The Trainer – Chapter Ten
Sunday morning was the big day. Time to see who won the bet. The fact that I was waking up with a very soggy diaper was not a good start. My wrists were still chained to my collar, so I waddled down the hall. I found my wife was still sleeping. I headed down the stairs to try to start coffee.
The cartridge based coffee maker was easy to operate even with hands like a tyrannosaurus, and soon I had two cups of coffee. Adding the milk was a little harder, but I managed. Carefully climbing the stairs with two precariously carried cups of coffee, I earned a warm smile as I presented it to my just-waking wife.
She propped herself up on one arm to receive the warm gift. “So I suppose you want out? You still think you can win this bet?” Her warm smile was a rewarding thank-you.
“Yep, I do. I’ve been practicing the last few days, and I think I’ll be fine.”
“All-right.” She reached for her phone charging by the bedside, and twiddled a bunch of settings, entered passwords, and soon there were a few small clicks as all the devices unlocked. “Why don’t you go take a shower and clean up, and I’ll join you?”
I couldn’t say no to that. It would be the first time in a week I could wash myself. Soon the water was hot, I had stripped everything off including the trainer, and she was joining me as I opened the door and stepped in. I enjoyed the ability to wash myself, and we both took turns soaping, touching, caressing, and holding each other. It wasn’t long before my excitedness became the main attraction, and I lifted her up and on to me. We stood locked together for a few seconds before I heard her whispering in my ear. She was grinding gently.
“Remember the terms of the bet. To win, no more than one accident over the next 48 hours. And if you put on a diaper because you think you’ll have an accident, you lose. Right?”
“Right. And if I win you’re going to be the one in diapers for TWO weeks.” I smiled at the thought, as remote a possibility as it was.
“And if you lose, you’re going to be put back in the trainer for a while until it’s permanent. But I’m feeling REALLY good right now, and I’m so confident that I’m going to win that I’ll let you have two accidents before you lose.” She was grinding harder. “Because you let me pick what we were going to do today.”
She ground even harder, and I was up against the shower wall, huffing and puffing myself. She clenched, reaching climax, as she whispered in my ear, “We’re going to go see my parents.”
I stopped cold, any thoughts of my finishing completely gone. “What?”
She looked up at me, basking in both the afterglow and the knowledge that she had me. “Since we didn’t go out with our friends yesterday, you said I could pick where we went today. And I want to go see my parents. That was the deal.”
It was the deal. She was right. But this was wrong. “You want to expose this to your parents? What will they think? They’ll never talk to me again!” I was starting to freak out a little. I turned the shower off and got out, wrapping myself in the safety of the large fluffy towel.
“Hey, you said you were going to win this. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine, right? You think you can win this, right? Don’t worry about it.”
“But what if I have an accident?”
She had transitioned into her soothing, calm-me-down voice. “You can win this. You can do this, right? And if there is a problem, we’ll just blame it on a temporary medical problem that the doctors haven’t figured out yet, but I’m sure they will soon.” I was calming down. I could do this. “No one can get mad at you for having a medical problem, right? And you’re going to win it anyway.” I could do this. I was going to win this.
I found out that she had set up brunch plans for an hour from now, so we finished getting ready. I was very conscious of holding my bladder, and I went to the toilet every 10 minutes, even though I hated going into the bathroom. It just felt wrong.
Her parents only lived 20 minutes away, and I have rarely concentrated on one thing for so long. Hold my bladder. Hold my bladder. Hold my bladder. Do not lose focus. Any conversation my wife attempted to start I ignored, and after a few minutes she stopped trying, with a smirk on her face. Hold my bladder. Hold my bladder. I could do it. Hold my bladder.
I had never before been so grateful to pull into my in-law’s driveway. I made a beeline for the guest bathroom to drain the few drops that had accumulated since I left home. When I went again 10 minutes later, just as the mimosas were being distributed, my mother in law looked at me curiously. When I went for a third time just 15 minutes after that, brunch was being laid out on the table and I felt her eyes on my back. The fourth time, in the middle of eating, I saw my wife and mother in law whispering when I returned, stopping suddenly when they saw me.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what they were talking about, but what was I going to do? I was very worried that if I didn’t go often, I’d end up having an accident. That was, I was sure, worse than being talked about.
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I almost made it. I was so close. We were starting to make our excuses about the busy day we had ahead of us. It was probably the second mimosa that did it. Damn alcohol. I was sitting on the couch when my wife’s eyes went wide, staring at my crotch. I froze. I could feel it releasing, and as much as I tried I couldn’t clench. Luckily, there was not much there, and the damage was limited to a very obvious wet spot.
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry!” My wife said rushing to my side. She guided my shocked self quickly into the bathroom, leaving my in-laws staring in shock behind me. I was almost in tears. I had just peed myself in front of my in-laws. I sat down on the tub and my wife sat beside me. “It’s OK. I already told my mother that you were having some problems, which is why you’ve been running to the bathroom so often.”
“But I just wet my pants in front of them.” I had a thought. “Urm… did you bring anything I can change into?”
She paused. “No, I didn’t. I’ll get something from my father. Let me have your wet stuff and I’ll do a quick wash and dry.”
Running a load of wash would take a while, and I just wanted to get home. “Let’s just go. Please. I’ve had enough.”
There was a gentle knock on the door. My wife went to answer it, and I heard her and her mother talking in hushed tones just outside the door. Not so hushed, though, that I couldn’t hear parts of the conversation.
“…didn’t realize it was so serious… …just have to get him to the car and get home…”
“…seeing a doctor… very embarrassed…”
“…from your grandfather… in the garage… be OK…”
“…I’ll ask…”
My wife came back in, closing the door behind her. She looked at me. “My mother would like me to ask you if you’d like something to wear home.” She paused. “There’s still a pile of stuff from when my grandfather passed away in the garage. There are some Depends. I told her you wouldn’t want to use that.”
I didn’t even reply. I just looked at her. Was she crazy? There was no way in Hell I was going to wear her grandfathers Depends. It didn’t look like she expected me to agree, and she handed me a hairdryer from the closet before she went outside to talk to her mother again. I pulled off my shorts, and a minute under the hot blast from the dryer removed the wet spot. After I replaced my shorts, I replaced the hairdryer in the closet.
“… get a pad for the seat…” “… I’ll be right back.”
Her mother was just leaving as I opened the door. She looked back by reflex, but quickly turned back around and headed for the garage. My wife was waiting.
“I’ve already said goodbye, let’s just head for the car. My mother is going to get a something to protect the car seat. Just in case.” She took my hand, and lead my embarrassed and numb self to the front door. Her father was nowhere to be found, and we quickly exited to the car. Her mother was already there, placing a disposable chair pad on the car seat. I assumed it was from the garage, but I didn’t ask. A half-used bag was on the ground, and she picked it up and placed it in the back seat.
The big hug from my mother-in-law was unexpected. She’s not normally the touchy-feely-huggy type. She looked me in the eyes. “I’m sorry that you’re having problems, but it’s OK. You’ll make it through it. You’re still young, so just do what you need to do to figure out what’s wrong, and everything will be OK.” She glanced over at my wife, and lowered her voice to where only I could hear it. “You know, it’s not the end of the world if you have to wear a little protection against dribbles now and then. You’re not the only one in the world that has had problems, you know.”
My mother-in-law smiled at me. “Just take care of yourself, OK?” She gave me a hug, and I mumbled something thanking her for breakfast and sorry about the excitement and everything as I slumped into the passenger seat on top of the disposable chair pad.
The drive home was quiet, and I concentrated on not having a second accident. When we arrived home, I went and took a shower, alone, to try to rid myself of some of the dirty feelings I felt. I had wet my pants. In front of the in-laws. And I only had one strike left.
I went into my office to find some peace, but only found a long list of bugs from work that had been assigned to me. I just didn’t want to deal with that on the weekend, particularly this weekend. Even the tech websites that I browsed for a break weren’t interesting. After 15 minutes I started toward the bathroom, but I almost decided that I didn’t need to go. I just felt wrong walking by the open bathroom door. I forced myself to go inside and let out the few drops that had accumulated.
Every 15 minutes I did the same, for the whole afternoon. For dinner, I had only water, and kept the fluids to a minimum. I was looking forward to sleeping in the same bed with my wife, but she begged off with a headache and I found myself back in the guest bed with the plastic mattress cover, “You know, just in case…” The diaper pail was still there, and I opened the window to allow the room to air out a little more. I read for a while, and turned out the light. I hadn’t lost yet, but I was down one strike and barely 12 hours into the test.
The End of The Trainer – Chapter Ten.
If you want to read more stories about ABDL boys you can find a list here: Diaper Boys – Index