Allison stretched and yawned while John opened dresser drawers, drawing out items in the gloom of the unlit room and setting them at the foot of the bare bed. Then he opened the closet and filed through a few hangars before drawing two out. John extended a hand up the bed and with a playful swipe grabbed one of Allison’s slightly cold ankles and pulled, drawing her across toward him. She let out a short giggle and let him. The yellow box of baby wipes with its lid open was on the bed again next to her, and John parted her thighs and drew a cold cloth across her sticky wet vagina, reached another cloth out of the box and lifted her up again by her ankles to finish cleaning the leavings of their lovemaking off her backside. Then he lay her legs back down and let her wait while he readied her outfit.

She could make out his pale naked body faintly glowing in the blue dusk light and watched him, down the length of her body, over her dark nipples and past the soft dimple of her bellybutton, her skin glowing the same color, watched him as he grabbed her two ankles again with one hand and with the other slide a thick white disposable diaper beneath, letting the waist come up past the small of her back before lowering her onto the soft waiting padding. She watched him as he guided her legs back down till they were splayed out, let herself savor the delicious sense of helplessness and freedom she felt as she rested motionless, surrendering to her diapering as he tugged the front of the soft padding up around her as it crinkled in the gloom. John took up the bottle of baby powder and she smelled its clean sweetness as he sprinkled it onto her front, rubbing the cool talc into her pubic mound. She felt the strength of his arms as he rolled her over to powder her hairless bottom and rub it into the smooth plump flesh before finishing with a light pat. Allison could relive this part for hours, just the part where John ran his big hands over her most private skin, rubbing the powder lovingly over her. She would drift off sometimes, while working in town, remembering favorite moments like this, rolling the memories around in her mind and often feeling herself moisten deep within. But all too quickly, like every time prior, he was moving on, drawing the front of her diaper up snugly and fastening first the tapes around her thighs, then cinching the tapes tight around her waist. With a small puff of powder he patted the front of her crinkling diaper and admired his work, and the perfect sight of his naked girl lying before him.

John’s face was fixed in a thoughtless grin as he turned to the clothes laid out. He took a black and somewhat worn cotton t-shirt stamped THE RAMONES in white letters, a reminder of Allison’s younger years in New York, fitted the neck over her head and the sleeves over her upstretched arms, and pulled it down over her chest. Then he took the pair of pants in hand, a faded light blue pair of denim overalls, and fit her feet into the legs as she held them up for him. He slid her feet down the legs and shimmied the snug waist of the pants past her hips and over the padding of her diaper, then sat her up to finally fix the straps over her shoulders and lock the metal hasps into place. Then John swiveled around to the dresser and switched on the small lamp.

Allison sat on their bed looking at John searchingly. The straps of her overalls crossed over the low hills her breasts made under her shirt, crossing them where they met the front panel that descended to her waist. John stared at the small tell of the padded bulge in her pants at the bunched V of her legs where it showed through the soft cotton. John grinned at her, delighted, and suddenly realized his nakedness before her, blushed and turned to fetch his own clothes.

“Hey!” she said from the bed, still sitting.

Turning back to face her, John’s face turned sheepish as he locked eyes with her, but her expression was playful, mischievous. Remembering their ritual, he put his hands on her shoulders and bent over to plant a single kiss on her lips.

“You look amazing, little girl. ‘Bout ready?”

The arrangement – 3

John held the front door of the cabin open for Allison and she swiveled past him, sweeping her hips as she went with a teasing air she had begun to adopt the past few months whenever she was feeling good. The porch light was on and swarming with tan-yellow months. John shut the creaking door, checked the lock, and turned to watch Allison walk up the flagstones towards the driveway with her flipflops making their rhythmic slap as she went. He studied the sight of her beautiful ass again set in the hourglass of her figure, and smirked to himself. Now that she’d been changed and was dry, he thought, you really couldn’t easily tell that the beautiful woman he would be walking with around their town was secretly diapered under her cute outfit. From afar she looked like a normal if uncommonly beautiful young woman, the kind of figure John would have admired no matter who she was. John of course knew what that figure was hiding, and he could tell. The slight change to her shape – the flat plane the top of her backside formed as it descended from the small of her back to a somewhat sharper than natural point, just a bit too low and jutting further out than it should; the strange fullness of her lower body, the way her whole bottom moved as a single mass, the way her pants seemed to show little hint of a cleft in her butt, and a fullness at the tops of her thighs. No, only John could tell. But he could tell.

John opened the passenger door and she climbed in. “Milady…” he mocked, and she shot back, “Milord…” before he closed it. He swung around the blue nose of the car with his keys in hand, climbed in and started the engine, looking over at her while she buckled her belt. Allison tightened herself in, fluffed her hair, and noticed him looking at her. She reached her little hand over into his lap, smiled. “I mean, Daddy.”

Soon they were driving along the strand, the beach to their left and the scattered lights of the houses and vacation cottages of the village on their right. The night was still warm, and with the windows down the breeze was cool and smelled like oysters and salt and seaweed. Here and there teenagers and vacationers were standing around bonfires burning on the sand, and snippets of girls shrieking and giggling drifted past. After they had passed the beach and were a few more minutes further along the road into town, John picked up Allison’s hand and moved them to her own lap, allowing his hand a gentle probe of the front of her diaper through her pants. She was in the middle of a story about a phone call she’d had earlier in the day but trailed off mid-sentence as she realized John had just checked her diaper like a toddler. “Go on,” said John, putting his hand back on her thigh, and she continued again, sounding almost sheepish until she recovered. For now she was still dry.

They chatted about the day’s news as they drove along the empty road to town, and after another five minutes had arrived in front of the small downtown and were parking along the street in front of their favorite sushi restaurant. “This work for you?” John asked. “Yes!” she squealed in unselfconscious delight.

John opened the car door for her and she stepped into the cool evening air, and he put his hand and the small of her back to lead her up the stairs and through the door of the restaurant, pleased at the feel of the waist of her diaper under her thin shirt. Their favorite waiter seated them quickly at a secluded table by the window that overlooked the slow river that worked its way through town, brought tea and menus and left them alone. John and Allison were the kind of couple that attracted knowing smiles from older people whenever they were out together, so thoroughly enjoying and absorbed in each other, like the rest of the world was only shadows moving on the wall. Now they sipped tea and greedily planned their feast together, with a small oil lamp burning between them.

The two drank tea and talked idly, relaxing some after the day’s strain and the intensity of their lovemaking earlier, their conversation drifted into memories of old friends, plans for the weekend ahead, and stories from before they had met. The food came and was ravenously gobbled up. At a pause, John lean forward toward Allison.

“So,” John began tentatively, “today is our official anniversary.”

“January 19[SUP]th[/SUP]! That party at Mandy’s was the—“ Allison started, a little indignant, but John cut in, “Not that anniversary. The one we started exactly three months ago today.”

“Oh,” said Allison in a stage-whisper, and she reddened slightly while an impish smile forced itself over her lips. “That anniversary. I had forgotten! The time went by so fast.”

John grinned. “Me too. But the day is here and it’s ‘officially’ time for us to have a little check-in about it.”

Allison paused a moment. “Okay," she began tentatively, "what are we checking in about?”

John lowered his voice a register. “Well, you’ve been back in diapers now since April 24[SUP]th[/SUP], the day we got back from visiting your sister, and you and I settled on our little arrangement. And I just want to know. How has it been for you? How are you feeling? Is there anything you want me to be doing differently or—”

“No no no,” she broke in. “No, you’re doing fine. Wonderful. You’re so good and gentle with me, and you do such a good job looking after me. You’re-- great. Am I doing ok? Am I doing it right?”

“You tell me. To me, you’re perfect – you’ve always been perfect to me, before this and after. But no, you’ve behaved yourself just right. Stuck to our arrangement very well." He smiled self-consciously. "I’ve loved every second of it.” John paused and took a sip of his tea and she watched his hands move. He worked his mouth slowly as he tried to compose his thoughts. “You know something? The thing I think I love the most about how things have been with us since we started this is the kind of couple it’s let you and me become. I’ve never felt so… close to another person in my life. I love to take care of you – especially like this. That’s just the kind of guy I am.”

Allison felt her heart make a small leap. “I know. And I love what we have, too. I’ve never before had what we have.”

John looked into her eyes across the table, searching. He looked uncertain, like he was waiting for something, so she added, “Listen, this works for me. This is working. I don’t know why, but it is.”

“I just need to know where you’re at. How are you doing physically?” John continued.

Well…” she started, gathering herself up. “I have to admit it was a little… difficult at first. It was hard for me to relax – it’s always hard for me to relax. So it took some ‘practicing’ at first. And after the bout of…" her voice dropped a register, "…diaper rash that second week—“

“It took me a little learning to figure out how to keep you clean and dry enough. And the cream.” John smirked ironically at her.

“Right, yes, that. I mean, it was unusual and I was a little scared at first and it took some adjustment but we figured it out. I thought about quitting early on because of that but after the first month – and getting the right wardrobe lined up and all – it really was turning out fine for us so…”

“—So we agreed to another two,” said John. “And after these past two months?”

Allison hesitated again and John waited, watching her furrowed expression, and he worried for the first time.

“I guess I’m mostly just surprised at how my body has reacted to this. I really didn’t know it would get this easy for me. Like I don’t hardly even think about it now, about going I mean. Sometimes I barely pay attention, just reach down and check and feel I’m wet again.” She took a drink of her tea, watched his expression.

John chuckled. “Well good thing you’re in diapers all the time now!” he goaded her, in mock surprise.

Allison continued, “And I guess I worry sometimes that people will notice. It seems like it has to be so obvious.”

“It really isn’t – not totally. I know what to look for but I wouldn’t let you get caught. That’s my job!”

“I know, and you’ve been so careful with me. But the thing today in the store…”

“I noticed. Usually you wait till we are home or somewhere else safe.” Flashing her a crooked smile, “Unless you’re feeling frisky.”

She smiled shyly back. “I like to spin you up,” she conceded. “But today… it’s like I wasn’t paying close enough attention and just felt myself pushing without thinking about it, like when I’m alone or with you. It felt normal to just… And in the beginning I used to have to really try!”

John reached across the table and took her hand. His eyes were sparkling at her.

“And there were people around and I could start to smell it and… it was a spur of the moment thing that I didn’t think through. I was just upset is all.”

“Embarrassed? Who cares what some old ladies in the store think they might have seen?”

“No, not just that. I love the way we are together, and I love how you take care of me. I was just surprised at myself. It makes me wonder. What about someday if I try to stop, later? What if I can’t go back?”

John looked at her and tried to show her how much he loved her in that moment. She did look worried, and it pained him.

She tried to explain, to make him understand: “No, it’s not that I mind it. Honestly I kind of like it. And the way you look at me, like when you change me is just…” She trailed off, restarted: “Look, what we have is perfect for me. I just worry sometimes is all, like about everything. But you tell me: Is this OK? Are you OK with me, like this, still?”

John sat and considered a moment. “Listen, Allison. I really am alright. With all of it. Keeping you this way, taking care of you like this. It’s what we agreed to and I’ve loved every second. What I care most about is that you’re happy.”

He paused and collected his thoughts again. “For tonight, you and me sitting here, in this restaurant, I’d say the world is just about perfect. We just had a great meal, we’re together, you’re sitting across from me looking absolutely beautiful, and I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you, ever, no matter what. I love you. You’re my little baby.”

Allison searched John’s face, and he continued. “So as far as the real decision goes…”

He paused a long time. “Yeah?” she asked, with concern.

“You don’t have to cross that bridge till sunup tomorrow. But for now you owe me tonight,” giving her a conspiratorial grin.

She tilted her head to the side and smiled back at him, and her heart suddenly felt too big for her chest.

Re: The arrangement – 1

Just read the last couple chapters. I was wondering if I would like it around the end of the first chapter and the beginning of the second, but right now I want to read more about John and Allison.

I like the quality of the descriptions you’ve got going here, and the writing is good all the way through. I’m certainly looking forward to seeing where this goes from here.

Re: The arrangement – 1

I agree, Ally. It’s presenting us with a very interesting couples dynamic that I’d like to see more of. One thing that tore me out of its reality though was the notion that a person could lose control simply by wearing and using diapers for less than three months. This is pure faptasy in a piece that doesn’t lean in that direction.

Re: The arrangement – 1

True, I do have a hard time seeing that happening so quickly. Unless she started with an unreliable bladder, in which case it would have been easy to slip a mention of that in. Even so, to be losing awareness in three months seems highly unlikely. Not fatal to the piece, but I did also find myself considering the likelihood of the situation rather than just focusing on the story.

Re: The arrangement – 1

Very good story, even if it’s unrealistic I prefer it that way, speeds it up a bit and gets to the good parts quickly!

Re: The arrangement – 1

I can agree that in terms of where we are in this story for how many words, the timing is good. Still, it would be a small change to the story to have this as the next check in between the two another six months down the road.

Albatross (BTW, I like your name), please do continue. Less than realistic or not, you’ve got a very interesting dynamic going here, and it’s one I’d like to see more of. The quality of your writing is plenty good enough to make up for the timing issues. We pick apart stories here, not to beat you down (though I know it can seem that way), but because we like good stories and want to do all we reasonably can to help you write better stories.

Re: The arrangement – 1

It’s funny how most people seem to have zeroed in on the loss of control bit. The part I’m struggling with is, trying to figure out the geography of where they live. :slight_smile: First I thought it was woodsy then I was on board with a beachy/islandy type place like the Florida keys… But the slow river running through town just made my mind get stuck.

All in all a great story and look forward to reading more!

Re: The arrangement – 1

Very cute story so far, a very sweet relationship. I’m a bit torn- I love your descriptions, but sometimes want it to move faster. Either way, I like it so far :slight_smile:

Re: The arrangement – 1

The two passed through the door of the restaurant and into the July night air, the noise of conversation and smell of sushi cut off suddenly as it swung shut behind. John steadied his hand at the small of Allison’s back, gently reassuring her he was there while they descended the steps back to the street. Both were pleasantly relaxed and satiated and happy, relieved to be together and out on the town after a long week. The night felt young, and though it was already past nine an orange summer dusk glow remained in a bright ring around the horizon for them.

The couple passed down the cracked sidewalk toward the car till John spun Allison around at her waist and stopped her. Facing each other in the dark of the evening street he slid his hand down quickly to cup the front of Allison’s crotch, pressing his fingers into her swelling diaper underneath. He could tell she was already wet: Her diaper was a firm warm mass at the peak of her inseam, but only a small patch felt warm and she was nowhere near to needing changing. Though he checked her like this often, Allison still found herself caught off guard and stunned, her eyes widening, watching his face with her mouth slightly open until his eyes met hers. It was delicious to her, watching him probe her body like this, not even hesitating to ask, only doing what needed to be done without a second thought, taking care of her as if she had forgotten she was wet altogether. She loved that with a little act like this he could suddenly cause this strange current of pleasure and excitement to bloom in her as if from out of nowhere, like someone striking a match in a blackened room.

John watched her mouth work wordlessly for a few aching beats then let his hand drop and asked, “Feel like a drink?”

They walked hand in hand down the three sloping blocks paralleling the river to where it met the waterfront and the old redbrick warehouse that housed one of the local taverns. Out front they passed a handful of large bearded flannel-wearing logger-looking young men standing around smoking cigarettes, and John held the brass bar on the door and patted Allison’s firm padded butt as she walked through, offering her his knowing smile. Inside the space was the din of conversation and music, and high above a tangle of dry dusty oak beams latticed through the tall interior space, now holding up strings of small lights to light the growing crowd inside.

There was a gap in the people at the bar, and John guided Allison over. An acquaintance in town was working tonight, and once he’d seen them he sauntered over in his spotty t-shirt and raggedy baseball cap with a “Hey guys, fancy meeting you here. What’ll it be?” Allison asked for a beer and pint of water, and John ordered a whisky to sip. It was busy, and Jake laid out the drinks onto the battered copper bartop with little fuss and promised to check by later. “I think I saw Tim and those guys earlier, they’re probably around,” he called back over his shoulder as he made his long trip back down the bar across the battered floorboards.

They leaned against the bar and surveyed the room, sipping and talking. Someone down the bar reminded Allison of a regular at the bar she’d worked several years before in the Lower East, back when it wasn’t so posh, and she was telling John stories about the bizarre characters that drifted in: the transvestite who was always stumbling drunk and sporting fresh stitches, the three Puerto Rican brothers that always came in happy and always ended up fighting, the giant who roared like a bull at random intervals but always had cash and tipped well. John watched her eyes smile with her mouth as she relived these moments for him, heard the music of her voice dance the air between them, watched her unknowingly gather her dark hair up to toss back over her head again and again while she talked, and he prayed silently that these moments with her would never end.

At a lull, John glanced over to the opposite wall and saw two old friends in town working the pool table with another couple of acquaintances. He looked back at Allison while she took another long pull of her beer.

“Let’s go say hi,” said John, adding “But go easy on the beer, baby. I didn’t bring a change for you.”

Allison set her glass down and chuckled in mock dismissal, glancing sidelong at John before picking up her pint of water and downing the rest of it. She flashed him her mischievous grin, picked up her beer and let him lead her across the bar.

They interrupted their friends’ pool game and the crowd was all surprised smiles, all glad to catch up. As they stood around chatting Allison felt the first buzzing of alcohol in her brain and with it the first small pressure of her bladder filling. With only the slightest release of her muscles she let go her grip and felt the stream of pee flowing from her as she stood there, feeling the warmth and damp spread into her diaper. Standing next to John, peeing steadily, she was aware that she could stop herself, could hold it if she wanted to just like the normal adult she had been three months ago before John proposed their arrangement.

Only — Allison didn’t want to resist. It had been difficult for her to let herself go in the first few weeks, violating such a hard-drilled norm, but with practice and repetition she had begun to let the act of release recede into the dimmest corner of her conscious concern, till it had become almost effortless for her to pee in any circumstance she might be in, whether alone or in a crowd, whether in bed or on her feet at work, the need hitting her and then the stream starting almost on top of each other without her having to mentally focus on causing or allowing any of it. She was also getting better at letting herself fill her diaper whenever her body was ready, learning the feelings her muscles made as they contracted on their own, Allison offering no resistance and letting her diaper fill (though she had, up to now, still mainly held off going “all the way” while at work out of practical concern). She had grown almost accustomed to the routine of having John change her a few times each day – and yet the subtle edge of thrill always ran through her whenever John looked at her with his combined expression of lust and concern to say something like, “You need to be changed babygirl?”

Lately, Allison had been working on an even subtler release, entirely in her mind. She wanted to be able to give this thing to John, to abandon herself to this role and abandon her control, to be able to rest fully and at last cocooned inside the safety of the nest the two had created together, like this. She found herself silently promising, if ever she got nervous that her diaper would show, or that she’d need a change in a difficult spot, that as this was her state for now she would not hold herself back, whatever the circumstances. A month before, she would try to signal to John at the first sign she was wet or messy, fidgeting and asking to be changed immediately. But as she had grown used to the physical reality of her being back in diapers, she had started to feel attracted to this further goal – the surrender. She told herself she would be brave and would force herself to trust John to take care of her whatever happened, whenever she needed him to look after her, whatever might attend to her needing to be changed. In the beginning of their arrangement, the idea of a surrender so profound and shameful had terrified her. And yet at the same time the thought of such a careful exchange of control drew her in like the sweetest of sin.

She knew John didn’t think that she had actually “lost” her control, and anyway that had never been their goal. Allison had her “accidents” to remind him of their pact and their bond, to spin him up and stir his desires, to demand his attention towards her. John knew – she was sure – that when she confessed to him of her many accidents, when she woke up in the morning already wet for him, what she was trying to show was not some physical fact of her body, but the much more precious gift she was giving him. Every time it happened, every day, every full diaper, every changing, she was saying to him, over and over: I am giving this to you. I want you to take it.

Allison emptied herself and glanced at John to see if he had noticed – sometimes he could, and sometimes she tried to make it more obvious – but John was occupied in conversation. She felt the warm wetness slowly wick away and wiggled involuntarily. A few minutes later and they had been goaded into a game of pool, picking out pool cues and racking the balls again, Tim and John against Allison and Tim’s date. The time went quickly, but though John sipped his whisky carefully Allison downed another beer before the end of the first game and was starting on a third. The balls were racked again, and Tim broke.

From behind, John watched Allison as she eyed the tabletop where her teammate was lined up for a shot, loving how natural and unguarded she became when she was slightly tipsy and absorbed. He let the image of her stream in, standing there in her overalls, her legs just slightly too far apart and bent forward a bit at her waist. He had seen her stand this way before, when was near to needing changing, a way to let the soggy bulk hang away from her. In her snug overalls she couldn’t have found much relief, and John noticed clearly the swollen seat of her diaper bulging out tightly beneath the faded blue denim.

Allison knew she had been peeing excessively and was getting very wet, and that her diaper would become increasingly obvious as it filled and swelled. This was always a hazard of life now, of being stuck in a situation needing a change but with no easy way to get one, though she looked up and saw the line for the dank and smelly ladies room and was reminded of how lucky she felt to be able to avoid public toilets lately. Soaked and somewhat uncomfortable, the thrill of her predicament there in the bar surrounded by people she knew still made her almost giddy. The beer had gone right through her and she felt herself release again, but Allison defeated her own fear and did not stop herself though her diaper filled up wet and hot, not even as she felt the unmistakable warm wet drip of pee begin to move past the snug cuff around her thigh and leak through the inseam of her overalls. An unmistakable dark spot had appeared at the top of one of her thighs, slowly spreading out. She prayed John would notice soon, rescue her before the sum of her accidents became plain to everyone around her. She felt her heart beat quicken as she waited to feel her stream finally stop and how far the stain would travel down her leg.

It was not a minor stain, reaching nearly the back of her knee. Allison’s focus sharpened as the first fingers of panic reached her, and she quickly glanced around herself to find John. He was standing a little way behind, watching her. She backed herself a few steps into the protection of his body and he reached to her and drew her in, running his hand subtly down her side and around to her butt, quickly and furtively probing the cool dampness of her overalls where her diaper had leaked. John had watched her the whole while, drinking in the picture of the woman he loved slowly leaking down her leg. In her ear he whispered, “Do we need to get you home?”, and she shyly nodded.

They drove home mostly in silence, each pulsing with an unnamed anticipation. Walking up the short walk from the driveway, Allison reached the front door a few feet ahead of John. In the glare of the porch light he saw again the round fullness of her ass framing the bulge of her diaper under her overalls and the dark outline of wetness that had grown to cover most of it after Allison had soaked herself again sometime during the ride home. And at that moment at the door of their little house, and for the second time in that day, John was completely overcome by his desire for Allison, capsized by his lust for her. He reached to her body, spun her around and locked eyes with her. They held their gaze for one-, two-, long seconds until the dam broke. John drew her to him and kissed her mouth like he would drink her in one long gulp. His hands were wrapped around her, pulling her into him while he bathed in her kiss and her body and her smell. He wanted to feel all of her, to have his hands running over every part of her at once. He pullled Allison into himself with both of his hands on the damp seat of her diaper, and she moaned into his mouth. Even through the padding, she could feel his erection press into her. As abruptly as they’d started, John suddenly pulled away, picked up Allison and carried her through the door with her legs wrapped around him, walked her all the way into their bedroom and threw her onto their bed, tearing greedily at the buckles of her overalls.

Their lovemaking was frenzied and urgent, noisy and hungry, and John was sure the neighbors would be hearing them. It didn’t mater. There was no force on earth that could have held them back

After sating themselves on each others’ bodies, the two lovers dozed in a naked, oblivious haze. John woke up again after a time and remembered the significance of the day – the last night of their arrangement, Allison’s last night in diapers. Sunrise was just a few hours away. The thought hit him with a pang of regret as he found himself reaching for the yellow box of wipes and a fresh diaper out of her drawer. With sweet gentleness and practiced rhythm, trying not to wake her much, John cleaned Allison vagina, rolled her gently and cleaned her bottom and around her thighs, and as had become their routine slid a fresh diaper under her. Still naked, he grasped her ankles to lift her up, powdered her hairless diaper area once more and taped her snugly in to her thick white nighttime diaper before pulling one of her pink nighttime onesies over her head and snapping closed the crotch. John put on a pair of boxers before climbing back into bed with Allison, wrapping himself around her as she curled into him. He lightly kissed her cheek near her ear as he switched off the desk lamp beside.

In the dark John slid his arm over her and offered her his big thumb, and she groggily took his hand and began to suck. He felt the warmth of her small body relaxing into his while she drowsed next to him. In the quiet of their nest, John worried then what their lives from here would be like and how things might change. In his mind’s eye he replayed favorite memories of their time together these past three months of their arrangement, and he paused over a favorite image, just a moment early one morning the previous month: Allison was in their bed fast asleep after he’d returned from the kitchen, the sheets kicked away, lying on her side in a white onesie with the outlines of her diaper showing at the hip. She had looked so peaceful, and out of nowhere he had felt a surge of love for her, like he might collapse right there. Now lying there with is thoughts in the dark, the shadow of an awful cloud of loss hung in front of him thinking of losing what they had found together, and idea of returning to their previous routine of Normal together felt cruel and alien. Still he knew what their arrangement was. Only she could give herself over.

Allison lay still next to John, thinking about the morning ahead. She felt the strength of the hand in her hand, the warm sturdiness of his thumb in her mouth, the sense of peace that settled over her when she could lie in the warm and the dark safely with him, the security and finality of the constant presence of the bulk of her diaper between her thighs and the comfort of knowing he was always there to take care of her, that she was finally, finally at home. She had never had this life before, had never been able to feel this way. Now that their arrangement was coming to an end there was a terrible cavern forming in her heart, and into the cavern was flowing a cold nameless sense of dread, panicky dread.

Allison pulled his thumb out of her mouth and asked in a soft whisper, “Daddy?”

John was wide awake. “Yes pumpkin?”

She paused a long while. “I… don’t think I’m ready yet.”

“Ready for what baby?” he asked. Hope vibrated in him like a wire in wind.

She paused again, wriggled loose from him and rolled around to face him. The blood beat in her ears and she heard the words coming out as if in a dream: “I don’t want to be out of diapers yet. I’m not ready.” She waited, finally adding, “Is that OK?” She held her breath in the dark listening for his reply.

John swallowed. “Of course it’s OK baby. Of course.” Happiness was blooming all over inside his head like fireworks. He began to stroke her hair. “But you know the rules about it. This time it’s three whole months before you have a chance to decide again.” He strained to keep his voice level. “It’ll be six months by then back in diapers for you.”

In her mind Allison saw the turning of fall, imagined her birthday and the vacation trip south they had planned a month ahead, all of which she would experience diapered – and John would be there with her. She saw Thanksgiving at her family’s house, looked further into the deeper winter under their grey rainy lid, saw Christmas together and getting drunk on New Years – and John would be in the room, sitting next to her. She knew that their routine would only grow more entrenched, felt shock at her own sense of abandon as she realized too that she didn’t care. She would need to see these times with John as she was exactly then, in the bonds of their arrangement where she could feel like this always.

In the bluish gloom of the pre-dawn she studied his face, the questioning expression and the love in his eyes. Finally she replied in her soft voice. “If you’re up for it so am I.”

John’s face was frozen in a half-dazed smile. He reached for the words for a long while before finally stammering, “OK. Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

Before he could continue, Allison kissed John’s lips and rolled back away from him in their bed, feeling excited but settled, tucking herself back into his body, grasping again his hand and popping his thumb in her mouth, trying to calm her giddy nervousness and shut her eyes. A bubble of contentment was rising in her chest again and before long she was dozing off. But John lay awake a long while after Allison had become still next to him trying to organize his thoughts, and a little while later when he felt the sudden warmth spread through the seat of her diaper against him he pulled her closer to him. Only then did he feel the sleep finally beginning to come.

Re: The arrangement – 1

Glad to see another chapter! Do you plan to do time skips over the months and show off her continued loss of continence? Or more slice of life of the next three months?

Re: The arrangement – 1

Another fine chapter. I’m enjoying this one and look forward to seeing where it goes. Whatever your plans for where to take it, the best way to tell is by writing the story. Either way, I can see it being a lovely story whether you skip ahead, take a more leisurely stroll through Allison and John’s lives.

Re: The arrangement – 1

Hi all,

Thank you for the comments and feedback. I’ve slightly edited the first part. Hope you enjoy the second.

A

Re: The arrangement – 1

The Arrangement – Part 2

The charcoal grey wool of Allison’s skirt was only faintly rough under John’s hand, and her knee beneath was only just perceptibly warm through the cloth. John didn’t look at her except through the corner of his eye, trying to focus on the glowing screen far ahead, the people moving there, the voices coming from the speakers on the walls around them. But before long he did look, turned slightly, and let his eyes fix on her. John watched her face, lit in the same pale blue light as his own from the movie screen, and she did not notice him, did not turn to look at him. He watched the light move over her brown eyes, her distinct high-Roman nose, her dark hair pulled behind her head in a rough bun, the line of her lips framing her small mouth. He studied her as she absently brought a large white cup up alongside her face and took a quick drink from the straw stuck in it, watched her mouth move as she swallowed.

John wasn’t hearing the words from the speakers now. His hand was moving from her knee down her calf, down to the hem edge and onto her smooth cool shin. Now he was moving that hand back up under the skirt and back up the warm flesh of her leg, up to her thigh, moving higher, the skin growing softer and warmer under his large hand as he climbed further. Allison noticed the hand moving only when it had slid above her knee, pretended to ignore it while it moved along her thigh. She kept her eyes locked on the screen but she no longer saw the people or heard their voices. She sat still in her seat and she listened with her body as the hand continued to move.

Now John’s hand was nearly to the top of her thigh, sliding up slowly until he finally felt his fingers touch the warm firm plastic of Allison’s diaper. She was very wet. He knew he ought to have changed her before they came to the movie, but he knew also he liked to let her get very wet as she was now, nearly to the brink of leaking sometimes, before he changed her. He liked the way she felt to him then, liked the way she would waddle when her diaper was swollen, liked the risk it took for both of them.

Allison sat and waited, listening with her body as his fingers began to probe the front of her diaper, pressing the warm wet bulk against her clit. Allison felt the first electric waves of pleasure run up from her root and up her back. Now the pressure of John’s fingers was rolling back and forth against her, top to bottom, from her clit down to the lips of her vagina and back, pressing her warm wet diaper into her. She felt her back arch, and without thinking opened up her thighs slightly more, keeping still her eyes locked trance-like on the glowing screen.

Now the fingers were probing in the dark under Allison’s skirt, working themselves under the elastic that held snugly at the cuff around her leg, peeking in and moving down again to probe the hot wet slickness of her clit beneath the warm cloister of her diaper. The hand was pushing further inside, stretching out the cuff, and now John could smell the faint sharp smell of Allison’s wet diaper in the air between them in the theater. He was glad the place was nearly empty, glad also for their secluded place in the dark towards the back, for the volume of the noise coming out of the speaker that helped hide, but not fully, the crinkling noise of Allison’s diaper as he moved his hand under it, and the sound of her breathing coming faster now.

John was running his long nimble finger in faster and faster circles around Allison’s clit, and the pleasure coursing through her was climbing at a speed that shocked her, that threatened to run away. She felt her heart pounding fast, beating blood pulses in her ears, and she felt her breathing come quickly and ragged as she begged and fought and surrendered all at once. John had teased her this way before, had put his hand in her diaper like this and had his way with her body, but she had never been overcome this quickly before, had never felt herself reaching up to climax so quickly, and she felt both shame and the sweetest sense of satisfaction that it was in public – that only she was the locus of such divine gratification, unknown to anyone around her. It was happening too quickly now. A moan built and forced itself from her, and though she tried didn’t manage to cut it off altogether. She was trying to regain herself, trying to control, but the more she struggled to stay on top of this feeling the more it overpowered her and slipped from her grasp.

But still John’s finger was running in its circles, making its rhythmic crinkling and filling the air with the smell of her pee, and she knew the electrical tiptop of the tension inside her had been reached. This was it. It was too late. She shut her eyes, pursed her lips together, held for another long second and felt her grasp slipping, slipping, until it was gone. Her orgasm uncoiled like the snap of a whip, and as she gasped another moan against her closed mouth that she could not contain, it ripping up into the air above them only partly covered by the sounds from the movie. She tumbled in the pleasure of the moment, forgetting everything, feeling the twist of pure pleasure grip her in waves of contraction and release, forgetting all outside of herself until she had sunk far down into a soft still nest of bliss that surrounded her like quiet fur. With her eyes still shut she lay back on the seat and rested, feeling her breathing slow and her heart resume its place back in her chest.

After a while she heard Johns voice from somewhere far away, a soft whisper at her ear: “Well that was new for you.”

She opened her eyes. “When did you learn to do that?”

“Liked it?” he whispered.

She paused, sighed. “You did good,” she said, still lying back on the seat and feeling her pulse beat fast, her vulva throb against her.

“I think we should get you home,” he said in his low voice.

“I’m alright,” she said. “I want to finish the movie.” She turned to him. “Why, is everything ok?” She meant with him. Even in the dark she could see he was looking at her with a questioning expression, uncertain about something.

“It’s Ok, sure,” he whispered, then adding, “You’re just a bit of a mess is all.” John reached up to her hand still clutching the armrest of her chair, picked it up and brought it under her skirt and up to the front of her diaper. Instinctively she began to check herself like she did when John wasn’t with her, trying to see how she holding up, how soon she would need to change. The front of her diaper was hot all the way to halfway up her padded bottom. Her dress and the movie theater seat beneath her were damp and cold. She moved her fingers around her diaper and felt the cuffs around her legs. They were still cold and wet where her diaper had leaked.

Allison didn’t say anything. She just looked at John, and John in the dark looked back and studied her face again. “Might be better to just get going,” he whispered, smiling a satisfied sideways smirk to himself, and gestured to the side door to the small theater. Allison’s eyes fell to the floor and her face became expressionless. She nodded to him, stood to gather her coat, and let John lead them down the row of seats and to the aisle, her slight waddling walk swaying between the seats, the darkness hiding the black wet patch on her skirt. They made their way with a studied casual pace to the exit and into the cold night air outside.

Re: The arrangement – 1

Great chapter, I like how the story is developing!

Re: The arrangement – 1

Allison looked out across the bright stretch of sand at the beach in New Jersey, where she and her family had visited back when she still lived at home. She was wearing the green shimmery one-piece bathing suit that, in Junior High, she had begged her mother to buy her. It held her accustomed body comfortably, and Allison did not think it strange that she could fit in it. The summer heat shimmered in the air around her, and she felt the warm sand under her as she sat on a large yellow towel. Some yards ahead toward the ocean her mother and two older sisters stood waving, calling to her to put down her book and come join them.

Allison was about to stand up when she looked down at her legs and saw, then felt, the bulge of her diaper under the thin material of the bathing suit. The white lines of the cuffs around her thighs stood out from the high arch around the legs of the bathing suit. She had nothing to hide herself, no nearby cast-off clothing to be found anywhere, and in her sudden predicament was mortified and confused. In a panic she threw the towel over her lower half and tried to think of an excuse, something to say to escape having to run over to her sisters and be caught in diapers, the remaining lagging fear she had carried ever since she and John began their arrangement. Struggling for words, wrapped in her towel, she felt her bladder release and her diaper grow warm inside and all she could do was sit, dumbfounded and embarrassed. She didn’t know what to do.

Then her eyes fluttered open and she was back in their bed, in the morning sun lying next to John. She had wrapped their white sheets around her, and lay curled inward away from John’s body at her side of the bed. She studied the room for a long moment, trying to reassure herself of where she really was, carefully in her mind rebuilding the memories of the night before in the theater to nail down a believable timeline between then and now. John was still sound asleep. The clock on the wall opposite read just past 7. He wouldn’t be up for hours, but Allison felt wide awake.

She gingerly unwrapped from her cocoon and padded across the room. Allison was wearing only a small white t-shirt and her thick nighttime diaper, crinkling loudly in the quiet room as she made her way to the kitchen. Still a bit disoriented, she went through the automated motions of rinsing out the coffee pot, dumping the filter out in the trash, setting up the machine and waiting for her first cup of the day. She watched the pot brew aimlessly for several minutes before realizing she was already very wet. Cupping the front of her diaper she felt the familiar warm bulk. She did not remember letting go before falling asleep, and had not felt herself release in the time she’d been in the kitchen. She didn’t remember going at all.

Allison began to worry again, a she had after their hasty retreat from the movie house the past evening. John would expect to be changing a wet diaper once he woke up – he did every morning – but only she knew that something was different today. This had been imposed on her, as if from somewhere else. She hadn’t done it, or assented to let happen. It was as if someone else had left her this way.

She downed her first cup of coffee, poured another, and went back into the bedroom for her phone. John was still asleep. Allison sat down again at the kitchen table and thumbed aimlessly through the morning’s news, the latest facebook updates, her usual waking-up routine. By 8 o’clock she was getting hungry and John was still fast asleep, so she poured a cup of coffee in his mug and crept softly into the room and set it on his night stand before turning to the bathroom off their bedroom. She knew the sound of the shower would wake him, and she turned it on without shutting the door, turning to watch him rouse slowly. When he finally rolled over and looked at her, she called casually to him, “Good morning baby. I’m going to hop in the shower if you don’t mind.”

“Mmfff. No baby, you go ahead. You got it ok?” He meant, did she want him to clean her up first.

“No, I’m fine. There’s coffee for you.” He reached towards the night stand, making groggy, grateful noises.

She shut the door, pulled the shirt off over her head, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her summer tan was fading, her freckles on her nose receding back to their wintertime subtlety. Standing in only her white diaper, Allison was struck as if for the first time at the strangeness of her life with John. Their days lately had felt to her not just normal, but very often surprisingly good, unusually good. It was a happier stretch of days than most. And yet, if she had described her life today to herself five years prior she’d have been shocked, possibly terrified, and at least very very confused. She likely wouldn’t have even believed the story. Yet in the mirror in front of her stood a fit, attractive woman of 31 in her bear breasts, a diaper snugly hugging her hourglass hips with a slightly grey-yellow wet stain creeping up the front. It still surprised her, made her anxious sometimes, to see herself this way. And yet she loved to look at herself now, loved to check her figure before she left the house to try to discern her true condition in the mirror, just like this. She did it several times a day, she realized.

She pulled the tapes of her diaper off, wrapped the bundle of white plastic tightly against itself, and dropped it into the plastic bin near the scale that held her cast-offs from the past few mornings. Allison turned on the shower water, felt it grow warm, and tiptoed her way into the stream. She stood under the warm jets and let it wet her hair and her mind wandered, transfixed at the image of herself she had just seen in the mirror, the odd shock of how she had come to this place in her life.

It had been a deceptively slow series of steps to reach this present morning. At first when John had told her of his plans for her, Allison thought he might be making one of his bizarre larks. And when it was clear that he was serious – that he wanted to see her in a diaper, that it would turn him on for her – she wasn’t even sure what he had meant. She had to ask several questions, increasingly serious questions, just to gather what he was looking for her to do. But their relationship then was progressing rapidly, and she had fallen hard in love with him and wanted to give him whatever she could to see him happy. So about a week after he had first told her of his desires, John’s birthday, on their way home from dinner out with their friends in town, she gathered up her courage and asked him if he wanted to try it with her – his plan. It was a fairly brief affair the first time. She recalled how nervous she had been as he laid her on their bed, pulled down her jeans, shimmied down her panties; the sound the diaper made as he unfolded it, tucked it under her; the enclosing feeling of the padding as he drew it up around her waist, the squeeze it made on her hips as he cinched the tapes in place. The diaper felt entirely unfamiliar, but she was surprised to feel a certain pleasurableness to it too, the warmth, softness, even the safety of it, if she had been able then to conceive of her state as one of safety, lying before John in the diaper he had put on her.

Allison remembered the way John had looked at her just then: She was still lying on their bed, feeling awkward, slightly ridiculous, watching his face. It was his eyes she saw. Oh, his eyes. They almost sparkled with a desire for her, a hunger she had never seen in a man’s gaze locked onto her. She could tell that the world had shrunk to a point for him, and that point contained only her; she was the only object of his attention. Seeing him hypnotized a thrill of power shook through her, but she found it immediately coiled around an intense feeling of shame and helplessness in her situation, a double-sensation that was also brand new to her. Allison knew herself well enough to immediately know she was enjoying this – the same fixated pleasure-seeking of a junkie seeking her junk, the way Allison always sought her sources of bliss.

They pleasured each other a long while that first night, and when John finally loosened one of the tapes to slide his pulsing cock into her she was wet and frantic for him. Their lovemaking was headsplitting, wild, abandoned. When both were finished, the two lovers looked at each other with expressions of mild astonishment, as if they had only just met.

It was not long before he asked her again, and she was not difficult to convince. As before, their sex was devastating, but what fed Allison’s craving was the way she felt when he looked at her. One Saturday morning he suggested diapering her before breakfast, let her stay that way while they idled together in the house. When eventually her coffee had run through her, she sensed his drift and stood in front of him while she slowly unloosened herself and let herself pee for him. John watched her like a wolf where she was standing, and when she was finished greedily took her in his arms and began to kiss her. They stumbled onto a whole new floor of passion together then, discovered vast new wings in the mansion of their longing for one another, a dozen new rooms of delights and agonies waiting to be mapped, explored, visited; Allison’s pleasure at their game grew deeper.

And so it had grown with them, small steps leading to next small steps, each a step towards pleasure, each requiring no more than a minor leap over short barriers of apprehension to the undiscovered countries that always lay further on. She remembered the first time she left the house after he diapered her, a short hike in the woods not far away, and how he kept grabbing for her as she walked ahead of him on the trail, how they were pawing each other like teenagers by the time they were nearing the house again. Allison pictured to herself and her bright red dress the time she and John had been at dinner together, the sensation of firm padding beneath her in the seat, feeling sneaky and lustful as they eyed each other across the table. And when a thing was so unambiguously good, why deny yourself? By the time John had proposed that they agree to their deal, the progressively longer and longer unbroken stretches of keeping Allison in diapers – nearly six months ago, she realized with a jolt – the arrangement felt nearly like an afterthought. They had been drifting that way for months. John was diapering Allison more and more often, simply because it made them both happy. All their arrangement required was that small further step, that last little leap.

Only, stepping into their arrangement hadn’t been just another small sequential leap. They both knew it represented a sharp change not only in their routines, but the entire shape of their relationship. Stepping into the commitment to their arrangement had made their love and attachment to each other deeper, and at the same time their dynamic together had shifted in ways that were subtle but present everywhere. When John had proposed it, the resistance Allison had felt lay right alongside her shock at her own readiness to acquiesce, creating a tension she was powerless to resist, an addictive contradiction she could not leave alone. When she said her fateful, “Okay,” to John on that spring day, half of her screamed inwardly in disbelief, while the other half raced ahead to embrace it like the arrival of a day waited on for too long, like barreling downstairs to open presents on Christmas morning.

That tension had never left her, and for reasons she could not dig out, even from her remotest thoughts, she craved it more and more all the time. Without knowing its true origin, with part of her still in wonder at the continued strangeness of it, still Allison had to admit to herself she loved the way she felt with John these past six months. It was a better life, full of more peace and satisfaction and thrill and pleasure and a sense of being home, than she had ever known. She loved John all the more for somehow finding this place, with her.

Allison finally remembered her shower, finished scrubbing herself and washing away the remnants of powder off her, shampooed her long dark hair before finally turning the valve closed. She toweled herself off and emerged from the bathroom. John was sitting up in bed, his phone in one hand and coffee in the other, reading. He looked up at her and smiled his wide smile. “Good morning baby. It always makes me so happy to see you in the morning.”

Allison poked her tongue at him and crossed the room to sit on the bed while she rubbed at her hair with a towel. “You about ready for your change?” he asked, and she looked at him, nodded. “Mmm hmm.”

John threw back the covers, climbed out of bed and took her hand, leading her into the spare bedroom off the living room. The room had a single window, contained a desk and a chair, some odds and ends of a home office and storage space. Along one wall was a low sturdy table john had found at a yard sale in town with a sort of thin pad on it covered in vinyl. Next to the table sat a low dresser, and on top of this was the yellow box of wipes, bottles of powder and various tubes of accompanying salves. Near the dresser was a tall plastic bin, Allison’s diaper bin, with a closing top that smelled strongly of a nursery. John would need to empty it soon. He led his Allison to the table and laid her gently on it, opened the dresser drawer and withdrew a thin white diaper with two yellow lines down the middle (he called them her “daytime diapers”), and unfurled it before drawing it under her naked bottom. He dabbed some white cream on her hairless front, powdered her from the bottle, and taped her up snugly. All the while Allison watched him with an absent smile. She still loved this part, every time.

When he was done he admired her for a moment, lying on her changing table, before he patted her front and said, “OK all done! We’re going to the farmer’s market in just a little while so wear whatever you like.” He waited, but she didn’t move from the table, looking at him expectantly. Finally remembering, John bent down to her face and planted a single kiss on her cheek.

Re: The arrangement – 1

The mid-morning air in the parking lot in the middle of town was still cold, still able to make breath fog, as they aimlessly wandered past the stalls of ruddy-faced locals from out in the county selling eggs, enormous beets, leafy carrots, and oysters from the farm off the creek outside of town. John liked to drag her down to this place to look for especially tasty additions for Saturday dinner, but the occasion was mostly to get out of the house and stretch, take in the calming routine of the life of the town.

Allison wore a favorite pair of faded jeans, fraying at the pockets, one of the surviving holdovers from before their arrangement that were almost too snug over her diaper. She had on a grey sweater and over that a long coat and knitted hat, keeping her hands in her coat and bundling herself against the cold. They made their way around the stalls and tables, tasting samples and looking over the odd or rustic produce they saw. She had just swallowed a piece of ultra-crisp late season apple from last vendor when she felt her stomach knot slightly. Her insides had been unsettled ever since they had arrived, and she was beginning to become uncomfortable. As they continued past the stalls Allison was distracted, and could feel her insides roiling, growling, with increasing force. Just as they were nearing the end of their first loop through the market, she realized it was about to happen. She could feel her bowels contracting, her muscles loosening, the insistent inward shriek growing louder. Her pace slowed, then stopped. John noticed she was no longer next to him, turned from a few paces ahead while she stood still, looking at him with a frightened expression.

People were passing them, and John stood watching her. Allison was screaming at her brain to clamp at her muscles, wherever they could be located, but it was as if she was sending messages into a void. She cast about furiously trying to locate the strings to pull. She could feel it coming. Standing now with her legs apart, her knees slightly bent, she locked eyes with John and felt her insides release, felt the seat of her diaper begin to fill, growing warm and heavy. She was trying to make it stop, but she only felt her mess keep flowing out for what seemed a single endless moment stretching to eternity, the bulk spreading and filling the spaces enclosed by her diaper until finally her insides became calm again on their own.

John never took his eyes away from her. After a few moments, when he saw her face relax and her eyes drop to the ground, he crossed over to her and said in a low voice, “It’s ok baby. Finish for me.” With a look of resignation Allison gave a last muffled grunt, feeling the seat of her diaper swell even further as she emptied herself fully. Her bladder released itself on cue.

John looked at her with a slight smile. Allison could feel her face and neck burning, felt her heart racing, and was suddenly aware of all the people near them, the open place in which they stood. She looked up to see John’s face. His eyes were full of love, practically dreamy in the way he was looking at her, and he gave her the slightest sympathetic yet adoring smile, holding his head at a slight tilt. And standing there in her full diaper, Allison suddenly knew, felt it in her bones all at once as if seeing it for the first time. John completely accepted her, top to bottom embraced all that she was. He loved her, completely. It was so simple, yet no less staggering a sight in front of her than as if a unicorn had causally wandered past. She was totally at home in him, she knew it then. It was a fact as obvious and solid and uncomplicated as a black stone lying in one’s hand. Standing there looking at him she felt her heart begin to slow, the panic and fear melting away like spring snow and she felt safe once more, safe and loved, as if nothing bad might ever happen to her. The world was back to being only her and John again.

In the fresh air of the market only the faintest whiff was apparent around her. John gave her a hug, kissed her forhead, and put his arm around her waist and pointed their path away from the stalls. In his low voice he said, “I wondered about you. I haven’t changed any full diapers in a couple of days. Are you feeling alright? Do we need to get you home?”

Allison thought for a second, gave John a glance, and smiled inwardly as she gently squeezed his waist. “I’m alright for a little while. Did you get everything you wanted?”

The two reached John’s blue truck a half hour later with a paper bag full of veggies and cheese each, putting the haul in the back seat. John climbed in first, and watched with undisguised relish as Allison swung herself through the door and into the seat, giving a small wince as she lowered herself slowly into the seat in her full diaper. She hurriedly rolled the window down (she still felt mortified about the smell, no matter where they were), but John hardly noticed. The two doors slammed, John turned the key, and the engine jumped to life. It was cold in the truck and John turned the knob on the heater up till the blowers were making their rushing noise in the cabin.

They were silent a long several seconds as John pulled out of the parking lot, then both of them began at once.

“I’m sorr—”/“Are you O—”.

They both burst into nervous giggles. John waited.

“I’m sorry, baby. I don’t know what even happened just now,” Allison said.

“Just kind of lost it did you?”

“Yeah. Really badly. I know I smell bad, I’m—“

“Baby!” said John in an admonishing tone. “How many times have I handled it before today? I don’t mind! You know this! I always tell you I don’t mind it! Can’t—” He caught himself, softened his voice, and continued, “Baby, it doesn’t bother me, not even a little. You really looked quite cute, honestly.”

Allison snorted. “Cute,” she said, laughing. “You have a hell of an idea of cute.”

John smiled. “Maybe so. Something about seeing you like that, it’s just adorable to me. I’m sorry you’re upset though. Is your belly acting up?”

Allison sounded flatly surprised. “You know not really. I just didn’t feel like going this morning before we came and then walking around it was suddenly just there, and I didn’t have any time to react. And I tried.”

John thought for a second. “It’s really not a big deal, wherever we are. We’ve got it covered if things like that happen.” He tossed his head to gesture at the large blue bag that rode everywhere with them now, containing everything John needed to change her, even an old set of her clothes. “We were outside so…”

“I know, I know. I’m just not used to having it sneak up on me like that. Kind of makes me a little worried.”

John was not sure how to react. A surge of guilt and concern washed over him, guilt that he had put her in a place that scared her. But behind his guilt lurked a thrill of passion that thrummed at his mind like a trapped bird. He ventured, “Well – we’ll be at the next anniversary of our deal in a little more than a week. Why don’t you think about how you’re feeling and we can talk it over on the day. OK?”

Allison didn’t respond, only stared ahead at the road as it made its way through the tall green pines on either side.

“Though,” John added after a minute had passed, “we might ought to try some plastic pants for you.” She gave him a look of disbelief. “Just in case,” he tried to explain. “It’ll help keep the smell down if it happens again so you won’t have to worry about it as much.”

Allison softened slightly, and in a near-whisper said shyly, “Just to try it, maybe. If you think it’ll help.”

They passed on in silence, each carrying too many competing thoughts to unpack at once. Yet in spite of himself John kept stealing glances at her as they drove the road back to their house. Still lost in her own thoughts Allison absently reached over and laid her hand on his knee, and when she did John unconsciously shifted his leg open just slightly in what was almost a squirm. Running her hand further up the inside of John’s thigh, she felt his hard readiness beneath. John watched her out of the corner of his eye. She gave him a Cheshire-cat grin. The ride back seemed like it would take forever.

Re: The arrangement – 1

Allison looked out across the bright stretch of sand at the beach in New Jersey, where she and her family had visited back when she still lived at home. She was wearing the green shimmery one-piece bathing suit that, in Junior High, she had begged her mother to buy her. It held her accustomed body comfortably, and Allison did not think it strange that she could fit in it. The summer heat shimmered in the air around her, and she felt the warm sand under her as she sat on a large yellow towel. Some yards ahead toward the ocean her mother and two older sisters stood waving, calling to her to put down her book and come join them.

She was about to stand up when she looked down at her legs and saw, then felt, the bulge of her diaper under the thin material of the bathing suit. The white lines of the cuffs around her thighs stood out from the high arch around the legs of the suit. Looking around frantically she found nothing to hide herself, no nearby cast-off clothing anywhere near her place on the beach. In a panic she threw the towel over her lower half and tried to think of an excuse, something to say to escape having to run over to her sisters and be caught in diapers, the remaining lagging fear she had carried ever since she and John began their arrangement. Struggling for words, wrapped in her towel, she felt her bladder release and her diaper grow warm inside and all she could do was sit, dumbfounded and embarrassed. She didn’t know what to do.

Then her eyes fluttered open and she was back in their bed, in the morning sun lying next to John. She had wrapped their white sheets around her, and lay curled inward away from John’s body at her side of the bed. She studied the room for a long moment, trying to reassure herself of where she really was, carefully in her mind rebuilding the memories of the night before in the theater to nail down a believable timeline between then and now. John was still sound asleep. The clock on the wall opposite read just past seven. He wouldn’t be up for hours, but Allison felt wide awake.

She gingerly unwrapped from her cocoon and padded across the room. Allison was wearing only a small white t-shirt and her thick nighttime diaper, and she crinkled loudly in the quiet room making her way to the kitchen. Still a bit disoriented, she went through the automated motions of rinsing out the coffee pot, dumping the filter out in the trash, setting up the machine and waiting for her first cup of the day. She watched the pot brew aimlessly for several minutes before realizing she was already very wet. Cupping the front of her diaper she felt the familiar warm bulk. She did not remember letting go before falling asleep, and had not felt herself release in the time she’d been in the kitchen. She didn’t remember going at all.

Allison began to worry again, a she had after their hasty retreat from the movie house the past evening. John would expect to be changing a wet diaper once he woke up – he did every morning – but only she knew that something was different today. This had been imposed on her, as if from somewhere else. She hadn’t done it, or assented to let happen. It was as if someone else had left her this way.

She downed her first cup of coffee, poured another, and went back into the bedroom for her phone. John was still asleep. Allison sat down again at the kitchen table and thumbed aimlessly through the morning’s news, the latest facebook updates, her usual waking-up routine. By 8 o’clock she was getting hungry and John was still fast asleep, so she poured a cup of coffee in his mug and crept softly into the room and set it on his night stand before turning to the bathroom off their bedroom. She knew the sound of the shower would wake him, and she turned it on without shutting the door, turning to watch him rouse slowly. When he finally rolled over and looked at her, she called casually to him, “Good morning baby. I’m going to hop in the shower if you don’t mind.”

“Mmfff. No baby, you go ahead. You got it ok?” He meant, did she want him to clean her up first.

“No, I’m fine. There’s coffee for you.” He reached towards the night stand, making groggy, grateful noises.

She shut the door, pulled the shirt off over her head, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her summer tan was fading, her freckles on her nose receding back to their wintertime subtlety. Standing in only her white diaper, Allison was struck as if for the first time at the strangeness of her life with John. Their days lately had felt to her not just normal, but very often surprisingly good, unusually good. It was a happier stretch of days than most. And yet, if she had described her life today to herself five years prior she’d have been shocked, possibly terrified, and at least very very confused. She likely wouldn’t have even believed the story. Yet in the mirror in front of her stood a fit, attractive woman of 31 in her bear breasts, a diaper snugly hugging her hourglass hips with a slightly grey-yellow wet stain creeping up the front. It still surprised her, made her anxious sometimes, to see herself this way. And yet she loved to look at herself now, loved to check her figure before she left the house to try to discern her true condition in the mirror, just like this. She did it several times a day, she realized.

She peeled the tapes of her diaper back with their customary ripping sound, wrapped the bundle of white plastic tightly against itself, and dropped it into the plastic bin near the scale that held her cast-offs from the past few mornings, a faint waft of stale urine smell drifting up. Allison turned on the shower water, felt it grow warm, and tiptoed her way into the stream. She stood under the warm jets and let it wet her hair and her mind wandered, transfixed at the image of herself she had just seen in the mirror, the odd shock of how she had come to this place in her life.

It had been a deceptively slow series of steps to reach this present morning. At first when John had told her of his plans for her, Allison thought he might be making one of his bizarre larks. And when it was clear that he was serious – that he wanted to see her in a diaper, that it would turn him on for her – she wasn’t even sure what he had meant. She had to ask several questions, increasingly serious questions, just to gather what he was looking for her to do. But their relationship then was progressing rapidly, and she had fallen hard in love with him and wanted to give him whatever she could to see him happy. So about a week after he had first told her of his desires, John’s birthday, on their way home from dinner out with their friends in town, she gathered up her courage and asked him if he wanted to try it with her – his plan. It was a fairly brief affair the first time. She recalled how nervous she had been as he laid her on their bed, pulled down her jeans, shimmied down her panties; the sound the diaper made as he unfolded it, tucked it under her; the enclosing feeling of the padding as he drew it up around her waist, the squeeze it made on her hips as he cinched the tapes in place. The diaper felt entirely unfamiliar, but she was surprised to feel a certain pleasurableness to it too, the warmth, softness, even the safety of it, if she had been able then to conceive of her state as one of safety, lying before John in the diaper he had put on her.

Allison remembered the way John had looked at her just then: She was still lying on their bed, feeling awkward, slightly ridiculous, watching his face. It was his eyes she saw. Oh, his eyes. They almost sparkled with a desire for her, a hunger she had never seen in a man’s gaze locked onto her. She could tell that the world had shrunk to a point for him, and that point contained only her; she was the only object of his attention. Seeing him hypnotized a thrill of power shook through her, but she found it immediately coiled around an intense feeling of shame and helplessness in her situation, a double-sensation that was also brand new to her. Allison knew herself well enough to immediately know she was enjoying this – the same fixated pleasure-seeking of a junkie seeking her junk, the way Allison always sought her sources of bliss.

They pleasured each other a long while that first night, and when John finally loosened one of the tapes to slide his pulsing cock into her she was wet and frantic for him. Their lovemaking was headsplitting, wild, abandoned. When both were finished, the two lovers looked at each other with expressions of mild astonishment, as if they had only just met.

It was not long before he asked her again, and she was not difficult to convince. As before, their sex was devastating, but what fed Allison’s craving was the way she felt when he looked at her. One Saturday morning he suggested diapering her before breakfast, let her stay that way while they idled together in the house. When eventually her coffee had run through her, she sensed his drift and stood in front of him while she slowly unloosened herself and let herself pee for him. John watched her like a wolf where she was standing, and when she was finished greedily took her in his arms and began to kiss her. They stumbled onto a whole new floor of passion together then, discovered vast new wings in the mansion of their longing for one another, a dozen new rooms of delights and agonies waiting to be mapped, explored, visited; Allison’s pleasure at their game grew deeper.

And so it had grown with them, small steps leading to next small steps, each a step towards pleasure, each requiring no more than a minor leap over short barriers of apprehension to the undiscovered countries that always lay further on. She remembered the first time she left the house after he diapered her, a short hike in the woods not far away, and how he kept grabbing for her as she walked ahead of him on the trail, how they were pawing each other like teenagers by the time they were nearing the house again. Allison pictured to herself and her bright red dress the time she and John had been at dinner together, the sensation of firm padding beneath her in the seat, feeling sneaky and lustful as they eyed each other across the table. And when a thing was so unambiguously good, why deny yourself? By the time John had proposed that they agree to their deal, the progressively longer and longer unbroken stretches of keeping Allison in diapers – nearly six months ago, she realized with a jolt – the arrangement felt nearly like an afterthought. They had been drifting that way for months. John was diapering Allison more and more often, simply because it made them both happy. All their arrangement required was that small further step, that last little leap.

Only, stepping into their arrangement hadn’t been just another small sequential leap. They both knew it represented a sharp change not only in their routines, but the entire shape of their relationship. Stepping into the commitment to their arrangement had made their love and attachment to each other deeper, and at the same time their dynamic together had shifted in ways that were subtle but present everywhere. When John had proposed it, the resistance Allison had felt lay right alongside her shock at her own readiness to acquiesce, creating a tension she was powerless to resist, an addictive contradiction she could not leave alone. When she said her fateful, “Okay,” to John on that spring day, half of her screamed inwardly in disbelief, while the other half raced ahead to embrace it like the arrival of a day waited on for too long, like barreling downstairs to open presents on Christmas morning.

That tension had never left her, and for reasons she could not dig out, even from her remotest thoughts, she craved it more and more all the time. Without knowing its true origin, with part of her still in wonder at the continued strangeness of it, still Allison had to admit to herself she loved the way she felt with John these past six months. It was a better life, full of more peace and satisfaction and thrill and pleasure and a sense of being home, than she had ever known. She loved John all the more for somehow finding this place, with her.

Allison finally remembered her shower, finished scrubbing herself and washing away the remnants of powder off her, shampooed her long dark hair before finally turning the valve closed. She toweled herself off and emerged from the bathroom. John was sitting up in bed, his phone in one hand and coffee in the other, reading. He looked up at her and smiled his wide smile. “Good morning baby. It always makes me so happy to see you in the morning.”

Allison poked her tongue at him and crossed the room to sit on the bed while she rubbed at her hair with a towel. “You about ready for your change?” he asked, and she looked at him, nodded. “Mmm hmm.”

John threw back the covers, climbed out of bed and took her hand, leading her into the spare bedroom off the living room. The room had a single window, contained a desk and a chair, some odds and ends of a home office and storage space. Along one wall was a low sturdy table john had found at a yard sale in town with a sort of thin pad on it covered in vinyl. Next to the table sat a low dresser, and on top of this was the yellow box of wipes, bottles of powder and various tubes of accompanying salves. Near the dresser was a tall plastic bin, Allison’s diaper bin, with a closing top that smelled strongly of a nursery. John would need to empty it soon. He led his Allison to the table and laid her gently on it, opened the dresser drawer and withdrew a thin white diaper with two yellow lines down the middle (he called them her “daytime diapers”), and unfurled it before drawing it under her naked bottom. He dabbed some white cream on her hairless front, powdered her from the bottle, and taped her up snugly. All the while Allison watched him with an absent smile. She still loved this part, every time.

When he was done he admired her for a moment, lying on her changing table, before he patted her front and said, “OK all done! We’re going to the farmer’s market in just a little while so wear whatever you like.” He waited, but she didn’t move from the table, looking at him expectantly. Finally remembering, John bent down to her face and planted a single kiss on her cheek.

Re: The arrangement – 1

As Allison sat at the kitchen table with her coffee a thought entered her mind and lodged itself there: John would be gone most of the rest of the day helping a friend out in the county fetch and stack firewood. She had nothing to do, no real plans for the day other than some work around the house and a curl up with a book she had promised herself. Why not just try it for awhile?

The incident at the farmer’s market the weekend before had stayed with her, pressing on the back of her mind like a shard of glass, kept growing in weight and size like the oyster’s pearl while she rolled it around in her thoughts. Just when their arrangement was becoming nearly invisible to her under the noise of their day to day routine, the shock of her loss of control in front of John and the world had made the terms of their deal vivid all over again. The risk and the oddness of their exchange had at first been addictive, a captivation that led Allison further and further in, a tar pit of intrigue and lust and bliss. Now the risk she once craved had transmuted into something else, something casting a shadow that over her most basic sense of herself.

She was not tired of John taking care of her in his peculiar way. She had grown very used to the physical sensations of being in diapers, her body had adjusted nicely, and she had remained clean and healthy, had even come to relish the fresh comforting feeling of being in a dry clean diaper after John changed her when she got home from work. And Allison almost swooned in bliss from time to time at the little moments they shared, the way his strong gentle hands moved over her when he changed her, the care he showed her and the control he deftly assumed over her without her having to think about it or even consciously approve. Their lovemaking, in the past several months since they began their arrangement, had reached a plateau of just barely contained frenzy; any more extreme and there was a risk, she knew, that they’d stumble into dissipation and personal psychological collapse. As it was, she was happy to just skirt that edge while still maintaining her main-line supply of satisfaction from John.

But the predicament of real helplessness she had experienced lately – and the thought of finding herself stranded, caught, embarrassed, even if John were there to help – frightened her, and made her question how far she could let this go. It was true that though John had started to include a simple pair of snug plastic pants over her diaper since the scene last weekend, nothing nearly so extreme as her accident in the market had happened since. Things had more or less proceeded on as they had the previous six months. She had woken up on a few mornings that week to make coffee and noticed her diaper was wet without clear memory of it, but had been chalking it up to her drowsy memory. But the idea that she might truly need the protection bothered her. So far she had not shared any of these fears with John.

She had the house to herself that day, and was expecting no company. “Why not just try it?” she asked herself again. If she was worried about how much of her control she had lost, why not prove to herself that she was still in charge? This was still her game.

Finally, annoyed at her inability to concentrate on the book in front of her or anything else, she relented. She pushed back her chair, stood and crossed to the spare room that contained her changing supplies. Still standing she unbuttoned the top of her grey cargo pants, unlaced the front fly, dropped them to the floor and stepped out of the legs. Allison noticed herself in the long mirror hung on the half-closed door, a grown woman in only a tshirt, a diaper under a white pair of plastic briefs, and socks, and felt now an unwelcome tinge of shame. Before she could stop herself she found she was peeling back the tapes on her thin daytime diaper and slipping it from between her legs. Reaching over to the yellow box of wipes, she cleaned the remnants of powder off herself and rubbed at her hairless nether region until she felt clean again.

Allison tossed the diaper into the nearby pail, bundled up her pants and crossed the hallway into their bedroom, feeling the strangeness of the air on her open crotch and the missing pressure between her thighs. Opening the top drawer of her dresser she peered through the gloom at its forgotten contents. Her panties were there exactly as they had been left, untouched these past six months except for the occasional bedtime play. Without turning on the light she fished out an unremarkable pink cotton set and slipped it on, reminded of the dim familiarity of the old ritual, only lately abandoned, she had followed since she was a teenager of sliding the tiny cloth past her womanly hips and over her full fertile backside. She shimmied the pants back up and over her hips, laced the front and buttoned them, and turned to see herself in the closet mirror. It was true she could tell the difference, and she noticed with disappointment that her figure had lost a touch of its fullness, and the pants didn’t hug her hips as they once did. Still she felt attractive, stronger again and less afraid. This was, after all, a pair of pants she used to wear when she was bartending because they so flattered her figure. The tips were a nice side-effect.

John wouldn’t be home for hours. She was just going to try it out for a little while. Allison would normally change herself if she needed to when John wasn’t around. All she had to do was go back in and change before John got home and he would never know the difference. There was nothing to worry about.

She walked back into the living room and felt the unfamiliar contact between her upper thighs as she moved her legs, the bulk now absent, and the odd quiet of her clothes rustling instead of the distinct sound of the plastic of her diaper crinkling in time with her steps. Allison curled herself into the couch with her book and her coffee and tried to concentrate again on the story ahead of her. She read two chapters in which the protagonist finally got into his first gunfight, noticed at some point her coffee mug had emptied, and slowly began to feel the old but suddenly strange and insistent feeling of her bladder filling. She kept reading, trying to concentrate, but quickly her squirming and the growing pressure were too much. She tossed down the book and nearly sprinted to the bathroom, barely getting her pants down before her stream began. It was an uncomfortable experience, this reminder of life before their arrangement – the cold hard seat, the boredom of sitting still in the silent lavatory waiting to finish this most basic and humdrum of human routines. She went through the automated motions, not even needing to remember, hiked her pants back up, and washed.

The afternoon passed uneventfully. She called her mother, tidied the livingroom and ran a load of laundry, then made a sandwich and disinterestedly browsed the internet. The autumn sun made its low arc past the south side of the house, and the squares of light in front of the windows we growing stretched again. It was already four o’clock, darkness not far away, and she wondered when John would be done with his errand.

Allison picked up her plate from lunch and went to rinse it off in the sink. She turned on the faucet trying to find the right temperature, and within a second her bladder loosened and began to release a steady stream of pee. At first Allison thought nothing of it, then gasped as the reminder flashed through her mind: She was not wearing a diaper. She was working without a net. She stood frozen at the sink while the water ran, remembering for a few long seconds the strings to pull to squeeze it off, finding them, and feeling a long strong spurt leave her as the muscles slowly, reluctantly, contracted. With a stinging sensation, the flow was stopped. Her panties clung hot and wet to her, and against her thighs she felt the warm wetness descending toward her feet, reaching her knees. She stood looking down at the dark wet patch on her crotch with her mouth open in disbelief, already feeling her legs begin to cool with the dampness.

The sound of the door of John’s truck closing in the driveway startled her from her revelry. Allison’s mind raced in a panic. She could not let him catch her this way. If she ran quickly to the bathroom, started the shower, she could pass it all off, could have him change her as usual and toss the pants in the washer and erase this whole experiment (the panties she would have to sacrifice – too risky to have him discover them). It was perhaps five quick steps to the bathroom door, to safety. All she had to do was move, now.

But her body did not move. As if in a daze, Allison turned around and leaned against the kitchen counter, watching the door while outside John fumbled with the lock.