Because You Asked for It: Chapter 5 (Patreon)

Chapter 5. Jordan

“Here’s the rules list,” Kate said as she sat down on the couch with me after she’d gotten home from work.

“You did that at work?”

“It was a slow day. Do you wanna go over the rules?”

“Yeah.” I was somewhat nervous. I don’t think I’d had a written list of rules since elementary school, and never at home. We were just expected to know what we should and shouldn’t do. “But what if disagree with some of them,” I asked.

“We can talk about them, and what I decide goes.”

“Okay,” I said, belatedly realizing she hadn’t asked me a question.

“So first, 24/7 means 24/7. You don’t have to use your diapers all the time, but you do have to wear them all the time. If we need to, we’ll come up with some exceptions, but otherwise, you’re in a diaper all day every day. Make sense?”

“Mhmm.”

“And you’re going to need to take care of yourself down there. You can figure out what that means, but you shouldn’t smell and you shouldn’t get rashes except very rarely.”

“Okay. I already have some ideas on that.”

“Such as?”

“Um, I think I need to keep myself manscaped, and I already got some rash cream and barrier cream.”

“Good.”

“Is there more?”

“Oh, lots more. Now that you’re home during the day, I want you to take on more of the housework. Not all of it, but things should be neat and tidy when I get home, which means the sink empty, the counters clean, the living room straightened - those kinds of things, generally keeping the house clean and most importantly cleaning up after yourself.”

That was fair. I made probably 60% of the mess in the house but only did 30% of the housework. “That’s fair,” I said.

“Good. I know you’re still working, and I respect that, but your schedule is a lot more flexible than mine, and you are here, so...”

“I understand. That’s fine, really.”

“We’re going to have a more active social life, by which I do me ‘we.’ We’re going out more. I’m tired of either sitting home or going places without you.”

“I always have to go?” I’m much more introverted than Katie, and I like staying home most of the time or going places with just her. I didn’t like going places with lots of people.

“Not always, but at least once a week we’re going somewhere either with someone or where there’ll be others, including munches.”

“Really?” I’d been to exactly one, spoken to the organizer only, and left.

“Yeah. It’s time. I want you to meet other people in the community. It’ll be good for you.”

“Okay.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you, Jordy.”

“I know.” I sighed and she paused to see if I’d say anything else, or perhaps to see if she needed to reassure me some more.

“And you’re going to start taking better care of yourself.” We’d talked about this before I brought up wanting to go 24/7. In the two months I’d been working from home, I’d put on five pounds. The fridge was always there, some days I didn’t even leave the house, and I was sedentary. “You’re going to be in bed by eleven on week nights and midnight on weekends unless I say otherwise, and you’re going to be out of bed no later than 7:30 weekdays and 8:30 on weekends. If we have some special occasion, we can let that slip, but just because you’re working from home doesn’t mean you should become a bed slug.”

She pinched my pajama pants in her fingers and said, “And you’re going to put on real clothes every day. You can change into lounge stuff at 6. And you’re responsible for all the laundry. Every third day, do a wash. Sheets and towels every Sunday.”

“Okay.”

“And I know you’re going to hate this, but I got us a gym membership and signed you up with a personal trainer twice a week.”

“I have to go to the gym in my diaper?”

She shrugged unapologetically and said, “People who really do need them go to the gym. You can figure something out.”

“But I only have to go twice a week?”

“You see a trainer twice a week. I want you to go three more times a week, or do something else athletic three more times a week. That’s five total. We can do it together. I’m going to get both of us a FitBit. Also, diet.”

“I’m not fat, though.”

“That’s not the only thing that matters to your health. I want you to go to the doctor for a physical next week and get bloodwork. You eat like a teenager.”

“It’s not that bad.” I knew it was that bad.

“Honey, yes, it is. I know it’s hard, but neither of us is getting younger. We’re going to eat fresh, healthy food, and one meal a week, we can indulge in something. We’re not going to keep junk in the house anymore. And you have to participate in this, so three weeknights each week, you’re cooking, and dinner is at seven.”

“Anything else,” I asked a little too impatiently. I did sound like a whiny teen, I’ll admit it.

“Yeah,” she said, her eyebrows peaking, “You’re gonna have a good attitude about this. No sulking, and no complaining. If you want to talk about something, we will, but maturely. That tone you just used is officially off limits.”

“Sorry.” It drove my mom nuts, too, back in the day.

“And to answer your next question, yes. The basics: lying, cheating on your diet and exercise, or any disobedience or bad attitude. Those are all off limits. Any other rules I decide to make up as we go gets added to the list, no debate. If I tell you do something, you do it. And if I decide you need a punishment, you get one, no questions asked, whenever I decide.” She sounded stern, and I could tell just saying it was revving her up a little. She gave me a look to let me know she meant it, and then her face softened, and she added, “You know I’ll be fair.”

“I know.”

“Do you want to hear about punishments?”

“Do I have to?” I’d rather not think about that, and besides, I’d just follow the rules. I was a grown up after all.

“No, we don’t have to.” We sat silently for a minute.

“Now what,” I asked.

“Now we just go about our lives. C’mon,” she said, taking my hand and pulling me up from the couch, “Go get dressed, and I’ll take us to dinner. One last splurge.” She sent me on my way with a loud swat on my diapered butt.

Not much changed in the first three days of me wearing 24/7. I was in diapers all day every day, though I still used the toilet for bowel movements, but every day was more or less the same as before. I kept my diapers private still, worked in my home office, and Kate went about her daily life. She never saw me without something on over my diapers, she was no more involved with my diapers than she had been before, but I did notice her looking at me more often, and I think knew why. I smiled more. I made more jokes. I didn’t toss and turn in my sleep as much. I felt happier, calmer. I think that made up for the diapers piling up in the trash bin. 

I did feel a bit different than before, though. I had been someone who often wore diapers. Now, I always wore diapers. I wasn’t self-conscious about wearing around Kate, but I did feel self-conscious if I thought about her thinking about me wearing, wondering if at any given moment I was wet, and knowing whenever she wondered that, I most likely was. Still, if it bothered her, that didn’t last long, and in bed on the fourth night, Kate pulled me close and made herself the big spoon, and I couldn’t tell if it was on purpose or not, but she patted my butt just the once before we fell asleep.