Chapter 6: The New Order The husband stood naked in the living room. His discarded work clothes lay in a heap near the hallway where he'd torn them off after realizing the futility of keeping them on. Paige had donated everything else. The pile of infantile clothing sat on the coffee table in front of him like an exhibit at a museum. A thick white diaper with cartoon animal prints covered most of the surface. Yellow ducks and blue elephants marched across the padding in cheerful rows. Plastic panties sat folded beside it, translucent enough to see through but thick enough to crinkle. A pink onesie completed the ensemble, the fabric looking soft and stretchy with some kind of metal loop visible at the crotch area. He stared at the items without moving. His throat had gone dry about ten minutes ago when Paige first showed him what she'd laid out. The air conditioning made goosebumps rise on his arms and legs. Standing here without any covering at all made him acutely aware of how vulnerable he was. How completely she'd trapped him. Paige sat on the couch with her phone in hand. She held it up so he could see the screen clearly. An email draft filled the display. The subject line read "Personal Update" in bold letters. The recipient field showed his entire office distribution list. Every colleague, every manager, every person who worked in the building. Marcus's email address sat near the top of the alphabetically sorted list. "Do you want to see the attachment?" Paige asked in a conversational tone. He shook his head quickly. His hands trembled at his sides. Whatever photo she'd attached would ruin him if it went out. Even if she'd faked something, even if the image wasn't real, the damage would happen before anyone could verify anything. HR would get involved. Questions would be asked. Explanations would be demanded. Her finger hovered over the send button. She didn't press it yet. Just held the phone steady so he could watch that finger resting millimeters away from destroying his professional life. "I think we understand each other now," Paige said with a small smile. "Don't we?" He nodded. Words wouldn't come out. His throat had closed up completely. "Good. Then let's get you dressed properly." She set the phone down on the couch cushion beside her, screen still visible, that draft email still open. A reminder that it existed. That it could go out at any moment if he stepped out of line. He looked at the diaper again. The cartoon animals seemed to mock him with their cheerful expressions. Baby items designed for someone who couldn't control their bodily functions. Someone who needed protection from their own incontinence. The bedwetting had started this whole nightmare, but wearing diapers during the day crossed a different line entirely. At night he could at least pretend it was practical. Medical. Something that happened while he was unconscious and unaware. This was different. This was conscious submission to being treated like an infant. "Pick it up," Paige said. His hands still shook as he reached for the diaper. The material crinkled loudly when his fingers touched it. Soft padding compressed slightly under his grip. Heavier than he expected. Thicker than the nighttime ones she'd been putting on him. This one was designed for serious protection. For someone who would be using it throughout the day. "Lie down on the mat," Paige instructed. He looked down. A plastic changing mat had been spread across the floor in front of the coffee table. Pale blue with white clouds printed on it. She must have put it there while he was at work. Planned this whole scene down to the smallest detail. His legs didn't want to move. Standing here naked was humiliating enough. Lying down on a changing mat like an actual infant took things to a level that made his stomach churn. But Paige's hand drifted back toward her phone. That finger hovering over the screen again. He sank down onto the mat. The plastic crinkled under his weight. Cold against his back and legs. He lay flat with the diaper clutched in both hands against his chest. "Legs up," Paige said. She'd stood from the couch and moved to stand over him. Looking down at him with an expression that combined satisfaction and something almost maternal. Like she was taking care of a difficult child who'd finally agreed to behave. He lifted his legs. Bent his knees and raised his hips slightly off the mat. The position exposed him completely. Made him vulnerable in a way that felt worse than just being naked. She took the diaper from his hands and unfolded it with practiced movements. The padding expanded as she shook it out. Much thicker than it had looked when folded. She slid it underneath him, positioning the back half under his raised bottom. "You can put your legs down now," she said. He lowered his hips onto the diaper. The padding compressed beneath him. Soft and cushioned. The cartoon animals now sat underneath him, hidden from view but still there. Still a reminder of what was happening. Paige reached for something on the coffee table. A bottle of baby powder appeared in her hand. She unscrewed the cap and tilted it over him. White powder cascaded out in a thick stream. She was generous with the application. The sweet scent filled the room immediately. Cloying and unmistakable. The smell of nurseries and infant care. She rubbed the powder into his skin with clinical efficiency. Her hands worked quickly, making sure to cover everything thoroughly. The powder felt silky against his skin. Absorbing moisture. Creating a barrier. Everything about this process was designed for someone who couldn't keep themselves clean and dry. Someone who needed protective layers and moisture barriers. She pulled the front of the diaper up between his legs. The thick padding bunched up between his thighs. Forcing his legs slightly apart. She tugged on one side, then the other, positioning everything carefully. The adhesive tabs made loud ripping sounds as she pulled them free. She pressed the first tab against the front panel, securing it tightly. Then the second tab on the other side. She tugged on the edges to make sure everything sat snugly against his skin. The waistband pressed into his hips. The leg gatherers sealed against his thighs. He was diapered. Completely and thoroughly. The bulk between his legs made it impossible to ignore what he was wearing. The crinkle of the material accompanied every tiny movement. Paige picked up the plastic panties. Translucent material that would show the diaper underneath but add another layer of protection. She had him lift his feet one at a time as she slid the panties up his legs. The plastic was cold and clingy. It caught on the diaper as she pulled them into place, but she worked them up over the padding until they settled around his waist. The elastic waistband snapped into place. The plastic encased the diaper completely, creating a waterproof barrier that would contain anything. The crinkle was even louder now. Two layers of noisy material that announced his condition with every movement. He couldn't walk anywhere without sounding like a baby in their diaper. "Sit up," Paige said. He struggled to a sitting position. The bulk between his legs made it awkward. The padding forced his legs to spread wider than normal. Like a toddler learning to walk in their first diaper. Paige held up the pink onesie. She'd unsnapped all the closures so it hung open. "Arms up." He raised his arms. She threaded one sleeve onto his wrist and pulled it up his arm. Then the other sleeve. The fabric stretched easily to accommodate his adult frame. She tugged the onesie down over his torso, working it into place. The hem came down over the diaper, covering the plastic panties. She started snapping the closures up the front. Metal snaps that clicked together one after another. Working her way from the bottom of his torso up to his neck. The onesie fit snugly. Stretchy material that clung to his skin. The pink color made everything worse somehow. Not even a neutral white or blue, but bright pink that emphasized the infantile nature of what he was wearing. When she reached the top snap at his collar, she smoothed down the front of the onesie. Making sure everything lay flat. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small padlock. Silver metal that gleamed in the living room light. The loop at the crotch of the onesie became clear now. A specially designed opening that allowed access to the diaper snaps for changes. But that same opening had a metal loop sewn into the fabric. Reinforced so it wouldn't tear. Paige threaded the padlock through the loop and clicked it closed. The sound was soft but final. She tested the lock with a gentle tug. Secure. Then she dropped the key back into her pocket. "There we go," she said with evident satisfaction. "All dressed and locked in. You can't take this off without the key, so don't bother trying." He sat on the floor in his locked onesie. The diaper crinkled underneath him. Everything about this outfit was designed to control and contain him. To reduce him to complete dependence on Paige for the most basic things. She stood and brushed off her hands like she'd completed a productive task. "Now, let's talk about the new house rules." Her tone shifted to something cheerful and maternal. Like she was explaining bedtime routines to a small child. She ticked points off on her fingers as she spoke. "First, you need to ask permission before using the bathroom. Actually, scratch that. You're wearing a diaper now, so you don't need the bathroom at all. That's what the diaper is for. But if you do need to be changed, you need to tell me politely." He stared at her. The implications of that rule sank in slowly. She expected him to use the diaper. Not just wear it, but actually use it. "Second, you will address me as 'Mommy' at all times. Not Paige, not honey, not any other name. Just Mommy. That's your new way of speaking to me." The word made his skin crawl. Reducing their marriage to a parental relationship where she held all the power and authority. Where he became the dependent child. "Third, you'll sleep in your new crib. No more sharing the bed with me." She gestured toward their bedroom. He followed her pointing finger and saw it through the open doorway. An adult-sized crib had been positioned in the corner of their bedroom. White bars that went up at least four feet. A mobile hung overhead with dangling shapes. Even from here he could see the thick mattress pad and the fitted sheet with childish prints. She must have set it up while he was at work. Assembled the whole thing and positioned it perfectly. More evidence of her planning. More proof that she'd been preparing for this. "Those are the main rules for now," Paige continued. "We'll add more as needed. But those three are non-negotiable. Permission for changes, calling me Mommy, and sleeping in your crib. Understood?" He opened his mouth to protest. The word "Mommy" sat in his throat like a stone. Saying it would cement this whole arrangement. Would acknowledge her authority over him in the most degrading way possible. Paige's hand moved toward her phone on the couch. Her thumb came to rest on the screen. The email draft was still open. He could see it from where he sat on the floor. The words died in his throat. He swallowed them back down. His voice came out as barely more than a whisper. "Yes, Mommy." Tears started streaming down his face as soon as the word left his mouth. Hot and immediate. They blurred his vision and dripped off his chin. He tried to wipe them away but more kept coming. The humiliation crashed over him in waves. Everything that had happened. The diapering, the onesie, the lock, the rules. Calling his wife "Mommy" like he was actually her child. Paige cooed and knelt down beside him. She produced a tissue from somewhere and wiped his cheeks. Her touch was gentle. Almost loving. "Oh, my good baby boy," she said softly. "Look at you crying. That's okay. Let it all out. Mommy's here." She wiped away more tears. Dabbed at his cheeks and under his eyes. The maternal tone in her voice made everything worse. She was relishing this. Enjoying his breakdown. "You're such a good baby for finally accepting your place in this household," she continued. "Mommy is so proud of you for understanding how things work now. You're going to be so much happier once you stop fighting this." He couldn't stop crying. The tears kept coming no matter how many times she wiped his face. Everything was falling apart. His autonomy, his dignity, his sense of self. All being stripped away piece by piece while Paige narrated it like a caring parent comforting an upset toddler. She stood up and held out her hand. "Come on, baby. Let's get some food in you. I bet you're hungry." He took her hand and let her help him to his feet. The diaper crinkled loudly with the movement. The bulk between his legs made his gait waddle slightly. Like he was learning to walk in this padding. Paige led him by the hand toward the kitchen. He followed because there was nothing else to do. Nowhere to go. No clothes to put on. No way to leave the house. She'd trapped him completely and now she was parading him around in his infantile outfit like a trophy. The kitchen looked the same as always, but everything had changed. Paige guided him to a piece of furniture that hadn't been there this morning. An adult-sized high chair sat against the wall. White plastic with a tray attachment. Straps dangling from the seat and back. She patted the seat. "Up you go." He climbed into the high chair. The plastic creaked under his weight. The seat was sized for an adult but the design was purely infantile. She buckled a strap across his lap and another across his chest. Not tight enough to hurt, but secure enough that he couldn't get out on his own. Then she swung the tray into place and locked it. The tray clicked against the armrests and trapped him in the chair completely. She pulled a bib from a drawer. White fabric with cartoon ducklings printed across it. Yellow birds with orange beaks swimming in a row. She tied it around his neck, knotting the strings at the back. The bib hung down over his chest and the front of his onesie. "There we go," she said. "All ready for lunch." She moved to the cabinet and pulled out a jar. Baby food. He could see the label from where he sat. Pureed carrots. Smooth orange mush designed for infants who couldn't chew solid food yet. Paige opened the jar and spooned some of the contents into a small bowl. She put the bowl in the microwave for a few seconds. The microwave beeped when it finished. She took out the bowl and stirred the contents, testing the temperature with her finger. "Perfect," she announced. She pulled a chair over so she could sit facing him. The bowl of pureed carrots sat on the high chair tray in front of him. She picked up a small spoon. Baby utensil with a short handle and soft rubber tip. "Open wide for Mommy," she said in a cheerful voice. He kept his mouth closed. The pureed carrots looked unappetizing. Baby food that would taste bland and textureless. Another indignity in a day full of them. Paige's expression didn't change. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Set it on the tray where he could see it. The email draft was still there. Still ready to send. He opened his mouth. She scooped up a spoonful of the orange mush and brought it to his lips. He let her slide the spoon into his mouth. The carrots tasted exactly as expected. Bland and smooth. No texture at all. Just pureed vegetables that slid down his throat without needing to be chewed. Paige smiled. "Good baby. Swallow it all down." She scooped up another spoonful. Brought it to his mouth. He grimaced but opened up again. The carrots went in. She scraped the spoon against his lips to get every bit into his mouth. "Open wide for Mommy," she repeated before each spoonful. The phrase became a rhythm. Open, spoon in, close, swallow. Open, spoon in, close, swallow. The bowl slowly emptied as she fed him bite after bite. He grimaced with each mouthful but she ignored his expressions. Just kept cheerfully spooning the baby food into his mouth. When the carrots were finished, she set down the empty bowl and picked up another jar from the counter. Mashed bananas. She opened it and spooned the contents into a clean bowl. More beeping from the microwave. More stirring and temperature testing. "Dessert time," she announced. The bananas were sweeter than the carrots but just as textureless. Smooth paste that required no chewing. She fed him spoonful after spoonful while he sat strapped in the high chair. Between bites, while she was scooping up more banana, Paige spoke in a casual tone. "I called your office this morning," she said. He froze with banana paste still in his mouth. She'd called his office. His workplace. The people who employed him. "I spoke with HR," she continued. She brought another spoonful to his mouth. "Open up, baby." He swallowed the previous bite and opened his mouth mechanically. The spoon went in. More banana. "I told them you would be taking an immediate extended leave for mental health reasons," Paige explained while preparing the next spoonful. He choked on the baby food. Sputtering and coughing. Banana paste caught in his throat. He coughed hard, trying to clear his airway. Paige waited patiently for him to finish coughing. Then she wiped his chin with a napkin. Cleaned the banana that had gotten on his bib. "What did you tell them?" he managed to ask. His voice came out hoarse from coughing. The question burned in his chest. What exactly had she said. What details had she given. What story had she spun about his mental state. Paige smiled and scooped up another spoonful of banana. "They were very understanding about your breakdown. Very sympathetic when I explained how much stress you'd been under." She brought the spoon to his mouth. "Open wide for Mommy."