Not Quite An Accident

Chapter 21
Epilogue

Over the next year Brad slowly earned his big boy privileges back through good behavior and a small bit of begging. He was eventually allowed to toilet train again, though he spent a great deal of time in the training pants before finally graduating to his treasured underwear, though he stayed firmly in diapers at night. His mother of course made sure that the underwear, and his night diapers, always had the cutest possible prints on them for her little boy.

He was generally well behaved as well, especially because he knew the punishment for transgressions. No matter how well he did behave he spent a few days out of the year in diapers regardless. He went for check ups with Dr. Walsh often where she asked if he was being good, and how he was feeling, and so forth, and he would often just talk to her about things that had little baring on his medical status, which she seemed to put up with, if not always enjoy the conversations.

The doctor was generally quite busy, working as a consultant for a large company called Lornian, but she always made time to thoroughly look over her first and favorite boy patient. On his visits she’d go about making sure he was pooping often enough (she never did use medical terms with him) and of course ensuring that he would be able to provide a urine sample for her. Brad had pointed out once or twice that he could pee without her aid, but she always preferred to make sure, so much like the lollipop she placed in his mouth when he left, it was also a tradition that when he entered her office she’d make sure he drank a liquid diuretic syrup washed down with a glass of water.

Then, depending partly on the tests she wanted to run, and partly on how she was feeling that day, the doctor would either catheterize him to get her sample without having to wait or fuss, or coax him into peeing in a cup for her while she held both it and his penis, to avoid splashing, of course.

Brad would be diapered after this, the doctor explaining that the diuretic would make it hard to keep from wetting, and that she liked hearing him scamper around in the rustling diapers anyhow. He never did like the catheter as peeing stung a bit after it came out, but diapers, for him, were just a fact of life. The doctor didn’t even ask about his bedwetting, indeed she would have only been concerned if he had showed signs of stopping his nightly habits, which he never did.

Something he did do, however infrequently, was get in to mischief. Dr.

Walsh put this down to a chronic condition called “being a boy” and his mother concurred. Most of the time he didn’t mean to, so Mia didn’t get on him too bad. But once in a while, such as the day he came home from his special baby school with an F in science after barely passing with a C minus the previous course, she had to set an example. Brad knew anything that happened at school would get back to his mother nigh immediately, so he had begged to be given extra credit assignments, make up any work he’d missed, anything. Nothing brought his grade above the needed threshold.

His mother patted the couch as soon as he came in and he knew he was in for it as he sat down.

“Brad, I know you tried your best, your teacher told me so… Maybe it’s just not a good subject for you. But we need to help you out, and I told you I was going to have to punish you if you messed up your grades much worse than last semester.” Brad gave a meek nod and she sighed a bit. “Do you know what mommy has to do?” She asked. Another nod. He was suddenly fascinated by his feet.

“I’m not going to make you be an infant because I know you really tried…. But you’re going to have to be a diapered toddler for a day, and then you can wear your trainers while we work out some tutoring for you for the next week or two. Do you think that’s fair?” Mia asked, this time expecting an answer.

“Yes mommy…” Brad said softly, relieved that he would at least still have some of his big boy privileges. Being treated as an infant was the worst punishment he could get and he very almost never incurred it. As a toddler he could at least walk and not have to suck the pacifier, and eat normal food… all good things.

“Ok then. Go get the changing table set up.” Mia said softly, sending him on his way with a swat on his bottom. Brad hated this part worst of all and lamented at his task as he walked out of the living room past the play pen his mother kept there as an ever present threat for misbehavior (he told his friends it was because she sometimes babysat, but they all knew, since they endured such treatment at times as well). For the rest of his punishment his mom would handle getting his diapers on, and sometimes his trainers, and of course she’d clean him up for a while, but the first time he was diapered at the start of the punishment he always had to get things set up so he’d know what was coming.

Brad walked to his room and opened the drawer that he only ever opened once in a blue moon, when he deserved what was inside. He took out an arm full of things and then cleared off his dresser of batman throw blanket he had over it, revealing the railings and pad. He put the baby powder and Vaseline up, as well as the oil and baby wipes.

Everything was in its place in the drawer, and his mother expected it to be in its place on the changing table. He groaned as he set the thermometer down, more toward the rear, hoping it would be missed.

He set out the diaper rash cream as well, he might need it. Brad didn’t ever try to hold his messes when he was diapered, he knew too well that his mother was capable of making sure he used the diapers properly, and it would only make her mad if she had to. Oh, and there were the diapers… He checked once to make sure everything was organized, and then went back to the chest of drawers.

He slipped the crinkly white thing off of the top of the stack that had been beside the baby wipes, the shorter stack, not the thick one meant for night time. He whimpered as he saw it and shuffled his feet, wishing she’d just let him go straight to the dinosaur print training pants that were so easily within his reach. Even the thin diapers were so much thicker! As he walked over to set up the last part of his punishment and unfolded the diaper, Brad caught the distinctive soft, plastic and sweet smell of it and for a moment he couldn’t help but smile, something about it was just comforting. His mother watched from the door way, proud of how quickly he’d done as he was told. He turned to look at her with a slight pout and she couldn’t help but kiss it away from his face even as she lifted him to sit him on the changing table, remarking on how big her little boy was getting.