A Convincing Argument (Patreon)

“I want to go shopping,” she said. “You’re coming with me, right?”

“Of course,” I said obediently. There wasn’t really another answer.

“Are you ready to go?”

I shrugged. I wanted to say yes, but that wasn’t the answer she’d be seeking. Following my disobedience earlier in the week, she warned me that there would be consequences. This didn’t feel like the time to test her.  

“I should go...get something. To wear out.”

“Oh? What do you think you should be wearing today?” she asked, innocently twirling her hair around her finger while staring at the sky, as if she actually had to think about this.  

I swallowed my pride for the umpteenth time and played along: “Diapers?”

“Oh? Diapers?” She continued to feign ignorance. “I thought only babies wore diapers.  You...you’re not some sort of baby are you?”

“I...no...well...”

“I mean, why would an adult want to wear diapers? That could only mean one of two things: You aren’t actually an adult, or you actually need diapers.” She paused for a moment before flashing a well-rehearsed ‘a-ha’ expression: “Oh, I suppose it could mean both, right? So tell me, are you a baby? Do you need diapers?”

I could try to tell her the truth. I could try and explain that if I had to wear a diaper, it was only because she made me. That answer wouldn’t fly. We’ve had this conversation before. It would be pointless to have it again.

“B-both…”

“Interesting. Could you explain?”

Usually, I’d argue against her point that I was a baby who needed diapers, and she would wear me down with counter-arguments until I gave up and just accepted whatever she said. By not arguing today, she put the figurative ball in my court - an entirely new challenge.

“I...well...I have to wear diapers, you see. And so if adults don’t wear diapers...I think that would make me a…”

“Now hold on,” she said, crossing her arms. “I feel like you’re conveniently skipping over some very important details. You have to wear diapers? Why do you have to wear diapers?”

Again, the answer on the tip of my tongue was that I did because I was made to. But it wouldn’t satisfy her. “I’ve proven that if I’m not wearing diapers I’m liable to…”

“Go on.”

“...have an accident.”

“I see. I’d like to point out that you’re not currently wearing diapers. Is that correct?”

“Well, no…”

“Could you please confirm that for me?”

Bashfully, and with only the slightest amount of hesitation, I pulled my jeans down to my knees, revealing my light blue boxer briefs.

“So, no, you’re not wearing a diaper. Which seems strange to me, because if you were likely to have an accident in your pants - like a baby - you’d think that you’d be wearing a diaper all the time.”

I was at a loss for words. Her logic was sound, though it didn’t exactly apply to how we played her little game. What was I supposed to say to that?

“For the moment, I’ll look past the fact that you aren’t wearing diapers right now, even though it seems to me like that’s an oversight we need to correct at some point. Let’s address these ‘accidents’ of yours for a moment. You say that it’s been proven that you are prone to having them - thus the diapers. So, you have had accidents before?”

She damn well knew the answer to this. “Yes.”

“Accidents in your little boxer briefs? Or accidents in your diapers?”

“B-both…”

“And how recent would you say your last ‘accident’ was?”

“It was...Monday.”

“And what happened Monday?”

She knew what happened Monday. She was there. This was the disobedient moment that set the course for us to have the conversation we were having today. “I...wet my pants.”

“But you were wearing diapers, right?”

“No...I wasn’t wearing diapers.”

“Were you supposed to have been wearing diapers?”

“Y-yes.”

“So what happened there?”

She knew the story already. She wanted to go pick up some groceries, and she asked me to diaper up for the trip. I told her I had, not expecting her to know any better while we were out and about. Of course, I gave myself away while we were at the store and I told her that I needed to run to the restroom. She commanded me to wet the diaper right there in front of her, in the middle of the store, despite the fact that both of us knew that I wasn’t actually wearing a diaper.

“I...was told to wear a diaper and I didn’t. So when I had to pee, I...wet my pants instead.”

“I see. But at least this happened at home, yes? So you didn’t humiliate yourself and anyone you were with.”

“Well…” 

She had been pretty upset when it happened, and understandably so. She immediately pointed to my pants and asked, rather loudly, if I had just pissed my pants like a toddler. My nods weren’t enough of an answer, and she repeated the question so that I had to say aloud that I had pissed my pants. Like a toddler - it was important to her that I said that.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“We were out in public. At a store.”

“And despite that, you thought it was a good idea to be without diapers at all?”

I didn’t respond. It wouldn’t have mattered what answer I gave - she’d have found a way to turn it around on me.

“Well, I think you’ve convinced me. You really should be in a diaper.”

“Yes.” Then, thinking I should lay it on a little thicker in an effort to win back some points: “I want to wear a diaper so I don’t have any accidents.”

“Very well.  If you want diapers, you can have diapers.”  She laughed, no doubt amused by herself. “But I’m going to put the diaper on you myself, so that I can be sure you’re actually wearing it this time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“No, none of that ‘ma’am,’ stuff. If you’re going to be a big baby, you’ll call me Mommy instead.”

“But...in public?”

“Oh yes. And I’ll be changing your diaper once we get home tonight. Since, you have no reason to ask to use the restrooms, I’ll expect you to be using your diaper like a good baby.”

“But...may I at least use the toilet first? I...haven’t gone in a while and…”

“No, you may not. I suggest you either enjoy your long evening of holding it, or embrace the diaper that you, yourself, have convinced me that you need.”

“Y-yes…Mommy.”

“I think we best get you ready then.  Come upstairs with me, won’t you?”