Sweet little husband 3

And so this story goes its syrupy way... There may be some surprises yet - I like baby men, but all stories need a bit of backbone!



Ian slept for a few hours in his chair that afternoon. Stella let him snooze on, deciding to wake him for an early dinner.

She thought it nice that she was ordering his day a little. Usually, when they were both home together, Ian laid out the program.

Stella woke Ian gently at around 5pm. She noted that the first thing he did was to glance at his crotch. He even dropped his hand discreetly to his groin as he got up. Ian was relieved he wasn’t wet. He didn’t think he would be, but he realised he had been asleep for a while. Stella was pleased at his furtive actions.

‘How are you, sweetie?’ she asked.

Ian almost answered ‘Dry,’ but cleared his throat and said something about needing a drink.

Stella smiled again. Marg had told her that the pills, being diuretic, would increase Ian’s need for fluids. At the same time, they would suppress his perception of the need to urinate. Marg said that Stella could expect some daytime dampness, if not wetting, over the next little while.

Stella got Ian a tall glass of juice.

‘I’m not that thirsty!’ said Ian, as his wife handed him the glass, and thought of his bedwetting. Then he considered the time – only 5pm, and realised that he was quite thirsty. He drank the glass in short order.

‘I thought we might take in a movie,’ said Stella. ‘The Day After Tomorrow’ has just opened at the mall.’

She smiled to herself. It was not exactly her sort of film, and the reviews she had read weren’t all that good, but she had been intrigued by the trailer showing New York inundated by some sort of monstrous tidal wave. Just the thing for little Ian, she thought mischievously.

Ian shrugged.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘Sounds good to me.’

The pair had a snack and headed off. Stella drove – Ian was about to get into his car, but Stella told him she would drive as he would probably prefer to relax. Ian shrugged again, and got into his wife’s car. My call again, thought Stella happily, enjoying her small exercise of authority.

They reached the theatre, and parked nearby. Stella bought the tickets, and soon they stood in the foyer waiting for the previous session to clear. Stella leaned over to Ian.

‘Do you need to go to the bathroom, honey?’ she whispered.

She felt someone nearby looking at her. An elderly lady, who must have heard Stella’s whisper, stared for just a moment too long. Stella enjoyed the moment.

‘No,’ replied Ian shortly. ‘Have you got my ticket?’

‘Here you are honey,’ said Stella, looking up to smile at the still slightly bemused old lady.

The previous audience began pouring out. Ian watched the varied collection of people emerging. Some groups of girls and a few guys made a beeline for the bathrooms.

‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ said Ian.

Despite his earlier reply to Stella, he did feel the need to go. Just as well, he thought, as he stood at the crowded urinal. He had to hurry to lower his zipper, and enjoyed the relief as he peed into the fixture.

As he pulled the zipper back up, he felt that the front of his underpants were damp. Serves me right for rushing, he thought. He glanced in the mirror as he left the bathroom. All was well down there, he noted with satisfaction.

The movie rolled on. The story was so so, but the suddenness of the inundation of New York took him by surprise. Stella had not exactly planned it, but Ian couldn’t help feeling a surge of his own as he watched the computerised flood roiling around the familiar landmarks of New York.

He waited for a few minutes for his insides to settle down again, but he found that he still needed to go, quite badly.

‘I’ll be back in a minute, sorry,’ he muttered to Stella, and tried to clamber along the row to the aisle as unobtrusively as he could.

He reached the door of the auditorium, now quite desperate to take a leak.

‘Excuse me sir,’ a female voice at the door said as he made his way through the blackout arrangements.

‘What?’ Ian said crossly, pulling his pelvic muscles up as hard as he could.

‘Will you be returning sir?’ the girl asked.

Ian blinked, seeing a girl in the red uniform of the theatre staff.

‘Yes,’ he said, and started off.

‘You’ll need you ticket stub, sir,’ the girl said helpfully.

‘I know,’ said Ian. What a waste of time, he thought, transferring his weight from one foot to the other.

By the time he reached the bathroom there were tiny beads of perspiration on his forehead. He felt slightly dizzy, the same way he had felt after a sprint in his college days.

His balder surged again, and for speed, Ian stepped quickly into a cubicle, slammed the door and pulled his pants to his knees as he sat. he began peeing before his buns hit the seat.

‘Oh God,’ he realised with a sick flush.

In his haste, he had hooked his fingers into his the belt of his pants but missed his underpants. He sat, his pee streaming through his briefs. He felt the wetness creeping up the back of the briefs, and could do nothing but sit back and close his eyes.

The stream finished.

He opened his eyes as he heard footsteps. Then someone pushed the door open. It hadn’t closed properly, and Ian shouted that the cubicle was occupied.

‘Sorry,’ came a voice from the other side of the door.

Ian looked around. He just wanted to get out. His pee continued to drip from his pants. It was a weird feeling, as if her were still peeing. There was nowhere to put a pair of wet pants. He wondered what whoever had opened the door had seen. Who cares, he thought, and felt under his crotch. The dripping has stopped and the fabric was wet, but didn’t feel saturated. Ian stood up, pulled his pants back up, and walked as naturally as he could into the bathroom. Someone was at the urinal, and someone else at the handbasins. Ian stole a look into the bog mirror again, and saw nothing untoward. His pants were darkish gray anyway, he told himself. He had to get back to Stella.

He walked calmly back to the auditorium, conscious of his wet underpants, and keeping his legs a little apart. He showed the girl his ticket stub without a word, and made his way back to his seat. Fortunately, the audience was engrossed in the action on the screen, and he reached Stella without making too much fuss. She gave his arm a little squeeze as he sat.

‘OK, baby?’ she asked.

Ian nodded, and stared at the screen.

They stayed for the credits, and the theatre was largely empty by the time they stood up. Ian slid his hand over his seat as he stood, and hoped that Stella wouldn’t see the wet patch his damp underpants had left on the material. She did notice it, and noticed also the round dark patch on the back of Ian’s pants. She was quite startled, but followed Ian along the row to the aisle without comment.

‘Do you want to have a quick drink or coffee somewhere, darling?’ Stella said, looping her arm in his as they left the theatre.

Ian felt the cold breeze chilling his backside. It was mostly dark on the way to the car from here, he thought.

‘No, thanks but I’d rather get home,’ he said.

Stella agreed, and the pair walked to the car. Ian was silent as Stella commented on the film, and stayed silent as she drive them home.

‘Tired, baby?’ she asked as the drove into their street.

‘Mm, I just want to hit the sack,’ he replied. He was wondering whether he could get rid of his underpants by going to bed before Stella.

Stella had made the decision that Ian’s wet pants would not hurt the upholstery of her car, and let him get inside before she broached the subject.

‘Ian did you wet your pants, dear?’ she asked quietly as they entered the living room. She slid her hand over his wet buns as if to confirm her own question.

‘I just leaked a bit, I got held up on the way to the bathroom, it’s nothing. Anyway, I’m going to bed,’ Ian replied.

Anything to avoid this particular conversation.

‘I did remind you to go before the movie,’ Stella said.

‘Stella I did go, ok? I just leaked a little bit later, ok?’ Ian said, raising his voice.

‘You’re quite wet,’ Stella said. ‘But there’s no need to get upset.’

Stella followed Ian into the bedroom.

‘Look, darling,’ she said, restraining Ian slightly and turning him in the bright light in front of the mirror.

Ian’s eyes went to the reflection of his loins in the glass. His pants were dark gray, but the whole crotch was a much darker shade, and as Stella turned him around, he saw a plate-sized dark patch on the back. He felt scared and ashamed, and wanted to tell Stella what really happened. But then she would know how desperate he was. His resistance began to wilt. He wanted her to help him.

Stella began to undo her husband’s belt.

‘Let’s have a look at your undies, honey,’ she said as she pulled down his trousers.

Ian feelings welled up.

‘It was an accident. I really had to go, and I sat down, and I missed my pants, and…’

‘Shh, honey, it’s ok, you just had an accident, it’s what I’m here for, remember?’ Stella cooed.

‘It wasn’t an accident,’ Ian said defiantly, ‘It was, it was…’

He felt desperate for an explanation.

‘Honey, take your shoes off,’ said Stella.

Ian was silent as he kicked off his shoes. Stella held up his pants as he stepped out of them. He was standing in his shirt and his sodden underpants.

Stella continued her reassurances as she removed them too.

‘Honey, why don’t you have a shower, and we’ll get you into bed,’ she said.

Glad of something to do, Ian took off shi shirt and went to the bathroom off the bedroom. Miserably, he washed himself. Either he had wet himself, or had not been able to hold himself while he got ready to pee. Either way it was bad. He peed a little more in the shower, and tried to take his mind off the matter as Stella rubbed him dry. At least she was on his side, he thought. She was still with him, like she said.

‘Do you still need to pee darling?’ Stella asked as she finished drying him.

Ian shook his head.

‘Then we’ll get you into bed,’ said Stella.

Ian felt like an invalid. He turned and stopped short as he saw that Stella had laid out on the bed one of the ‘protective garments’ from his briefcase.

‘Come on, you big baby,’ said Stella with a laugh in her voice. ‘The sky hasn’t fallen, and we don’t want a wet bed in the morning, do we?’

Ian avoided looking at her as he sat where his wife indicated.

‘I can do this,’ he said suddenly, trying to get up.

‘No you don’t, sweetie,’ Stella said, pushing down on his shoulder. ‘This packet says that it may be easier initially for someone else to do this, and I bet you have never put a, a garment like this on anyone, have you?’

Ian shook his head emphatically.

Stella laid him back, and pulled the thick disposable diaper up between his legs. She tugged the tapes tight around Ian’s hips and son had the job finished.

‘There we are, baby, all set for a dry bed,’ she said happily. ‘Do you want to put your jammies on?’

‘My pyjamas,’ corrected Ian. ‘Yep.’

He waited for Stella to get them for him. She made no move, so Ian, blushing, he got up to fetch them from the chair on the other side of the room. He felt himself waddle slightly in the thick diaper, and could not resist looking at his diapered reflection as he passed the mirror. He looked like a giant toddler.

Stella watched as Ian pulled on his pyjamas. He tried to flatten the pants around the tick padding around his hips, but it was quite obvious that he was heavily diapered.

‘Ian, don’t look so miserable,’ Stella told him, hoping he wouldn’t cry again. ‘I told you, I’m here to help you, and, I love you,’ she said, stepping towards him and giving him a hug.

Ian returned the hug enthusiastically.

‘That’s better,’ Stella responded. ‘Now, I want to get my baby into his bed.’

Ian felt strange as Stella tucked him in. She kissed him on the forehead, and brought memories back to Ian of his mother.

‘Poor baby,’ she said as she settled him in bed. ‘I’ll get you a nice drink to help you sleep.’

Ian started to object, but Stella pre-empted him.

“we don’t need to worry about that anymore, do we?’ she said, kissing him again.

Ian lay quietly in bed, trying to come to terms with the facts that he had wet himself, one way or the other, at the movies, and that his wife had just diapered him.

Stella returned with a mug of hot chocolate. Ian was thirsty again, and finished the drink as Stella sat on the bed, reassuring him that the doctor had thought it was for the best otherwise he wouldn’t have suggested the items.

‘Goodnight, baby, sweet dreams,’ said Stella as Ian lay back after finishing the drink. ‘Tomorrow is a new day.’

Ian was asleep a few moments later when Stella returned from the kitchen. Half an hour later, she climbed into bed next to him, and felt the front of his diaper. It bulged warm and gelatinous under her fingers.

‘Goodnight, my baby,’ she whispered into Ian’s unconscious ear. ‘Sweet dreams’.

To be continued.

Here is the degree of details I like: It's good to discover that the first two chapters are just a sort of default introduction. For a moment, I was afraid that you wanted to experiment a "generic" story.

My compliments for productivity: three chapters (6-7 Word pages?) in a row, great!

I'm not sure I even 'experimented' that standard scenario, B. Anyway, I'm happy there's such a perceptive critic out there.

BTW, I' m quite sure that the field of age-play writing (if it can be called that) has as much scope, in the hands of effective practitioners (not including myself in that category), as other imaginative fields of writing, say science fiction. It's a very fertile area, and relates to some deep psychological impulses in people.

It's a pity the field, genre or whatever, is somewhat underground, although every now and then it seems to break into the mainstream, in whole or part - eg in the occasional movie.

I'm going to have a rest for a while, then try to finish off the Naughty Girls, and one or two other stories I have left hanging here. I wrote 'Sweet little husband' as a kind of self-help exercise because I felt stuck in moving on with the other stories.

Regards

Sally