Christopher & Charlotte (Patreon)

I knew Charlotte mostly by reputation alone. We had only met a handful of times before, and at least half of those were just in passing at parties. I suspected she’d recognize my face, but wouldn’t know my name.

Most of what I knew about her came second, sometimes third, hand. Everyone seemed to have a story about an altercation with Charlotte. Virginia claimed that Charlotte had once called her a ‘trollop’ to her face, while in the company of her new boyfriend. Fritz would often tell the story about how Charlotte threw a glass of white wine in his face because he had mistook Sauvignon Blanc for Pinot Grigio. Marie said that she quit the yoga class she took with Charlotte because she would frequently interrupt the instructor, insisting that they were ‘doing it all wrong.’

She wasn’t in my social circle, though she was adjacent to it. Her husband, Christopher, was friends with some of my friends. Once or twice a year, we’d end up at the same place at the same time, and I’d do my best to avoid getting too close to her–as I suspected everyone else who was in the know did.

While my friends often liked to gossip or joke about Charlotte, I tried not to get involved when I could help it. While I had heard enough stories to be convinced that she probably wasn’t the nicest person in the world, it always felt unfair of me to participate while never having experienced any of it myself. I tried to imagine how I’d feel if I knew Charlotte and her own friends talked about me when I wasn’t around–making assumptions about me based on only a handful of interactions with me.

Most of the time, I could get away with just not having to think about her at all. Which I preferred.

This changed one chilly Monday morning in September when I woke to the sound of a thunderous crash coming from my guest bedroom. As it turned out, a small leak in my roof had caused some moisture to build in the ceiling’s drywall, until it finally gave out and collapsed in an epic mess of soggy white particulates and insulation.

The consensus among my friends was that I should talk to Christopher. He wasn’t just a contractor, but a pretty well-regarded one. It seemed like a no-brainer, especially when he assured me over the phone that he’d be giving me a considerable ‘friends and family’ discount for his services.

“Hey, Bridget. How’re things?”

Seeing him on my porch with his work belt strapped around his waist and a toolbox in his hand, it occurred to me why I hadn’t thought to call him before my friends recommended him–he just didn’t look like a contractor. I felt guilty for thinking such a thing, but I doubted that I was the first. He just seemed very…slight. Short and skinny, I couldn’t help but imagine that he was just a teenage boy borrowing his father’s tools.

“Christopher! I’m very glad you’re here.”

“Do you want to show me the damage?”

“Absolutely. But I should apologize in advance, I haven’t really started cleaning the room up yet since the ceiling fell.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he said, shrugging. “I’d be happy to help take care of that.”

I offered him coffee and breakfast. Showed him where the bathroom was. Offered to run to the store to pick up anything he might need. I might have been overcompensating a little, my guilty conscience punishing me for judging his skills based on his looks. But after he politely turned down my offerings, I decided to just let him be.

And for a while, I let him do his thing.

“This isn’t the time for that,” I heard him say an hour or two after he had arrived.

Considering that it was just him and I in the house, I wondered if he was talking to me–even if I had no idea what he meant by that. I started making my way towards the spare bedroom where he was working when I heard him speak again.

“Charlotte, please. Not now.”

He was talking to Charlotte over the phone, it seemed. I began to pivot on my heel, ready to go back to working on my laptop in the living room. But I paused, held in place by my own curiosity. I knew that it was none of my business, but I couldn’t help myself from hanging out for a moment or two longer to listen in.

“I can’t just… Do you understand where I am right now? I’m at Bridget’s home. This isn’t just any client, you know? We know her. You can’t just expect me to…”

I was intrigued. What was it that she was asking him to do? And how was it different while he was in my home?

“Y-yes,” he continued, his tone taking on some sheepishness. “Just a little wet.”

What was a little wet? What remained of my ceiling?

“I promise you, it can hold more, Charlotte. I’m kind of busy right now, so I don’t think it makes much sense for me to go home just for this. Maybe in another hour or two? Or…we could just wait until I’m done for the day.”

None of what he was saying made much sense to me. Unsurprising, really. I was not invited to be part of this conversation in the first place, on top of only getting half of it. Other than the insinuation that whatever Charlotte was demanding wasn’t possible, there seemed little else to glean from what I was hearing. I started to walk away, returning his privacy to him.

“Charlotte, you can’t possibly expect me to…mess my diaper here.”

My eyes widened and I stopped in my tracks. What did he just say?

“Please, don’t be mad. Can’t you be reasonable? I’m working! I shouldn’t even have to wear diapers here in the first place, let alone…” There was a pause, where he just sighed. Finally: “Y-yes. I understand. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll check in with you again in a little bit. Bye.”

Despite having little context for the conversation I had overheard, it seemed like far too much information that I shouldn’t be privy to. I sighed, ready to make a hasty retreat. It’d be unfair to both of us if I was to start speculating based on the half-conversation I heard, and so I needed to get away and clear my head.

“B-Bridget?”

I spun around to see Christopher in the doorway. My retreat hadn’t been hasty enough.

“Oh, hey. I was, uh, just going to come check and see if you needed anything and…”

“Did you, uh, overhear that conversation with Charlotte?”

I could’ve, maybe should’ve, lied. But I could already see in his eyes that he knew I had. To lie to him now would be tremendously insulting. “Well…maybe. But it was an accident. I…didn’t hear much.”

He sighed. “Well, what did you hear, exactly?”

“It’s not important,” I said. “Honestly. Whatever is going on between you and Charlotte is none of my business and…”

“I’m, uh, wearing diapers.”

“Look, Chris, it’s none of my business. You don’t have to tell me about that.”

“I just want to be upfront with you, Bridget. I’m probably going to need to spend a bit of time in your home for the next week or two while I sort out your ceiling. And as awkward as it is for me to tell you that…I think it’d be even more awkward if you overheard that conversation and I just never addressed it.”

I shrugged, trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “Thank you, I guess. But I’m not going to ask any questions or pry. That’s your issue.”

“A-are you sure? Bridget, I promise, you can ask me anything.”

Was I reading between the lines, or was I making up signals? I felt like I could pick up another message in his tone: ‘I need someone to talk to about this.’

“Are you okay?” I asked. “Is everything okay with you and Charlotte?”

He laughed–not like my question was funny, but like it was a relief to have had the question asked. “May I confide in you?”

The question made me nervous, like I was opening myself up to an entire world of drama that I simply didn’t need in my life.

But I also couldn’t turn him away now. “You may.”

“This is going to sound insane.”

Thinking back on the details I had learned in the last few minutes, I had no doubt. “Just say it. I’ll decide how crazy it sounds to me.”

“Fair enough,” he said, running his fingers through his short brown hair nervously. “So, uhm, I wear diapers because…Charlotte makes me wear them.”

It was my turn to laugh. I didn’t mean to, but…I couldn’t quite wrap my head around that. “I’m sorry. Did you say that she makes you?”

He nodded.

“Against your will?”

“It’s…complicated.”

I took a deep breath to compose myself. I didn’t actually believe this to be all that funny of a situation, and he deserved a better reaction from me.

“Chris, if she’s making you do anything–regardless of what it is–that doesn’t seem all that healthy.”

“It’s complicated,” he repeated.

The answer put me in an awkward spot. Was I supposed to just accept that and walk away? Or did he want me to ask more questions? I had questions–thousands of them, really. And it took every bit of my concentration to stop myself from staring at his pants to see if I could detect the outline of a diaper through the fabric.

“If you want to talk about it,” I finally said, “I’m willing to listen. Otherwise, I’ll leave it be.”

“I cheated on her.” He didn’t say it so much as he blurted it out–like the words just tumbled from his mouth when they weren’t supposed to. “This is, like, her…punishment for me.”

“And you agreed to this?”

He shrugged. “The alternative is divorce. And probably getting kicked out of the house.”

“So you’re just allowing her to humiliate you? For how long? And to what ends?”

“I don’t really know,” he said.

I could feel my emotions twisting and morphing. Christopher’s passiveness about his punishment bothered me. I’ve heard of people doing stupid things to convince their loved ones they were sorry. But willingly wearing diapers, of all things? And, if the things I had heard him say on his phone call were to be believed, he was being made to use the diapers as well?

I thought about the things I had heard about Charlotte in the past. All the times I had chosen to give her the benefit of the doubt. But what if she was actually worse than anyone even knew?

I had one last question for him: “Do you feel like you’re learning whatever lesson it is she wants you to learn?”

He laughed, clearly having never asked himself that question before. “Well…when this is all said and done, I probably won’t have an affair again. I guess that’s something.”

I let it go. I had to. The more I thought about the situation, the angrier it made me. I just couldn’t comprehend how there were people in this world like Charlotte, who truly believed that staying married to her was worth a man’s dignity.

For the next few days, I stayed out of his way and let him do his job. I had considered offering him access to my bedroom if he needed a place to change his diapers, but I couldn’t bring myself to say the words aloud. It wasn’t like he was handicapped or incontinent–the man was choosing to wear diapers. I refused to play a part in their insane game.

But I never saw a diaper. I never smelled a diaper. If he hadn’t said anything to me at all–if I hadn’t overheard the conversation that I did–I wonder if I would’ve ever known.

“Bridget, we were having a few friends over to the house tomorrow night,” he said to me on Friday morning as he dragged some tools through my front door. “Nothing fancy. Just some cocktails and I thought I’d get the fire pit going. I’d love it if you could drop by.”

The idea of being further immersed in the sordid world of Christopher and Charlotte was far from appealing.  My gut reaction was to simply say ‘Thanks, but no thanks,’ and leave it at that. Instead, I told him that I’d need to check my schedule.

I wanted to mull it over for a bit. I wondered if, just as I had once wondered before Christopher started doing work in my home, I was still being too harsh towards the concept of Charlotte. Christopher, too, could be misrepresenting who she was, or what she was actually asking him to do. Maybe I needed to talk to her, in person, before I judged the situation as harshly as I had been.

Though, I doubted that I’d bluntly ask if she had been keeping her husband in diapers.

***

“Ah, Bridget. It’s good to see you, and I’m glad you could make it. I feel like it’s been ages since we’ve seen each other last.”

Charlotte seemed friendly enough, even if she apparently forgot that we had a conversation with each other just a month ago at Jill’s housewarming party.

Prior to my arrival, I had been thinking that I had never been inside of Christopher and Charlotte’s home before. But after walking through the front door, I began to doubt if that was true. I wondered if I had been here once, for some sort of party, or if it just so happened that this was how almost every house looked in suburbia.

I had expected a few familiar faces at this soiree, but when I followed Charlotte to the back yard, I found myself doubly surprised. For one, I had little more than a passing familiarity with these guests–folks from the other side of Charlotte and Christopher’s social circle that didn’t overlap with mine, I supposed. Also, there weren’t many guests at all. Including myself, there were only five of us besides the hosting couple. Christopher had said there would be just a ‘few’ friends, but that’s what everyone said before inviting 20-something people.

I found this smaller, more intimate, group of strangers a little more uncomfortable than I’d like. I felt a little out of place. The person I probably knew best was Christopher–who I barely knew at all, I had just seen him frequently enough in my home over the past week.

“Everyone,” announced Charlotte, “I don’t know if you all know our friend Bridget here?”

The small group pelted me with salutations and welcoming waves.

“Bridget, allow me to introduce everyone. We have Steven and Amanda there, this is Astor, and that’s Lynn.”

I think I only knew Amanda by name, though I was pretty sure that I had seen all of them at one point or another.

I took a vacant seat on one of the plush wicker benches that surrounded the fire pit, sitting next to the dark-haired Astor. Soon after, Christopher pushed a cocktail into my hand–something red that was vaguely fruity and whiskey-based. Not my sort of thing, but not so off-brand that I couldn’t enjoy it.

The next hour or two quickly cruised past, with everyone getting a chance to direct the conversation at some point. Steven and Amanda, who had just returned from a trip to Peru, had a lot to say about spicy foods. Astor was currently in the midst of selling some paintings of hers for the first time, and had a lot to say about what that experience had been like. Lynn didn’t seem to have any personal experiences to share, but she did have a lot to say about a film she had watched the past weekend–one that nobody else seemed to have seen.

I regaled everyone with the saga of my collapsed ceiling. There wasn’t all that much to tell, honestly, but I managed to stretch it out enough to make it more compelling. And while I did mention Christopher’s efforts to repair my home over the last week, there were many details I left out. For one, I didn’t mention the word ‘diaper’ a single time. Much to his relief, I was sure.

It was when everyone else had gotten through their talking points that Charlotte stood up, ready to address her guests. By this time, most of us were either on our second or third cocktail. There was something about Charlotte’s energy that made me nervous. It seemed…cocky. Reckless, maybe.

I could sense a similar nervousness in Christopher. In the amber light of the fire, he stared at Charlotte so intensely that I wondered if he was hoping that she’d leap into the flames before she had the chance to say anything. I braced myself for the worst.

“I imagine most of you have heard by now,” Charlotte began, “but it’s been a tough year for Christopher and I.”

Everyone remained mostly silent. I saw a few nodding heads, but nobody had anything to interject yet.

“Infidelity is a serious blight in a relationship,” she continued. “And the thing is, even the best marriages are susceptible to it. Look at Christopher and I. I think we’ve always been a healthy couple, wouldn’t you say?”

Heads were nodding again.

“But all it takes is a moment of lapsed judgment to cause considerable damage to that healthy foundation. Christopher had a little lapse a few months ago with a young woman he worked with, didn’t you?”

“Y-yes,” Christopher said, a deep shame resonating in his voice. “That’s true.”

“Divorce was not off the table. That’s how bad it was. But, you know, we worked through it. We’re doing better now. We’re on the mend, you know? Getting stronger every day.”

“Here here,” Steven said, raising a mostly empty glass into the air.

Everyone else followed suit for an impromptu cheers. I joined as well, if only so that I wouldn’t look like the lone holdout. Still, I didn’t like this scene. I didn’t like how Charlotte was calling attention to Christopher’s mistakes, and I didn’t like how close her monologue was getting to the strange diaper punishment she was putting him through.

“So how did you get past it?” Astor asked. “The infidelities and the betrayal of that trust? Because it seems like the two of you are doing better now.”

I couldn’t help but cringe a little. The question had, no doubt, been exactly what Charlotte was hoping for. I watched the smile grow across her face.

“Well, you know, we tried couple’s therapy. I didn’t really care for it much–it felt like our therapist was insinuating that there was a shared blame for the deterioration of our marriage. Frankly, I thought that was bullshit. I’m not the one who had an affair, you know?”

Much to my frustration, I watched as some of the other guests nodded their heads again. Really? They were buying that?

“Sometimes,” Charlotte continued, “if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. And so I took it upon myself to set the terms for reconciliation.”

I took a deep breath, prepared for the worst.

“Just as Christopher had humiliated me with his philandering, I felt it was only fair that he be humiliated as well. And you could say that my punishment is a little…unconventional. But if we’re being honest, I’d say it’s been working. We’re still together, and I feel that he’s learned a valuable lesson.”

“Well?” asked Amanda. “Are you going to tell us what the punishment was or not?”

Charlotte bit her lip, glancing towards Christopher. I doubted she was seeking his permission–she didn’t strike me as the type who’d care if he asked her not to elaborate. But he said nothing. There wasn’t even a shake of his head. He seemed to be paralyzed, left wondering–just like the rest of us–if Charlotte would say more or not.

Finally, Charlotte laughed to herself, taking another quick sip of her cocktail. “A real man–an adult–wouldn’t treat his wife like that, you know? And so it seemed only fitting that he be…demoted.”

“Demoted?” someone asked.

“I’ve taken away his underpants and locked them up in a closet. Then, I replaced them with something a little more…appropriate for a little boy who hasn’t learned how to navigate an adult relationship yet.”

Astor’s mouth hung open. “Do you mean…”

“Diapers,” Charlotte said, shrugging nonchalantly. “Giant puffy diapers. And that’s all he’s been wearing for the last few weeks.”

The response to this seemed rather mixed. There were some nods and chuckles–but there was some confusion too.

Lynn shook her head. “You actually believe that this is the way to save your marriage?”

I was so grateful that I didn't have to be the one to say it aloud.

“I don’t have to blindly put my faith in it,” Charlotte quickly retorted. “The proof is right here–our marriage is recovering. We’re in a better place.”

But the other questions didn’t seem to be about the ethics of Charlotte’s plan.

“So he’s literally wearing a diaper 24/7? Even when he works?” asked Steven.

“You bet,” Charlotte answered.

“But, like, he’s not expected to use the diapers, right?” asked Amanda.

“It’d be a waste of diapers if he didn’t,” responded Charlotte. “I keep the bathroom doors locked now. It’s part of the punishment, I’m afraid. But not to worry–I change all of his diapers for him so that he’s not at risk of getting an embarrassing diaper rash.”

“But…is he wearing a diaper right now?” asked Astor.

“Oh, you better believe it,” Charlotte said. “Christopher? Be a doll and stand up, won’t you?”

I hoped that he’d offer some resistance. He shouldn’t have to prove to everyone else that he was still in the humiliating grip of Charlotte’s punishment.

But he stood up–almost immediately, too. He was her marionette, moving at her whim with little indication that it was his own desire.

“Turn around,” she commanded him. He did so, and she immediately struck his ass with an open hand. The sound that emanated from his bottom wasn’t what I–or likely anyone else–expected. It sounded hollow. Plasticky, like she was slapping something ruffled and puffy.

Without warning, Charlotte took it a step further, tugging on the back of his pants enough so that they slipped down his legs–revealing the thick white diaper in the light of the firepit.

“Voila,” Charlotte said. “And what’s this? Looks a little damp, too. Christopher? Did you do a little wee-wee while sitting amongst our friends?”

“J-just a little,” Christopher said, finally pulling himself away from Charlotte so he could hoist his pants back up.

“It’s a big diaper,” Charlotte said to everyone. “I probably won’t need to change him until bedtime. Unless, of course, he decides to make a little poopy in his pants as well.”

I took another deep breath, pushing the air out from my nose loudly. I was already frustrated with this little performance, but now I was mad. This seemed needlessly exploitative, and the inability of anyone else to say so served only to encourage it further. What was next? Was Charlotte going to make him suckle from her breast in front of everyone?

“Alright,” I said, standing up. “That’s enough.”

The world had fallen silent, save for the gentle crackle of the firepit. Charlotte was frozen in place, seeming completely dumbfounded by the prospect of someone else speaking up.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I asked Charlotte, taking a step towards her. “Do I think it’s okay for Christopher to have had an affair? Absolutely not. But this? Fucking…diapers? Making him parade around in them? Making him come to my house while wearing them? Making him show them off in front of your supposed friends? Seriously, Charlotte, what the hell is wrong with you?”

I wondered if anyone else would chime in. Would anyone have my back? Would someone try and talk me down, defending Charlotte? Nothing. Not a peep from anyone else. Even Charlotte remained tightlipped. She looked…frightened.

It’s times like this that people say that they ‘don’t know what came over them.’ But I knew exactly what had come over me. It was frustration that had been simmering inside of me since Christopher first revealed his diaper punishment to me. For years, people had been telling me how bad Charlotte was, and yet I was always willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. But, no, everyone else had been right all along. She was a miserable and selfish bitch.

“You make me sick,” I said, taking another step closer to her. “Until you can identify and address your own flaws, you have no right to be in a marriage at all. You can’t fix problems like yours with fucking diapers.”

“Charlotte?” Lynn suddenly asked. “A-are you okay? I think you just, uh…”

I was seeing what Lynn was seeing–probably what everyone else was seeing too. In the dim light of the fire, a dark spot had developed on the light blue jeans Charlotte wore. Between her legs and growing down her thighs.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” I asked. “You’re the one keeping your husband in diapers while you piss yourself?”

Charlotte looked down at herself in horror, struggling to comprehend the reality of the moment. “I…but…”

It was perfect. Karmic retribution on a scale that I would’ve never believed possible. Years and years of her being a cruel bully, when the reality was that she was simply unable to take it in return.

I could’ve let it be after that. If I had just turned and walked away, leaving Charlotte standing by the firepit with pissy pants, I’d have become a local legend. But I couldn’t stop there. I wanted more. Charlotte deserved worse.

I had no plan for what I was doing, my body seemingly piloted by sheer spite. I reached forward and grabbed her ear with the tips of my fingers.

“If you truly believe that the cure for poor decisions is being reduced to an infant, I don’t suppose you’ll mind if I give it a try myself,” I said.

“B-Bridget,” said Christopher. “You don’t have to…”

“I’ll do whatever I damn well please,” I spat back at him. “I’m cleaning up your mess.”

I began dragging Charlotte back into her home by the ear–a little lesson I had learned in my own childhood when my mother would drag my misbehaving ass across the lawn.

“Come with me,” I said to Christopher. He obediently got up and shuffled behind us.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Charlotte cried as we got further away from the rest of the group. There were tears in her eyes. Good.

“Teaching you a lesson. It’s really not all that different from what you were doing to your husband, yes?”

Charlotte tried to look back towards Christopher. “Chris…please…”

“He’s not going to help you,” I said. “You already infantilized him to the point of complete passiveness.”

The look on her face was priceless. I wished I had thought to take my phone out of my pocket to snap a quick picture or two. It was the look of someone who had never once believed that she’d be held accountable for her own actions.

“Christopher, fetch me one of your diapers,” I said.

“Y-yes,” he said, quickly scurrying off.

Meanwhile, I led Charlotte over to the couch where I sat myself down, pulling her down with me.

“Over my knees,” I ordered.

“B-but…”

I wasn’t interested in repeating myself, so I gave her ear one final tug. With a pitiful yelp, she hurried herself over my lap, her soaked ass sticking up in the air for me to get a better look at.

“I worry you’ve never been spanked before,” I said. “That’s part of your problem.”

“Please, Bridget,” she pleaded. “I don’t want to…”

Smack! It was too late. There was nothing else she could say at this point that would change my mind.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” I said to her, “but you’re an even bigger baby than your husband.”

Smack! A pained “Ah!” escaped her lips.

I gripped the back of her jeans, pulling them down her ass with a firm tug. It wasn’t all that different from what she had done to Christopher just minutes before. Except I was exposing her bare ass, as opposed to one in a diaper.

That would change soon enough.

Smack!

“Oh!” she exclaimed, feeling the bite of my palm on her bare ass.

Christopher had returned, a new white diaper in his hand. I had to laugh at the absurd size of it, even when it was folded up.

“Get another,” I said to him.

“What’s wrong with this one?” he asked.

“Nothing. I just want two of them.”

“O-okay…”

Back to Charlotte’s ass. “Now, where did I leave off? Oh yes…”

Smack!

“P-please!” she called out to me. “I’m sorry!”

“But not sorry enough.”

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“I…I’m not a baby!” she cried. She was bawling now. Rivers of tears streamed from her eyes and cascaded down her reddened cheeks, while she made loud braying sobs between breaths.

“Coulda fooled me…”

I glanced at the large sliding glass door that separated the house from the deck, finding that everyone else was on the other side of it, looking in. Watching.

“Look over there,” I said, pointing towards the window. “It’s all your friends. It seems that they’re interested in watching you get your punishment.”

“P-please…,” she sobbed again.

“Just a few more, for good measure. I want you to feel this tomorrow morning, still, and be reminded of this moment.”

Smack! Smack! Smack! I almost stopped there, but I felt like I still had a little extra energy in my paddling-hand. Smack! Smack! Smack!

“There,” I said. “That should do it.”

“C-can I… get down from your lap now?”

I laughed. “You can. But you’re not going anywhere. You’re going to have to lie down there on the carpet.”

She huffed, wiping tears from her eyes. “But…”

“No buts. If I have to tell you to lie down on the ground again, I’ve got a few more good swats left in me.”

She sighed, though showed no signs of putting up a fight. Her face was still wet from tears, and I could sense that she wasn’t far from another tantrum. Rather easily, I seemed to have tamed her. She slowly eased herself down onto her back in the middle of the floor. I caught a small wince on her face as her reddened bottom made contact with the carpet.

“Do you need these diapers?” Christopher asked, holding the two diapers out in front of him like an obedient little puppy.

I took them from him before pointing down towards the ground in the space next to Charlotte. “One of these is for you, baby boy.”

“Wh-what? But…”

“She might be pissing herself like an actual baby. But I don’t think you’re much of an adult yourself. You deserve your diapers just as much as she does.”

“Bridget, could we just talk about this a little? I don’t think that I should have to…”

“I am not opposed to pulling you over my lap as well, little boy.”

His mouth closed so quickly that I swore I could hear his lips slapping against each other. I imagined he did some quick calculations and determined that just lying down on the ground for a new diaper was probably better than being made to do so after having ass beaten raw like his wife’s.

I looked back to the glass door to the deck where four curious faces still peered in. I could only imagine what they were thinking. Yet, I suspected that if they disagreed with me, they’d have stopped me. And nobody had even lifted a finger in that regards yet.

“You’re welcome to come in if you’d like,” I called out to them. “Did you want a better view of me putting these sorry babies in diapers?”

I laughed to myself, thinking that there was no way that these relative strangers would want to get any closer to the surrealness taking place inside the house. But I was wrong–I saw that the glass door was sliding open. Lynn was the first one inside.

“They’re…actually letting you do this?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Looks that way, doesn’t it?”

Astor followed next, with Amanda and Steven entering moments after, the door sliding shut behind them. None of them had anything else to say. No objections. No questions. They were only here to observe.

“Now then,” I said, looking down at the pissy-pantsed Charlotte and the blushing baby Christopher. “Where was I?”

I kneeled down between them, opting to start with Christopher. The truth was, I knew next to nothing about putting a baby in a diaper–big and little babies alike. But as this was my idea, and I now had an audience, I needed to at least pretend I knew what I was doing. I wasn’t worried too much about keeping up appearances–I doubted any of the other guests had put another adult in a diaper recently either.

I grabbed the sides of Christopher’s pants and gave them a good tug down his body.

“For someone who doesn’t want to be spotted in his pampers, you sure did pick some loose fitting pants.”

He had no response to this, not that I thought he would. There was his huge diaper again–the same one I saw in the light of the fire earlier. But now, in the bright artificial light of the house, I could see that it was, mostly, a pale yellow. Either I couldn’t see that outside, or he had wet himself even more since the first time his diaper was exposed.

“Looks like someone had a wittle tiny accident, huh?” I said, in my most condescending tone. “Did you soak your diapies?”

His cheeks grew brighter, and he closed his eyes, staying silent.

“Guess I’m lucky the diaper’s not brown, huh?”

He turned his head a little, looking even more ashamed.

“I bet you do that too, right? That’s how much of a baby you’ve become for Charlotte. You’re so desperate to keep her happy that you’d literally be willing to shit your pants. Hmm? Am I right? Do you make your little poopies in your diaper now too?”

I heard some snickering coming from the other guests. I didn’t bother to look up and see who was laughing. All I knew was that it still seemed like I had their approval.

“Now then, let’s open up this diaper and see how bad the damage is, huh?”

It wasn’t that far off from what I had expected–a moist shriveled cock in a yellow-stained diaper. But it was the details that amused me. Someone–Charlotte, I guessed–had shaved away all of Christopher’s pubic hair, leaving him as bald and smooth as a baby. It was actually quite impressive how smooth it was–I’d have killed for a pussy this soft to the touch. My other observation was his shriveled little cock. A pathetic little nubbin. Maybe I’d have put him in a diaper too if I were his wife.

I bundled up the heavy diaper into a ball and rolled it away from us towards the others. “Here, take a look at this thing. Look how fucking huge it is. Pick it up. You’ll never believe how hefty it is.”

I didn’t actually think they’d touch the thing. Yet, sure enough, Astor bent over and clutched it in both hands, holding it far out in front of her like it might yet explode on her.

“Holy shit,” she said, shaking her head. “She’s not kidding. Chris, how many times did you piss yourself?”

He didn’t answer this question, not that anyone was expecting him to.

“How do you like to change your husband’s diaper, Charlotte?” I asked, turning to her. “Baby wipes? Powder? I could go looking for those things. I bet I’d find them, right?”

Charlotte bashfully nodded.

“Ah, I’m good. I’ll just put new diapers on the both of you. If you get diaper rashes or something, that’s your problem–not mine. I’m not your mommy.”

I opened the giant diaper, fumbling with it in my hands as I tried to figure out which end was the back and which was the front.

“I, uhm, could help,” said Astor, stepping forward. “Only if you want. But I do a lot of babysitting for my brother’s kids and… I know my way around a diaper.”

“Absolutely,” I said, waving her over. “I’d love that.”

This was going exceptionally well. I didn’t expect participation from anyone else, but it felt good to hand the reins to someone else. Astor seemed flummoxed by the large diaper for only a moment before nodding like she had figured it out.

“We’ll have to take his pants off the rest of the way,” she said.

“Of course.”

We each grabbed a side of his pants and slid them all the way down his legs and off his feet, casting them aside.

“Bet you didn’t think two women were going to strip your pants off your body tonight,” I said to him.

“Not that it seems to have done all that much to excite him,” Astor said, rolling her eyes while pointing at his still-soft cocklette.

“Probably for the best,” I said. “Easier to put back in a diaper.”

Astor laughed, spreading his legs wide so that she could flatten the diaper out on the ground under him. It was actually kind of amazing watching her work–he might have been a full-grown man, but she handled him as if he was just another infant. She lifted his legs into the air as she tucked the new diaper under his bottom, before lowering him back onto it. She pulled the front of the diaper up through his legs, smoothing it out so it was nice and flat over his shriveled dick and pulled each tape from the back of the diaper up to the front, sealing it in place around him.

“One down,” Astor said, giving Christopher a playful swat in his padded ass.

“One to go,” I replied, motioning over my shoulder to Charlotte.

“You’ve had your fun, haven’t you?” Charlotte asked, her voice a little hoarse from having been crying. “Do you have to keep going?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not done yet.”

Charlotte muttered a whiny little “unh,” though she stayed in place on her back–seemingly resigned to her fate.

“Her pants look a little tight,” I said to Astor.

“It doesn’t help that she pissed in them.”

Together we got her pants off. It was easier than I thought it would be, and we even got her pissy little pink panties off with them.

“Y-you don’t have to put me in a diaper,” she said. “I…I’m not a baby!”

“I strongly disagree,” I said. I hadn’t planned to do it, but her wet panties were in my hand and her mouth was still open. I quickly reached forward, stuffing them into her mouth. “Here. You can just taste how much of a baby you were tonight while we put you into your very own diaper.”

Astor works her magic again, quickly unfurling the diaper before spreading Charlotte’s slender legs. Spotting the tuft of her dark pubic hair, I’m tempted to ask someone to fetch me a razor so I could make her just as smooth and baby-like as her husband, but I decide against it. It’s a good idea, but I’m just too excited to see Charlotte in her diaper and don’t want to wait that much longer.

“Okay,” Astor said, “all done.”

“Let’s get a better look at the two babies.”

We stand up and take a step or two back. Meanwhile, Steven, Amanda, and Lynn take a few steps closer. We all look down in amazement at what we see. Not two grown adults in diapers. With their puffy faces, damp eyes, and fussy expressions, they’re just oversized infants.

“Kind of adorable,” I said. “Don’t you think?”

Astor laughs and nods. To my surprise, when I look up at the others, they’re all smiling and nodding too.

“Christopher?” I asked. “Did Charlotte ever make you crawl around like a baby?”

“N-no,” he said, shaking his head.

“That’s a shame. See, this is why I’m better at punishing people with diapers. Why don’t you both crawl around a little for us. Give those new diapers a little test drive.”

Charlotte is the first to roll over and prop herself up on her hands and knees. Judging by the faces of the others, they weren’t expecting her to be the first to obey me. It doesn’t surprise me, however. I felt it happen–the exact moment I crushed her will while slapping her bottom.

She takes a few wobbly lunges forward. Clearly she hasn’t had to crawl much in a long time. But she quickly finds her balance and takes to crawling well enough, doing a little lap around the couch.

“Very good, little girl. And you left your soggy panties in your mouth the whole time, too! I’m so very proud of you. Christopher? It’s your turn now. Show everyone how you crawl like a good little baby.”

He was a little more sluggish than Charlotte in rolling over and getting up in his crawling position. He made a mistake that Charlotte hadn’t, too–he looked up at everyone else. We all looked back at him, all of our faces in some state of amusement. He sighed and sputtered for a moment–looking almost like he might be the next to throw an infantile tantrum. He seemed to think better of it at the last moment, instead awkwardly crawling around in the same little loop that his wife had.

I began clapping. “Good job, you two! What good babies.” To my delight, everyone else was applauding as well.

“The firepit is still on,” Steven said after a few minutes of gazing and giggling at the diapered babies in the center of the room. “I should put it out, I guess. If we’re done with it.”

“No,” I said. “I think I earned another drink. Hell, we all did. Let’s get out there and enjoy another drink around the fire.”

“Can…we get up now?” asked Christopher.

“Can I take off this diaper?” asked Charlotte.

“The answer to both of those questions is…no. But you’re going to crawl outside with us in your diapers–we have to keep an eye on you little tykes, after all.”

***

I’d see Christophera a day or two after, when he stopped by my house to put some finishing touches on the repairs to my ceiling. Neither of us brought up the little get together at his house, or his subsequent diapering in front of his friends. There was a heavy awkwardness in the air between us, though.

After that, I didn’t see either him or Charlotte for quite a while. I ran into some of the others who were there that night later, at other parties and functions. But nobody said anything about that night. No mention of it whatsoever. Not even a knowing nod or grin.

It didn’t bother me all that much. I knew that I didn’t dream it–it had actually happened. I actually almost preferred it this way, as a little secret that we’d all hold on tight to. Besides, you probably just had to be there to have understood it. In hindsight, I found myself unable to believe all the things I had said and done.

But, against all odds, the rumor was spreading that Charlotte and Christopher were doing better. According to gossip and idle chatter, the two seemed to be getting along better than they had in years. Some speculated as to who their therapist was–as they must have been a damn good one to get those two in a better place.

I just smiled and daydreamed of the two of them crawling around in their thick diapers.

***

I got a peculiar call the other day. Charlotte. It was peculiar because not only hadn’t we seen each other in some time, but she never called me before. If I was to have guessed, she didn’t even have my number.

She made small talk for a few minutes, seeming to beat around the bush a little too long–as if avoiding her own reason for calling in the first place.

“I have to ask, Charlotte–what did you need from me?”

“Well…I guess I wanted to see if you had a free weekend coming up. Christopher and I were talking and, uhm, we’d like to know if you’d be interested in…babysitting.”

I laughed. “Oh? And just who would I be sitting?”

“Just…you know… Two babies.”

My instinct was to tell her that I’d need to think about it, but that wasn’t true at all. “Of course, Charlotte. I’d be delighted.”