The Strange Story of Chris 11 Chapters Complete

The Strange Story of Chris

Chapter 1

Chris wasn’t really a loner. He just behaved a bit like one. In truth, he was more lonely than a loner.

His father left when Chris was quite young, and his mother died suddenly when he was in his early teens. Chris was shuffled around among his relatives for a few years, setting a pattern for his wandering existence later on. He struck out on his own at 17, living in share houses, then moving from place to place to find work.

He’d had a few relationships, including several with women considerably older he was. Both he and the women seemed to find benefit in theses relationships, but like Chris’s contract jobs, they didn’t last.

Now in his thirties, Chris was still roaming around. He had developed a facility with electronics, and was a very good, self taught computer systems analyst. He preferred contract work; it didn’t tie him down, and he didn’t feel that he had to get to know his workmates at more than a superficial level. He had few real needs, and liked it that way. He didn’t own a house or a car, and more or less lived off the land wherever he happened to find himself.

His only real distinction was that he still wet the bed. Not all the time, but a few times each month; often enough to carry a plastic sheet folded in the bottom of the suitcase that he lived out of most of the time. He always fitted it to hotel and boarding house beds, taking it off every morning and if he had wet during the night, washing the bottom sheet in the basin or whatever. He would then let the hotel staff or landlady know that he had a healing sore on his buttock or leg that during the night had weeped through the dressing the doctor had put on it. He usuallyt did this by leaving a note, but no-one had ever asked to see the wound.

Lately, Chris had been wearing pull-ups to bed. He had seen an ad for them in a drugstore, and decided to give them a try. When he wet heavily, as he sometimes did, they leaked, but they were less clammy than wet pyjamas or no clothing at all, and so he kept using them.

His latest contract was in a reasonably remote city. The job was in a nearly all-male engineering plant, Chris had begun to feel the need for some casual female company. Occasionally in the past, had wet the bed while spending the night with a woman, and had had to invent a story to explain his childish accident.

Now, after years of this subterfuge, Chris was getting a bit tired of the anxiety and lies to do with his bedwetting, so he decided to be upfront about it. He placed a truthful personal ad in the local newspaper, paying cash over the counter for on the way back to his cheap hotel.

“Mature, affectionate, considerate male bedwetter seeks understanding woman for friendship, maybe more.”

That should do it, thought Chris, adding his hotel’s phone number.

That night, Chris lay in his plastic sheeted bed, slowly stroking his penis through his pull-up. I wonder if anyone will answer, he thought, and what will she be like? Maybe, he thought, a really nice older woman. He drifted off to sleep, happy in the knowledge that he’d done the a good thing for himself by placing his advertisement.

Re: The Strange Story of Chris

The Strange Story of Chris

Chapter 2

‘Damn,’ said Chris.

He had woken early the next morning, took a deep breath and moved his legs under the thin hotel eiderdown. Wet again, he thought. It hadn’t happened for several weeks, but nevertheless, in well-practiced moves, he carfully got out of bed, peeled the dry top sheet and bedding back and looked at the big wet circle where he had been lying. He pulled off his heavy pullup and rubbed his thighs, which felt itchy from the pee.

He put the wet pullup in a ziploc bag for later disposal and bunched up the wet bottom sheet, using the ball of cotton to sponge up the pool of pee remaining on his plastic sheet. He spent a few minutes washing and rinsing the bottom sheet in the basin in the little bathroom in his room, and hung the sheet over the shower rail. He washed the plastic sheet, too, and shook it as dry as he could before putting it on the bed. Ducking under the hanging bedsheet, he showered, shaved and then got dressed.

Chris favoured loose fitting boxer shorts, and pulled on a pair with Superman prints on them. He’d read a lot of Superman comics as a young boy, and had bought them with a smile at the memory. His collection of comic book shorts gave his occasional female companions something to laugh about as Chris charmed them into his bed.

Now dressed and ready for work, Chris consulted his diary. He had only about half a day’s work until he’d finished his current contract, then he would be free. He wondered what he might do with the afternoon. He would be a free man in a strange city. He couldn’t say he was far from home, because he didn’t really have a home. He looked at his slightly battered old suitcase. My true travelling companion, he thought.

Chris packed his few things into the suitcase, as he did most mornings, wiping down his plastic sheet and squeegeeing it more or less dry with the bathtowel before folding it carefully in a big ziploc bag and placing it under his clothes in the suitcase. It didn’t do to leave that around. Then he wrote a quick note just in case the erratic room service should decide to clean his room.

‘Sorry about sheet in bathroom,’ he wrote. ‘Doctor’s dressing came off cut on leg. Many apologies.’

Chris went to the door carrying his thin work satchel, and looked back at the room for a moment. Satisfied, he headed for the creaking old elevator.

Arriving in the lobby, Chris walked past the concierge and gave the old man a friendly smile.

‘Message for you,’ the man said, holding up a scrap of notepaper.

Chris stopped in surprise, then thought of his ad.

‘Thanks,’ he said, taking the note.

He didn’t read it at first, but walked outside into the dull morning light. The sun was just a whitish area in the leaden sky, and the sound of dripping water from the recent rain was all that could be heard above the stillness. Chris was running early, and decided to have a cup of coffee in the nearby cafe, where he could read his note in comfort. On the other hand, he thought, it might be from work. No, he decided, they would have rung his cell phone.

Settling back with a cup of hot coffee, Chris looked at the note scrawled in the concierge’s untidy handwriting.

‘Angela,’ it stated, then gave a cell phone number.

‘Concise,’ thought Chris. ‘I wonder what she’s like.’

If she was any good, at least there wouldn’t be any bedtime embarrassment, after his frank ad. He wondered whether he should take his plastic sheet with him if he ended up hooking up with this Angela.

That morning, Chris finished off his work with his usual bored lefficiency. He packed up his laptop, and briefly farewelled his temporary colleagues. As he had hoped, he was paid off on the spot. He gave the company accountant his bank details, and said goodbye to the boss. At the door of the office block where he had worked, the accountant caught up with him to give him the transaction receipt number. Chris left the engineering works in high spirits, enjoying the feeling of relative wealth as he sat on the bus back into the city. He decided to ring Angela from the coffee shop.

With another big mug of coffee in front of him, and this time a fancy Italian cake as well, Chris entered the number on his phone.

Angela sounded quite nice. She had a nondescript sort of accent, and spoke clearly and slowly.

‘Well, good afternoon to you, Chris. I was expecting your call. What brings you to our neck of the woods?’ she asked after Chris had explained why he was ringing.

‘Oh, I’ve just finished a contract here,’ he replied. ‘At the engineering works.’

‘I see,’ said Angela. ‘So you’d like to enjoy your freedom before going home, eh?’ she said with a laugh.

‘Not exactly,’ Chris said. ‘I sort of travel around. Different contracts, you know,’ he said. ‘I just wanted what I said in the ad. Just a bit of friendship, sort of.’

Angela laughed again. It was a pleasant, easy laugh. Chris imagined a midddle aged woman, quite comfortable with herself and maybe a bit bored, like me. Maybe even a bit horny, he thought with a smirk.

‘Well, I’m friendly enough,’ Angela said, laughing again. ‘So you’re just a young man on the move. I’m not surprised you get lonely. There’s a lot of trash in bars out there.’

Chris raised his eyebrows.

‘You bet,’ he said. ‘I’m not that young,’ he added. ‘I’m in my thirties.’

Again, Angela laughed. Chris smiled, then laughed too. It was quite infectious.

‘You sound young enough to me,’ said Angela. ‘Now.’ she said, ‘This bedwetting.’

Chris swallowed. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned it.

‘Yes,’ said Chris quietly, as if the few other people in the cafe might hear.

‘Do you wet every night?’ Anglea asked.

‘Oh, no,’ Chris said quietly. ‘Just occasionally. I thought it best to mention it.’

‘Quite right,’ said Angela.‘So, do you wear a diaper to bed?’

Chris was silent for a moment. The question shocked him, in fact.

‘No, nothing like that, just, erm, those pullup things. I have a plastic, er,’

Chris looked quickly around the cafe.

‘Sheet,’ he said very quietly.

Angela laughed again.

‘Chris,’ said Angela, ‘I don’t mind at all, and pullups aren’t much good to a bedwetter. Don’t feel embarrassed. Now, I know that hotel. And by the sound of it, you’re in the coffee shop next door. I live out of town a little way. I can pick you up in half an hour. Red Volvo. You can’t miss it. I’ll see you soon. Bye for now, dear.’

The phone went blank.

‘Dear?’ thought Chris. ‘Oh well.’

He had another cup of coffee while he read the paper. Not much seemed to be happening, or maybe not much was reported out here. He put the newspaper down and for a while read an IT magazine that he found in the cafe’s magazine rack. He ordered another cup of coffee and had just finished it when he heard the sound of a car horn. He looked up and saw outside a bright red Volvo station sedan. He couldn’t see the driver very well, but at least the car looked well cared for. He wondered what Angela would be like.

Chris went outside, and saw that the car contained a cheery looking lady with long dark hair. She was quite pretty. A little chubby perhaps, but nice looking. And she had big breasts, Chris noted with approval.

‘Hop in, Chris,’ she said though the open window.

Chris walked around to the passenger side and got in.

‘I’m Angela,’ the woman said with a broad smile.

‘Chris,’ Chris replied.

The car was warm, and he and Angela chatted about nothing much on the way out of the city. After a quarter of an hour, Chris realised that three cups of coffee and the one he had had from the work coffee machine with no pee was putting quite a strain on his bladder. Of all the times and of all the places to need a pee, he thought. He decided to hold on. Bringing up the subject now might make her think he was into some kink. He’d heard of golden showers. Angela was an ordinary, kind person, he had decided. Probably just a bit lonely, too. He was surprised she’d even asnwered his ad, in fact. Talk about normal. Although, he thought, she was undeniably attratcive, even for 45 or whatever she was. Nice big boobs, and figure hugging jeans. He felt the urge to pee again, and shifted in his seat.

‘Need a pee, honey?’ she asked.

Chris glanced quickly at her.

‘No, it’s ok, I just had a few coffees,’ he said.

‘Diuretic,’ said Angela. ‘But not as bad as tea. The seats are Swedish plastic anyway, and there’s a towel in the back.’

‘I’m not going to pee myself!’ Chris said. ‘I can hang on, but there’s no-one around, so if you see a tree or a bush or anything…’

Chris looked out at the flat, green landscape. There wasn’t much in the way of trees around.

‘It wouldn’t matter if you did,’ said Angela. ‘Do you wet during the day?’

‘No!’ said Chris. ‘Just at night sometimes. You could just stop and I could go around behind the car.’

Angela didn’t answer, but said ‘We’ll be home soon,’ and swung the car into a side road.

They headed off towards some low hills that rose from the plain.

The road was unmade and a little rough, which didn’t help Chris, but he hung on until they got to a driveway between some trees. That went on for a few hundred yards, before he saw an attractive two storey white timber-framed house with a grey slate roof and dormer windows.

‘Here we are,’ said Angela.

Chris couldn’t wait to get out.

‘I’ll put the car away later,’ she said, gliding the Volvo to a halt in front of the dark grey front door.

Chris got straight out and stood moving his weight from one leg to the other. He was on the verge of just running around the corner of the house and pissing on the grass, but he didn’t want to appear uncouth.

‘I’ll carry these bags in,’ said Angela, putting a warm hand on Chris’s shoulder. ‘You can run straight to the bathroom. It’s at the end of the hall on the right. I’ll be in the kitchen, straight ahead from the front door.’

Angela retrieved a couple of shopping bags from the back seat. In spite of his now desperate condition, Chris found time to admire her denim-clad backside. It was a great backside, he thought, in a chubby sort of way.

Angela was at the front door, fiddling with her keys. Behind her, Chris was at the stage of having to grip his penis through his chinos to stop peeing his pants. As long as she goes straight to the kitchen, Chris thought, I can sort of hobble to the bathroom without her seeing me. He knew that if he let go, he’d pee.

The Angela dropped the keys.

‘Oh,’ she said crossly, and turned to pick them up.

She couldn’t help but see what Chris was doing. She stopped in mid-stoop, and looked up at Chris’s flushed face.

‘Are you ok?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ said Chris, trying pointlessly to disguise the fact that he had a firm grip on his penis. In doing so, he let go of it, and stood like a statue as he soaked the front of his pants. The pee ran down the insides of both his legs, and soaked into his socks and his shoes. He didn’t know whether to cry for the first time for years, scream, swear or run away. So he just stood there.

‘I’m sorry,’ he was trying to say, but Angela cut him off.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said brightly. ‘These things happen. When you’re ready, come inside and we’ll get you fixed up. I thought this might happen.’

Chris followed Angela silently into the house. He stood in the kitchen, waiting for further instructions. He had rarely felt so stupid, or so embarrassed.

Then, to his horror, another woman materialised from annother passage into the kitchen. In the briefest second of assessment, Chris saw that she was about Angela’s age, in a cotton dress and also quite pretty, with short blonde hair.

‘Hi May,’ Angela said. ‘This is Chris, from town. He’s just wet his pants. Could you find a pair of pants and some undies for him? He can go barefoot until his socks and shoes dry. We’ll be in the bathroom.’

Chris was still in stunned and shamed silence. Who the hell was May, he thought. ‘He’s just wet his pants!’ Jesus, he thought.

There was nothing for it but to follow Angela into the bathroom.

Re: The Strange Story of Chris

Yayy, another great start Aunt Sally :), eager to see whats next !!

Re: The Strange Story of Chris

That’s a really interesting direction from the last few stories. Thanks very much for another one.

Re: The Strange Story of Chris

The Strange Story of Chris

Chapter 3

It was a big, farmhouse bathroom, with a cast iron bath on claw feet at one end, an old-fashioned shower with exposed chromed pipes surrounded by a pink curtain and a heavy-looking pedestal handbasin. There was a wooden grate on the floor next to the shower, and big, fluffy pink towels on hooks on the wall. The room smelled strongly of flowers and soap.

Chris stood looking around, watching Angela put the bath plug in and turn on the taps, testing the temperature of the water with her hand.

‘I can have a shower,’ Chris offered.

The scene seemed slightly surreal to him. Here he was, not long after finishing a serious work contract at a large factory, standing in a bathroom with a woman he hardly knew who was running a bath for him, because he had wet his pants. There was no point in trying to hide his soaked chinos. Chris looked down to see the whole front of his pants and half the legs dark with pee. Shame and guilt engulfed him. Four cups of coffee. What was he thinking?

‘No, you need a agood bath, I think. I know you’re a bit upset, and it will be relaxing for you. Besides, I have an idea that you still smell of that dirty engineering plant. Everyone from there does,’ said Angela.

Great, thought Chris. She knows people from the place. There go my chances of mentioning them on my CV. ‘Oh, yeah, him. He was ok, but we heard from a local lady that he wets his bed - and his pants.’ Great.

‘Well,’ said Angela, standing in front of Chris with her hands on her hips. ‘Off with your pants.’

Chris wasn’t sure if she was going to stay in the room or not.

‘Now?’ he asked uncertainly.

‘Of course now,’ said Angela, reaching forward and undoing Chris’s belt for him.

Chris was torn between letting her continue, and showing a bit of maturity and resolve. He loved women undressing him.

‘Are you going to stay in here?’ he asked.

‘I don’t trust any boy to wash himself properly,’ she said. ‘And you’re a boy aren’t you?’

Chris wasn’t too keen on the terminology, but he nodded and said ‘Mm.’

Angela was a quick worker, and had his fly open and was pulling down his pants. Chris blushed when she stopped, looking at his famous ice-breaking comic hero pants.

‘Well, well,’ she said, with that silvery laugh. ‘Superman! The man is never far from the little boy, is he?’ she added, grinning at Chris.

‘They’re just, sort of joke pants,’ Chris said defensively. ‘It’s a long story.’

‘I admit they’re funny,’ said Angela. ‘Still off they come.’

‘I can do it!’ Chris protested but he was too late.

Angela had whipped his boxer shorts down and was now asking him to raise one leg so she could pull his pants off. Chris felt his penis waving in the now slightly steamy air in the room. It didn’t seem to bother Angela, who had his pants off his other leg in a few seconds and tossed the wet bundle into a big wicker hamper that was open in the corner.

‘May will wash those later,’ she said. ‘In we get,’ she added, taking Chris’s hand and helping him into the big, deep bath that now had about six inches of water in it.

‘Here’s some soap,’ Angela said, handing Chris a sizeable rounded cake of sweet-smelling pink soap.

Chris couldn’t complain about how well he was being treated. It was just the embarrassment of the whole situation that worried him.

‘Have a good soap up,’ Angela said, ‘especially around your boy bits, and behind your ears, of course.’

She laughed again.

‘Oh, May!’ she called.

Chris looked alarmed.

‘It’s alright, honey, May knows what boys look like,’ she said.

Chris wasn’t sure about all this ‘boy’ business, especially after he had wet himself in the most childish way, and had now been put in a bath by this woman who was quite happy to not only undress him but to stick around while he was in it. What about some privacy, he thought. But he didn’t say anything. Not while Angela was being so caring. Chris didn’t get much of that, and he was actually enjoying it, despite the awful circumstances.

Angela looked up as May arrived.

‘His pants and undies are in the hamper, May. Could you give them a wash? And when you’ve done that, you can wash his hair. We’ll make a new boy out of him,’ Angela said.

Chris had to say something to that.

‘I can wash my own hair, I think, thanks Angela,’ he said.

At least the bath water was soaping up a bit, and he didn’t feel so exposed.

‘Don’t be silly, Chris,’ Angela replied. ‘May used to be a hairdresser, and she does a wonderful job. She’ll have your hair all sweet and shiny in no time. And as I said, she’s not the least embarrassed by a a bit of naked flesh. When we’re here alone, we often don’t wear any clothes at all.’

Chris stopped his soaping in surprise. What sort of people had he fallen in with, he wondered. Oh well, he thought. I wouldn’t be averse to those ladies running around in the nude either, he thought. He sat back in the warm bath, closed his eyes and enjoyed the visions of big, swinging breasts that filled his mind.

He was roused from this daydream by Angela tousling his hair.

‘May will be back in a minute,’ she said. ‘I’m going back to the kitchen for a moment.’

‘OK,’ said Chris.

He was starting to feel quite at home. Maybe, he thought, the flowery, soapy smell was getting to him. He breathed in deeply through his nose. It was certainly a nice smell.

Angela was in the kitchen as May emerged from the laundry.

‘How did you get him to wet himself like that?’ May asked incredulously. ‘He was soaked!’

‘A fluke,’ said Angela. ‘He’s a bedwetter, and I think his bladder is probably a little weak anyway. He’d been chugging coffee in the cafe next to the hotel, and hadn’t gone to the bathroom all morning, he said,’ Angela explained. ‘Let’s wait a few more minutes. I was starting to feel a bit light headed in there myself, and I was standing next to the window. We’ll give him another five minutes or so. He was starting to really breathe it in when I left.’

May just grinned, and impulsively leaned forward and planted a big kiss full on Angela’s lips.

Re: The Strange Story of Chris Chapters 1-3

Love it, love It, love it. :slight_smile:

Re: The Strange Story of Chris Chapters 1-3

Thanks, Les! ;D

Re: The Strange Story of Chris Chapter 4

The Strange Story of Chris

Chapter 4

‘What’s in that pink soap anyway?’ May asked.

‘Nothing dramatic,’ said Angela. ‘Just a little psychotropic ingredient that’s released with water and heat. The effects don’t last for long after you’ve stopped using it, but the smell is a reminder. It’s a bit like alcohol, or ecstasy tablets, more accurately. It dulls the conscious activities of the brain slightly in favour of the subconscious ones. The effect is like a release of pheromones, our friend Jane the chemist said. You have a ball while you’re using it, and afterwards you have the memory of a fine old time. Like spending time with an adored lover. You don’t necessarily remember every specific, just that you felt great. I want Chris to associate being naked in front of us with pleasure. He would anyway if he were an exhibitionist, but I doubt he is. He’s a typical, button-down mid-Western male, in my opinion. The good thing about him is he’s unattached. Doesn’t even have a proper home.’

May smiled.

‘Like our other Chris,’ she said.

‘Exactly,’ said Angela. ‘But a boy this time. Much more fun.’

‘I thought Chris was fun,’ said May, with a mischevious grin.

‘Yes, she was,’ agreed Angela. ‘Sad. We went a bit far with her. Still, she’s very happy where she is now.’

‘That she is,’ said May.

The women were interrupted by laughter and splashing coming from the bathroom.

‘Sounds like our little boy is having fun too. Time to do his hair, May,’ said Angela. ‘Take the soap from him and put it back in the dish in the cupboard behind the mirror. He can have it each time he has his bath. Open the window right up in there, and don’t breathe too deeply!’

May went to the bathroom. She could hear Chris splashing around through the open door. She found him sitting happily in the bath, giggling as he splashed the soapy water around. May couldn’t help laughing as she walked through the door. The other Chris used to do the same thing.

‘Hi May,’ said Chris, between giggles. ‘Look at all the bubbles. I’m making waves!’

‘And getting water all over the floor,’ said May with mock sternness. ‘It’s hair wash time. Sit up, please.’

‘Sorry, May,’ Chris said, and giggled again.

To be continued…

Re: The Strange Story of Chris Chapters 1 - some of 4

Thank you for another chapter. This is going in a fun direction.

Re: The Strange Story of Chris Chapter 5

I’ve left the fragment of Chapter 4 as it is, and written a new chapter.

The Strange Story of Chris

Chapter 5

As May got to work, Chris sat in the bath, chattering away. He told May how beautiful the bathrooom was, and how nice she and Angela were, and how lucky he felt to be having such a lovely bath. He told May in some detail how his mother and sister used to wash his hair, and talked a lot about the fun he used to have at bathtime.

With his hair washed, he was sorry when May helped him stand up and step out of the big antique bath. May put him in the shower, and adjusted the taps, and waited while Chris rinsed the soap out of his hair and off his body.

‘We believe in hygiene, here, Chris,’ said May. ‘And it’s best to wash off all the soap so that your skin is healthy amnd clean.’

Chris wasn’t concerned at being naked in front of May. After all, he felt as comfortable with these two ladies as if they had been his best friends, or even his mother and his aunt.

As May was drying Chris off with one of the fluffy pink towels, Angela came in.

‘Hello,’ said Chris amiably, beaming at Angela as May spun him around to face her. ‘I love your bath. That was the best bath I’ve ever had.’

He was still on something of a high from the effects of the narcotic soap.

‘I’m very glad, Chris,’ said Angela. ‘Now, we’d better get you set up with something to wear.’

‘OK,’ said Chris breezily.

‘We’re not really set up for boys,’ Angela said, ‘But our last guest, Christina, was about your size, so we should be able to find something of hers for you.’

‘Girls’ clothes?’ queried Chris, giggling.

‘Well, I’m not going to put you in a dress, honey, but we’ll find something. There’s really not much difference between boys’ and girls’ clothes at your age anyway,’ Angela said. ‘When you’re done, May, bring him into Chris’s bedroom.’

Soon enough, May finished drying Chris, paying special attention to his genitals. Chris giggled again as May lifted his penis to dry his crotch.

She hung the towel over the timber towel rail in the bathroom and led Chris to the ‘guest bedroom’, which Christina had used for so long.

May ushered Chris through the door and went back to the kitchen. Chris stood in the doorway for a moment, listening to May footsteps retreating to the kitchen, and looking at Angela’s curvaceous backside as she bent over the bottom drawer of a darkly varnished chest gainst the wall. The room smelled so sweet, thought Chris. Like the bathroom - like flowers.

Angelas tured around and smiled at him. Chris, forgetting for the moment that he was stark naked, returned her smile and thanked her for the wonderful bath he had just enjoyed.

‘It’s my pleasure,’ said Angela. ‘Now, please sit here, on the bed.’

Chris trotted over to the bed. As he sat, he suddenly remembered that he was naked, and his hands shot to his groin to cover his genitalia.

Angela laughed.

Chris grinned. He loved that silvery laugh, and he couldn’t stop looking at Angel’a’s full breasts, so soft and rounded beneath the thin knitted top she was wearing.

‘You don’t need to worry about that,’ she said, placing on the bed next to Chris a small pile of neatly folded clothing. ‘It’s quite warm inside, so I think you’ll be OK in some shorts and a top. Now, I need you to lie back.’

Gently, Angela guided a slightly bemused Chris back onto the bed. He had expected to stand up to get dressed.

While he lay back on the bed, Angela went to a big wardrobe, opened it and proiduced another pile of folded material. A towel, thought Chris.

‘I’m all dry, Angela,’ he said. ‘May dried me.’

Again, the silvery laugh.

‘No, honey, this isn’t to dry you. This is so that you won’t have to worry about having another accident in your pants,’ said Angela.

Chris was slowly regaining his critical faculties.

‘But I’m not going to bed, am I?’ he asked. ‘It’s still daytime!’

‘Yes, honey, it is, but I think you’ll feel a lot more relaxed and comfortable with these on,’ said Angela, unfolding the thick white towelling.

Chris looked at the towelling, and at the big pink-tipped safety pins that Angela held in one hand. The truth dawned on him.

‘But I don’t wear those!’ he protested. ‘I’m not a baby! I don’t need that!’

Chris tried to sit up, but Angela’s hand gently but firmly pushed him back onto the bed.

‘Sweetie,’ she said, ‘You wet your pants only an hour or so ago. I don’t think you should take any chances. Until we’re sure it won’t happen again, you need to wear this. You wear one at night, after all.’

Chris was torn between his feeling of being in a haven of safety and security and the strange suggestion that he needed what was obviously a diaper. Who had ever heard of a grown man wearing a diaper?

‘At night I just wear pull-ups, Angela. The ones from the drugstore. Not, not that!’ Chris said, looking with alarm at the double thickness diaper Angela had spread out on the bed next to him.

‘I know, honey, but I think these are a bit more appropriate for you,’ said Angela kindly. ‘Just lift up while I slide this under your tush.’

Angela was so pleasant and reassuring that Chris found himself following her directions, despite his concern.

Angela reached for a big, white plastic container of talc, and sprinkled the fragrant powder liberally around Chris’s groin, before gently patting sand rubbing the area with her warm fingers. Chris closed his eyes in pleasure.

‘What… do you mean ‘appropriate’’? he asked.

‘Well, hon, for a start,’ Angela said as she spread Chris’s legs apart and tugged the towelling up between them, 'Pullups leak. Especially on a heavy wetter like you. And secondly, these are recyclable. You like to be environmentally responsible, don’t you?.

‘Well, yes,’ said Chris, ‘But I don’t wet during the day. I don’t need these.’

Angela pinned the diaper firmly around Chris’s waist.

‘Oh, Chris, honey,’ said Angela. ‘Who wet his pants earlier?’

‘I did,’ said Chris softly.

‘And did you wet just a little bit, or a lot?’ asked Angela, standing Chris up next to the bed.

Chris thought back to when he was standing at the front door, and relived in his mind the horribly embarrassing experience of soaking his pants in front of Angela having only just met her.

‘A lot,’ he said very softly.

‘I beg your pardon?’ said Angela. ‘That was a very tiny whisper.’

‘A lot,’ repeated Chris a little louder.

‘You what a lot, honey?’ asked Angela, stroking Chris’s drying, glossy blonde hair.

‘I wet my pants a lot,’ said Chris, louder than he had meant to.

‘Yes, sweetie, you wet your pants, so that’s why a proper diaper is approriate for you,’ said Angela.

‘A diaper…’ repeated Chris.

He moved his hands to where his private parts were usually accessible. There was now nothing to be felt but a thick triangle of terry, with more beneath that. Somewhere, at the bottom of it all, were his balls and penis. He had rarely felt so out of his depth. Yet this woman was telling him that not only was this all normal, but that he needed this baby clothing. Chris’s head began to spin.

‘This leg,’ Angela said, patting Chris on the outside of his right knee.

Obediently, Chris lifted his leg, and Angela deflty threaded over his something cool and plasticcy-feeling. He realised what it was, and his first thought was one of surprise that such a thing was available in an adult size. His second thought was shock that she was putting it on him.

‘No!’ he managed, feeling Angela’s firm grip on his leg.

‘Honey, they are just waterproof pants,’ said Angela. ‘Towelling is not like your old pullups. There is no waterproof backing. So you need these. Other leg, come on, don’t be silly. We’ve just talked about why you need a diaper.’

She was right, Chris thought. And he didn’t want her to think he was silly. After all, he thought, he was still on a sort of date, and he still fancied his chances with this curvaceous woman. So he let her have her way, and lifted his other leg.

Angela pulled the plastic pants high up to Chris’s midriff. He looked down to see himself encased in bulging, shiny, pink plastic. The terry was clearly visible beneath the translucent plastic, which was covered in pictures of what looked like little fairies.

‘They’re fairies!’ he said.

'‘Aren’t they adorable?’ Angela asked. ‘How many other boys do you think are wearing fairies around their bottom? That makes you pretty special, I’d say. I bet your pullups didn’t have anything nice printed on them!’

Chris was having trouble thinking properly at all. Angela was so nice. And she’d explained why he needed to wear this thick thing. He had just wet his pants, after all. And his pullups were very plain and boring. At least these were interesting.

‘Now,’ Angela was saying. ‘Leg again, please.’

Chris lifted his leg once more, and Angela helped him into a pair of pastel yellow shorts. They were big shorts, with no fly in front and an elasticated top. They stretched over his bulky diaper, and Angela tucked in the lower edges of the plastic pants that protruded from the hems of the shorts.

‘And the top,’ said Angela.

Chris felt Angela pulling a stretchy top over his head, and helping him put his arms though the openings. The top was an apricot colour, with something emblazoned on the front. Chris couldn’t make it out upside down.

‘All done,’ said Angela, patting him on the rump. ‘I bet you’re hungry. Let’s go and see what May is doing in the kitchen.’

Chris had no time to protest. Angela took his hand and led him to the big farmhouse kitchen. Chris found that he had to waddle slightly to walk with the towelling wadded thickly between his legs, and he suddenly became embarrassed at what May would think of him waddling into the kitchen in a thick diaper. He pulled back on Angela’s hand.

‘Come on, silly,’ Angela said. ‘May has seen plenty of girsl and boys dressed just like you are.’

That consoled Chris a little, but he still felt very odd. He recognised the feeling, one from long ago, when he would try to hide behind his mother whenever they met anyone new. He’d met May - she had washed his hair and dried his naked body, but he still felt shy. He couldn’t help himself sidling behind Angela as they entered the kitchen.

‘I’ve just made cookies,’ May said, opening the wood-fired oven and suffusing the kitchen with their delicious fresh-baked smell. ‘And who have you got there? Is someone hiding?’

Chris felt ridiculously guilty and childish as he emerged from behind Angela.

If May thought he looked unusual, she said nothing about it.

‘Oh, it’s Chris!’ she said. ‘Sit down, and as soon as these have cooled a bit, you can have some. I suppose you like fresh cookies?’

‘Yes,’ said Chris enthusiastically.

He sat on one of the spindle-backed chairs at the long table, and was surprised to feel how much padding was beneath him. He wriggled a little to get comfortable, but it didn’t seem to make any differenc

The cookies were delicious, and with them Chris had two big mugs of hot chocolate. A hearty
feed always made Chris feel good about the world, and he sat back after his second round of cookies and considered his position. He was with two lovely ladies, albeit near strangers, who seemed to like him. He had just had the best bath he had ever had, and had been so gently, almost lovingly dried and pampered that having to wear a diaper was not much to pay for the privilege he had enjoyed. And of course he had wet his pants. If he stayed dry, which he would, the diaper would soon come off. So, his bottom looked a bit bigger. So what? Who was to care? Not these ladies, clearly. Not him either, really.

Chris thought of his plastic pants. What’s wrong with fairies, he asked himself. Seriously, what was wrong with them? Angela and May might be fairies, he thought. Big ones. And this might be an enchanted farmhouse.

Chris looked at the sunlight streaming onto the kitchen through a leadlight latticed window in the western wall. There were spangly bits, glinting in the light. It occurred to chris that they might be tiny fairies. He reached out to touch one, but his hand closed around thin air. He laughed, and heard Angela’s musical laugh in return.

‘What are you trying to grab, sweetie?’ aske Angela.

‘Little fairies,’ replied Chris. ‘I think there are some in the air.’

Angela and May exchanged smirks.

‘Thank you Alice B Toklas,’ Angela said with another laugh.

‘Who?’ asked Chris, as he tried again to catch the glittering particels in the sunlight.

‘A famous cook,’ said Angela, glancing at May, who had raised her eyebrows and was shaking her head.

‘Like Alice in Wonderland,’ said Chris distantly. staring at his open hand.

‘A bit like her,’ agreed Angela. ‘Now, honey, May is going back to your hotel to get your things, and we are going to go to the shops.’

Chris tried to assimilate that information.

‘Am I staying the night?’ he asked slowly.

‘Of course you are,’ replied Angela. ‘Up you get, we want to be back while it’s still light, so we can go and feed the ducks.’

Chris grinned.

‘Ducks!’ he said.

He wobbled off his padded perch and stood expectantly by Angela.

‘I think you need some sandals. I think we have some just your size,’ she said, and marched Chris off to the bedroom again. Chris noticed for the first time the sign on the door: ‘Chris’, it read, in flowery letters, surrounded by more little fairies. Chris knew it was silly, but he had the sudden thought that this was ‘his room’. He didn’t even mind the fairies. After all, there were fairies on his plastic panties, he thought. He giggled at the idea, then giggled again when Angela looked at him enquiringly. He poked out his tongue at her. He hadn’t felt so joyful in years.

Chris followed Angela in a happy daze, wearing a pair of Christina’s old sandals on his smallish feet. He enjoyed the feeling of the thick diaper between his legs as he walked along the passage. It made walking fun. He decided this was definitely an enchanted farmhouse.

May treated herself to one of the special cookies from the tray she had prepared for Chris, and rang the hotel.

To be continued…

Re: The Strange Story of Chris Chapters 1 - 5

I like this new beginning Miss Sally… You are doing that loving and nurturing thing, That leaves both the adult women and the baby boys all warm and fuzzy… Thank you Ma’am.

Re: The Strange Story of Chris Chapters 1 - 5

A wonderful new story from Sally Kat. I am enjoying it and hope to continue to do so.

I realize that we all have lives away from the forum, but I keep hoping for more work on other stories as well.

That said , please continue at a pace you feel comfortable. I will just have to keep reading and watching.

Re: The Strange Story of Chris Chapters 1 - 5

The Strange Story of Chris

Chapter 6

Chris began to come back to earth as Angela drove further along the road towards the shops in the nearby town. He sat quietly for a moment, very conscious of the padding around his rump. He was wearing a diaper, that this woman had pinned around him because he had

Lwet his pants, unavoidably, when he had just met her. She was a nice lady, with a glorious house, but that didn’t alter the fact that he was diapered. And wearing a very childish outfit. The yellow shorts, and the orangey t-shirt with a cartoon elephant on the front, he could see now as he looked down at his chest. What if some of his former workmates saw him? But it seemed that they were travelling in the wrong direction.

‘Angela,’ Chris said, looking at his hostess. ‘Isn’t the town the other way?’

‘Yes it is, honey, but we live right between two big towns, well, big for out here. I like the shops in the other town. There’s a little mall there. You can get almost whatever you want there. You’ll see,’ Angela said.

‘I want to stay in the car,’ Chris said, and stared out of the window.

There wasn’t much to see. Just crops, and every now and then, a neat farmhouse surrounded by a few trees.

‘Why, honey? I think you’ll like our local mall,’ Angela said.

So the cookies are wearing off, she thought. Not that it was a problem. Chris would have to rely on her to feel safe, even among strangers. That was a good thing. The diuretic wouldn’t wear off, though. Angela knew its action well by now. She would drop in to the drug store, to show her friend her latest project.

Chris squirmed a little in his seat. Angela caught the movement, and smiled to herself.

‘Dressed like this?’ Chris asked with a note of petulance. ‘Weren’t there any other clothes that would fit me?’

‘Chris,’ said Angela seriously. ‘We did our best. You turned up and wet yourself thoroughly on my doorstep if you recall. You couldn’t even hold off until you reached the bathroom a few feet away. You were lucky we still had some of Christina’s clothes, and that she was about your size. In fact, you might be twins, really. We didn’t think you’d want to wear any of her dresses, so we gave you the most boyish things she had. If you’d rather just be in your diaper, that’s fine by me and May.’

‘What about your clothes, or May’s?’ Chris asked. ‘Who is May, anyway?’

Chris was starting to feel uncomfortable, and it made him grumpy.

‘Well, Chris,’ said Angela, calmly negotiating a sharp bend in the road, ‘For a start, May and I are both quite a bit taller than you. In fact, you’re quite petite for a boy.’

‘I’m not petite, I’m just lightly built,’ objected Chris. ‘And I’m a man, not a boy. I’m 32 years old.’

Angela laughed.

‘You are what you are, Chris,’ she said. ‘You would be swimming in my clothes or May’s. Even our panties would fall straight off you, I think. May, by the way, is my friend and housekeeper. Her mother kept house for my mother, and I grew up with May. She’s my best friend, that who she is.’

Chris squirmed again.

‘We’ll be there soon,’ Angela said. ‘You should have asked to go to the bathroom before we left.’

‘I’m OK,’ said Chris. ‘And I don’t have to ask to go ot the bathroom.’

‘Well, you would have to ask to have your diaper put back on,’ Angela replied.

‘I don’t even need it,’ said Chris, raising his voice. ‘You just put it on me.’

‘Because you wet your pants, didn’t you?’ Angela countered.

‘That was an accident,’ said Chris.

He didn’t really even want to talk about it, but the big bulky thing was hard to ignore, physically and mentally. Though he was very used to wearing a pullup at night, this was quite different. A pullup was a kind of medical aid, worn in private. This was a diaper, like toddlers wore. He clenched the muscles of his pelvic floor.

‘Chris honey, your diaper is so that if you have another accident, you won’t embarrass yourself by wetting your pants in front of everybody,’ said Angela.

It was a bit like playing table tennis, she thought. It felt the same with Christina, until she accepted her situation.

‘I won’t have an accident,’ Chris grumbled.

‘Then you won’t need to be in diapers,’ Angela said.

‘In diapers’, thought Chris. Why couldn’t she just say, ‘wearing a diaper’? Saying he was ‘in diapers’ made it sound as though wore them all the time. As if he needed them. Just because he had one accident didn’t mean he needed them, he thought, looking down at his smooth, bulging crotch. I don’t need these, he repeated to himself, trying to ignore the little inner voice that suggested he was trying to convince himself of that.

‘Well, I’m staying in the car,’ Chris announced.

‘I’m sorry, Chris, you can’t do that. The car park is enclosed, under the mall, and there is a rule now that children dcan’t be left unattended in cars. There’s even a security attended there who checks the cars. You’ll have to come with me. You’ll love it.’

‘Angela,’ Chris said, ‘I’m not a child. I can stay in the car.’

‘And wet your diaper?’ Angela asked. ‘I thought you needed to have a pee? You keep squirming around as if you do.’

At that, a spurt of pee escaped into Chris’s diaper. He suddenly felt helpless.

‘Can we stop, Angela? I do need to go,’ he said, giving up what now seemed a pointless pretence.

‘We’re nearly there, honey,’ Angela said. ‘I’m sure you’re big enough to hold on for a few minutes. Can you manage that, sweetie?’

‘Of course I can,’ said Chris. ‘But hurry up.’

They were now travelling down the local main street. On a corner, the big rectangular box of the mall came into view. Chris watched in anticipation as they swung into a dark opening off the street, and drove between the rows of parked cars. Angela found an empty space, and parked. Chris could hardly wait to get out, and stood flexing his thigh muscles as Angela locked the car and walked around to where he was standing. He noticed she had a brightly coloured, full-looking shopping bag, and wondered why she would take that to go shopping.

‘We go up the moving walkway,’ she said, and led the way to a glass enclosure covered in posters. Soon they stood on the sloping steel ramp. Chris didn’t try to run up it. He felt safer standing still. He no longer cared what he looked like. He just wanted to get to a bathroom, tear off his diaper and pee.

It was a shallow-pitched, slow travelator, and it seemed to take a long time to get up the one floor. Chris was treated to moving vignettes of mums and their children travelling next to them in the opposite direction. He saw the smiles of the mums at his bright t-shirt turn to expressions of kindness and pity if they noticed his diapered loins. At least the children were not tall enough to see his bulging shorts.

They reached top at last.

‘Where is the bathroom?’ Chris asked urgently.

‘There’s a family one just around the corner,’ Angela said, taking Chris’s hand.

‘At last!’ thought Chris.

He could almost feel his face beginning to sweat. He relaxed a little, then clenched his leg muscles again as he felt another spurt pf pee in his diaper.

‘But I just want to pop into the drug store here,’ said Angela, dragging Chris towards the brightly-lit store operated by her chemist friend Julie, who was in the window at that moment, arranging a display.

Julie looked up with a smile, and smiled especially at Chris as she emerged from the wondow and stood in the doorway of her shop.

‘Hi Jules,’ Angela said. ‘This is my house guest Chris.’

Chris had his eyes on the corner they had been approaching, and suddenly slipped his hand out of Angela’s and ran off and around the corner.

‘Well,’ Julie. ‘He looks happy to be here.’

‘He needs to do a wee,’ explained Angela. ‘The poor thing’s not too good at holding on. Hence the diaper,’ she added. ‘He needs it. Thanks to you, dear Jules.’

Julie smiled.

‘And the bathrooms are around the other corner,’ she said. ‘Do you want to go and get him?’

‘Not yet,’ said Angela. ‘How are you?’

‘Never better,’ said Julie. ‘How are you and May?’

‘Fine,’ said Angela. ‘We were wondering if you would lkike to come round to dinner this week, maybe Friday.’

‘Love to,’ said Julie. ‘And how’s little Christina?’

‘She’s OK,’ replied Angela. ‘She’s quite happy now, and they are very good with her.’

‘I’m glad,’ said Julie.

A woman came towards them from the corner around which Chris had disappeared, making for Julie in her official-looking shop uniform.

‘Hi,’ the woman said, carefully placing a bag of groveries on the tiled floor next to her.

‘I’m looking for someone who’s with a, a, erm, special needs boy or something, sitting on the floor just around there. I think he’s in trouble. Or a security guy, or a nurse or someone. He wouldn’t come with me,’ the woman said. ‘He’s crying. He really needs help.’

‘Good heavens,’ Julie said, feigning surprise. ‘Chris!’

‘It’s OK,’ Angela said.

Angela put her hand reassuringly on the kind woman’s arm. ‘He’s with me, or he’s supposed to be. I’ll handle it. Thank you so much. I only took my eye off him for a moment.’

The woman looked relieved.

‘I know what it’s like,’ she told Julie as Angela rushed to Chris’s aid. ‘I have twin three year old girls at home. Although,’ she added quickly,’ He’s not, I mean, he’s not…’

‘I know,’ Julie said. ‘You were right, he’s special needs. My friend looks after him. She’s quite wonderful like that.’

There had been one thought in Chris’s mind as he raced off around the corner: Bathroom.

He had wet a little more as Anglea had tried to introduce him to the lady in the shop uniform, and combined with his previous efforts, the thick wad of terry between his legs seemed to have turned into a warm, semi-solid mass. He could feel its weight between his legs as he ran. He peed a litttle more as he went. It was hard to stop the stream, but he managed it just as he saw the door at the end of a short corridor. He pushed past a couple of ladies with their shopping, then stopped in horror as he read ‘Plant Room - No Admittance’ on the door.

It was too much. He turned and faced the blank faces of a few shoppers, and soaked his diaper. He didn’t even try to stop the flow, nor did he care what he looked like at that moment. Then his legs gave way, and he plonked down on the floor. The tears of shame, humiliation and frustration came almost immediately.

Most of the shoppers looked emabarrassed at what they had seen, and hurried away, but one woman approached him and squatted next to him.

‘Are you OK,’ she asked.

Chris could only shake his head, as the woman took in the childish Dumbo the elephant on his t-shirt, the stretchy and bulging yellow shorts and the diaper enclosed in its colourful plastic panties sagging from the leg openings. She had seen the crushed pride before, when her own children wet themselves while they were out, trying their best to be grown up. This poor boy was probably no different, she thought, and wondered here his mother might be. It occurred to her that down here, at the end of this little corridor, he may have run away from her, probably ‘exploring’, like her girls did sometimes, when this had happened.

‘It’s OK, darling,’ the woman said. 'Is your, your, mummy, or your carer - (that was the word she was looking for!) - here?"

The woman followed Chris’s gaze towards the corner, a dozen yards away. Another concerned woman came towards them. The Good Samaritan stood up. The new arrival, also a mother, understood the situation without being told.

Chris’s Good Samaritan looked up at her.

‘I think he’s with someone around there,’ she said. ‘Can you stay with him? If I can’t find her, I’ll get a nurse or something. The lady in the drug store.’

Angela found Chris still sobbing, with a middle-aged lady on her haunches trying to console him.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Angela said. ‘Poor Chris. Are you alright, honey?’

Chris nodded, still sobbing.

‘He’ll be OK,’ said Angela. ‘Thanks so much again. Just a wet diaper, I think. And a bit of a shock with all the people here.’

The woman stood up and smiled at Chris.

‘I’ll tell you what,’ she said, rummaging in her shopping bag. ‘I have something to cheer you up.’

The woman looked at Angela, and mouthed the word ‘chocolate’.

Angela nodded with a grin. The lady handed Chris a small bar of chocolate, which he took, still trying to contain his sobs.

‘I buy them for my grandkids,’ the woman explained, ‘But they won’t miss one.’

‘Thank you,’ Angela said. ‘There you are, honeybunch,’ she added brightly. ‘Chocolate! Can you thank the nice lady?’

‘Thank you,’ Chris said automatically, blinking up at the lady.

‘That’s OK, darling,’ she said. ‘You’re all safe now.’

‘And I think we’d better be getting you home, hey, sweetie?’ Angela said to Chris, nodding her thanks as the lady turned to go.

‘Come on,’ she said, helping Chris up and leading him back towards the drug store, where Julie was standing.

‘Just a wet diaper,’ she told her friend. ‘He’s OK, aren’t you sweetheart?’

Chris nodded miserably.

‘That’s a relief,’ said Julie. ‘Here are your things,’ she added, handing Angela a small paper bag.

Chris’s mind was still reeling. He really did feel a bit better now, despite the soaked diaper drooping between his legs. He just wanted to go home. Or to Angela’s, at least.

‘Thanks, Julie,’ Angela said. ‘Next Friday at 7?’

‘See you then, Ang,’ said Julie. ‘Bye Chris! I’ll meet you properly on Friday.’

Chris looked at Julie, barely registering what she what she said. He let Angela take his hand, and followed her. They went straight past the sloping travelator and stopped at a door labeled ‘Family Bathroom’. Angela opened the door and led Chris inside.

‘Up you get, honey,’ said Angela, placing the big bag on the floor. ‘Good thing I bought Christina’s old diaper bag.’

Chris made a sort of squawk, as Angela helped him up onto the low, padded bench. What else could he do, he asked himself. What worse could happen to him. ‘I am what I am,’ he remembered Angela saying. ‘What am I?’ he wondered, and began to cry again. A final stream of pee, held back until now by his utter shame, made its way into his sodden diaper.

Angela hugged him for a moment, whispering in his ear. Chris couldn’t make out what she was saying, but it sounded genuinely loving. He let her change him, happy at least that he was receiving some affection. But he was an adult, not a child, he tried to remind himself. But you are what you are, Angela had said. He was soon wearing another bulky diaper, just like the one he had wet a few minutes before. In a crowded shopping mall.

As he waddled after Angela down to the carpark, feeling the security of a fresh diaper around him, he felt confused. It was better just to look at things and try not to think, he decided, and he looked quietly out the window for most of the trip home.

He felt an odd mixture of shame and pride as he followed Angela inside in his completely dry diaper.

They walked into the kitchen, where they came across May, her slightly chubby body as naked as the day she was born. Her large breasts hung down her chest, swelling to either side of her torso, above the slight folds of her tummy, below which swelled her plump pubic mound with its central, shadowed crease. Angela raised her eyebrows and smiled at May’s bald pubic area.

‘Hi Ang, hi Chris,’ May said.

‘You’ve been busy, May,’ Angela replied, raising her eyebrows and smiling at May’s bald pubic area.

‘Just felt like it,’ said May brightly.

‘Say hello to naughty Aunty May with no clothes on, Chris honey,’ Angela prompted Chris, who was standing silently staring at May.

‘Cookie, Chris?’ asked May, offering Chris a plate of delicious-smelling, freshly baked cookies. ‘They’ve got almonds on them.’

To be continued.

Re: The Strange Story of Chris Chapters 1 - 6

This story is so good. Thanks for doing so much writing SallyKat

Re: The Strange Story of Chris Chapters 1 - 6

Heh. I’m actually having quite a good time writing this. :stuck_out_tongue:

Re: The Strange Story of Chris Chapters 1 - 6

i think i know what chris wants when looking at May’s big breasts =P

Re: The Strange Story of Chris Chapters 1 - 6

It’s an awesome story. I like the plot very much. Keep up the good works [emoji7]

Re: The Strange Story of Chris Chapters 1 - 6

The Strange Story of Chris

Chapter 7

Chris took one of the offered cookies.

‘Take two, honey,’ said May, continuing to hold the plate towards him. Chris took another.

‘Thank you, May,’ he said.

He could feel his penis stirring in the folds of his diaper. He loved mature women, especially naked ones. May, in her late thirties, was in the full bloom of womanhood. Chris couldn’t take his eyes off her big, rounded boobs. He thought of nothing else as he sat down at the kitchen table and munched his way through the buttery-tasting cookies.

‘And some lemonade,’ said May, handing him a large fizzing glass.

May watched him eat and drink with a smile, one hand caressing her newly smooth mound. Angela glanced at her housemate, smiling herself as she saw May’s fingers hesitate, gently pressing her clitoris.

‘Chris, you’ve had a big day. What about a little nap? Come on,. sweetie,’ she said, taking his free hand and guiding him to his feet.

‘Not tired,’ said Chris, still looking at May’s beautiful, pendulous breasts as she leant over to wipe a few crumbs from the table in front of him.

‘I think it’s nap time,’ said Angela firmly.

Chris let her take him from the room. Reaching ‘Chris’s room’, Angela stood him in the middle of the room and whisked off his top and tugged his shorts down over his bulky diaper. As she folded the clothes and put them neatly next to a pile of towelling diapers on the chest of drawers, Chris put his thumbs under the top of his diaper and began to wriggle out of it.

‘No, baby,’ said Angela, taking his hands from the diaper. ‘What if you wet while you’re asleep?’

‘Angela, I won’t,’ said Chris. ‘It’s only a nap, and I don’t even need that.’

‘I think it had better stay on,’ said Angela. ‘I don’t want you wetting these nice clean sheets.’

Chris looked at her questioningly.

‘But I only wet sometimes, hardly ever, if I sleep all night,’ he objected.

Angela had opened a drawer and had another garment in her hand.

‘Honey, I think you know, after what happened today, that you need your diaper. Especially if for a nap. You don’t want me to tell May that you’re being troublesome, do you?’ she said. ‘Now, arms up.’

Chris thought for a moment. He didn’t want Angela to tell lovely May anything bad about him. It as only for a nap, anyway. He’d wake up dry. That would prove his point.

‘Well, OK,’ he agreed, putting his arms in the air.

‘Good kid,’ said Angela, and dropped over his arms a big cotton t-shirt.

That sounded better, thought Chris. He was starting to feel a bit dreamy, as he had earlier. He suddenly wanted another cookie.

‘More cookies?’ he asked hopefully, expressing his immediate thoughts.

‘Later,’ laughed Angela, noticing Chris movements becoming slower. Chris seemed fascinated by his arms as Angela pulled Christina’s old nightdress straight on Chris’s shoulders.

‘There we are, honey,’ she said, satisfied with the fit of the garment.

Chris swung his gaze from his arms to his chest. He could feel the nightdress sligthly tight across his chest, where a horizontal seam gave way to a gathered bodice which puffed out below a neckline trimmed in scalloped embroidery. The brushed cotton was a pastel green, and the thigh length hem featured a double row of the same embroidered scalloping. It was a very sweet nightdress for a young girl, although it bulged a little over Chris’s thick diaper and plastic pants.

Chris could only see an expanse of pale green fabric with a ruffled upper portion beneath his chin. He fingered the gathered material.

‘What about pyjama pants?’ he asked, looking at Angela.

‘You don’t need panties,’ replied Angela. ‘You’ve got your diaper on.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Chris.

He didn’t really care anyway. He took a step towards the bed, enjoying the feeling of freedom that the loose drape of the nightie offered. He looked around the bedroom. The pale blue walls, the frieze of fairies around the upper wall and the pictures on the walls of teddy bears and other creatures made him feel warm and relaxed. Better thsan the stark boarding house and hotel room walls he was used to. What a beautiful room he thought. Really beautiful, he decided.

‘Teddies!’ he said, laughing, pointing to the big picture over the bed of a mummy teddy putting a diaper on her baby teddy.

‘Yes,’ said Angela, with a laugh of her own.

Angela pulled back the bedcover and helped Chris into the bed.

‘You’re a mummy teddy,’ said Chris, looking up at Angela with wide eyes.

‘Yes, I am, honey,’ she said, moving aside a couple of the soft toys that Christina hadn’t taken with her.

I’m going to close the curtains and I want you to settle down for a nice nap. You can forget all about today, and just dream sweet dreams,’ she said. ‘What would you like to dream about, sweetiepie?’

Chris thought for a moment, then grinned.

‘May,’ he said.

Angela couldn’t help smiling broadly.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘May with no clothes. Naughty Aunty May. What about mummy Angela? Don’t you want to dream about her too?’

Chris looked serious for a moment. Angela leaned down and pulled him towards her, holding his head against her full, soft breasts.

‘Yes,’ said Chris, his voice muffled. ‘You too. Mummy Angela.’

‘Good boy,’ said Angela. ‘Now, you sleep tight, OK?’

‘Yes,’ said Chris distantly. ‘No hair,’ he added quietly.

‘What was that, honey?’ asked Angela.

‘Hair,’ said Chris. ‘May hasn’t got any hair.’

‘Oh,’ said Angela. ‘She hasn’t, has she?’

‘But she’s grown up,’ said Chris. ‘She’s big.’

Angela could see that Chris was struggling with the concept. She wondered that he seemed not to have been exposed to modern pornography. At least he seemed not so worried now about wearing his diaper.

‘Some ladies like it like that,’ she answered. ‘Now you go to sleep.’

‘Have you got hair?’ Chris asked.

‘Shh.’ said Angela. ‘Off to sleep, baby.’

Chris closed his eyes, and Angela kissed him gently on the forehead.

'‘Night, Angela,’ he said vaguely.

‘Goodnight, darling,’ Angela said, and quietly closed the curtains then left the room.

Back in the kitchen, May had prepared tea for them both. Angela looked again at her friend’s bare mons. She hoped that she hadn’t blunted the razor they shared.

It was still warm in the afternon sun, and May proposed having tea on the lawn. The womne took a rug out to the garden, and were sooon set up oin the lawn. They chatted and enjoyued their tea and cookies.

‘These are just plain cookies,’ May said. ‘The ones I baked for Chris are quite strong this time. Is he still compos?’

‘He was more or less when I put him down for his nap,’ Angela said. ‘He is very impressed with you, my girl.’

‘I got bored with being dressed,’ May replied.

‘So you shaved, too,’ Angela observed.

‘Do you like it?’ asked May, sitting up and spreading her legs apart, running her fingers over the plump vee of her crotch. ‘Why don’t you do it too, you hairy thing,’ she added.

‘We need at least one adult in the house, May,’ Angela said. ‘Would you like more milk? This is strong tea.’

So they chatted on. Angela told May what had happened at the mall.

‘That’s probably good,’ she said.

She told Angela that she had been to the hotel, and brought back Chris’s suitcase. She had found the plasitc sheet among the clothing, and a dozen or so thick pullups.

‘Poor kid,’ she said. ‘He’s much better off in a diaper.’

Angela agreed. May poured herself another cup of tea.

‘May!’ she said suddenly.

‘What?’ asked May mildly.

‘You’re peeing!’ said Angela.

The blanket beneath May where she was sitting cross-legged was darkening in a semi-circle of incrfeasing radius. Angela could see the pale yellow pee issuing from low in the slit in her chubby pubic mound.

‘Oh, whoops!’ said May, looking at Angela with a silly grin. ‘So I am! Why should baby Chris have all the fun?’

‘Oh, May,’ said Angela. ‘You really are naughty. Now we’ll have to wash the blanket.’

‘It’s only pee,’ said May. ‘And once in a while’s OK.’

‘May, you wet your pants only a week ago. That’s not once in a while. Do you want to be put back in diapers too?’ Angela said.

‘I wet those pants because they were yours and they were way to tight on me. I was getting wet anyway, just walking around. I told you that,’ May said.

‘And you’ve shaved yourself. You’re really crotch-centred, aren’t you, babe?’ Angela said. ‘I will put you in diapers if you keep this up. What if Chris saw you doing that?’

‘I think he’d fall further in love with me,’ said May, smiling beatifically.

Angela breathed out audibly and rolled her eyes.

‘Really, May,’ she said. ‘you know what he loves about you.’

‘You love them too, Angela,’ said May, putting both hands to her breasts and squeezing them.

‘That’s not the point, May. I think you should go and put some panties on, at least. I don’t want to have to look at your big bald cunt any longer,’ Angela said.

‘I hate panties,’ said May. ‘And you like my vulva too, not wishing to be crude,’ she added.

Angela rolled her eyes again.

‘May,’ she said firmly. ‘Panties please. Now. Top drawer, right hand side. Pebbles and Bam Bam. On. now. Off you go.’

May looked serious.

‘Oh, come on Ang,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. I was just celebrating shaving.’

‘May, I mean it. Off you go. I mean it. Off you go, or else,’ said Angela, looking steadily at May.

May uncrossed her legs and began to get to her feet.

‘Go on,’ said Angela, giving May a very firm slap on her plump bottom as she stood up.

‘Ow!’ sais May again.

‘No dawdling!’ Angela called after her as May went inside.

Angela looked crossly at the huge wet patch on the blanket, and sat, finishing her cup of tea.

A few minutes later, May reappeared. Her face looked flushed as she walked slowly towards Angela. She had on a pair of full-cut, cream coloured panties which covered most of her tummy. Angela stood and met her as she reached the blanket. She reached out with both hands and tugged the top of the panties tight up over the rounded bulge of May’s tummy to her belly button. Soft folds and creases radiated from the crotch of the underwear where the elasticated leg holes met, swelling over May’s mound and over her tummy fat to dissipate in the smoother upper region of the panties below the elasticated waist. Over her mound was stretched a picture of Pebbles and Bam Bam holding hands.

‘I hate these,’ said May.

‘And you will wear nothing else for the rest of the day,’ said Angela. ‘And if you keep pouting like that, I will put you on the trundle bed in Chris’s room. In a diaper, OK? So be a good girl. Now, take this stuff inside and start washing up, then you can wash the blanket you wet.’

‘I was just having fun,’ May said unhappily.

‘May,’ said Angela, ‘You are warned.’

To be continued.

Re: The Strange Story of Chris Chapters 1 - 7

The Strange Story of Chris

Chapter 8

Angela found May in the kitchen, grumpily washing the dishes. She watched her for a moment. May’s panties were down around her hips again, and Angles stood behind her and yanked them up tight around her waist once more.

‘Oww!’ May complained.

Angela delivered another sharp slap to May’s ample buns.

‘Oww! Angela!’ May squealed.

Angela turned her around. The panties were taut over May’s rounded belly, so that they bisected her fleshy pubis.

‘That,’ said Angela, pressing her fingers into the cotton furrrow into which Pebbles and Bam Bam were starting to disappear, ‘Is a ‘cameltoe’, and I expect to see you proudly displaying it whenever I look at it. If you’re so proud of your pudgy little twat, you can show it off to everyone else, too.’

‘It’s not fair,’ said May, blinking at Angela. ‘You’re all dressed up, and I look like…’

‘A baby?’ asked Angela. ‘And you didn’t look even more like a baby running around naked with no hair on your snatch? Explain how that works, and by the way, I did warn you. You’ll be dressed like that until tomorrow night. That should make you realise how fair this is.’

May’s response was to giggle.

Angela looked at the few cookies remaining on the plate May had offered to Chris.

‘May,’ she said sternly. ‘How many of those cookies have you eaten?’

May giggled again.

‘Some,’ she said.

‘Oh, for God’s sake, May,’ Angela said. ‘You are completely irresponsible. No wonder you’ve only washed one cup. Come here.’

May put down the plate she had been washing for the last few minutes and backed towards the corner of the kitchen.

‘I warned you, May. Come here immediately,’ Angela said.

May shook her ehad defiantly, and squealed again as Angela advanced and took her by the arm. Angela pulled one of the spindle-backed chairs from the kitchen table and sat on it, dragging May over her knee. Angela pulled May’s panties to her knees and began to spank her hard on her pale behind. May’s squeals became cries, then turned to a lusty howling as the heavy smacks rained down on her reddening bottom.

At last, Angela stopped. May stood up, tearfully rubbing her glowing backside. She looked brokenly at Angela, utterly contrite as she always was after being spanked.

‘I’m sorry, Ang. I’m really sorry. Really,’ she wailed.

‘Sorry for what, you naughty, naughty little girl?’ asked Angela, now standing up, calmly looking at the distressed woman.

‘Sorry for, for wetting the blanket, and…eating the cookies,’ she managed, then began to giggle again.

‘Oh May, you can do better than that. What about shaving yourself without asking me about it?’ said Angela.

‘I don’t have to ask you. You’re not in charge!’ said May.

‘No?’ said Angela. ‘Try this. Go straight to the bedroom, and come back with your denim shortalls. Now. Go on! Or you’ll get another spanking. What do you say to that?’

‘OK,’ said May, knowing better than to argue.

‘Not, ‘OK’’, said Angela. 'It’s ‘Yes, Angela’.

‘Yes, Angela,’ said May, and trotted off, still rubbing her sore behind.

Angela had washed the few remaining dishes by the time May had returned, holding the pale denim garment.

‘Right,’ said Angela, taking the shortalls from May. ‘Stand here.’

May did as she was told, and Angela pulled up her panties yet again and helped her into the shortalls, buckling the straps to the top of the bib. The shortalls were quite tight on May’s cuddly form, and Angela made sure that the strps were tight enough for the centre seam to pull firmly upwards between May’s labia. Her chubby tummy filled out the pants part of the garment nicely, while her big breasts were barely decent behind the bib. The stretched sides of her high-waisted panties were very visible throught the open sides of the shortalls. At the crotch, May displayed a severe denim cameltoe. On the bib were embroidered the words ‘Mommy’s Little Helper’.

‘That’s it, Maysie baby. You’re now dressed,’ said May. ‘I think you can sit on the floor for a while and play with Christina’s box of toys. You can think about how you should behave if I ever let you dress like a grown up again.’

May burst into tears.

‘It’s not so funny now, is it honey?’ Angela said. ‘Oh and if you need the potty, ask me. I don’t want you wetting again. Now I have adult some work to do, so I don’t expect to be disturbed for a while. OK, Maysie?’

Angela went to a cupboard and pulled out a large plastic crate of toys, and set it down in front of May, who was now settled, still sniffling, on the living room floor.

'‘Who’s that on top, May?’ asked Angela, pointing to a multi-coloured rag doll sprawled over the other items in the crate, exactly where May had left her the last time Angela had got out the toy crate for her.

‘Flopsy,’ May said tearfully.

‘That’s right, honey,’ said Angela. ‘And why is she on top?’

'‘Cause, she’s my favourite,’ said May.

‘That’s right!’ said Angela. ‘Good girl. Now, I want you to play with Flopsy and the other toys until dinnertime. Then I’ll get Chrissie up and you can help me with dinner. Now, before I go off and do grown up stuff, are your panties still dry?’

‘Yes,’ said May miserably.

‘Show me,’ said Angela, looking down at May.

May swivelled around on her bottom and spread her knees apart. Angela looked with satisfaction at the poor woman’s crotch. The sitting position pulled the denim tightly across her vulva, widening her cameltoe. Angela smiled sweetly at her friend.

‘Good girl,’ she said. ‘And if you need to wee wee, what do you do?’

‘Ask for the potty,’ May said, looking down between her legs.

‘You do,’ said Angela. ‘Whose potty do you ask for?’

‘My potty,’ replied May.

‘That’s right,’ said ANgela. ‘And one last thing…’

Angela went to the big refrigerator, and returned with a glass of lemonade.

‘Drink this all up, May, then you can play,’ she said.

‘No! Please, Angela!’ said May, shaking her head and clenching her fists.

‘May,’ said Angela more loudly. ‘Do want another spanking?’

‘No,’ said May quietly. She closed her eyes and drank the glass of lemonade while Angela held it to her lips. She hoped the diuretic would give her enough warning to get onto her potty.

Satisfied, Angela returned to the kitchen. There was a small crash from the living room floor as May put Flopsy to one side and upended the crate.

‘Play quietly, May, please, Chrissie is still asleep,’ called Angela, then left the kitchen and went to her study.

To be continued.

Re: The Strange Story of Chris Chapters 1 - 8

The Strange Story of Chris

Chapter 9

Angela had been working at her desk for around ten minutes when she tried to print a document from her computer. Damn she thought. No paper.

She looked around the office for a few spare sheets. No such luck. The document had to be on clean paper, and she wanted deliver it early in the local town the next morning. No time to get ot the shop beforehand. Damn, she thought again. There was still enough time to get there today. She thoguht she could leave Chris if he wwere still asleep, but she’d have to take May with her. After those cookies, and in her present fractious state of mind, she didn’t trust the girl on her own.

‘May darling,’ called Angela as she walked towards the living room. ‘Honey, in the car please. I have to get some things in town.’

‘Ohhh!’ she heard from May.

May was sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by her toys. She had Flopsy on her lap, and was talking to her.

Angela looked on with interest.

‘What’s that around Flopsy?’ she asked, seeing a white handkerchief tied tightly around the rag doll.

‘I put her in a diaper, because she’s been a naughty baby,’ May said.

Angela laughed. She went to Chris’s room and opened the door to let enough light into the room. Chris was sleeping soundly. Angela could hear his soft , regular breathing. She saw that he had retrieved one of Christina’s soft toys from the side of the bed, and had it clutched near his face on the pillow. He was also sucking his thumb.

‘Good,’ thought Angela.

‘Come on, slowcoach,’ she said to May as she helped her up from the floor.

‘Wait!’ said May, and bent to pick up the diapered Flopsy. ‘Flopsy’s coming too!’

‘OK,’ said Angela. ‘But let’s go.’

Angela led the way to her car, and soon the women were travelling back to the town with the mall.

The mall was still open, and Angela held the passenger door open for May.

'Are you still giggly, honey?" Angela asked.

It was the easiest way to ask about the effects of the cookies. May shook her head firmly.

‘I have to look after Flopsy,’ she said gravely.

‘I see,’ said Angela.

Angela and Julie had spent some time the summer before trying to program May using some hypnotic tapes a psychiatrist friend of Julies had imported from the UK. They were supposed to be cutting edge, in use at a UK research establishment working on aversion therapies for phobias. As well as aversion therapies, there were what you might call conversion therapies that established compelling new needs in those hearing the tapes. Angela and Julie had experimented with poor May and little Christina. They were suprisingly successful, and had had May and Christina desperate for various inappropriate things - and even each other - at various times. The trouble was that some of the therapies seemed to leave an unerasable trace. In May these needs remained latent until they were specifically provoked, Angela supposed was a good term. Like May’s childishness, and in particular her childish focus on her private parts. Even today, she resisted satisfying her need until Angela had made it quite clear that unless she submitted to a few triggers, in her case, childish clothing and the drawing of attention to her crotch, she would be spanked, kept in diapers or whatever. Now, realising Angela’s threats wer real, May had given in to her latent compulsions, and hardly noticed that she was dressed like a big toddler, or that she was behaving like a three year old. She would return to her normal self once the triggers were removed. On the other hand, Christina’s behaviour had regressed to the same level of toddlerhood as May’s - but she never ‘came back’, so to speak. In fact, she seemed to become more infantile as the days went on. Angela had thought she was playing a game with her, but Christina was soon unable to walk or talk. She would look at Angela sometimes with scared, helpless eyes. She would even babble strangely, or try to ‘write’, but other than at those rare times, she lived happily the life of an infant. And she still did, at her new home.

Angela led May. clutching Flopsy, up into the mall. The office supply shop was still open. Gratefully, Angela took May into the shop and bought her paper.

After paying for the paper, Angela looked around to see that May had gone.

‘Oh no,’ she thought. ‘Not again.’

Then she caught sight of May, turned away from her with her head bowed, engrossed in something. Hurrying towards her, Angela walked past her, turning to see what sahe was up to. She knew that little May could be quite mischievious, and was suprised to find her friend standing with her legs slightly apart, picking at the crotch of her shortalls.

‘Are you OK, sweetie? What are you doing?’ she asked.

‘Tickles,’ May replied, tugging again at the tight seam, holding on to Flopsy at the same time.

‘Honey, it’s ok, don’t do that,’ Angela said, conscious of the other people hurrying through the mall.

Angela gently took Flopsy from May’s fingers and put her hands in her own.

‘We can fix you up later, May,’ she said. ‘We have to get home now. We’re having macaroni cheese,’ she added. ‘How will that be, honey?’

‘I’m all tickly,’ said May, putting her hand to her puffy crotch again, but this time rubbing it.

Once again, Angela removed her hand from her clothing.

‘I want more tickles!’ May almost shouted, bringing Julie to the entrance of her nearby shop.

‘Hi Julie,’ said Angela, dragging the protesting May by both her hands after her towards her druggist friend.p

Julie smiled at them both.

‘Hi Julie. I’ve brought little May with me,’ said Angela, coding her greeting for Julie’s sake.

‘May, you remember Julie, don’t you?’

May looked at Julie, and struggled to free her hands from Angela’s strong fingers.

‘May’s been eating special cookies, and she’s been very naughty,’ Angela explained.

‘You’re a sucker for punishment,’ Julie said to Angela. ‘Have you been a naughty little girl?’ she added, looking at Julie.

May stood very still.

‘Potty,’ she said, and a small dark patch began to grow between her legs.

A moment later, her entire lower crotch and the inside of both her legs were saturated. A pool of urine grew on the floor, and May began to cry.

‘I couldn’t help it!’ she sniffled.

‘It’s OK, honey,’ said Angela. ‘Let’s get you home. I’m sure we can find someone to clean this up.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Julie. ‘I’ll get some wipes. Do you want to fix her up here? I’ve got some disposables and you can use my office.’

‘No, it’s alright,’ Angela assured her. ‘I’m sorry about the floor, but I think I’ll just get this little lady home. Chris is still asleep, and we all need some dinner.’

‘I’m grown up,’ said May suddenly. ‘I’m thirty… thirty…’

‘Shh, honey. We’re going home now,’ said Angela.

‘I’ve wet my pants,’ said May, and her crying began again in earnest, as she tried vainly to cover her wet groin with her small hands.

‘Come on,’ said Angela. ‘Bye, Julie. See you on Friday.’

Angela got May down to the car. She put Flopsy in first, then buckled May into the seat.

Soon after they’d left the mall, May began to twitch violently, then moaned twice. Her hands, now free, went back to her wet crotch, and she held them there, not moving and with her eyes closed.

May didn’t speak until they were almost home.

‘I wet my pants, Angela,’ she said as they drove into Angela’s tree-lined driveway. ‘I asked for my potty.’

‘I know you did, May baby. You couldn’t help it,’ said Angela.

‘Do you still love me?’ she asked as they slowed to a halt at the front door.

‘Of course I do, darling,’ said Angela.

She wasn’t sure who she was speaking to at this moment. Little Maysie or her companion, May.

‘I love you,’ May said. ‘Home,’ she added, looking around as she got out of the car.

To be continued.