Chapter 2 – Just trying to help
We walked the “back route” to the Reynolds’s place. Out our back door we can walk across our lawn and go through the gate that joins our yards. We do live at the end of a cul-de-sac but it still keeps any possible drive-by lookers from staring at me.
I did not even get a chance to knock on the sliding glass door. Chuck was waiting for us and slid it open expertly as we approached.
“Hi,” he said, “this is Carlton, your door man.”
I pointed at him as I walked in.
“Rhoda?” I inquired.
He gave me the affirmative and bowed as Carol entered.
Chuck is into little trivia snippets of old TV shows.
Nancy was in the room she used as a sewing room off to our left in the daylight basement. I had always thought this was a nicer house as they had a hill and we really did not. Where we have a full basement, the have the daylight type with one wall exposed to the East.
They have an awesome view through the trees at the mountains and the sunrise.
We have tiny claustrophobic windows. *sigh*
As the three of us crowded the door into Nancy’s domain, I began to get a little apprehensive. I could see shelves and boxes and all sorts of different fabrics. Nancy leaned over and smiled slightly. She could not really talk at the moment as she had numerous pins in her mouth.
A person smiling with pins in her mouth reminds me of those voodoo dolls, you know.
Nancy dropped the pins in her hand and sat straight in her chair, stretching as she did. Nancy Reynolds was a woman that looked like she had born children. Not fat or anything like that, she just had the hips and such that said “this is a mother.”
“Oh I am SO glad you agreed to help me with this, Grant. You have no idea how busy I have been. I have almost been overwhelmed, haven’t I Chuck?”
“Yep,” came the answer back from her husband.
Carol gave me a little push from behind, causing me to stumble into the room.
Nancy leaned forward and looked down at me, standing there. I was not really sure what was expected of me next.
Now Grant, I don’t want you to feel like I am making you do this. I just need to get some measurements from a person of your size in order to get this size of diaper to fit correctly. You understand?”
I nodded, glancing back at my wife. She smiled sweetly.
Nancy continued, “Would you like to see what I am making? I got started because we needed to save some money. Buying disposable diapers adds up SO fast. They add up quick, don’t they Chuck?”
“Yep,” came the answer back from her husband. Chuck Reynolds is a man of few words, can you tell?
His wife took the item she had been sewing from the sewing machine and held it in her hands in front of me, turning it over.
“in the old days, there was the diaper, and you put a plastic or rubber pants over them to keep them from leaking. The system I sell works so much different. I was telling Nancy about it over lunch today.”
She held out the diaper shaped item. It was like nothing I had ever seen. Not like I was around a lot of diapers or anything. As we never had children, I always thought that everyone used disposables.
This had a soft inside liner of cloth that was very porous. Stitched almost all the way around this was a plastic laminated type of fabric. There was elastic in the leg holes and at the back, but the back was not sewn to the inner. There were 3 rows of snaps on each side where the waist went together, giving some adjustment for different size children.
What it created was a pocket.
“I started a company called “”One-der-Bunz” only three months ago and the orders just keep piling up. I only started by offering the ones that are the same size that Amber wears but now some of the moms want them for their toddlers. No offense, Grant. I just never get out and meet anyone else with babies much, being new in town and all. I am just tickled that you would agree to help me.
She looked up at her almost mute husband.
“We are grateful, aren’t we Chuck?”
“Yep” both Chuck and I responded in unison. I gave him a wry smile and the corner of his mouth gave the hint of a smile.
“All I need for you to do is, well, you need to take off your sweatpants there.”
I was a little self conscious as I began to loosen the waistband of the pants. Nancy noticed.
“I did want your wife here, so there would be no possible illusion of “hanky-panky”.”
She winked up at my wife.
“But if you want Chuck to leave while I get your measurements, we fully understand.”
I snuck a slightly embarrassed look up at the big refinery worker. He had the look on his face of a person that was not interested in the least in seeing me in my underwear. I told them I really did not care one way or the other. Most men’s locker rooms had more on display than I was going to be exposing.
I slid my sweatpants down to my ankles and stood by the sewing table, trying not the show that I was slightly nervous about being there. Nancy took her tape measure and wrapped it around my waist.
The entire time she measured me, she talked like I wasn’t even there. She talked to my wife, Chuck watched and I stood there like a doll.
“Carol, these little panties he wears are just darling.”
I blushed more as Carol said, “Aren’t they? We found a mail order catalog for A/R Virus victims with everything Grant would ever need in his size. They are a bit pricey but they do fit well.”
Nancy, without asking me at all, picked me up and stood me on the table. The sweatpants dangled from my shoes.
“Well if there is anything you want for him from now on, you let me know and I can sew it for him,” she continued talking to Carol, “I need to put him up here to get his leg and rise.”
“That’s fine. Do whatever you need to.”
I just stood there trying to be as casual as I could while she “did her thing”. What she did after measuring my leg took me by surprise. Nancy put one end of the tape at the top of the back of my shorts and ran it between my legs, pulling it up tight and read the tape right at my belly button.
I sent a rather confused glance toward my amused spouse. Nancy noticed it and explained, again to my wife.
“I need to get the length that this size needs to be. The diapers go from here in the back,” she drew a line across the top of my jockey shorts, “between the legs and up to just about the navel here. The official name is “rise” but I call it the “length”.”
She wrapped her tape up and put it away, grabbed me under the arms and set me back on the floor. I was glad it was over and quickly pulled my pants back up.
I thought we were done. My wife, on the other hand, wanted to make sure I was as helpful as possible.
“Would you like for Grant to stay for a bit while you cut out a prototype?”
I almost kicked her in the shin. She looked down at me and smiled sweetly.
I melted. I always melt to that smile.
Nancy got all excited. “Would you be able to do that? It would be a huge help.”
I sighed and looked up at Chuck, who had an odd bemused look on his face.
“I guess we could play some pool if you don’t think it will wake your kids up.”
Chuck assured me that the game room was sufficiently insulated and the noise did not carry upstairs at all. With a wistful look over my shoulder at the two women, now deeply involved in conversation over fleece, and followed him out.
I used to be very good at pool. When I was full-sized I could pretty much rule the table. Now after being regressed I had pretty much given up on playing again, but Chuck got me back into it.
He pulled out the step stool as I slipped off my sneakers. The lights flashed inside them as I dropped each one on the floor. Do you know the only sneakers in my size that fit right are the ones that have those silly flashing lights all over? I wear Buzz Lightyear sneakers. One of these days I plan to open one up to find where the battery is and disconnect those silly lights.
After selecting my favorite stick, I unscrewed the top from the bottom and climbed up on the table. Chuck is pretty particular about his table but in order to be able to play he allows me to walk on it if I wear clean socks. When he shoots, I stand at one corner, and then carefully step around the balls when it is my turn. There are times I have to jump out of the way of a ball or 2, but I can hold my own in a good game.
We were in the middle of our second game when Chuck motioned toward the door. There stood my wife with the prototype in her hand.
I had been trying to put it out of my mind. I walked around to where the step stool waited and got off the table. I walked slowly to where she stood, leaning against the door jam.
“I suppose you need to fit that on me?” I asked tentatively.
She nodded, that silly smile plastered on her face. I rolled my eyes back in disgust and nodded.
“Nancy wants to make sure it fits, maybe make a couple of alterations, then see how it does stuffed.”
I cocked one eyebrow.
“Never mind,” she said, “we just need you to pull down your sweatpants again, real quick.”
I complied, slowly. This had not been part of the original arrangements. When I came over here I had been planning just to get measured, not fitted for these things. I stood there with my pants around my ankles as Carol knelt by me and set the diaper open between me legs. She pulled it up and tried snapping one side.
The other side kept falling down as she worked the snaps on the first side. Finally she called for Nancy to come and help her.
Nancy came out, took one look at us and shook her head.
“You have can’t put them on with him standing up. He has to lay down.”
The look on my bride’s face was almost pained. Even she had not counted on putting me in this situation. I could see that.
She stumbled over her words a bit, “I…well…I guess we need to, um, lay him down.”
She looked at me with evident concern.
“As long as you are OK with this, honey. It is not like I am diapering you or anything.”
I was bristling a little by this time.
“It jolly well IS “like” you are diapering me. She wants me to lay on the floor and have you put that diaper on me.”
I looked over at Chuck, totally silent off in the corner of the room. “What do you think Chuck?”
He just shook his head and around to the other side of the pool table to contemplate his next shot. I was left to battle this thing by myself.
I faced the females.
“Look, I understand that your little business needs my help, and I am going to do what I need to help, but I do not need diapers. Understand? Now let’s get this over with.”
I sat back on the floor and lay back. Carol gave Nancy a helpless look, then turned to me.
“Grant, I have no idea how these things work. Nancy should really be the one to fit it on you, don’t you think?”
I just sighed. The whole thing had gone way too far already.
“Yep, you are right. Nancy you might as well put it on me.” I could not believe I said it.
Nancy walked over and knelt at my feet as Carol got out of her way. She lifted the bunched sweatpants and set the prototype under my jockey shorts covered butt. She carefully pulled one side up and fastened the snaps. She repeated the process on the other side.
I wondered if I should get up or something but she began to do a check of the legs and front while I lay there. I waited, trying to ignore her exploring. She then held out her hand and pulled me to a standing position. She turned me around and checked the back.
“How does it feel?” she inquired.
I was mildly surprised. Thinking that it would have the bulk common to diapers, it seemed more like an oddly cut pair of jockey shorts, like the ones I was wearing under the prototype.
“Well, not too bad actually. To be honest they are rather comfortable.”
Nancy exhaled slightly and nodded. She then asked me to walk around a bit to get the feel of how it might shift when on a mobile child. I almost fell on my face as I did, what with my sweatpants around my ankles.
I slipped them off and walked around the room a little bit. Nancy watched with a discerning eye. My dear wife, on the other hand, had nothing but love in her eyes. I knew that she was concerned for my self esteem, and I loved her dearly for that.
I only wanted to help out her client and good friend.
That is why we were all surprised when we heard Jeff greet me from the doorway to the stairs.
“Nice diaper, Mr. J.”
More….always more….