The Best of Intentions, Chapter 3 (Patreon)

I was on the edge of my bed, on my back, with my legs hanging off. I had given her a fresh diaper, some wipes and a bottle of baby powder. I managed to keep the pacifiers, more babyish-print diapers, and my enema bag concealed in a bag in the closet.

My sweatpants were off, and she was looking down my slightly elevated legs now at the thick soaked diaper between my legs. My face felt like it was on fire, though judging by the color of her cheeks, she was feeling just as bashful. It was a rather surreal situation and I think we both knew it.

“These are very thick diapers,” she said. It didn’t feel like a dig or a criticism. She said it, almost to herself, out of astonishment.

“I order them online...you can’t find this kind in stores, you know? I need...extra protection.” Once more, I find myself digging further and further into the pit.

“I never asked this before,” she said as she carefully untaped the sides of my diaper, “but this isn’t limited to...your bladder?”

I tensed, debating how to answer this. I knew what I wanted to say - what I felt like would add to this disgusting narrative I’ve been building - but I knew I had to cool it down a little bit. 

“Mostly bladder,” I said. “I have my moments with my bowels...though usually there’s a little more control there.”

She nodded politely before gently patting the seat of my wet diaper. “A diaper like this could probably hold a lot though, huh?” she teased.

“I...well…”

“Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t tease.”

“No, you’re okay,” I said. “Y-yeah...I’ve put these diapers to the test more than a few times.”

I couldn’t believe I had said that out loud.

She flashed me a reassuring smile and proceeded with opening my diaper. Regardless of anything else, and there was so much to consider about how we got into this situation, I felt surprisingly safe and at peace. She pulled the soggy diaper away with a firm tug, leaving me naked from the waist down, my shriveled manhood pathetically flopping between my legs. 

That could’ve been worse. I was surprised that it wasn’t worse. I’m not sure how I would’ve explained an erection.

She rolled up the diaper the best she could - its size clearly being something a little more alien to her than she expected - and tossed it into my garbage pail before drawing a damp wipe or two from the package. She ran them over my skin, gently and thoroughly, between my legs, around my cock and even between my cheeks. Satisfied with her cleaning, she discarded the wipes too, before unfurling the new diaper.

A few dashes of the baby powder later - unscented, thankfully - and the new diaper was tightly and carefully wrapped around me. Unsurprisingly, she had done a much better job of diapering me than I had ever done for myself.

“There,” she said finally, after what seemed like an excessive amount of awkward silence in the room. “Good as new.”

“Th-thank you.”

“Of course. I hope...that wasn’t too much? I didn’t overstep my boundaries or anything, did I?”

“N-no, not at all,” I said bashfully as I sat up. “And you’re sure that you didn’t mind doing that?”

“I really didn’t mind at all. Like I said. I want to be your ally. Your friend. You can trust me with this. Whatever you need.” She made her way back to the door to leave my bedroom before turning around with a friendly smile on her face. “Maybe we just finish that bottle of wine and watch some TV?”

“I’ll join you in a little bit,” I said. “I think I just need to...sit for a little bit. Here.”

She nodded and left the room. I collapsed back on the bed, letting myself fall deep down into the terrible terrible pit I had dug for myself.

It all washed over me. The lies. The deceit. The manipulation. She actually asked me if she had overstepped a line. No, Gabby, it was me who overstepped. Weeks ago. 

I had never felt so pathetic and evil in my life. I was disgusting.

A new realization was starting to come to me. I needed to come clean. I needed to tell her everything. It wouldn’t be easy, nor would she take it well… But enough was enough, and there was no way that I could hope to move forward in my life without coming clean about this.

I daydreamed about the conversation. I played it out in mind. Rewind. Play it out again. I’d switch variables. I’d play it again and again, imagining different versions of what I would say or how she would react. No version felt like it would be fun.

Rewind. Play it out again. And again.

Somewhere in there, I fell asleep.

--

 When I woke in the morning, I was hit with a few realizations pretty quickly: I had fallen asleep in just a diaper and t-shirt on top of my bed; it was almost 11:00 AM; and I was wearing the same diaper that Gabby had put me into the night before. I immediately blushed all over again as I scrambled to put some sweatpants on. I wondered what the vibe in the apartment would be like today. Would things be awkward? The same? Better?

Shit, I thought to myself. Today was going to be the day I told her everything. Part of me wanted to renege on that agreement I made to myself. But I knew I couldn’t. Last night she proved that she was so much better than me in almost every way. She was genuine and kind. I was a lying slimeball.

Slowly, I emerged from my bedroom, ready to brave the conversation I didn’t want to have.

Immediately, my eyes caught hers as she sat on the couch. I couldn’t quite read her face, but there was something there. Some emotion that I couldn’t put my finger on. 

“Good morning,” I said.

“Hey,” she said.

I was tempted to get some coffee or get something to eat. But I knew that something seemed up, and it was probably better that I figure it out and get it over with. 

I sat down in the living room on the loveseat, facing her on the couch. But that’s when I saw it: in her hands, she was holding the fake pamphlet that I had made at work the other day. I felt my throat close up and my heart start pounding again.

“I...found this on the floor this morning,” she said, showing me the cover of the pamphlet. ‘Overcoming Incontinence.’

“Oh? I think...I...picked that up the other day.”

“I was kind of excited by it,” she said. “It seemed hopeful, you know? The idea of it at least.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. She was saying all the things that I hoped she would say when I originally made the pamphlet, but her tone seemed off. There was something else she hadn’t said yet. “Is...everything okay?”

“The word ‘incontinence’ is misspelled on the cover,” she said, pointing to ‘incontinance.’ I felt my cheeks fill with warm blood uncontrollably. How could I have been so stupid. “Maybe...maybe I could overlook that. But it seemed weird, right? And this pamphlet...it’s all these vague statements about getting help and treatment, but barely any information on how they achieve that. I don’t know. It just didn’t seem very...professional.”

This was my chance. My chance to come clean. My chance to tell her everything.

Instead I said: “Yeah, I thought so too. What a weird pamphlet. It would be nice if I could believe any of it...but this just seems like a scam.”

“Did you make this?” she asked, waving the pamphlet in front of her.

I didn’t say anything.

“I thought I was going crazy,” she said. “When you told me you were incontinent...I swore that…”

“What?” I asked, not sure if I wanted to know the answer.

“It’s going to sound crazy...but I swore I’ve heard you pissing in the toilet before. I swear I’ve seen you in your bedroom before, walking around in just boxers. And I told myself - I’ve been telling myself for weeks - that I was wrong. Because who would lie about being incontinent? Who would lie about something like that? And then...last night...and now I find this ridiculous brochure, and now I’m just doubting myself all over again. Please...just be honest with me.”

I didn’t say anything for a few moments. Once again, I felt my lies washing over me. If there was ever a time to be honest - and I wanted so badly to be honest - this was it.

No turning back now. 

“Gabby...I lied to you.”

She didn’t have any sort of immediate reaction. She kept a straight face, and I could see her processing those words. Finally: “What, exactly, did you lie about?”

“E-everything. I’m not incontinent. I have...full control over my bladder. And my bowels. And...I ordered those diapers because it’s, like, a kink of mine. It’s a...sex thing, you know?”

“And...you thought that lying about being incontinent - for weeks - was a better option than just admitting that you have some silly fetish?”

It was a good question, and one that had never occurred to me in the weeks since I had begun this disastrous chain of decisions. It had made sense in the moment, that’s all I knew. Or, perhaps, I just didn’t want to scare her away. Neither was a particularly compelling argument.

So I just shrugged.

She didn’t say anything either. We sat in silence for a while, before she handed me back the pamphlet, stood up, and walked to her room, closing the door behind her.

That would be the last time I saw her that weekend.

It had been a rough weekend for me. Though I felt guilty then, as I do now, for even saying that. She was the one who had been hurt. Yet all I could do was sit in my room and pout about my mishandling of everything. I’d hear her leave her room now and then to get something to eat or drink, and everytime I contemplated leaving my room and trying to have a conversation with her - but I knew that’d never work.

I had probably ruined any chance of friendship we ever had. I probably ruined my chances of having a place to live too, considering that I wasn’t on the lease. Things were about to get real bad again for me, I could feel it.

The following Monday, work had served as a nice dose of normalcy in the pity party that had become my life. Still, there was a part of me that suspected that when I came home that day, I’d find the apartment door’s locks changed and my belongings out in the hallway.

Instead, it almost seemed like business as usual. Gabby was washing dishes in the sink, the TV was on, and my keys worked as expected.

“H-hey,” I said nervously as I walked through the door.

“Hey,” she said back. It lacked any sort of pleasantry, but it was at least acknowledgement of my existence - which I didn’t expect.

I opted not to press my luck, and I set my shoulder bag down and took my shoes off near the door. I was in an awkward place, I realized, as this would normally be the time when I used the bathroom after coming home. Except that I hadn’t been the last few weeks because of my fake-incontinence. But...that was out in the open now, so…

I walked to the bathroom door - which was usually open unless someone was in there, though it was now closed. I tried the door handle. Locked.

“Is...someone in there?” I asked.

“No,” she said.

“But...it’s locked.”

“Effective immediately, the bathroom is no longer a room you have access to,” she said with a shrug. 

“That’s not fair. You can’t do that.”

“You’re lucky I’m letting you stay here at all. You still have your bedroom, but my bathroom is now off limits to you.”

“How do you expect me to…”

“I don’t care,” she said, cutting me off. “You have your diapers still, right? Maybe you’re not actually incontinent, but as long as you have diapers, you probably don’t need the toilet anyways. Or you can just find some other toilet. Or some other place to live.”

“It’s not just a toilet though, Gabby. I need to take showers, you know?”

“How often do you take a shower?”

“I don’t know...every day or two?”

“Every other day then, come ask me for permission to use the shower and I’ll unlock the bathroom for you.”

“But…”

“No, I have nothing else to say to you,” she said. “Take what I’m offering you, or get out of my apartment.”

I nodded sheepishly and returned to my room, closing the door behind me. I was thankful for having a place to live...but how long was this going to be sustainable?

I quickly ordered some more diapers on my phone.