Because You Asked for It - Chapter 11 (Patreon)

Chapter 11. Jordan

I was happy just to have Katie back in the same bed with me, but as I went to sleep that night, after having been spanked like a naughty little boy that morning, having bought diapers in person for the first time in many years, and having a tailor touch my diaper, my head was spinning a bit. 

I noticed, though, that once I’d been spanked, Katie hadn’t borne a grudge. After two hours, there was no evidence she’d punished me. And the tailor carried on like everything was normal. He was a stranger, though, and one I saw rarely. I wouldn’t have to interact with him again until the next time I went to the suit department. I was still nervous about telling people I knew, and also about the trainer. That was someone I’d see regularly, and Kate told me we would be informing her.

At 4:00 on Wednesday I went to change into my gym outfit. Katie had asked me to be ready when she got hone, and had added, “No complaining. We’re doing this.” The only time I had ever worn diapers outside the house for anything other than a walk to the mailbox, I’d been in jeans, khakis, or at least khaki shorts, all materials heavy enough that they won’t reveal a diaper if they’re not too tight. But gym shorts?

I frequently wear gym shorts around the house as lounge wear, and I at the diaper bulge is obvious, especially in the front. I slid my new pull-up on and then my shorts, and I looked at myself in the mirror. The bulge was not noticeable, but my shorts didn’t drape like they normally do. It looked not like I was wearing a diaper but a pad.

And the pull-up came up much higher than my diaper. I appreciated how soft it was and felt it was stretchy enough to move with me, but I knew if my shirt rode up just a little, it would be on display. I tucked my shirt in, then looked at myself and untucked it, not sure what was worse: the flat look of the pad or the possibility of my shirt riding up. I decided to leave my shirt out.

I was nervous I went to the bathroom four times in the hour I waited for Katie to get home. She was all about business and got changed. I love her in anything, but when she’s completely dressed down and has her hair pulled into a ponytail, it reminds me so much of the girl next door. Every day I’m glad she married me.

“Are you ready,” she asked me as she grabbed her keys.

“Yeah.”

“Got your pull-up on?”

“Yes, ‘Mom,’” I teased her. With a smiling half-frown she strode over to me and put her hand on my padded crotch. 

“I know how little boys can sometimes fib,” she teased me back. “And you deal feel ready,” she said as squeezed me, “but it’s not that kind of workout.” She winked at me.

She drove to a gym near our house that we drove by all the time. It was even within walking distance if you were okay with a longish walk on a busy road. Before we got out, she reminded me, “Just to be clear, I expect you to actually put effort into this, not just go through the motions. You might even like it.”

“I’ll try to,” I assured her. Like most gyms, it was a big box of a place, with the free weights on one side and the weight and cardio machines on the other. The free weight section was occupied mostly by men, some working out for the exercise, others because lifting was their hobby. They also seemed to me to be so much stronger and more fit than I was. A few were truly hulking. On the other side, gym goers over the age of 50 were making their way around the weight machine circuit, and a mix of men and women of all ages were using the cardio equipment. Behind a glass wall was a lap pool, with the entrances to the locker rooms on either side.

“Can I help you,” a young man behind the desk asked when we approached.

“Yes,” Kate said, “We have an appointment with Wendy.” Wendy heard her name and came over.

“You must be Kate and Jordan,” Wendy said as she put out her hand. “Right this way.” They went to her cubicle, and she took out two clipboards. Wendy talked over goals with us, with Kate doing most of the answering for us both.

“Any medical issues I should be aware of,” Wendy asked. Kate looked at me expectantly. I looked back, suddenly aware of how well I could hear the people in the next cubicle.

“Just one,” Kate said, looking annoyed, “Jordan, do you want to tell her?”

Talking about my “problem” with the woman at the medical supply store seemed qualitatively different than telling this 22-year-old trainer. I decided to take Kate’s question as not just rhetorical, and dry mouthed, I managed to mumble, “I’d rather you did.”

Kate took my hand and said in a slightly lower voice, “Jordy has an incontinence problem and is wearing protection.”

Wendy did her best to not look surprised. Maybe this was her first time with a client with incontinence, or maybe I was just the youngest. In either case, she asked, “Does that place any limitations on his mobility or ability to exercise?”

Katie apparently decided she liked her newfound role of storyteller. “Well,” she said, “no real limitations on mobility, but he will leak when lifting anything heavy. But that shouldn’t be a problem. That’s what the protection is for.”

“Okay,” Wendy replied. “Just do you know,” she said looking now at me, “there’s a ‘family’ locker room around this corner in the back.” She indicated the near wall of the gym area, pointing behind herself and to the left. I don’t know what shade of red I was. I considered excusing myself to go to the hardware store across the parking lot to search through the paint samples to see if they had a name for it. If not, I could always write Bend and suggest “sympathetic-stranger-told-me-where-to-change-my-diaper” as a new color.

But that was all that was said, and Wendy took the two clipboards and led us to an open area with a mat and some medicine balls. She ran us through a warm up routine and had us doing plyometrics on the mat. I was distracted the entire time pulling my shirt down, knowing that on several occasions I would have shown my just-in-case underwear to whoever happened to look. Kate pulled my shirt down for me twice, and Wendy did once before apologizing. I felt a weird mixture of embarrassment and sense of being well cared for.

By the time we were done, I was wrung out. Dieting wouldn’t be a problem for dinner, because I didn’t want to eat. Wendy told us we did great, and I think when she said she smiled at me a little differently than she did at Kate. It wasn’t exactly pity, and it wasn’t exactly condescension. It was more like she just really wanted me to know I should be proud of myself. We went back to her cubicle, and she made a workout schedule for us that included two couples sessions a week, a one-on-one session for me each week, and two workouts for me to do on my own.

“How do you feel,” Kate asked as we walked out hand in hand.

“Like I’m ready to go to bed.”

“It’s 7:00,” she retorted.

“Guess that just means I’m out of shape.”

“I hope I didn’t embarrass you in there.”

“No ... it’s fine. Guess that’s just part of getting used to it.”

“She didn’t react funny or anything.”

“Well, she did seem a little ... more attentive with me than with you,” I told her.

“Maybe because you needed a little help. Or you’re just imagining things.”

“Maybe...”

“You should wear two shirts to the gym,” Katie told me, “So you can tuck one in and not be constantly worried about your diaper showing.”