The Dam Breaks (Patreon)

When my parents divorced, my mother would later describe it as not being caused by one specific thing - but just a constant stream of small things, building up at a dam over time. Until one day, the dam just couldn’t hold anymore, and all those small things flooded the marriage and they had drowned.

Figuratively, of course.

Her analogy made me paranoid. I found myself being overly critical of my own marriage often; wondering if every little disagreement or altercation was something that was getting added to the dam. Sometimes, I was quite sure that I was being paranoid and delusional. If there were problems in my marriage with Heidi, I was certain that we would just talk it out like responsible adults.

Yet, things had changed. Slowly. Subtly. It was in the way she poured me a cup of coffee in the morning. The growing pause between “Good night” and “Love you,” before we went to sleep. The sigh that was attached to her response when I asked a question. The robotic smirk in place of a laugh when I told a joke. Things had changed, and sometimes I didn’t know if there had been a build up of things at the dam, or if she was just getting into a different river altogether.

Then, one morning, the dam broke.

“David,” she said, gently tapping my shoulder. “David, wake up.”

“Huh? W-what?”

“The bed. Is something leaking?”

“What do you mean?”

“David, the bed is soaking wet, don’t you feel it?”

I could, in fact feel how wet the bed was as I came to. For a moment, it made no sense to me at all. There was no plumbing above the bed, and certainly no signs of anything having dripped into the bed.

“Did you spill something?” I asked.

“Spill something? I don’t drink in bed. Did you spill something?”

I hadn’t, and I believed her when she said that she didn’t. I quickly ran through other possibilities in my head, contemplating what other options that left. But then my eyes caught hers, and in the same moment we both realized what had happened.

“Did you piss the bed?” she asked.

“W-what if it was you?”

“Get out of bed. Let’s take a look.”

I rolled out of the bed and the evidence was almost immediately obvious. Not only was most of the wetness on my side of the bed, but my blue pajama pants were completely and hopelessly soaked. I felt a rush of warm blood in my cheeks. I couldn’t remember having ever done this in my life, let alone as an adult.

“Heidi, I’m so sorry...I...I never do this.”

“Absolutely disgusting,” was all she could muster. She stormed out of the room, and into the bathroom. Within seconds, the shower was running. Moments later, the bathroom door opened, and while I couldn’t see her, I could hear her voice: “You better have that bed cleaned up before tonight.” The door slammed shut again.

I quickly undressed. I wanted to take a shower myself, but that would have to wait. For now, I quickly ran to the kitchen where I dampened a fresh wash cloth and ran it over my skin. I ran back to the bedroom where I put on some fresh clothes before stripping all of the sheets from the bed. The shameful wet spot on the mattress, mostly on my side, was a monument to my failure as an adult.

How the hell was I supposed to get piss out of a mattress? My first instinct was to call my mother, who probably had to have dealt with that at some point between my brothers and I while growing up - but that seemed like a far more awkward conversation than the ones I’d likely end up having with Heidi as the day went on. I decided to consult Dr. Internet, an expert on everything. Needless to say, I spent the next six hours following a routine of coating the bed in baking soda, letting it absorb my accident, and vacuuming it up before repeating.

“We need to talk about your little accident,” she said to me later when I finally sat down on the couch.

“Do we have to? It was exactly that - an accident. Nothing more. It won’t happen again.”

“If I would have asked you yesterday if you were going to piss the bed that night, you would’ve assured me that it wouldn’t happen. So you telling me now that it won’t happen again just isn’t going to fly.”

“So...what do you want to do about it?” I asked. I was sincerely curious, because I certainly didn’t know what to do.

“I suppose we have a few options. There’s rubber and plastic mattress covers and such...but...that feels like just as much a punishment for me. I certainly don’t feel that I need to be sleeping on a rubber mattress cover.”

“And...again,” I said, “that’s assuming that I even have another accident. Which, frankly…”

“I’d rather not take any chances,” she interrupted. “If we had the room for it, I’d say we should just get another bed for the office and you can go and piss on that one.”

I wanted to roll my eyes, but didn’t want to seem combative when I was the one at fault. She seemed to be jumping to some pretty extreme solutions, but I wasn’t sure what the alternative was.

“There is...another option,” she said.

“Okay?”

“You could just wear a diaper to bed.”

“A...diaper? A fucking diaper? Now, come on, let’s be serious here. I’m an adult, not some four-year old.”

“Oh yeah? Well you could’ve fooled me. For as long as you share a bed with me, you’re going to have to set aside your pride.”

“So, what, I’m supposed to go to the store and buy some Pampers and…”

“Don’t be an idiot, David,” she spat. “Every grocery store and pharmacy sells adult diapers. Look...just wear one for the next night or two, okay? If you can keep it dry...maybe we can forget about them. But if you do have another accident...well, you’re protected.”

Up until this point, all I heard was anger and frustration in her voice, no doubt the result of the years of little infractions in our relationship spilling over as my bladder had the night before. Yet now, as she tried to reason with me about the diapers, I could hear some remnants of sympathy in her voice.

“Okay,” I said finally. “Let’s try that. But only at night, right?”

“So long as you don’t start pissing your pants, I think that’s fair.”

“Alright, I guess...I’ll go to the store and get some,” I said, surely sounding as defeated as I felt.

“I had to go to the store anyways. If you’d like, I can pick them up.”

“Are...are you sure you don’t mind?”

“It’s fine,” she said, showing some restraint with the frustration she seemed to be feeling.

I was thankful for her volunteering to buy them. The very thought of having to go into a store and walk up to a cash register with a package of adult diapers seemed like a nightmare. Just having to carry them around the store sounded like an exercise in panic.

The First Diaper

The evening went on with little incident. When Heidi came home, I could see the bulk of the new diapers in a bag, but I was too embarrassed to stare too hard. I didn’t mention it, nor did she. Maybe it was a topic best left undiscussed for now.

It was getting close to when we would shuffle off to bed. Sometimes we’d end up going to bed at the same time, though with more frequency, one of us would end up going to bed earlier. I had been debating how to play this, and picked a slightly earlier-than-usual 10:45 PM time for me to go to bed, hoping she’d stay in the living room, allowing me to escape while the diapers were forgotten.

“I, uh, think I’m going to go hit the hay,” I said.

“A little early for you, isn’t it?”

“Well...I’m just feeling a little sleepier than usual, I guess.”

“Alright,” she said with a shrug. For a moment, I thought my plan had worked. I was making my way out of the living room, and she seemed to have nothing further to say. But, alas, just as I reached the hallway, she called out behind me: “But don’t forget, you’re going to need a diaper tonight.”

I sighed and silently cursed. “L-look, what if...for just tonight...we forget about that and just…”

“Are you kidding me right now?” she said. She stood up. “David, we already talked about this. I told you what the conditions were going to be if you stayed in the bed with me.”

“I could...sleep on the couch?”

“So you piss on the couch that we sit on everyday? No thank you. I didn’t go to the store and buy you diapers so that we could have this argument yet again. You’re going to put that diaper on, or I’m going to put it on for you.”

“Heidi, please...just give me tonight! I can show you! I don’t need to sleep in a damn diaper! I’m not a little…”

She advanced on me quickly, and in my surprise at her aggressiveness I could only stand still as she grabbed me firmly by the wrist and pulled me towards the bedroom. I was helpless in her grip and I allowed myself to be towed behind her.

“Get on the bed,” she commanded once we got to the bedroom. “On your back.”

“But, what…”

“I’m putting you in a diaper, and that’s that.”

“What if...I don’t want to wear a diaper?”

“Then you can leave this apartment and go find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”

I already knew she was going to win this fight and that she’d get her way eventually. It seemed best to just give in and let it happen. I nodded and sat down on the bed.

“Lie down on your back.”

“You...know how to put a diaper on?” I asked.

“I had a baby sister, don’t forget. And eight years experience as a babysitter. I know my way around a diaper. And a baby.”

Was she calling me a baby? Again, it didn’t seem worth fighting about.

She quickly pulled my pants and boxers off in a single fluid motion, tossing them perfectly into the hamper. Tearing into the package of diapers she drew one out. I had no idea what to expect of an adult diaper. Adult incontinence brief. Whatever they were called. I guess I had always known they were a thing, but it just wasn’t something I ever thought much about. In my mind, I supposed I just imagined baby diapers...but larger. And looking at what Heidi held in her hand in that moment, I was pretty much correct.

“I suppose I could’ve gone with something more discrete,” she said. “But I wanted to be safe. It’s not just you that’s going to get soaked if this thing leaks. So I got the thickest ones I could find.”

I blushed, unsure of what to say.

She wasn’t waiting for me to say anything anyways. She lifted my legs up, tucking the strange garment beneath me and lowered me back onto it. Her hands folded it over, carefully straightening it out as she proceeded. Truth be told, it was the closest her hands had been to my manhood in quite some time. For as ridiculous and humiliating as this was...there was a strange level of intimacy present, and it was having less-than-ideal consequences.

“Are you...enjoying this?” she slowly said, pulling her hands back from my half-diapered midsection.

“No...I just...I mean…”

“I’ve been forced to put you into a diaper because you pissed in our bed, and you have the audacity to have an erection right now?”

I stayed silent. This situation’s humiliation had escalated exponentially, and yet my stupid cock only seemed to grow firmer.

She laughed out loud, shaking her head. At first, I thought it might be one of those anger-laughs - where someone is so mad all they can do is laugh. But this wasn’t that...this was genuine amusement.

“I cannot believe you right now. Weeks go by...months go by, without you initiating any sex. To the point where I start wondering if you’re just not attracted to me anymore or if you just don’t have any libido left...only for you to spring a goddamn stiffy when I put you in a diaper. Do you like your diaper? Is that it? Is that finally the thing that gets you off?”

“No...Heidi, it’s not like that. It’s just that…”

“That’s fine,” she said, the sarcasm dripping from her voice. She finished taping the diaper up tightly. But where I thought she’d walk away with her job done, she remained planted in front of me, my legs on either side of her. Her hands were now on the front of the diaper, gently massaging my erection through the diaper.

“W-what are you doing?”

“You like this, don’t you?”

“You...you don’t have to do that…”

“Oh, I’m aware of that,” she said with sadistic glee in her voice. “But I want to. I want you to get off in your Pampers. You’re going to let me do that for you, yes?”

I wanted to say no. “No” was on the tip of my tongue. But her hands were on my diaper, and she was moving them up and down my padded shaft so well and...I just couldn’t bring myself to stop her.

Her pace increased, matching my breathing. Occasionally I’d glance up at her face, finding an amused and smug smile looking back at me. I spent most of the time staring down between my legs, where her hands rubbed the front of my diaper.

“I...I’m...I…”

“Oh? So soon?”

“I’m going to…”

“Right in your diaper? Are you sure?”

She was mocking me, relishing my humiliation, and yet it didn’t stop me. Nothing could stop me. I erupted, feeling the warm stickiness flow into the diaper. She finally stepped back from me, seemingly content with her handy work.

She left the bedroom, going back to the living room without another word. For a few minutes, I waited, mostly stupified and paralyzed by the surreally erotic events that had just occurred. I wondered if she’d be coming back. But then, no, I heard the channels changing on the TV. She did what she wanted to do, and I was left dealing with whatever happened as a result.

I repositioned myself on the bed, getting a feel for just how thick and strange the diaper felt on me. Every little shift in my body seemed to trigger crinkle sounds from the garment. Heidi had been right about this not being the most discrete option. I pulled the covers over myself as I felt my cock shrivel up in the moist puddle I had created for myself in the diaper.

I’d show her. Tomorrow morning, I thought, my diaper would be dry. And if she needed to see proof like that for 5 more days, well then I’d show her that too. And she could do her best to humiliate and shame me, but when it was all said and done and she realized there wasn’t another accident, she’d be the one looking foolish and mean-spirited.

I began to drift off to sleep, but there was this tiny little thought in the back of my mind. I dwelled on it for a little, and the idea began to grow.

What if…

I woke up first the next morning. I must’ve passed out before she even made it to bed, because I had no recollection of her slipping under the covers. My hands felt the bed sheet. Dry. I felt the exterior of my diaper. Seemed dry. I slipped a hand inside of it. Again, dry. I had done it, as I knew I would - there hadn’t been another accident.

My little idea from the night before popped into my head again. I looked over to Heidi, still sleeping soundly. She’d probably be like this for a while - given that it was a Sunday and there were no reasons to get up early.

I tossed the idea around in my head a little more. I weighed the pros and cons. The result? I should and would go through with this. The humiliation and shame she had shown me the night before was intense and decimating to my ego.

And I wanted more.

I closed my eyes, trying to convince my body to just release my bladder - already ready to burst, as it was every morning when I woke. Yet years of toilet use had trained my body to believe that there was only one way to urinate. This wasn’t it. C’mon. You can do this. I focused, putting more willpower into trying to wet a diaper than I ever would have thought...had I ever thought of such a thing.

It began to trickle out, and that trickle became a small stream and that small stream became a river. I could actually hear the stream blasting into the diaper, just as I could feel the garment swelling and warming as I filled it. I blushed, even though nobody else - yet - knew what was happening. This was disgusting and perverted; I felt dirty and ashamed of myself. No doubt Elsie would be furious.

Yet I also had no regrets.

I closed my eyes and repositioned my body, letting myself get comfortable again. There was no way I was getting back to sleep again, but I could at least pretend. I couldn’t believe what I had done. In that moment, with my sleeping wife inches from me, I was stewing in a pissy diaper. What would she say? What would she do?

I wouldn’t have to wait much longer to find out. Only a few minutes after I adopted my faux-sleeping position, I heard her stirring. She rolled out of bed, making her way to the bathroom. I laughed to myself, wondering if my “punishment” was actually a bit of a luxury in that regard.

“David?” she asked upon her return.

I pretended to slowly wake, turning over in the bed to face her.

“H-hey,” I said, using the best acting I could muster.

“So you seemed to keep the bed dry. Was that because you’re actually an adult? Or did you…” her voice trailed off, though I wasn’t sure if she was expecting me to finish her sentence or if she just figured it didn’t need to be said.

“Oh...I...uh…” This seemed a little beyond my acting skills. How was I supposed to “discover” what I had done in my diaper?

Thankfully, she took that problem out of my hands. “Come now, just show me.” She whipped the covers off of me, revealing my saturated diaper.

I watched her face, and I could see her trying to process what she was seeing. I don’t think she actually expected the diaper to be used. I watched her try to reason with herself as to what she did yet. Was she to be supportive and sympathetic about what she would perceive as an actual issue? Or would she double down on shaming me.

“So,” she finally said in a calm tone, “I suppose you actually do need diapers then?”

“I...I guess…” I wasn’t sure what to say or how to ask. I pathetically pawed at the front of my wet diaper as if in disbelief myself.

She sighed. “Well, you’re an adult. I trust you can get yourself to a doctor if it's actually a health concern. But so long as we’re sharing a bed, and until I believe you’ve gotten your little baby bladder under control, you’re going to be wearing diapers to bed.”

“N-no,” I said, trying to sound genuinely opposed to this idea. “It...it was just an accident and...uh...it definitely won’t happen again.”

“Don’t be foolish, David. You’ve pissed yourself two nights in a row. I was worried that I had overreacted in making you wear a diaper last night, but I see now that I should trust my instincts more. I’m most certainly not backing down now. Diapers again tonight. And every night until you can prove you don’t need them.”

“But...I don’t think that I need…”

“Don’t try and argue with me about it,” she hissed, rolling her eyes. “Besides, I bet you’re going to grow to love it. If last night was any indication.”

I blushed, knowing that she was not only right, but that I had liked it so much I was now willing to start digging a shameful and dangerous hole for myself.

The day went on with little-to-no mention of the absorbent elephant in the bedroom. But we weren’t really talking about much else either. I wasn’t sure what I expected things to look like now that I was officially her “husband who wears diapers at night,” but the cold shoulder I was now getting felt harsh. I had to ask myself: was my little diaper-wetting stunt worth it?

The Second Diaper

That evening, while I stared at the television, my mind was a thousand miles away. Was tonight to be a repeat of the night before? Would Heidi be sliding a new diaper under my ass? Would she touch me through it as she did before? Would she mercilessly mock me for being such a pathetic excuse of a man?

God I hoped so.

“I’m going to bed,” Heidi muttered. It was her turn to turn in early, it seemed. “You better be wearing a damn diaper before you get into the bed. If I wake up tomorrow and you’re not wearing one, there’s going to be hell.”

I was disappointed. I wondered what I had to do to get her to manhandle me into a diaper again. I considered protesting the diapers once more...but there was something in her attitude - a disgusted tiredness - that felt like it was best not to trifle with.

An hour later, and after more daydreaming and fretting, I worked up the courage to go to bed myself. I was facing the disappointing reality of needing to put a diaper on myself. Not only did that not seem as enjoyable, but it hardly seemed worth pissing myself this morning for.

What was I thinking?

Heidi was already asleep in the bed. Doing my best not to make much noise, I fumbled around the room until I found the rest of the pack of adult diapers.

Patience brand adult incontinence briefs. Maximum absorbency. 24 count.

I sighed, drawing one from the package before letting my sweatpants and boxers fall to the floor. I had never put a diaper on anyone else before, let alone myself. I laid on the bed, trying to remember how Heidi had done it the night before. I slid one end under my ass and tried folding it over my now-limp manhood, only to be confused about how I was supposed to attach the tapes from the front of the diaper to the back of it.

Oh, I think it’s upside-down…

I pulled it out from under me, only to hear a sigh from Heidi.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” she said, stirring from her slumber.

“You can’t expect me to know how to diaper myself.”

“If I didn’t know any better, you fake incompetence just so that I do it for you.”

“N-no…” That certainly wasn’t my plan, but I’m not complaining.

Same as it was the night before, except perhaps a little rougher, she stood between my legs and manhandled my body effortlessly to get me into the diaper. There was no humiliating grasping at my padded cock, nor was there any emasculating banter. She treated it like it was any other chore. She was taking out the garbage. She was just washing some dishes.

She collapsed in the bed next to me. “So fucking helpless,” was all that she could mutter before slipping back to sleep again.

I sighed, feeling like shit for what was ultimately some pretty manipulative behavior on my part - regardless of the fact that I didn’t even get everything I wanted. Maybe tonight would be the last night of this charade.

Except that I woke up the next morning and did the same thing again. I woke before she did, concentrated, and pissed my diaper. Same as the morning prior, she woke up, went to the bathroom, came back to see what I had done and then chastised me for my disgusting “problem.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve called the doctor yet? Once again - you’re leaving me little choice but to believe that you would much rather toddle around in a diaper than to be an actual man.”

I changed out of the soggy diaper, taking a shower this time. It was a work day, and while I had the luxury of working from home, she was gone for the day. The quiet house felt like a tomb, and I was left to second guess my selfish behavior all day long.

I came to a decision - it was time to step off. This newfound love of humiliation and diapers was not only unsustainable with Heidi, but would likely be the final nail in the coffin of our marriage. I didn’t think I was able to simply come clean about my purposeful use of the diapers, but I imagined that I could at least stop pissing myself until she relented, and we just moved on from this.

The Third Diaper

Later that night: “I’m going to bed,” she said, after a mostly quiet evening of watching television on opposite sides of the couch. “So why don’t I put a diaper on you now.”

I nodded and silently followed her. There was no point in pretending to be against this anymore. I’d go through the motions and then just show her - over and over - that I didn’t need them.

“No stiff cock tonight?” she cooed in a condescending tone while she tucked the fresh diaper beneath me. “I was beginning to think that this was your favorite time of the day. David’s Diaper Time.”

“I...don’t like diapers,” I said softly.

“I don’t believe you. I don’t think you believe you either. Did you even call a doctor today? Do any research on what would cause a grown man to start pissing himself at night?”

“N-no...but I was busy today.”

She rolled her eyes. “‘I’ll tell you what. I’m going to get really sick of putting my husband in a diaper every night, really soon.”

I nodded. There probably wasn’t anything worth saying. More than ever, I needed to cut out this game.

The next morning, she woke before I did. I woke to the feeling of the covers being lifted off of me as she inspected my diaper.

“I see you actually managed to sleep through the night without pissing yourself. I’m impressed,” she said.

“S-see?” I said, still half asleep. “Maybe I don’t need diapers…”

“We’ll see about that,” she said - a response I found a little odd, if only because I expected something more definitively against my continued need for diapers.

Another day came and went, and I was feeling a little better in my solitude. I had taken the first steps towards undoing the strange drama I had started, and I was feeling less selfish and irresponsible. And while the evening with Heidi was just as quiet and stilted, it likely would’ve been that way even if I hadn’t genuinely wet the bed a few nights earlier.

“I’m ready for bed,” she finally said. “Let’s do this.”

This. Like it was just another chore.

She stood between my legs again, sliding a diaper under me. It was already feeling so methodical. Any abstract element of humiliating pleasure was gone; that first night feeling more like a fluke than ever.

But then, something curious happened. While she had previously just pulled the diaper over my crotch, and taped it shut, she now paused and revealed a white plastic bottle.

“Oh, this?” she said, responding to my apparent visible confusion. “Baby powder. While I think it’s pathetic that you should have to wear diapers at all, it’s probably for the best that you at least don’t get a diaper rash. At your age? Could you even imagine how embarrassing that would be?”

There it was: the shame and humiliation I yearned for. I felt a twitch in my manhood - and I was terrified to look and self if it was revealing my pleasure. Thankfully, she too seemed to be ignoring whatever state it was currently in - instead dousing me with a liberal amount of fine white powder. The scented cloud reached my nostrils. She didn’t even bother getting an unscented variety. I literally smelled like an infant now.

She smiled smugly, clearly content with the reaction she was getting. She now folded the diaper over my firming penis and taped it shut.

“There. All set for nighttime, baby.”

“I...I’m not a baby.”

“Okay,” she said in a mocking tone. “Whatever you say.”

I woke up dry, yet again. The scent of baby powder still lingered in the air. I could see that Heidi was already out of bed. It was safe to assume that she was already aware of my diaper’s state.

“Another dry night,” she said as she stepped into some pants.

“Maybe I don’t need diapers.”

“Maybe,” she said. There was something in her tone that seemed...disappointed? She added: “But I’d hate to stop using diapers only for you to piss in the bed again.”

I nodded. I certainly understood her point, especially after it seemed like I had pissed myself three nights in a row. Still, for all of her complaining about the need for diapers in the first place, I was surprised that she wasn’t ready to just end this routine at the first opportunity.

The Fourth Diaper

Another evening, and while I was expecting more cold nothingness in the space between us on the couch, Heidi seemed strangely talkative. It was mostly small talk, as we touched base on how work was or things we needed to grab from the grocery store - but it was more than we had talked for the last week or so.

“Alright,” she finally said, glancing up at the clock, “maybe it’s time for your diaper.”

I sighed. There was something strange about how she brought it up. It seemed less labored and forced. Maybe it was just acceptance of the routine? As I followed her down the hallway, I continued to ponder it. I replayed what she said, and how she said it, in my mind, trying to pick up any underlying notions.

“On the bed,” she said.

I stepped out of my pants and boxers before assuming the position of the “baby” on the bed. Was I looking too hard, or were her motions less...robotic?

“How much longer do you think we’ll need to do this?” I asked. “Assuming...there aren’t any more...accidents?”

“We just need to be sure,” Heidi answered. Was that a sing-song tone to her voice? “Keep them dry for another week and then we’ll talk about it.”

Another week? Two days ago, I felt like she was going to strangle me if she had to put me in one more diaper. Now she was promising at least another week of this treatment?

“Y-you don’t have to do this, you know? I can figure out how to put a diaper on myself. It’s not fair to you. It’s my problem - not yours.”

She was shaking baby powder on me again; perhaps more than she had the night before. My nose twitched at the thick cloud wafting into my face.

“Don’t you like this? Being treated like a helpless baby? Being diapered by your wife?”

“H-how am I supposed to respond to that?” But, something was starting to become more clear in my mind, and I needed to ask: “Do...you like this? Do you like to put me in a diaper?”

This time she was the one blushing. “Y-you think that...I…” she trailed off as she further contemplated how she wanted to answer my question. Not that it mattered; her response had already said quite a bit.

A minute or so passed with neither of us doing or saying anything. It was an awkward minute, as my exposed ass and genitals sat out, covered in a fine layer of powder.

“I didn’t want to like it,” she said finally. I wanted to punish you. I’ve just been so...annoyed at you lately, I guess. It wasn’t just you pissing in the bed. It was the way you didn’t pay attention to me, or how you wouldn’t do things around the house. You pissing the bed was just like…”

“...the dam bursting?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I put so much spite and malice into the idea of humiliating you with a diaper. But then...I don’t know...I liked it, I guess. Is that weird? Like, we hadn’t been intimate in a while and this weird little thing was the closest we had been to that and…” she trailed off again.

“If it’s weird...then I’m weird too,” I said. “I…like it.”

She smiled, folding the diaper over me and taping it shut. Without another word, she crawled towards me on the bed, between my legs, crawling over my body until her face reached mine. She kissed my lips. Slowly, passionately.

“So you’ll be a good baby and wear a diaper for me?” she said softly in my ear. I felt myself become fully erect. My heart raced.

“Y-yes.”

I had to tell her the truth, I realized. I worried it would spoil the moment. I worried that I would ruin everything. But if this...whatever the hell we were doing in this weird moment...was going to mean anything, we needed to be on the same page.

“I need to tell you something…”

“Is it that you like your diapers?” she said, reaching down between my legs and gently squeezing the bulge in the front of my diaper.

“Well...no. I mean...yes, I...I like diapers. But…”

Her face grew a little more concerned. “But?”

“That first night...when I wet the bed? That was a genuine accident. But the mornings I was in the wet diapers...those weren’t accidents.”

“So...you purposefully pissed your diapers? Why?”

“I guess...holding out hope that there’d be more of...this,” I felt my face grow red as I spoke. I felt like such an idiot.

She thought about it for a moment, I watched her eyes show signs of frustration before she relaxed a little.

“I see. I suppose, in the end, we both wanted the same thing, right?”

I nodded.

“I could be willing to look past that little fib and attempt at manipulation,” she said, again softly and directly into my ear. “But, it will cost you.”

“What is the price?”

“Well...I’m thinking that since you were so eager to convince me you actually needed to be treated like a pathetic little diaper-wearing toddler, maybe that’s how I should treat you.”

My mouth opened, but I wasn’t sure what to say. What did this mean? Was this exactly what I had wanted, or had a finger curled on the monkey’s paw?

She continued: “So starting now, with this diaper, why don’t we keep you as the little boy you are.”

“I...don’t follow.”

“You can wear diapers to bed every night. And you can wear them all day too. We’ll just keep you in diapers all the time, how about that? And since you’re just a helpless little baby who needs diapers, I’d say the toilets would be off limit to you.”

“N-no...Heidi, don’t you think that’s taking this too far?”

She kissed my lips again. For a split second, all my concerns were washed away. Her lips released and she whispered: “Do you think so? Because…” Her hand grasped my erection within my diaper again. “...I feel like this is exactly what you wanted the entire time.”

I wish I had something profound or intelligent to say in that moment. Instead I just moaned.

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “You just wanted to be a big baby, right? You wanted to have your diaper changed and you want to be reminded how pathetic and helpless you are at all times.”

Her hand was stroking me again through the diaper.

I offered a few moans and groans in an attempt to respond.

“Why fight it?” she asked. “As it turns out, you don’t have to lie to me about what you want. Go ahead and piss yourself. I’ll change you out of your dirty diaper and into a brand new one so that you can do it again.”

Her hand slid up and down the front of my diaper.

“Maybe I’ll start serving your drinks in baby bottles,” she cooed.

I moaned again.

“Maybe I’ll put a little bib on you while you eat.”

Another little moan. I nodded my head. God, it felt so wrong. So perverse. So ridiculously pathetic. I needed it.

“And you’ll have to come crawl to me when I ask,” she continued, “so that I can check your diaper. I’ll have to see if baby wet himself.”

Another longer moan as I pictured it happening.

“...or worse. What if...baby had a stinky little diaper that needed to be changed?”

I offered a guttural moan. What if? Was I even capable of doing such a thing? ...would I even have a choice in the matter if Heidi had her way?

“Oh, I think you’d like it all very much. Very…”

More moaning.

“...very…”

Moans. Gasping breaths.

“...very much.”

I spurted into my diaper. She laughed and patted the front of it, helping to spread the sticky mess about.

“Good boy. Now let’s get some sleep. We’ve only just begun.”

The 37th Diaper

I told myself that it wasn’t going to get easier any time soon. Who could possibly get used to just...using a diaper? Any time, any place?

But I was wrong.

Within a few short days, certainly less than a week, it felt like second nature. I’d be working, or cooking, or even out shopping - and when any urge hit me, I’d just release. What was the point of holding it? Now, or later, I’d just be using my diaper anyways. Every single time I used a diaper, it only got that much easier to do. And now, certainly more than a week out...I was already finding that it was taking a toll on my psyche. I was often wetting a diaper unconsciously before I even gave it consideration. I began to wonder if I was going to end up actually pissing my pants or the bed the day our little diaper game ended.

Though, that didn’t seem to matter. The diaper game was indeed still on, and if anything, we seemed to be enjoying it more than ever. Strangely, of all the things that could have started to mend our marriage - Heidi keeping me in diapers seemed to be it.

It was more than a routine, it was an important ritual. Every diaper check. Every time she changed me. She was getting more invested by the day. She was buying jars of babyfood now, and some nights, just before bed, she’d let me suckle her tit for a while. And every few days, she’d let me out of my diaper long enough to fuck her. Though there was certainy plenty I could do for her on other days while my diapers were still on.

“Davey? Baby? Come here,” her voice called from the living room. “How is your diaper doing?”

There was no rule for it - I could’ve simply stood up and walked over to her. But I had begun crawling to her when she beckoned me like this. She didn’t ask for it, and it was never discussed. But it was so ingrained in the process now that she’d likely be concerned if I didn’t do it. I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled from my office, down the hall, and into the living room. I crawled right over to where she sat on the sofa. I usually didn’t wear pants around the house anymore. There didn’t seem to be much point.

“A little soggy,” she said, her hand massaging the moist bulge between my legs. “Do you think I should change you?”

“I...I might have more to do soon,” I sheepishly responded. Using my diaper was much easier than talking about it.

“Oh? Well why don’t we wait then.”

I nodded.

“But why don’t you come crawling back when you have something in your diaper worth changing.”

I nodded again. I had a feeling I would be offering quite a full diaper sooner than later.

I was still thinking about my mother’s analogy of her divorce, even if it seemed less relevant these days. If our figurative dam had broke, and I believe it had, than what was this? A new dam? Or had the secret to solving a flood been just to soak it all up with...diapers?

I laughed a little to myself. Maybe it didn’t matter anymore. Someday, she’d get sick of changing diapers. By then, maybe we wouldn’t need them anyways - having hopefully learned how to take care of each other’s needs better.

For now, I was pushing hard into my diaper, excited to show Heidi what she would need to change.