You would think the cravings would be punishment enough for being pregnant. They came out of nowhere, at any time, for anything. Abbey remembered that day, maybe two months into her nine month journey, when she had the sudden, undeniable urge to demolish seaweed by the truckload. She hated seaweed. She hated it. For her, it was one of those foods you had once, wrinkled your nose in revulsion, and promptly vowed to never have it again. It made her sick just thinking about it...
...and yet she had gone shopping, bought enough seaweed to get her through the night, and then hated herself for the next few hours as she shoved as much as she could down her throat without choking to death on it.
No? Well, how about the mood swings? Those were pretty shocking. Not long after she got the affirmation that yes, David had put his parasite in her womb, the metaphorical little man in charge of moving the lever from ‘happy’ to ‘grotesquely sobbing’ had gone AWOL. There were days she rose from bed absurdly happy for no reason at all, and then the sight of the beautiful bacon and eggs breakfast her husband had slaved over for her would trigger a fit of uncontrollable hysterics. There wasn’t even anything she could do about it. All she could do was be grateful that David was nice enough to laugh it off with an “I think I preferred your dailies when they were monthlies” comment.
Still not enough? Well, how about having to force a fucking human being out of your vagina while an entire legion of total strangers poked and prodded the most private parts of your body that you have to offer?
Apparently none of that was enough, because Abbey also came down with a severe case of urinary incontinence.
It had hit her near the end of the pregnancy, and although the doctor had assured her that it was perfectly normal for a pregnant woman to lose some or all of her bladder control, Abbey could see precisely nothing normal about a thirty-four year old woman pissing all over herself. The cravings and the mood swings and the bloated stomach were normal. That’s what the movies showed, wasn’t it? That’s what people expected. How many movies were there that showed incontinent, pregnant women?
Abbey could think of none. Not one.
The doctor had recommended a variety of different solutions, and she had had her own opinions about what to do...but David had decided they could have some fun with it.
“Tell you what,” he had said. “I’ll make you a deal. If you wear diapers till your...erm, ‘little problem’ goes away, I’ll let you have some fun at my expense afterwards. Be my baby for a little bit, let me take care of it for you. No one has to know but the two of us.”
That’s just weird, she had responded.
He had shrugged. “Think of it as role play,” he had answered. “People do it, you know. Come on, it’ll be fun! Where’s your sense of adventure?”
Well, whatever. Why not, right? Maybe he was right. Maybe it would be a little fun. Maybe it’d make her ‘little problem,’ as he’d so finely put it, a little more bearable. Maybe she would look cute toddling up to her husband-turned-daddy, her diaper dripping and hanging half down her legs as she shyly tugged on the sleeve of his shirt, mumbling demurely that she had wet herself and that she really, really needed a change before she leaked all down her legs...
That had been three and a bit months ago. Now, lying on the floor as she waited for her husband to come change her diaper for the hundredth time, she didn’t see much that was fun about this. It got old fast, although it had admittedly been fun in its own quaint way at first. She could see why people had this kink. Abbey had discovered that there was a thrill in being totally dependent on someone else, of being subservient to someone else, especially when it involved that someone else interacting with the areas of her body they were interacting with. It had been fun at first...but before long it, it just became her life, and then it was just repetitive and embarrassing. She hadn’t yet figured out what she was going to have him do when she graduated back to big-girl panties, but the thought of ‘it,’ whatever ‘it’ may end up being, was getting her through this.
It had become a ritual of sorts – she would ‘use’ her plastic undergarments, ask for a change, and then he would tell her to go wait in Little Tory’s room. She no longer thought anything of stripping off her pants and lying down on the floor of her daughter’s nursery. It had been three months, she was used to it. When she felt embarrassed, she just distracted herself by pondering all the possibilities she could explore when enacting her revenge. The system worked.
The door swung open and David walked into the nursery holding their daughter. Tory was fast asleep in her father’s arms, but David was making no effort to be quiet. He whistled cheerfully to himself as he crossed the room. He barely glanced at his wife at first, intent on setting the actual baby down in her crib. Abbey gave him a questioning stare when he finally turned his attention to her. David was generally pretty good with kids.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “She needs a fresh diaper. I guess she takes after her mother.” He winked playfully and she flushed, the embarrassment crashing down on her once again. “We’ll have to wake her up in a few minutes anyway to fix that.”
“You tease me too much,” Abbey pouted, crossing her arms indignantly and staring at the roof.
She could practically feel his eyes crawling over her. “In my defence, you did agree to it. “She could hear the smirk in his voice, and she huffed a little in response. This was so unfair. It was bad enough that she had managed to lose control of her own bladder, let alone having to put up with this. Why did she agree to it again?
Because he’ll look good in a dress, she thought suddenly. The idea appeared fully formed and surprisingly attractive. And maybe a stint in diapers himself could do him some good, too...
She jumped a little as he unexpectedly ripped the tabs of her diaper open, the plastic crinkling like a gunshot, but she was a world away turning plans and schemes over in her head. Debating on how far to take it. Plotting to get back at the man she loved. She didn’t even blush when he teased her about the size of her mess as she normally did, and nor did she flinch when he began to wipe down her privates with the baby wipes meant for her daughter. She was in her own universe.
Yes. A dress would be good.
A dress and a diaper.
She smiled to herself.
“I think you’re beginning to enjoy this a little too much,” David said, dumping a metric tonne of powder between her legs. He began to rub it into her skin, just as he had countless times the last quarter of a year. “Would I be correct?”
“Nope,” she answered, still smiling. “Not at all, in fact.”
This had potential.
He didn’t know what he had coming.