When Clark woke to the feel of a broad, warm, wet spot underneath him, he flung himself out of bed. He looked down in horror at his bedsheets; the light blue had turned dark in the middle, and his boxers were so wet they completely stuck to his skin. He peeled himself out of them and threw them onto the bed, pulling on the fitted sheets to pull everything into a pile. He pulled a dirty pair out of the hamper; he wasn’t about to put on a clean pair right now!
He didn’t know how it happened (again, he believed he was finished with that), but he was relieved that his father was out of town.He’s done so well for years now, and here he was, wetting the bed like a toddler again, and he didn’t even have the excuse of being drunk the night before.
Realizing he needed to be quick, he whisked the bedcovers up and figured he’d tiptoe in the hallway and climb down the stairs without being seen or heard. The washing machine was downstairs, but no one should be up yet. He opened the door and listened at the crack for a minute, listening for any sound, but it seemed like he was lucky enough to be the only one up.
Then he realized that his luck was just as bad as when he wet himself in his sleep as his stepmother Brenda stepped out of her bedroom. She gave him a sleepy good morning and moved around him to head to the bathroom.
“What’s that smell?” Brenda looked at the eighteen-year-old with a scrunched-up face, her nose lifting as she sniffed the air.
Clark imitated a baby bird by opening and closing his mouth as he thought of something to say to her.Maybe he could come up with some possible lies… but no more than a few seconds had passed before Brenda was leaning towards him, taking another deep breath, and pulled back once she realized just what that smell was.
Before she could say a word, he was rushing the words out to ask her to help him.
“Please, Brenda, don’t tell Dad.” He’s going to be so mad about this; I used to do this a lot when I was younger. He nearly reached out to touch her on the arm but had to clench down on the bedcovers, his fists tight enough to turn his knuckles white.
“Please, you can do anything to me, but please don’t tell my father.” His shame nearly choked him, but he would do anything to make sure Dad never heard about this happening again.
“Hey, it isn’t so bad.” Brenda cupped his chin. “Cheer up. You said you could do anything for me not to tell your dad.” She asked to be sure.
“Yes, anything,” he answered without looking up at her.
“Well, this would be easy and taken care of as long as you let me put you in diapers. This kind of thing isn’t that uncommon for boys your age.” She spoke with an easy smile, as if what she said made any sense (which it did, but Clark didn’t want to admit that).
“What? No!” Clark yelled, not believing his ears. What do you think he should do? Click here to read the rest, and call me to talk about what you would do!
#forcedtoweardiapers #humiliation #bedwetting #incontinence