Because You Asked for Chapter 25 (Patreon)

I was thinking of Angie’s advice when I settled on the punishment: be harsh just to be harsh, so that he learns you’re in control and accepts that as the norm. Of course Jordy didn’t do anything wrong. That wasn’t really the point. The point was that I could just decide he had misbehaved, set a punishment, and see how he responded. 

I could tell how conflicted he was. His contorted little face when I told him no bathroom for 24 hours was priceless. He wanted to say no. I thought he was going to. I thought he would just flat out refuse, and I was hoping he would, sort of, because I didn’t know how’d I’d react and wanted to find out. His swearing just gave me an excuse to paddle his ass, and he sounded so pathetic when I told him his punishment stood. 

Angie definitely had some insight there into how I’d come to think of Jordy as our new dynamic deepened. I know he’s not an adult baby, and I still don’t think of myself as a big or age player or whatever they call it, but he does seem more like a whiny teen nowadays, and with him being back in diapers at my insistence, I do feel a smidge more responsible for him. Changing a wet diaper isn’t so bad, really.  

Something about Saturdays remind me of my girlhood. We try but not always succeed in not having any errands on Saturdays, just one day a week with no obligations. I remember lazy Saturdays like that growing up, with Mom busying herself with some chore or other, and then she’d call us to the kitchen where we’d find a simple lunch. Kid food: PB&J or baloney or grilled cheese, sliced apples, chips, the like. Simple little pleasures. 

“Jordy! How about I make us lunch?” He was still upset by his spanking and punishment and had gone down to the basement to play Xbox. I heard the war pause before he called up, “Okay.” 

“I’ll call you when it’s ready.” And the war resumed. We really don’t keep a lot of food in the house, especially now that we’re trying to eat better, but it being Saturday, I decided to make us a treat: grilled cheese with mortadella. It tastes exactly like baloney, but we get to pretend we’re fancy people. 

“Jordy! Lunch his ready.” World War Whatever went into a ceasefire, and Jordy was just a few steps behind me as when I got back to your kitchen. “I thought you’d like a treat.” 

“Thanks.” 

“How’s your butt?” My guilty pleasure, watching him blush. 

“Fine,” he answered as he sat down. I decided to observe the mercy rule and not follow up with another question.  

“Do you want to go out tonight? Maybe dinner and a movie, or just go wander around the mall or something?” 

“Maybe. Anything out right now you wanna see?” 

“I’m not sure.” I bit my tongue when it occurred to me to tell him they’d let him into R-rated movies so long as he was with me. “Just anything to get out of the house.” 

“I look and see what’s playing.” 

Three hours later, he came back upstairs and sat next to me in the living room. I was just watching Netflix, and I didn’t think anything of it at first. He didn’t seem to be interested in what I was watching, but that’s not such a big deal. I thought he was just bored until he started squirming. 

“Do you need your diaper changed,” I finally asked. And it was a legitimate ask. I wasn’t trying to embarrass him. I was trying to solve whatever problem had him not sitting still. 

“No.” 

“You’re sure? Do I need to check?” I knew he was wet. He’s always wet. 

“No. I ...” 

“What,” I asked when he didn’t say anything else. 

“I need to use the bathroom.” 

“Oh.” 

“Can I?”  

I really didn’t think this was going to be an issue. I figured he’d just hold it. He usually goes once in the morning, and that’s it. But I did feed him a fatty lunch. Maybe it got his system moving. I wanted to say yes. 

I wanted to say yes, but I thought about what that meant for our relationship. What would happen if the very first time I gave him a punishment he really didn’t like, I just gave in? That would be hard to come back from. So I wanted to say no, but ew. Just, ew. I made my decision. 

“It’s ‘May I,’ and no, you may not.” 

He looked away from me for a moment. He seemed to be deciding something of his own, but whatever it was, I think he chickened out. All he did was ask, “Please? I learned my lesson.” 

I reached over and took his hand. It’s not easy being the one in charge. Sometimes you have to enforce rules and punishments you don’t want to. It made me think back to my childhood again and all the times I’m sure Mom and Dad would much rather have said yes or given in or canceled a grounding because they didn’t want to go through the effort or they hated seeing me or my sisters miss something important to us, but they didn’t. 

“Actions have consequences, and this is one of them this time, honey. You’re going to have to hold it.” I really hoped he could. I doubted he could, but maybe if he did for long enough, the need would subside. 

“I don’t think he can,” he whined.  

Ugh. “Do you want some privacy?” 

“What?” 

“Why don’t you go to the guest room?” 

Rebellion flashed in Jordy’s eyes. “How ‘bout I just go use the toilet?” He started to get up. 

Well, dammit. If he was going to make this a test of wills, I couldn’t lose. “No, honey. You can go in your diaper, or you can hold it until ten tomorrow morning. Those are your choices.” I watched him turn an angry kind of red. “And before you say something else, remember what happened when you got upset this morning.” 

I saw his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed. “May I please go use the toilet,” he asked again. 

I was trying to be patient and gentle. I knew this wasn’t something he enjoyed, and it wasn’t lost on me that I did sorta break part of our agreement by taking over his diapering. “Honey, you may not,” I repeated. “You may poop your diaper, or you may hold it.” 

“And what if I just got up right now and went to the bathroom?” 

Fair question. “You’ll be a very sorry little boy,” I said, “You’ll get a very hard and very long spanking, and I don’t know what else.” 

Jordy looked like he was deciding again, but only for a second before his shoulders slumped. “This isn’t fair. This is my fetish. I don’t wanna.” What a little boy’s response. It hadn’t worked five hours ago, and it didn’t work right then. 

“What did I tell you this morning? Now that I’ve put you back in diapers, you don’t get to decide.” 

“I don’t get to decide anything, though?” 

“No, you don’t.” I knew in his heart it’s what he wanted, and his acceptance of that, albeit grudging, just confirmed it. Jordan is an adult, after all. 

“Please,” he asked plaintively. He looked very uncomfortable. If I’d said yes, he’d have flown off the couch. 

“Honey, just go.” His head shot up. “You’ll feel much better, and you can change right away.” He barely nodded and stood up. “Where are you going,” I asked before I let his hand go. 

“The guest room.” 

“Okay. Wait for me there.” He didn’t say anything and kept walking. I waited about ten minutes. I paused outside the door and listened, I’m not sure for what. Tears wouldn’t have surprised me, exactly. I knocked. 

“Come in.” 

I opened the door and didn’t see him until I turned. “Why are you on your naughty spot?” He was standing in the corner. 

“I dunno. Just seemed ... where else?” 

“Do you feel better?” 

“Mhmm.” The room didn’t smell yet. I doubted that would last. “Will change me now?” 

“Are you sure you’re done? You still can’t use the bathroom until tomorrow. You understand that, right?” 

“Yes. I’m ... I’m done.” 

The little butterflies in my stomach were angry humming birds now. My husband was standing in the corner of our guest room in a dirty diaper. This seemed like it should’ve been a bigger deal than it was. I guess we had opposite reactions. He thought it was a big deal before, and now he seemed slightly less bothered by it, while it was starting to feel like a big deal to me. 

“Come here,” I said, and he left his naughty spot and shuffled over. I wasn’t going to change him. No way. I just wanted to make sure he could make it downstairs the way he was. He stood in front of me, and I slid his lazy Saturday shorts down, exposing his diaper. I got a whiff of it and was even more determined not to change him. “Turn around for me.” 

The blush on his face was priceless, but I was laying more attention to his diaper. He turned, and thinking this is no different from checks my nephew’s dirty diaper, when he was still in diapers, I put my hand on his diapered butt. There was quite the bulge. He shuddered. I saw his neck turn pink. I gave it a little pat. The link turned red and spread up toward his ears. 

Liking this now, sort of, I decided to say something that, if it wasn’t received well, I could claim I was just trying to comfort him. 

“It’s okay, Jordy. Poopy diapees just happen to little boys in diapers sometimes.” And I finished it with three more pats. “You were a good boy following your punishment.” He shuddered again. I smiled, and I don’t know what expression was on his face, and I decided not to push my luck. I stepped back. 

“Why don’t you go use the basement shower and get yourself cleaned up? There’s some trash bags in the work room,” I told him. 

“You’re not gonna change me?” 

“I’ll get you in a new diaper when you’re come back upstairs. Scoot,” I added with a firmer pat on his diaper. 

When I did get him back in a clean diaper, he didn’t go back downstairs to his video game. Surprising me, he followed me back to the living room, and when I turned on Netflix, without a word, he laid down against me. Eventually, I moved so he could put his head in my lap if he wanted to. He did. 

We didn’t go see a movie. 

(This story will be on hiatus for a bit but returning soon)