She came into the bathroom and said, “Stand up. That’s a good boy. Now step out of those pants. Leave them there on the floor, I’ll get them later.”

She held out her hand as I slipped off my shoes and stepped out to my trousers. “Come on,” she said taking my hand, “Let’s go to your room and I’ll change you.”

“Our bedroom?”, I asked hopefully.

She shook her head sadly and said, “You know which room I mean, Honey. The one you used before your treatments. If you’re going to act like this because there’s a baby around, there’s only one thing I can do. You’re going to have to start wearing diapers again and sleep in your old room. Come on, baby, let’s go. You’re dripping all over the floor.”

“Are you going to tell my doctor?”, I asked timidly as she led me down the hall.

She looked at me and said somberly, “No, Honey. The time for doctors and treatments is over. You’ve had your chance. You’re ill and you’re never going to get better. It’s time we faced up to it and deal with it as best we can.”

We reached the door to my old room and we stopped in front while she reached into the pocket of her pants and produced a large old fashioned key. Pauline unlocked the door and swung it open, saying, “Go on, you know where I want you.”

The room was exactly as I had left it a year ago. Everything was sparkling clean and free of dust. I shuddered as I realized she must be cleaning it once a week to keep it ready for me. I shuffled over to the twin bed sitting stripped to its plastic mattress protector next to one wall. It was offset from the wall about two and one half feet, enough to let her get to both sides of the table while I was laying on it. I lay down on the table on my tummy and she said, “That’s not how I want you Honey. Now be a good baby and turn over on your back.”

“But I’ll get the mess all over me!”, I protested.

“You let me worry about that, baby. Now turn over,” she told me firmly.

I rolled over obediently and waited for her to pull down my filthy briefs. Instead, I head the soft swishing sound of metal on metal and felt something cold against my leg. The elastic waistband popped up and snapped up around my waist and lay limply on my stomach. She moved around to the other side of the table and I felt the leg opening become loose on the other side as she scissored her way through the fabric. “Please,…please don’t cut them,” I begged.

“Why not, Honey? You’re not going to be wearing them again. In fact, you’re never going to wear adult underwear again,” she said grimly.

“I’m sorry. Please don’t do this to me! I didn’t mean it. It was an accident! I did everything the doctor wanted. I even had shock treatments to make me stop. I can’t help myself!”, I whined.

“I know you did, Honey. Do you remember what the doctor said? There are legal limits on the number of ECT treatments a doctor can give someone and you’ve had all the treatments they can safely give you. I know you’ve tried, Honey.” She pulled the front of the briefs down in front and said, “Lift your legs, Honey. You know what to do.”

I pulled my knees back to my chest and held them with my hands as she wiped the poop off of my rear with a babywipe. She shook her head and said, “Oh dear! Just look at what the drugs they gave you to reduce your sex drive did to you.”