“Hey, have you gone potty yet today?” she asks as she pauses in the kitchen doorway.
He sets down the dish he’s washing and glances over his shoulder. “Uh, yeah, I went pee like half an hour ago.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know that’s not what I mean.”
“Uh…I haven’t gone…yet.” He rinses the dish and sets it on the rack. “I don’t need to though,” he adds quickly, lying about the log he’s been trying to hold in since he had coffee this morning.
She walks up next to him and squeezes his pull-up through his pants. “Can you go try? You’ve been holding it too much lately. It’s not good for you.”
“Uh, okay,” he says, hurriedly wiping his hands on the dish towel and heading for the bathroom.
He closes the door. He isn’t supposed to lock it when he’s padded. He doesn’t really want her to come in but also doesn’t want to risk a punishment. He watches the door handle as he lifts the lid of the toilet. He pulls down his pants, keeping his pull-up on.
It feels so good to let it slowly ease out and drop into his padding. He presses one finger against his pull-up, finding the little, sensitive skin right over his hole and pushing against it, feeling the thick log slide out. It feels so, so good.
When he’s finished, hands washed, he finds her in the kitchen, finishing up the dishes he abandoned. She turns and looks him up and down. He looks down, too. Oops. He left his shorts on the bathroom floor.
“Is that the same pull-up you were wearing when you went into the bathroom?”
“Spin around for me.” She tuts her tongue. “It’s not. The pull-up you were wearing earlier was a little damp.”
He feels himself blush and she reaches out and gives his padding a squeeze. “This one is dry. And clean.”
She puts her hands on his shoulders, turning him around again, and walks him to the bathroom.
“Show me the pull-up you were wearing when I asked you if you needed to go potty.”
He opens the diaper pail sheepishly. It’s the only thing in there since he emptied it this morning. He reaches in and pulls it out, turning to her.
She takes the pull-up from him. “Thank you.” She turns it over, inspecting it. “Look,” she says, showing him. “There are skid marks in here. Were you pooping your pull-up again?”
He looks down. “Most of it ended up in the toilet.”
“Because you went in the toilet? Or because you emptied it into the toilet after you finished going in your pull-up.”
He stares at the floor, shaking his head.
“I went in my pull-up,” he finally answers.
“Why? Do you miss diapers that much?”
He shakes his head again. “No…it’s not that. I just like the way it feels.”
“Okay, well, it doesn’t really seem like someone who goes in his pull-ups is ready to be out of diapers.”
“I can do it. It’s not like I’m…I’m not…”
“It’s not like I’m a baby. Or anything.”
“Tell that to yourself last night when I was feeding you before bed.”
His hands shoot up over his face. “It’s not…! That’s different! That’s…” There really isn’t much else to argue.
She takes both of his hands and pulls him to the living room, taking a changing pad out from the low shelf next to his toys and spreading it on the floor. She takes his hands again and gently guides him down to a sitting position.
“I don’t really need that…” he starts as she pulls a diaper out of the basket next to the shelf.
“I think you do need this if you’re going to mess your pants. We can’t have you getting yucky like you did last week.”
“That wasn’t…I was careful this time. I didn’t get any on my shorts and I cleaned off and I…”
She’s pushing his shoulders down onto the mat and he feels his face burning again.
“Look at that,” she says as she slides the pull-up off his legs.
“No! I’m not turned on I just…” He has his hands over his face again.
“You’re not turned on?” She runs a finger over his erection, base to tip.
“N-no, not that much, I mean, I…”
He hears the diaper crinkling as she fluffs it. And then his legs are up again and she’s rubbing cream on his bottom. She works it into his pelvis and he squirms on the mat.
“Not that turned on, huh?” She rubs more lotion into her hands and runs her palm over his shaft. “No? That doesn’t feel good?”
“Well, if you aren’t turned on, I guess you don’t need any help right now,” she says, turning away from him and picking the diaper up off the floor. She positions it under his bottom and tries her best to get him comfortably pointing down as she pulls it up between his legs and smooths the tapes.
“I—I’m not…” he stammers, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing his palms against them.
“Look at you rubbing your eyes. Just like a baby would when he’s getting tired. Sit up.”
She helps him up into a kneeling position. The diaper crinkles against his heels. Uh-oh, that feels good, too…
“Okay, just let me know if you need me to change you, okay? Otherwise we’ll get you into a fresh diaper at bedtime.”
“But it’s been so long since I wet the bed. I think I can do pull-ups…”
“I think your behavior is showing us that you need a little more protection than pull-ups. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
He’s all out of arguments again. He looks down at the floor.
“Why don’t you just play with your toys or look at your books while I finish cleaning the kitchen? Then we can make you a smoothie or something and I’ll feed you while we watch TV. Okay?”
He nods. If this is going to be his fate, he’ll have to resolve to it.
“Okay, good. That sounds good, doesn’t it? Look at me.”
“Mm,” he says, trying to make it sound like he isn’t agreeing or disagreeing.
“And when you’re ready to tell me about how turned on you are,” she says quietly, “and how much you need me to touch you, we can work that out, okay?”
He nods. She stands up, picking up the lotion and his discarded pull-up. He can see her cleaning up in his peripheral vision, and then she leaves the room, leaving him sitting on the changing pad, face burning and diaper feeling a little tighter than usual.
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