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The Date

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I made the mistake of mentioning that I had been naughty for not going to bed on time. It seemed like such an innocent thing at the time, but it turned out to have dire consequences. The person I said it too was a female colleague of mine and the only reason I said it because I was trying to say something to everyone every day. Simply to be a pleasant person.

 

Initially, I had no idea anything was wrong. She simply asked me out to dinner that friday. I wasn't entirely sure whether it was supposed to be a date or not, but because we were going right after work, there was no need to decide. Or so I thought anyway, she asked me to wear something comfortable like jeans or something. "I always see you in your business clothes," she said, "I'd love to see you in something else." That seemed entirely reasonable.

 

I was a bit giddy when friday came around. It had been a while since I had actually gone out with anyone and even though I wanted to make a good impression I couldn't help but squeak. She simply smiled at me and ignored my shaky voice.

 

I had my casual clothes neatly packed in my backpack and when the end of the day came, I disappeared into the toilets to change. The biggest problem was not getting dressed in a confined, but managing to put my business clothes away in such a way that I wouldn't have to spend ages ironing them out. I managed with some patience. Well, not some, a lot.

 

She was already waiting for me by the time I emerged from the bathrooms. She was a schoolbook example of feminine elegance. She wore a knee length skirt, loose and diagonally cut, and a blouse that hid the curves of her hips and breasts and yet managed to accentuate her beauty. Especially her eyes, that seemed to be piercing through me right at that moment. Her smile, on the other hand was heartwarming and comforting, putting me right at ease.

 

She had told me to pick a restaurant and thus I had picked one that was relatively close to where I lived. The restaurant was a cozy one, with a lot of wood in the decor and a sort of homely warm feeling. We both drove their in our own cars, which made sense, as she could hardly leave her car at work. She'd probably need it that weekend.

 

We started talking about work almost immediately, because that was what we had in common, but that turned out to be a bad idea as there was no romance in that topic. Instead, she shifted toward asking me about my lovelife. She played it coy, of course, but it was obvious she was trying to find out if there wasn't someone in my life, or maybe if there were good reason to be or not to be with me. It made me a little nervous, but the second she noticed her thumb was brushing my left hand. I returned the favor, asking if there wasn't someone in her life.

 

"Not rght now," she answered, "the last guy I was with wanted different things. I mean, there's always room for both partners to have their own interests, but we just couldn't make our differences work."

 

I almost said "I'm sorry," but that kind of sounded stupid. Her previous relationships were none of my business anyway.

 

We both ate the lasagne, although hers was with broccoli and mine was with mushrooms. We were both kind of quiet while we were eating, but her eyes seemed determined to figure me out. And maybe I was going crazy, but she looked kind of nervous too. I tried to replicate her move with the thumb caressing the hand, but that did not remove the hint of nervousness, it only magicked another smile on her face that seemed equally as warm as before.

 

We took our time after dinner, drinking another coffee before she asked if we were going back to my place. I wasn't sure if that was the best idea. Every time I had done that on the first date it had turned out to be a one night stand, and that's not what I wanted. On the other hand, it had certainly been a while.

 

I figured I'd see where it went and how comfortable I felt about that. I didn't exactly want to say no to her either, that seemed like an even worse idea than a one night stand. It wasn't actually much further to my place, so I suggested we walk, but she didn't want to leave her car behind. Maybe she had clothes in there if the night went well. Nevertheless I replied: "oh, I actually thought walking would be nice."

 

"Then we'll take a walk after we park our cars. It does seem like a lovely evening for that," she answered with a little sparkle in her eye. To be honest, I wasn't entirely certain what I had done to impress her. Then again, maybe it had just built up over time and the simple fact that there were no big turn-offs was enough to make it seem like a match.

 

In any case, we did as she had suggested. After parking our cars at my little house, we went for a walk. There was a forest close to my home, but that wasn't the perfect romantic place to be after nightfall due to the darkness, so I took her the other way. That meant a lot of houses at first, but eventually we'd come out on the river, which was a big flat grassland that gave you a good look at the stars. Even more so due to the lack of street lighting. 

 

Despite a lack of conversation between the two of us, time seemed to pass quickly, until I noticed my bladder growing anxious. I hadn't gone at the restaurant, and while I didn't really need to go then, we did drink wine with our dinner and alcohol could make you go more than it had any right to. I tried to nudge her back toward my place with "we should start heading back."

 

It didn't take. She gave me a look and said "no, it's nice here, let's stay a while longer. As an incentive she poked me in the side and leaned closely against me. I didn't want to spoil the mood by sharing my predicament. Like I said, it had been a while, I didn't want to screw this one up. So I did what anyone would do in that case and I held it. I could hold out a while if need be.

 

She really took her time enjoying the moment, until at one point she whispered into my ear "I changed my mind. I don't want you to wet yourself out of desperation, I want you to do it on purpose."

 

How would you react to that? I, personally, was dumbfounded and had I had anymore need to pee at that instance, it would've just run down my leg. I didn't though and my bladder simply ached for release. "What?" I asked her, not believing for a second the words I had heard in my ear.

 

"Just go ahead," she said, completely unwilling to confirm what she had whispered in my ear and yet leaving no doubt that she had.

 

That left me with a big choice on whether to accept this madness or not. Accepting it meant taking a risk that I had actually heard what I had heard, but I did really need to go and I wasn't sure I was going to make it back to my place at any point. So I took a step away from her and turned around. I tried to let it go, but it simply refuse to start. I tried again and failed again, my bladder straining as much for release as against it. Definitely madness. I tried to relax imagined I was in a bathroom and finally, after a handful more tries managed to release.

 

"Naughty boy," she said and my stream dried up instantly despite the fact that I still needed to go. I blushed, though you could not see it in the dark.

 

We started heading back to my place instantly. Partially thanks to the cold night, my wet pants became very cold and very uncomfortable rapidly. Was I supposed to say something about that, I didn't know, so I kept my mouth shut and bore the discomfort. I tried to set the pace but she stopped me, refusing to walk any faster. She even made that disapproving noise with her tongue.

 

When we finally arrived back at my place, she took a bag from her car, all the while holding on to me so I couldn't race inside to hide my humiliation. After locking her car she was the one who walked us up to the door. I opened and wanted to rush inside but once again she kept me back and took her time.

 

She found her way to my bedroom all by herself, not bothering to even ask me. She found the light and flicked it on and the placed me in the middle of my bedroom to look at my wet pants. I was quite mortified, even after having done that myself.

 

"Look at you," she said. "You should be in diapers."

 

"What? I'm not a little child," I reflexively answered, like anyone over the age of five would do upon being told they should be in diapers.

 

"And I should put you to bed too."

 

"Nuh-uh!" I replied childishly, and I knew I had made a mistake.

 

She just smiled at me with a triumphant grin. "Riight! So you aren't a little child, are you? Refusing to go to bed, wetting your pants, throwing tantrums?" From an outside perspective she was kind of right. Not that that really made me a child, but it certainly was a good excuse.

 

She opened up her bag on my bed, leaving me standing in the middle of the room, still in my wet pants. She dug through for a few moments and then pulled out a little box that in turn she pulled a pacifier from. It took half a second before she had popped it in my mouth and she was back to pulling things from her bag. First was something white, that I couldn't tell what it was, next was what looked like some sort of nightie. That was probably for her. And finally she pulled out a box of wet wipes.

 

She took her bag off the bed and patted it. "Here, on the bed," she cooed in a far too soft voice for attitude that went with it. Nevertheless, I did as I was told, trying not to look at her the whole way. More and more I was simply embarrassed for having wet myself, nevermind that she engineered the situation. An adult simply should not be wetting himself, no matter what the circumstances were.

 

She began undressing me as if I was a little kid incapable of the task. She told me to put my arms up and then pulled my sweater over my head and then repeated the same ordeal with my t-shirt, rewarding me with a "good boy" compliment when she was done. When she got to my pants she said, mocking surprise, "aww, did you wet your pants?"

 

I could only blush at first, but she was clearly waiting for an admittance of guilt. "I did it on purpose," I said boldly, trying to muster up all the defiance I could.

 

"Oh? Well, if you want to act like a little baby, I'll have to treat you like one I guess," she said.

 

That's when it hit me that the white thing was and always had been a diaper. I didn't recognize it because it was neatly folded up.

 

She pulled off my pants gently, even though that was still mightly uncomfortable as the cold wet fabric kept hugging my legs as long as it could. My underwear came next. I was not turned on at all, not now that I had figured out what was coming. That seemed to amuse her, but it didn't matter, she simply began cleaning my groin with the wet wipes, as thoroughly as she could. She even snuck a finger in my ass for a second.

 

When she was finally done, she opened up the diaper, which turned out to be some kind of pull-up. She didn't even have to make me put my legs through it. I was not thrilled with the idea of wearing a diaper, but I had accepted that was where the night was heading. Why I didn't have a problem with it I'll never know. She tucked my little guy down once it was inside the diaper and then made sure it was snug. It was as soft as a good teddy-bear and I couldn't say it was uncomfortable. 

 

"Good boy," she complimented again as she patted me on the head. "Now, arms up!" 

 

Had I missed something? No, that nightie on the bed was meant for me. At that I did protest. "No. No!" Which was a rather weak protest, but then again, I was an adult man standing in my room in a diaper that I had let her put on me for having wet myself at her command.

 

Which was exactly what she came back with. "Sweetie, you're a little boy who needs diapers and I need to be able to look at your diaper to see if you need a change, so you'll have to wear something I can easily peek under."

 

I wasn't going to win that argument, no matter what I said. How could I, after everything I had already allowed her to do to me? At that point, all that was left for me to wonder was where this was going and how long she would keep it up.

 

When she had finally put the nightie on me, she led me to the bathroom and handed me my toothbrush. She really seemed determined to put me to bed. I was so shocked that I actually released my bladder accidentally and flooded my diaper. I must've given it a glance, because the next second she was taking a look at it. "Aww, that's ok, sweetie," she said, "that's what it's for. Now brush your teeth." She gave me a pat on my bottom to get me moving.

 

She led me back to my bedroom after and did what I had feared. She pulled back the blanket and urged me to crawl into bed. "But, it's still so early," I protested, and then "this isn't how dates are supposed to go."

 

All I got in return was a big smile "aww, but you are tuckered out after everything that happened tonight." That was definitely not a question. "Besides, I'll still be here in the morning, someone has to change your diaper," she said with a wink and a kiss on my forehead. And then she turned off the light and left me alone in my bed, wet diaper hugging my bottom and preventing me from sleeping.

 

I would be lying if I said I didn't like it. There is something about being mothered that makes us feel all safe and wonderful and loved, and once I got over the absurdity of it all, I simply curled up and tried to sleep. That took a while, but I held on to the fact that someone would be there to take care of me in the morning.

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