The Trainer – Chapter Nine
I woke Friday morning thinking it was Saturday, until I realized that the meeting reminder on my phone was prompting me that I had my weekly staff update meeting to call into in 15 minutes. Uhg. The chain holding my wrists had released at some point, but the sleeper was still locked. I knocked on my wife’s closed office door and stuck my head in when invited.
She was on the phone, and gestured that I should take the changing pad and diaper stack sitting on the chair beside her and lay it out on the floor. Continuing her discussion with her coworker about resource needs and schedule changes to some program, she unlocked the sleeper and changed me into a dry diaper. Wearing only the diaper and plastic pants, I was handed the pile of wet diapers and shoo’d out. I dropped them in the wash, made a quick cup of coffee, threw on a onesie and some sweatpants, and called into my meeting to begin yet another day of work.
Throughout the day I was still doing my best to be conscious about when I emptied my bladder. I noticed that I was trying to not walk near the bathroom door. It just felt wrong. Several times I went to use the toilet, but when I got near the bathroom I just didn’t feel like it. The diaper was easier. Of course, I was consciously using the diaper, so it stayed in control.
After focusing on my work for most of the day, it was mid-afternoon when my wife asked if I wanted to go out shopping with her. I gestured at the thick white plastic covered lump around my waist. “No. Not like this.”
“It’s OK. I’ll put a more discreet diaper on you, and you can wait in the car. C’mon it will be good to get out.” I sighed. She returned with a Molicare M2, which after she changed me into it seemed as thin as a pair of regular underwear after the pillow-like cloth I had been wearing. Under the snapped onesie, it was hardly noticeable. Manipulating her phone, she unlocked the collar and cuffs, a tiny click signalling that I could pull them off. I dressed in a pair of loose shorts and an untucked shirt over the onesie. I doubted anyone could tell.
With the confidence of a discrete diaper, I joined her in the grocery store, relaxing a little with the realization that I could get out of the house without a problem. I hadn’t even realized that I had felt trapped in the house before, and I felt a wave of gratitude to my wife for convincing me to get out. It was the right thing.
We were in the produce area when my wife glanced at her phone, then somewhat discreetly cupped my crotch. I was wet. Really wet. Without mentioning it, we both sped up the remaining shopping. Time to get home.
After checkout, as we were passing the restrooms, she looked at me. “You should change here. I brought a spare for you.”
Realizing just how wet I was, I agreed with her. I poked my head into the mens room and found it empty. Perfect. Not as perfect was when she pulled the translucent plastic grocery containing another diaper, a package of wipes, and a small bottle of powder out of her huge purse, and just handed it to me. I looked around again frantically, but no one seemed to be interested, or care. Quickly tucking it under my arm I entered the room and quickly went into a stall. The change went quickly… drop my shorts, unsnap the onesie, and pop the tapes on the used diaper. Pull it off, pull out a couple of wipes, and clean up a little. As I was cleaning, a few drops of pee fell from the trainer and landed on my shorts. I guess I should have positioned the new diaper to catch the drops… note that for next time. Pull the new one on, sprinkle a little powder, position and tape, snap the onesie up and pull up my shorts.
Of course, just as I was finishing up the door opened, and someone walked over to the urinal. I quickly wrapped up the used diaper, and walked out of the stall, discreetly dropping the used diaper in the trash with a ‘thunk’ on the way to the sink. Wash my hands, and I was out of there. I had survived. I let out my breath as I exited the restroom.
“You’re getting pretty quick at that,” she said as we continued out the front door and walked to the car. “It’s not so bad, is it?” She gestured towards the wet spot on my shorts. “I guess that’s why I’m changing you, though, isn’t it? When you do it, you make a mess…”
I agreed that it wasn’t that bad, but really, I still intended to win the bet. I once again wondered about that, though, as I knew I was already wet when we got home. Not soaked, but the yellow lines were slowly turning blue. I redoubled my efforts to be conscious about it when I was letting go, and it wasn’t long before I was again being changed into one of the thick cloth diapers and plastic pants.
She prepared dinner and wine, and afterwards we pulled up a favorite movie that we hadn’t seen in awhile. The cuddling on the couch got frisky, but when she had undressed me down to my diaper, she stopped. I tried to keep things going.
She “Let’s go take a shower… you’re kind of smelly, and it’s not exactly a turn on.” She was dressed in only a black bra and panties, and I followed like a lovesick puppydog as she pulled me upstairs to the shower. I put the collar and cuffs on myself, and our fooling around continued as she washed me in the shower. Free of the trainer, my excitement was obvious, and the restraints only helped to heighten it as I tried to hold her perfect breasts, always kept slightly out of my reach.
After toweling us off, she laid out the changing pad and diapers for me on the bed. I did my best to nibble her ear, her shoulder, and anything else I could until she finally turned around, kissed me deeply, and pulled me over onto the waiting cloth. I barely noticed as the tether clicked on as her breasts dangled in front of me. As she slid up and down on me, she laughed as I tried to sit up, to reach her, to hold her. She bent over, her mouth by my ear, and whispered how it was nice to be in control occasionally. Not of everything, just a few things. How it made her feel important to me. How she knew that diapers were important to me, and now she was part of that. How it excited her that someone depended on her. How she didn’t want all the power in the relationship, just a little. How her control of my diapers was just enough. How I looked cute with a puffy butt. How much she loved me. And then, remarkably simultaneously, it was over.
We lay there for a little, with her in my arms, still inside her. After a few minutes, she got up and wiped herself off using my diaper, and the pulled it up and pinned it into place after replacing the trainer. Quietly, gently, the plastic pants were pulled up, the cloth diaper tucked in all around, and the sleeper zipped and locked. The cuffs and collar remained, as a reminder of whining about them last night. I said nothing.
She gently guided me to my bed, and lay down with me as I fell asleep.
—–
That night I slept very, very well, and woke up Saturday morning feeling refreshed. The diaper was very wet, as usual, and the collar and cuffs were still on. I found my wife in her office, scrolling though some data. She turned. “Just checking to see how you’ve been doing, and tweaking the algorithms a little. Only one more day to win this bet!” She smiled at me. “Let’s get you cleaned up”.
She unlocked all the clothing, and let me use the bathroom. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to go in there. The need to take care of #2, though, overcame the bad feeling, and I suffered through a few minutes to take care of business. I got up and left as soon as I could.
Today was household chores day, and we had a bunch of work both inside and outside to attend to. I asked her for a more discreet diaper so I could work outside. Soon I was in a single layer cloth diaper, and after breakfast I proceeded to mow the lawn, trim the bushes, do some garage cleanout, and all the other basic chores that needed to get done. The hard work in the sun made me thirsty, which in turn meant that the thin cloth did not last nearly as long as the thicker diapers, of course, and I needed to stop for a change every one or two hours. Several times I tried to use the bathroom, but it just didn’t seem right, and I changed myself, or was changed, on the couch or the bed.
By the time dinner time rolled around we were both exhausted, but the chores were done. We decided to go back to our favorite pub, and after the shower ritual I was re-diapered in an discreet disposable, dressed in fresh clothes, and very very ready for a beer. Halfway through the meal I was unsuprised when the bag that she handed me contained only two thick M4 diapers, but numbed to the humiliation after a week of diapers and two beers the change went uneventfully. My shorts bulged slightly, but the untucked shirt, dark room, and the onesie seemed to provide enough discretion. The used diaper landed in the trash with a thunk as I walked out after washing my hands.
There was some good live music going on, and so we hung around for a little while listening and talking. The third and fourth beer made the walk home a little more challenging, but it wasn’t until I got home that I realized just how wet I was, and that the back of my shorts were wet. The diaper had leaked. I tried to get upset at my wife, after all, she was responsible for my diapers! She was supposed to keep my from leaking! What if others had seen?
My actual mumblings, though, went largely un-commented on as she helped me in to bed after laying out some dry cloth diapers. I took off my clothes, and lay back and rested as the cuffs, collars, and chains were attached. I barely was conscious as the heavy disposable was removed and the doubled night diaper was pinned on, followed by the plastic pants and the sleeper. The chain between the wrist cuffs and collar was again left in place.
As my wife was kissing me goodnight, I had a blurry realization that I hadn’t gotten a punishment shock in a long time. What if it was broken and she used this as an excuse to prolong the training? I didn’t want this to last any longer than it had to.
“Honey?”
“Yes darling.”
“I think the battery in the trainer is dead. I don’t think it’s working.”
Her brow furrowed, and she looked at her phone. “Why don’t you think it’s working?”
“It hasn’t shocked me recently.”
She played with her phone some more, and looked at me sweetly. “No, it’s working just fine, honey. Don’t worry about it. I love you.” Her hand went down, and rubbed the front of my diaper a little. In my inebriated state I just closed my eyes and enjoyed it, quickly passing into sleep.
The End of The Trainer – Chapter Nine.
If you want to read more stories about ABDL boys you can find a list here: Diaper Boys – Index