Some Alone Time, Part 15 (Patreon)

“Oh god, oh god, oh no, oh my god…” 

The shepherd muttered under his breath like an incantation as he stood in front of the bathroom sink, staring at himself in the mirror and wondering just how he managed to let things blow up as quickly as they did. All he could think is that one minute he was laying on the couch, the house to himself and not a care in the world, and the next, his entire domestic life had fallen apart right in front of him.

“She’s gonna leave. She’s gonna take Todd while I’m in the shower and go across town to stay with her mom.” He gripped the rim of the porcelain sink in both hands and looked over his reflection, suddenly haggard and frantic, still with a soaked diaper straining downward between his legs and a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach. “Probably see a lawyer with divorce papers in the morning…” 

All he could do was replay the situation in his mind. Why didn’t he wait until he was in the bathroom before taking his shirt off? Did she know about his diaper before then? Why did he fall asleep on the couch in the first place? He should have known better; that was a rookie mistake that hadn’t happened to him in decades, not since his own parents caught him “backsliding” on potty-training.

“You get yourself cleaned up, handsome.” 

Her voice replayed in his head. New thoughts started to take shape, slipping through the anxious haze that his mind had become. 

He couldn’t see her face, but didn’t she sound like she was smiling? Of course, with his diaper visible for the first time since he was a teenager, he panicked right away, and his initial assumption was that she was trying not to laugh at him, or that she was so put off by him, so disgusted, that she almost found it funny. 

But could she have been being playful? 

The thought of her teasing, flirtatious smile, the same one she often had when she nudged his foot under the table at dinner, while she murmured into his ear made the fur on the back of his neck stand up, like the hopeful revelation had struck him with lightning.

She even grabbed his butt, didn’t she? Her hand on the back of his diaper, giving his seat a squeeze, and undoubtedly feeling that he had soaked himself before dinner.

That was compelling evidence that maybe she wasn’t as put off as his frantic mind assumed she was. Maybe this was salvageable. 

“Maybe I can talk to her… Yeah." 

Something had sprung to attention needily between his legs, though, and the weight in his stomach was something he needed to take care of before trying to explain himself to his wife. The big dog composed himself a bit before reaching down to begin peeling back the tapes of the wet diaper that had started all of this trouble. 

You’re wearing your bathroom, big guy.

But then he stopped, the teasing voice playing through his mind again, an echo from his earlier playtime. He looked at the toilet beside him, the lid already up, the grown-up method of a grown-up man relieving himself, and hesitated for a long moment. It had been a long time since he had that kind of accident in his diaper, and he was certainly too big to still be doing so.

Should I?

The thought of it, combined with the memory of his wife’s hand hefting the seat of his wet diaper, made him harder, and his over-stimulated brain wasn’t having much success in convincing him not to. Right away, the idea had him and it wouldn’t let go. There would be no clearing his mind until he took care of a more pressing concern.

He reached out to close the lid of the toilet. 

Fuck it. Might as well.