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OK, got a big chunk of it done tonight, and here it is. We pick up immediately after Danny witnesses his first Pratima diaper change.
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Once we got there, we momentarily forgot about getting dressed, as I gave the Pratima’s swaddled tushie another squeeze. Like a couple of horny teenagers, we ended up on the bed for about ten minutes of making out, me being careful to not induce another orgasm from the doctor. I wanted to save the next one for when we both could enjoy it.
We got up and put our clothes on. Pratima got into a cream-colored tunic with matching pants. Once again, the tunic did not conceal her diaper bulge, which was not quite as prominent as the night before, but still visible. Then we headed to the rocking chair near the windows. I hadn’t noticed before how big it was - big enough and sturdy enough, in fact, to comfortably hold both of us. We would be spending a great deal of time in that chair, starting with that late Saturday morning.
We sat quietly for a few minutes, Pratima’s head resting in its soon-to-be-familiar place on my right shoulder. Soon, she spoke.
“You really were not offended by not seeing my soiled body, Danny. That makes you a very, very special person.”
“Thanks, honey. I’m a special guy for a very, very special lady.”
“Danny,” she continued, “I believe you were…uh…aroused by seeing me in that condition?”
Busted.
“You have an…appreciation…for women who soil themselves.”
Pratima Patel, psychologist, had figured me out. No sense in denying it. May as well get it over with.
“Yes.”
By this time, I shouldn’t have been surprised when she kissed me, but I was. And of course she started with the crying.
“Danny…I have waited all my adult life to meet someone like you…someone who loves me not just despite my incontinence, but also because of my incontinence….”
“And I have waited so many, many years to meet a lady who doesn’t mind having a messy diaper. We are each other’s dream person, Pratima.”
“Soulmates, Danny. I want very much to surrender my virginity to you.”
I hugged her tightly. “That’s another thing we have in common, babe.”
“That does not surprise me, Danny. A man with your…interests will have a difficult time finding a partner for intercourse.” I was getting used to Pratima’s formal manner of speech. “Of course, so will a woman with my affliction. But we have found each other. Our first intimate moment must come soon.”
“But there’s a problem, dear. When you have to poop, do you have any warning at all? Any cramps or pressure?”
“No,” she said, blushing. “I do not realize I need a bowel movement until it is happening.”
“Well…I’m sure you don’t want to get these nice bedclothes dirty.”
“How will we manage?”
“I have an idea…”
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After discussing my idea, we decided to go out for lunch. We’d spent the morning kissing and cuddling and talking, and had skipped breakfast. Even after the previous night’s feast we were pretty hungry. Coincidentally, since there was no new food to stimulate her system, Pratima’s diaper remained clean for a bit longer than usual. A situation that would soon change.
We walked to a nearby sub shop. Without her concealing sari, her waddling gait was somewhat more obvious, as was her diaper bulge. While waiting for a light to change, I gave her a quick, soft pat on her bottom, inducing a giggle and an equally quick peck on the lips from her.
At the restaurant Pratima insisted on treating me. I began to order a half cheese-steak sub with fries and a soda, and she scolded me.
“Danny, you may have as much as you would like. If you want a large sandwich, please ask for one.”
No point in arguing with the doctor, so I changed my order to a full sandwich and double fries. Pratima got a typically large meal that included her own full-size cheeseburger sub, AND a cold-cut sub, AND a basket of fries smothered in onions and gravy. She also asked for a container of hot water for her tea, which she brought with her. I ended up with about a third of the cold-cut, not because she was full - Pratima Patel was almost never full - but because I commented on how good it looked. She then ordered me a half cold-cut of my own, and I re-upped on fries.
After more than an hour of eating and small talk (and a happy, generously-tipped waiter and cashier) we sort of staggered back to her place (she managed to both waddle AND stagger). All that food was making us sleepy. Up the stairs to the bedroom, where we lay down for another round of cuddling, me again being careful not to arouse her posterior erogenous zone. Before long, her dormant intestines awoke, even as she began to doze off, and Pratima started to mess. I dropped off a few minutes later.
It was after three p.m. when Pratima woke me up; she was running her fingers lightly over my chest.
“Danny…”
“Yes, baby?”
“It is time for me to change my undergarment. Would you like to help me?”
I reached around and patted the seat of Pratima’s pants. The diaper underneath did indeed feel rather full.
“Sure,” I said. “Let’s go.” But, of course, Pratima sat up on the edge of the bed to invite a little more cuddling, which I obliged. Ten minutes later we were in the bathroom again, repeating the diaper-changing ritual from earlier, with somewhat less poop. This time, everything stayed within the Molicare, and after she was cleaned up she put the same terry pants back on over the new diaper.
We spent the rest of the afternoon and the early evening on a tour of Pratima’s massive townhouse, with its rooms filled with elaborate decorations and artifacts, many of which had fascinating stories associated with them. The doctor delivered her narratives with enthusiasm, pleased to have someone with which to share this history - and her history. She told me of her childhood in Patna, India, with her parents and many brothers and sisters. She told of her travels around the world, during which she collected the tchotchkes that filled her home. I realized that her passion for collecting filled a great hole in her life, a hole caused by her inability to find a partner. But now, she had a lover - one who was hell-bent on filling a certain other “hole” in Pratima’s life.
During the tour she paused a few times to use her diaper. I noticed that along with her usual gingery aroma, there was another, more pungent smell. All the fried onions she’d had with her lunch were starting to come through.
Another thing I noticed that in all those rooms, there had been no TV sets. Not in her living room, or even her bedroom. The only screen I’d seen was a small portable in Leisha’s kitchen. There was also no evidence of a sound system or music collection - not even a piano. Finally, no computers. Being a tech geek, I wondered how Dr. Patel entertained herself at home.
On the third floor, directly above the bathroom, was a room of similar size, with large windows facing west and north. Despite its position, I just knew that no smells from the toilet would find their way up here.
“This would be a cool room for my ‘office,’” I told her.
“Office?”
“In my living room I have two computers.” Pratima’s eyes widened noticeably at that announcement. “I also have my home entertainment system, and lots of music and videos. My books are in there, too. It’s really cramped, though. I was imagining what it would be like if my things were in this room.”
She smiled. “Very soon, you will know what it would be like, Danny.”
“Um…yeah.”
“I will show you the basement at another time. Right now I would like to have some tea and a small snack. Please join me in the kitchen.” And down we went, two tall stories, to Leisha’s realm, where Pratima filled two mugs with water and put them in the microwave. In the fridge she found a box of Entenmann’s apple puffs, which happen to be one of my favorite noshes. I swore that Pratima was not only a psychologist, but also a telepath.
As we drank and ate (again!), she asked me why I had two computers. “Well,” I told her, “one is mainly for surfing the internet, and the other is used for processing sound and video.”
“Processing…?” She seemed confused.
“I can make my own CDs and DVD video discs on the second computer. Also, I have a large collection of LP records, which I’m copying onto CDs. The software programs to do that are on the second PC.”
“’PC’?” It was obvious that Pratima Patel was not very tech-lterate.
“Personal computer. The type of computer people have in their homes and many offices.”
She thought for a few moments, and then said, “I am intimidated by computers. We have them at the hospital, but my staff is tasked with working on them. I do not have one in my office.”
“Now, you have a boyfriend who can help you learn to use one. If you want. It’s not very hard, once you get past your initial fear.”
Pratima smiled and squeezed my hand. “Yes, I want that. Quite much. And your ‘home entertainment system‘?”
“TV, VCR, disc player, and a sound system that can surround you with sounds from a movie. It can also play records and other music.”
“It must be interesting. You must show it to me soon.”
“Don’t you have a TV?”
“There is one inside the armoire in my bedroom.” I’d seen the huge cabinet earlier, but figured it just had more clothes or other stuff.
Soon, we’d finished out tea and “crumpets,” each of us killing three of the apple puffs. Then back to the living-room settee for more of you-know-what…
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Once we got there, we momentarily forgot about getting dressed, as I gave the Pratima’s swaddled tushie another squeeze. Like a couple of horny teenagers, we ended up on the bed for about ten minutes of making out, me being careful to not induce another orgasm from the doctor. I wanted to save the next one for when we both could enjoy it.
We got up and put our clothes on. Pratima got into a cream-colored tunic with matching pants. Once again, the tunic did not conceal her diaper bulge, which was not quite as prominent as the night before, but still visible. Then we headed to the rocking chair near the windows. I hadn’t noticed before how big it was - big enough and sturdy enough, in fact, to comfortably hold both of us. We would be spending a great deal of time in that chair, starting with that late Saturday morning.
We sat quietly for a few minutes, Pratima’s head resting in its soon-to-be-familiar place on my right shoulder. Soon, she spoke.
“You really were not offended by not seeing my soiled body, Danny. That makes you a very, very special person.”
“Thanks, honey. I’m a special guy for a very, very special lady.”
“Danny,” she continued, “I believe you were…uh…aroused by seeing me in that condition?”
Busted.
“You have an…appreciation…for women who soil themselves.”
Pratima Patel, psychologist, had figured me out. No sense in denying it. May as well get it over with.
“Yes.”
By this time, I shouldn’t have been surprised when she kissed me, but I was. And of course she started with the crying.
“Danny…I have waited all my adult life to meet someone like you…someone who loves me not just despite my incontinence, but also because of my incontinence….”
“And I have waited so many, many years to meet a lady who doesn’t mind having a messy diaper. We are each other’s dream person, Pratima.”
“Soulmates, Danny. I want very much to surrender my virginity to you.”
I hugged her tightly. “That’s another thing we have in common, babe.”
“That does not surprise me, Danny. A man with your…interests will have a difficult time finding a partner for intercourse.” I was getting used to Pratima’s formal manner of speech. “Of course, so will a woman with my affliction. But we have found each other. Our first intimate moment must come soon.”
“But there’s a problem, dear. When you have to poop, do you have any warning at all? Any cramps or pressure?”
“No,” she said, blushing. “I do not realize I need a bowel movement until it is happening.”
“Well…I’m sure you don’t want to get these nice bedclothes dirty.”
“How will we manage?”
“I have an idea…”
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After discussing my idea, we decided to go out for lunch. We’d spent the morning kissing and cuddling and talking, and had skipped breakfast. Even after the previous night’s feast we were pretty hungry. Coincidentally, since there was no new food to stimulate her system, Pratima’s diaper remained clean for a bit longer than usual. A situation that would soon change.
We walked to a nearby sub shop. Without her concealing sari, her waddling gait was somewhat more obvious, as was her diaper bulge. While waiting for a light to change, I gave her a quick, soft pat on her bottom, inducing a giggle and an equally quick peck on the lips from her.
At the restaurant Pratima insisted on treating me. I began to order a half cheese-steak sub with fries and a soda, and she scolded me.
“Danny, you may have as much as you would like. If you want a large sandwich, please ask for one.”
No point in arguing with the doctor, so I changed my order to a full sandwich and double fries. Pratima got a typically large meal that included her own full-size cheeseburger sub, AND a cold-cut sub, AND a basket of fries smothered in onions and gravy. She also asked for a container of hot water for her tea, which she brought with her. I ended up with about a third of the cold-cut, not because she was full - Pratima Patel was almost never full - but because I commented on how good it looked. She then ordered me a half cold-cut of my own, and I re-upped on fries.
After more than an hour of eating and small talk (and a happy, generously-tipped waiter and cashier) we sort of staggered back to her place (she managed to both waddle AND stagger). All that food was making us sleepy. Up the stairs to the bedroom, where we lay down for another round of cuddling, me again being careful not to arouse her posterior erogenous zone. Before long, her dormant intestines awoke, even as she began to doze off, and Pratima started to mess. I dropped off a few minutes later.
It was after three p.m. when Pratima woke me up; she was running her fingers lightly over my chest.
“Danny…”
“Yes, baby?”
“It is time for me to change my undergarment. Would you like to help me?”
I reached around and patted the seat of Pratima’s pants. The diaper underneath did indeed feel rather full.
“Sure,” I said. “Let’s go.” But, of course, Pratima sat up on the edge of the bed to invite a little more cuddling, which I obliged. Ten minutes later we were in the bathroom again, repeating the diaper-changing ritual from earlier, with somewhat less poop. This time, everything stayed within the Molicare, and after she was cleaned up she put the same terry pants back on over the new diaper.
We spent the rest of the afternoon and the early evening on a tour of Pratima’s massive townhouse, with its rooms filled with elaborate decorations and artifacts, many of which had fascinating stories associated with them. The doctor delivered her narratives with enthusiasm, pleased to have someone with which to share this history - and her history. She told me of her childhood in Patna, India, with her parents and many brothers and sisters. She told of her travels around the world, during which she collected the tchotchkes that filled her home. I realized that her passion for collecting filled a great hole in her life, a hole caused by her inability to find a partner. But now, she had a lover - one who was hell-bent on filling a certain other “hole” in Pratima’s life.
During the tour she paused a few times to use her diaper. I noticed that along with her usual gingery aroma, there was another, more pungent smell. All the fried onions she’d had with her lunch were starting to come through.
Another thing I noticed that in all those rooms, there had been no TV sets. Not in her living room, or even her bedroom. The only screen I’d seen was a small portable in Leisha’s kitchen. There was also no evidence of a sound system or music collection - not even a piano. Finally, no computers. Being a tech geek, I wondered how Dr. Patel entertained herself at home.
On the third floor, directly above the bathroom, was a room of similar size, with large windows facing west and north. Despite its position, I just knew that no smells from the toilet would find their way up here.
“This would be a cool room for my ‘office,’” I told her.
“Office?”
“In my living room I have two computers.” Pratima’s eyes widened noticeably at that announcement. “I also have my home entertainment system, and lots of music and videos. My books are in there, too. It’s really cramped, though. I was imagining what it would be like if my things were in this room.”
She smiled. “Very soon, you will know what it would be like, Danny.”
“Um…yeah.”
“I will show you the basement at another time. Right now I would like to have some tea and a small snack. Please join me in the kitchen.” And down we went, two tall stories, to Leisha’s realm, where Pratima filled two mugs with water and put them in the microwave. In the fridge she found a box of Entenmann’s apple puffs, which happen to be one of my favorite noshes. I swore that Pratima was not only a psychologist, but also a telepath.
As we drank and ate (again!), she asked me why I had two computers. “Well,” I told her, “one is mainly for surfing the internet, and the other is used for processing sound and video.”
“Processing…?” She seemed confused.
“I can make my own CDs and DVD video discs on the second computer. Also, I have a large collection of LP records, which I’m copying onto CDs. The software programs to do that are on the second PC.”
“’PC’?” It was obvious that Pratima Patel was not very tech-lterate.
“Personal computer. The type of computer people have in their homes and many offices.”
She thought for a few moments, and then said, “I am intimidated by computers. We have them at the hospital, but my staff is tasked with working on them. I do not have one in my office.”
“Now, you have a boyfriend who can help you learn to use one. If you want. It’s not very hard, once you get past your initial fear.”
Pratima smiled and squeezed my hand. “Yes, I want that. Quite much. And your ‘home entertainment system‘?”
“TV, VCR, disc player, and a sound system that can surround you with sounds from a movie. It can also play records and other music.”
“It must be interesting. You must show it to me soon.”
“Don’t you have a TV?”
“There is one inside the armoire in my bedroom.” I’d seen the huge cabinet earlier, but figured it just had more clothes or other stuff.
Soon, we’d finished out tea and “crumpets,” each of us killing three of the apple puffs. Then back to the living-room settee for more of you-know-what…
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