One Step Forward, Two Steps Back (Commission)

Thanks to a lovely anonymous patron for commissioning this latest installment in the Henry, Amy, and Corinne saga!

***

Playing along is all well and good. But you know what? Whether you're a little kid or a full-grown adult woman like me, eventually you get tired of the game. Like I did just last night.

I still can't believe it, honestly – no more than I could this morning. There's no way I literally laid there, fast asleep in bed beside my dear Henry, and actually peed the bed in my sleep like some freaking baby! I mean, sure, I've had my share of accidents now and then. Thanks to these stupid casts on my leg and arm, I've been stuck in pull-ups and even diapers more often than not – you know, just as a precaution in case I can't get to the potty in time. I've even had that one ugly incident when Corinne wasn't around to help me. But actually peeing in my sleep? No. No, no, no. It couldn't have been…

But look: even if it was, it was all because of stupid Corinne! After all, she's been the one telling me that using a diaper now and then is totally fine!

I'm scowling back at her now, my heart sinking as she lowers her shapely, feminine frame to sit on the crackling plastic of my new bed. We're here in the guest room now – my new bedroom, if you can believe it. Because apparently all it takes is one soaked bed for even your own husband to kick you out and into a bed more like a stupid crib than anything.

Which is for my own good, apparently.

"Someone's got the grumpies, huh?" Corinne sweetly cajoles, shaking her head in quiet amusement at the thunderclouds on my face. In one hand she's holding a pastel-colored bowl loaded with mashed potatoes and applesauce and a few chicken nuggets, while in the other she's got a literal sippy cup: you know, the kind with a top and a spout that you usually see snot-nosed little toddlers dragging around with them. "What's the matter, Amy? All hangry for your nummy nummy lunch? Don't worry! Here, do you want a spoon? Or would you rather use your fingies?"

Ugh, puh-lease! "No-o," I mutter back, trying to cross my arms in a moment of forgetfulness over my plaster-encased limbs. "I want a spoon, duh! And I don't like this new bed! Why can't I stay in my own bed with Henry? And, an'-" I sputter off, eyes swerving back to the juvenile meal in her hands. "And why don't I at least get a normal cup? That's a baby cup, and you know it!"

"Amy, Amy, Amy," she sighs, and ignoring my frown, she brings the bowl close and hands me a spoon so I can begin eating. "I thought we both went over this with you this morning! First off, you're literally one step away from the hospital; those bones of yours aren't going to heal properly if you don't give them a good rest and keep them away from any bumps."

She pauses and fixes me with her stern gaze, causing me to gulp unwillingly at the mass of potatoes filling my mouth. "You know Henry doesn't want to hurt you by accidentally bumping you during the night, right? And then there's last night's whole escapade, too! You really made a mess of things, and all for no reason…"

I glare fiercely at her and gesture with my spoon down at the thick bulk between my legs. "But I- I didn't- I didn't do it on purpose-!" "Amy, hush," she commands, and before I can pull back she's thrusting the sippy cup into my mouth. "All of us know exactly what you did. Those diaper tapes don't come loose on their own, you know. And just try to be the tiniest bit mature about this, okay? You know it's just not right to expect Henry to sleep in the same bed with someone who's sick – who takes off her own diaper during the night – and who then has a great big accident and soaks not just herself, but him and the rest of the bed, too! Didn't you see? Even poor Miss Fluffles had to get a bath after how you soaked her!"

"Hmm-mmm!" I retort crossly around the sippy cup's spout, gulping down the apple juice she's giving me even as I feel the truth of her words hit home. Hard as I want to deny it, I really did do all that… didn't I? I'd just thought that for once, I could wake up proud and diaper-less and dry. I could be a grown woman. I could be, you know… normal.

But in the end, of course, all I'd done was proven, yet again, that Corinne was right. I couldn't be trusted. I couldn't stay dry. And most of all, I needed not just the kind of treatment I'd already been getting, but something even more extreme.

"Aww," I protest, pulling back from the cup and poking resentfully at the mush she's holding before me. "But why do I have to be on this stupid loud sheet? And these sheets that are so… so…"

"Adorable?" She giggles, smiling down at the pastel pattern of ducklings and piglets and calves cavorting across the sheets around me. "Well, why ever not? You deserve something nice and bright and cheery – and what's more happy than cute little baby animals? And the plastic sheet… well, that's just to keep the mattress clean and dry. After last night, we both know how necessary that is, Amy – at least until you're back to normal."

So it is, I muse in silent frustration, spooning another big load of potatoes and chicken nuggets into my mouth. Every time I think I've got a valid complaint about how she's treating me – every time I point out how infantile all this is – she just reasons me into the ground. Of course it's not silly. Of course it's not some weird kind of game. It's all temporary. It's all necessary. All for my own good.

And much as I wish I did, I really don't have anything to say back to that.

"Good girl," she commends at last, sending a blush to my cheeks and a fresh knot of frustration into my tummy. She rises from the bed and nods sympathetically down, first at my empty plate and then at me.  "You're gonna be okay, I promise. And remember, it's 100% okay to let folks take care of you, Amy. This is all just until you get healed up, okay? Just until you're all strong and through therapy and everything…"

And then she flashes a renewed, saccharine sweet smile. "Now, then! Who's ready for a little bit more playtime before her nap? I've got a bunch of new toys for you to try out!"

***

I don't know if Corinne gets this, but no amount of bright-colored toys and sweet smiles can possibly compensate for what she's doing to me now, at bedtime.

Not that Henry understands, sadly. Even with my eyes squeezed shut like this, I can hear the admiration and full approval in his voice. "Oh, wow! Aww, those are adorable, aren't they? Look, honey – Corinne found you the most amazing new diapers! You're gonna love these cute designs…" And then, in a lower voice to Corinne, a voice I can barely hear over the thundering crackle of the plastic sheet beneath me…

"How's she doing? Still upset over this morning?"

"Yes, I am!" I wail crossly, opening my eyes at last and staring angrily up at the duo, heedless of the fact that I'm currently lying here with my freshly sponge-bathed princess parts on display. "Of course I'm upset, Henry! I wanna sleep in my own bed, okay? With my own husband! An' I want to be- this to be- to be over!"

Corinne pauses in the unfolding of the diaper in her hands, giving a quick glance at Henry, and then shaking her head in quiet exasperation as she resumes her work. I'm trying not to stare at what she's got, but it's hard not to. That pastel swirl of prints across its front, to say nothing of its startlingly thick bulk, makes it look for all the world like the largest and thickest diaper I've ever seen. "Here, why don't you keep her company while I finish this?" she asks Henry, setting aside the diaper and reaching for what I am pretty sure is a second. "Go on – she needs a distraction…"

"Honey," Henry begins, and as he leans closer I catch a whiff of that wonderful combination of cologne and his body odor I love so dearly. "Listen, I know you're upset. And look, I'm not mad about the wet bed this morning, okay? I know you're frustrated about how long it takes to heal, but…"

I can't help the tears welling up in my eyes, spurred on as well by the sensation of Corinne easing my butt up and settling me down onto what feels like a crinkling pillow. "But Henry," I falter, and I reach pleadingly up with my free hand. "I- Corinne- she's treating me- like a baby- like such a baby-"

He takes my hand and gives it a soft kiss, and I feel my anger melting away despite myself. "Amy, hush," he commands, unconsciously echoing Corinne's exact words. "You're my Amy. I love you. And no matter what Corinne and the doctors say you need, you need. End of question. So let's just do everyone a favor and behave, okay? Like a good girl."

Good girl. Oh, god. I gulp back a tiny sob as I glance down and realize that Corinne is tugging a second, booster-filled diaper over the first that is already tight around my waist. "Good girl," she echoes with a smile, glancing brightly at Henry and motioning down at the double-thick, enormous bulk between my legs. "See? This should keep everything nice and dry tonight!"

"Until she takes it off," he drily comments, with a wry glance at me. I catch my breath, trying to tell myself that he's laughing with me, not at me. It's a joke, just a joke. I was a derp last night, I did screw up-

"Take it off? Not on my watch." And to my horror, out from beneath the bed Corinne briskly produces a set of items, two of which I'd hoped never again to see in my life. For I know them all too well. Thick, fingerless mittens – two of them – with prominent locks dangling from each wrist. And joining them now is a… well, what the heck even is that?

"It's a locking diaper cover," Corinne remarks conversationally, and even as I let out a low wail of frustration, she is undoing the straps and motioning Henry to help. "Because she can't be trusted to leave it alone, that's all. Here, can you lift her for me again? Yes, that's a dear – perfect! Now, just around like this, and up and around like that… Oh, and sure, why don't you get her hands in those while I button this up?"

And only a few minutes later, I'm left blinking through my tears at my freshly bound-up body, both feeling and being more helpless than I've ever been in my entire life. I'm bound in plaster. Bed-fast. Trapped in ludicrously thick diapers that have literally been locked onto me. And even my hands – one of which was already basically useless thanks to my cast – have both been sealed away into the padded prison of these awful mittens.

It's only the beginning of what I already know will become a very long night.

***

I don't know when it happens, exactly. The house is silent, the guest room blindingly dark without even the glowing numbers of a clock. I wake in a spasm of urgency – and for a split second, I feel a wave of triumph cut through my sleep-fogged brain. Hey, I woke in time! I didn't wet the bed! And better yet, I can get rid of this grumble in my tummy, too! I'll just get us and run- to the… potty…

Oh, shit.

I whimper. I even call out into the darkness, not once but twice. "Henry?" "Corinne?" But no one comes. I twist beneath my stupidly cute and crackling sheets. I flap my padded and useless hands against the massive bulge of the locking canvas diaper cover and the double-thick diapers beneath. But in the end, it happens…

And worst of all? When it does come, it comes as a full-on accident, despite my best efforts.

Stupid smelly baby. Poopypants Amy. Dumb little diaper baby, dumping in her diaper. I'm lying on my tummy now, crying silently into the blackness even as my tired bladder gives out and floods my already soiled pants. So what?, I muse in sleepy defeat. So what. I can't help it. They don't want me to help it. Might as well just get used to it. Might as well make a big mess and let them clean it up. Yeah. Clean it up. In the morning. Corinne… morning…

Which probably explains why, when the light finally wakens me, it's accompanied by the low murmurs of my two caretakers conversing.

"You know, I can't thank you enough for handling this all so well. I mean, I get what you're saying about routines and naps and giving her kid-friendly TV and stuff, but as for the rest? Heck, I don't know where I'd even begin if it wasn't for-" Henry's growly morning voice pauses in confusion. "Wait, what's that smell? Did she really, like… mess in her sleep? Is that even possible?"

"Sure did! And sure, of course it's possible. Babies do it all the time." I feel what can only be Corinne's hand dealing my bulging, messy butt an inquisitive squeeze and a pat through the covers, and then a low feminine laugh ripples through the room. "Yep, that's one loaded diaper, all right. Good thing all those layers of protection are keeping that mess right where it belongs!"

She's whispering confidentially now, and in her voice I hear the lilt of amusement and sympathy. "It's just like I told you, see? She's so stressed and so worried that her psychological regression is kicking into high gear. Honestly, at this rate, we might be lucky if we can get her to feed herself by month's end…"

So, yes. I can officially confirm that there is one worse way to wake up than locked up in a loaded and soaked diaper. It's to wake up exactly like that, and to learn from your caretakers that it's actually only the beginning.

(To be continued!)