Because You Asked for It: Chapter 6 (Patreon)

Chapter 6. Kate

“Honey,” I said groggily, “What’s wrong?” We’d just gone to sleep a couple hours earlier, and Jamie had woken me up getting out of bed.

“Uh … my diaper leaked. I didn’t know what to do,” Jordan replied, a sheepish and embarrassed look clouding his face. If I weren’t so tired, I’d have found him cute. I propped myself with my left hand and reached for the lamp with my right, I put hand right in the wet spot. With the lights on, I saw the dark stain on Jordy’s light blue pajama pants. He looked like a bedwetter with a leaky Goodnite.

“Sorry,” Jordan continued, “I didn’t want to wake you up. Should I change the sheets?”

“Go change yourself. I’ll take care of the sheets.” In a few minutes Jordan came back in wearing just a fresh diaper and his t-shirt, his pants balled up in his hand before he tossed them into the laundry basket next to his dresser. I could have sworn by the way he looked at me he was thinking about trying to make a move. Maybe because confessing the leak had turned him on – it had never happened before because until a few nights ago he never wore to bed. But it may have also just been me. Not to brag, but I always thought he go fortunate with me, physically speaking. I’m taller than he is, in better shape as well, and even then in my mid-thirties, I don’t mind telling you I was quite the dish even in my doughty flannel pajamas. Hardly the stuff of Victoria Secret catalogues, but I had a figure and face perfect for L.L. Bean or Eddie Bauer, more the woman next door than an impossibly airbrushed model. I think I snapped him out of it when I flicked the clean sheet over the bed, that little wave of air bringing him back to the present.

Jordy never wore just a diaper around me, which I always appreciated, and I think he’d just forgotten to take clean pajamas with him when he went to change in the bathroom. Of course, for all his effort to not rub my face in fetish all these years, now he had nearly made me sleep in it. 

“Sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to,” he said.

“I know. Let’s go back to bed. Could you clean the mattress tomorrow?” I tossed my pillows back on to the bed and got back under the covers. I didn’t think much of this episode. It didn’t occur to me this was a big deal, and in the morning, I didn’t mention it, much to Jordan’s relief. He was still embarrassed; I could tell at breakfast. He wasn’t very talkative.

I was patient when it happened again two nights later, and the night after, but the night after that, I finally laid down the law.

“Jordan, I’m tired of this. One more wet bed and you’re getting punished.”  I had considered this the previous night. I didn’t want to punish him for anything related to his diapers because I was afraid if I did, I’d accidentally become somehow responsible for them, or at least responsible for monitoring his behavior around them. I told myself I’d sternly but gently tell him he needed to fix the problem, but in the moment, once more out of bed and changing sheets at an ungodly hour, I added the “and you’re getting punished” by accident. But having said it, I knew I had to follow through. I hoped he’d figure out a solution before I had to do that. 

“I didn’t mean to,” was all he could think to say. He was standing next to the bed looking just plain silly. I don’t like having unkind thoughts, but as I looked at him, as I made the bed even though he’d wet it (guess maybe I’m still a little irritated about it), I thought all he was missing was a teddy bear and a pacifier and a tear on his cheek.

“I know that, but the mattress smells, and I’m tired of losing sleep.” I threw my pillows back on the bed. “I actually have to get up and go to work tomorrow. This was your idea. If you want it, you need to fix it, honey.” I got back in bed and turned away from him. He flipped the light off and climbed in, not saying anything. I felt guilty, but just a little.

Jordan’s solution was simple. He stopped peeing in bed. If he woke and had to go, he got out of bed to do it and got back in. I hadn’t had to change sheets in a couple of nights, but Jordan getting in and out of bed sometimes woke me up. Last night I had awoken to see him standing next to the bed, not moving, and immediately getting back in. Of course I knew what he was doing. It didn’t exactly gross me out, but it he looked ridiculous. I preferred not to think on the fact that he was urinating on himself. He has a very obvious potty face, too. It reminds me of my nephew’s, but of course, he’s not in diapers anymore. 

The next night, it wasn’t even midnight when he woke me up. Him getting out of bed wasn’t what woke me. No, no – he was still in bed, staring at the ceiling, not moving.

“Jordan! You’re pissing on me!” I was out of bed before he even stopped, I think. His hands flew under his hip as I threw my side of the covers over him.

“I’m sorry…it was an accident,” Jordan stammered as I glared at him. Maybe in the day time I wouldn’t have been so angry about it, but I was, and my face said it.

“I told you to fix this!”

“I fixed it. I thought I fixed it,” Jordan said back, sitting upright and getting to his feet. Our marital bed was between us, the covers twisted in a heap and in the middle a large wet spot, unmistakable on our royal blue sheets.

“If you had fixed it I wouldn’t be wearing wet clothes right now,” I said as I started to strip off my wet bottom and top.

“But I did…I bought plastic pants to hold in the leaks,” Jordan said, his hands moving over his diaper area and wondering how he’d leaked through them. I went into my dresser for clean pajamas.

“We’ll deal with this tomorrow. Goodnight,” I said as I walked out. I got in the shower and thought about what to do. I figured he was in there wondering how much trouble he was in, and so was I. It’s not like I’d written down every possible way he could get in trouble and a corresponding punishment. This wasn’t a standing rule he’d broken, but I told him to fix the leaks, he’d had a few days to figure it out, and he’d obviously failed. It was an accident more than disobedience, but it was an accident caused by negligence. It wasn’t even an accident, I mused as I washed it off me. It was an “on-purpose” with an accidental side-effect, but one it was his responsibility to avoid, and he hadn't.