A Sissy's Progress - Chapter Nine

"Mommy, please may I have lunch now? 🥺"

I eye the open document before me, hoping against hope that she'll relent and give me a break from this interminable morning. My diapers are cool and bulging with the weight of my innumerable accidents, my tummy is gurgling and growling with hunger, and well... To be honest, I want some attention.

It's lonely in here alone with myself and my depressing memories. Maybe it's the fact that I'm telecommuting these days. Maybe it's the fact that I'm far too embarrassed to hang out with my former friends, or even to frequent places where they might spot me. You see, there's a telltale bulge in my pants now that is far too large for any of them to overlook, not to mention some other distinctly humiliating changes...

But there's no answer. Not even the blinking of a cursor to show that she's looking at the open document.

My lonely, overactive, sex-deprived imagination is only too ready to supply the sordid mental images that might explain Mommy's current absence. There she is, lying enticingly on the bed, her bare thighs spread wide as if in welcome... Oh, she would feel so incredible beside me, beneath me, around me...

My cock twitches helplessly in its urine-covered cage, and I'm brought abruptly to my senses. I'm nowhere in that picture - or if I am, I'm crawling on the floor, looking longingly up at this beautiful naked woman, now more mommy than wife, expertly wielding her wands and dildos in solo orgasmic pleasure. She is in a world of her own now, and I can only dream of reentering that paradise from which I am now barred...

Okay, enough with the crybaby sentimentality. Maybe if I keep writing I'll have something she'll really like when she gets back...

***

That was when things really started to go downhill for me, I guess. I was far too mortified to discuss things calmly and rationally with Erica in the aftermath of the Halloween night party, and for her part, she truly didn't seem to know what to do with me. Which was understandable. Sure, I did protest once about how the zipper on my stupid costume had gotten stuck, but she merely retorted in clipped tones that that was the sort of excuse she would expect from a four-year-old. It's not like I was a grown man or anything and could have been man enough to ask her for help...

God, I hated it when she was right.

I was angry with myself, too. Why on earth hadn't I asked her for help? Or one of the other guys? Why had I even imagined that these stupid cotton "training pants" could hold even a quarter of a full-grown man's swollen bladder? Sure, I could try to blame the alcohol, but even I knew that was an evasion. I had been fully sober when the incident—okay, accident—happened. And I had to live with that knowledge.

So maybe it wasn't all that odd when, maybe three or four days afterward, I came home to find Erica regarding me with a grave expression. "Shane, let's sit down," she ordered, rather than suggested. "There's something we need to discuss."

Ooh, that's never a good start to a conversation, is it?

"I've been thinking over what we need to do with you," she began. "With you and that dribbly bladder of yours, I mean." I opened my mouth to protest, but she plowed on regardless. "I thought that something like your training pants would be enough, but after last Friday... Well, they're clearly not."

"But that was an accident!" I protested, my shame-fueled temper rising. "I know damn well when to use the bathroom, Erica, and-" She held up a warning finger. "Shane, please shut up. I'm not convinced you do. We've talked about this, remember - and you have yet to give me any good reason why you shouldn't have just asked for help with your zipper." She sighed deeply and shook her head. "And so, I have to conclude that I simply can't trust you to use the bathroom like a man anymore."

I snorted in derision. "Oh, really? Erica, you know that's not true-" "Would you listen!" she snapped - and in that moment I knew I'd gone too far. "Shane, I've had just about enough of you. You cheated on me, and I was nice enough to take you back as long as you wear that cage of yours. You've started peeing your pants now. You say it's all because of the cage, but I have no reason to think that that's any more true than any of your other lies and excuses."

I gulped, cowed by the anger oozing from her every word. "And that's not all," she continued, rapping her nails for emphasis. "I have the decency to bring you along with me to a party of my coworkers—to whom, let me tell you, I've been very careful not to even mention a word of your infidelity. And what do you do?" Her voice rose in frustration. "You stand there in front of one of my best friends and piss yourself like a toddler, all because you're too stupid and lazy to ask for help!"

A sigh escaped me. My cheeks were flaming, and though I too was angry, the weight of Erica's righteous indignation prevented me from speaking. She was right, and I was wrong. And I, the cheating husband, hadn't a leg to stand on...

"Which is why I've taken the liberty of finding a better and more fitting kind of underwear for you."

I glanced up, disturbed by the odd note of triumph and schadenfreude in her voice. "Wha-" "Come with me," she ordered - and then her hand was on my wrist, nails digging into my skin as she dragged me imperiously toward the bedroom. "I need you to see what you're going to be wearing now..." God, what on earth had she dreamed up now? There couldn't be anything more embarrassing than those training pants, surely...

Oh, yes, there could.

There they lay: an entire stack of white rectangles, resting demurely in my dresser drawer where my boxers and briefs had so recently been. I suppose my brain knew instinctively what they must be, but in that confounding moment I found no words to articulate what I was seeing. "I- Wait, wha- You mean-"

Erica was grimly surveying the open dresser. "Oh, yes, I think you know what those are, Shane. They're diapers." She plucked one out and turned it this way and that, thoughtfully. "Oh, I know. Folks like to call them 'briefs', or 'Depends', but I think we both know better. They're big, bulky, embarrassing diapers: just right for a guy who still pisses his pants in front of everyone." She drew breath and narrowed her gaze on me. "And I've decided. You're going to be wearing one of these every time we go out now - just in case you decide to embarrass yourself - and me - like that again."

Oh, hell no.

I found my voice then. Caged I might have been. Cheating I might have committed. But it was going to be a cold day in motherfucking hell before I ever let my wife put me in one of those disgusting things. And I told her so, in no uncertain terms. "You have no right to treat me like that," I maintained hotly, my voice quivering with anger. "This is spousal abuse- This is not even- Erica, how could you?"

She seemed genuinely taken aback by my outburst. "Shane. Shane? Please don't be angry. It's not that I want to hurt you, honest." I felt my sudden anger evaporating at the sight of her softening, troubled expression. "Shane, I'm just trying to do what's best for you, and best for us. Okay? I know you're having trouble, and I think I've found a solution. So don't be mad with me, please..."

I sighed once more, my eyes drifting back down toward the offending white rectangles before me. "Yeah. I know, honey. I know. But really... the solution you ended up with is diapers?" I shook my head in rueful disbelief. "It's just absurd..." "As is a grown man leaving a puddle of pee beneath him," she reminded softly, her arm slipping around me. "So listen, honey. I do think this is for the best. It's not the end of the world, I promise. It'll only be when we're out in town. You'll be wearing your jeans and coat and everything anyway, and no one will ever suspect a thing..."

And then she said it: the magical words that spelled my doom. "Oh, and how about this, honey? I'll be more than happy to unlock you... if you agree to put one on for me."

My breath hitched. "What? You mean-" Erica nodded, a knowing smile beginning to play across her lips. "You heard me, big guy. It only makes sense, right?" Her hand wandered down to gently knead the front of my jeans. "That cage is there to make sure that dick of yours doesn't get you in trouble. But really," and here she giggled softly. "Somehow I don't think you'd be caught dead lowering your pants for another woman now... Not if you knew she'd see you wearing a nice big diaper. Hmm? Am I right?"

God dammit, she had a point! And oh, how badly my stiffening, sex-deprived cock longed to be free, no matter the cost...

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Um, well...