For Her Good

Chapter 9: Carried Away

Though Mari felt foolish for not recognizing Harriet and Roseanna's fling, she knew she could have never guessed the nature of Roseanna's relationship with Matthew. There was nothing about the pairing of a well dressed marketing manager and the equally snazzy salesman that suggested the psychological aesthetics commonly associated with kink. Kink was the realm of the tattooed, the pierced, and the pink-haired. Kink was the bedroom vice of the holistically rebellious. Kink was for the counter-cultural, kink was for those who molded suitability from their fundamental exoticism. And it was for the absolutely depraved, like Mari.

But the couple before her, who exchanged furtive glances at each other as they slipped out of their booth, were the types for whom the world was seemingly made for. Rebels don't become salesmen. And no matter what Mari secretly believed about her flatulent Barbie of a roommate, deep down she still believed that marketing managers only did it missionary.

As they stood together outside of the restaurant, Mari realized there was more to it. Of course there was more to it. She was a dumb baby for not thinking there was more to it.

After passing the hostess and exiting the restaurant, the trio found that the Old District streets were much more crowded than when Roseanna had last lifted her heels and tooted out loud. Matthew took Roseanna by the small of the back and led her to as private a place as he could find in the awakening bustle. He took Roseanna behind some parked cars, away from the livening shop windows and off the main footpaths. Mari followed for a few yards and then hung back to give them privacy. But she remained close enough to be in earshot, and Mari overheard Matthew give Roseanna a very easy choice.

"Go to the bathroom, or we're going back to the Airbnb."

Mari almost wanted to play with herself in her wet diaper. She wanted to do it right there. In the middle of the street and in front of the world.

Roseanna stood on her toes and gave her answer to Matthew's ear, and his ear alone. Not even Mari could hear her. From her respectful distance, Mari could only hear Matthew's replies.

Matthew's replies...and her own pounding heartbeat.

"You've been bad."

And then...

"Yes you have, Rosie."

Each time Matthew spoke, he glanced over to Mari, hoping that she couldn't hear. She pretended not to. She wet her diaper again. It was getting heavy. Even more embarrassing...while Roseanna was making her decisions, Mari was realizing that it was almost time to face one of her own.

Where to poop?

"Roseanna?" Matthew asked, briefly breaking Mari from her spell. Her roommate whined something in reply that Mari couldn't hear.

Mari told herself to stop listening. Roseanna had, in fact, asked for space. So Mari whistled and wandered about the street. She kept the couple in eyeshot and not in earshot.

She thought about the trouble she was going to get into.

Mari would poop in her diaper of course. She thought of Sir. She'd texted Sir just this morning, to prove that she'd been brave and followed the rules and worn a diaper all night. Sir had called her a good girl, and then she'd been out the door and at breakfast she had been a polite girl too by leaving her phone in her tote with her wipes and diapers. However much of a good girl she'd been, though, most of all she'd been a little girl. Wetting and squirming and being so, so horny. Horny over mimosas, horny over eggs. Horny when the coffee began to do its job.

Already, now weeks into her diapering, her butthole was being retrained. Already it asked: Question. Gotta go? Diaper is on. Ok to go? It was not as demanding as the urge used to be when she used potties. She remembered the last day she wore panties, and how people rarely realize how close to incontinence they come when their tush is hovering over a toilet. Pavlov's poopytime indeed. Her few weeks in diapers hadn't progressed that far, no, but her inhibitions had absolutely been undermined. She remembered how her rectum had immediately strengthened when she'd stood in that bathroom and pulled her panties back up. It was that sense that was fleeting. She wasn't incontinent by any means. Not even a fraction as much as Harriet might suspect she was with that one single non-accident that she'd lied about. But her body had definitely changed, and it recognized that the sodden undercarriage of her present diaper needed to be changed anyway. Why not get a two for one? Far from resisting her because she was no longer sitting over water and because something cradled her skin, her bum was eager. On standby, ma'am. Ready to fill that diaper on your command!