Despite how silly he inevitably felt allowing her to diaper him over the next week, he couldn’t deny that work was more fun. He had never felt more in sync with a nurse. She seemed to anticipate every need he had, both professionally and personally. She knew when a patient would need a test, and often had the details settled by the time he came out of a room.

He was amazed at how in tune she had quickly become with his bladder habits. He tried to relieve himself out of her sight during his little “down” moments, but he often would glance around afterward, his diaper feeling newly warm, and would see her watching him pleasantly.

Then she would busy herself with her work, making no move to change him until they had a break together. He started to relax and trust her judgment about that. His diaper had not leaked into his pants even once. She seemed to have a knack for timing his diaper changes. It was true that she was also the one setting out his water for him. Some days, he noticed, he was offered water more often than others. As he was zipping up his pants after a change one day, he asked her why.

“Are you…still, um, keeping some sort of eye on my…hydration?”

She smiled a little as she rolled up and taped the warm wet diaper he had been wearing. “Your wet diapers actually tell me a lot. I still keep a close eye on the color, judging just how wet they are and how yellow they look.” She tossed the diaper into the diaper disposal bin she had recently brought into the office for this purpose, she commented, “I want to keep my doctor healthy, you know.” She fondly patted him on his padded behind.

He blushed, thinking about how she knew personal things about him that he had not even been aware of. Should he be creeped out by this invasion of privacy? He didn’t feel that way. He realized he felt a little touched, and even reassured by this gentle supervision. She was looking out for him. It had been quite a while since someone had been on his side, helping him. It felt warm and nice, he thought.

As he thought about it, he realized that it felt maternal. Julie had assumed that type of role quite naturally. The nice thing was that she didn’t make him feel inferior or less like a man about surrendering that control. She didn’t make fun of him for wearing a diaper, or letting her clean him. She was just very direct and honest. Once he had adjusted to it, he could almost imagine it was normal.

It was kind of nice sharing his day so intimately with someone, and not having to worry about mundane things like keeping hydrated or clean. She was a blessing.

Like a mother, however, she did occasionally nag him. Nothing he didn’t deserve, though, he admitted to himself. There had been days he hadn’t shaved himself, and of course she noticed. She spent more time looking at his private area than he did, after all.

“What is this?” she might ask as she brushed his stubble with a cocked eyebrow. “This isn’t the clean-shaven boy I know,” or “I like you so much better when you’re smooth,” or “Somebody hasn’t been doing his homework.” She was gentle, but firm. She was nice, but insistent. He knew where he stood, and accepted that shaving was important to her. He found himself wanting to feel nice under her hands. He liked the brief smile she had when she touched his smooth, shaven skin. And wouldn’t she usually spend just a few extra seconds touching him? It seemed so, and that was worth the effort.

He wasn’t exactly getting used to that one finger she used when she cleaned him, though. It always found its way into his bottom. She did it every single time she changed him. It no longer surprised him, of course, but still didn’t feel natural or comfortable.

He had started being more careful wiping himself in the bathroom, but her actions seemed to indicate that she wasn’t quite satisfied with him. Well, he wasn’t really sure what to do about that. He even googled, “how to wipe properly” to make sure he wasn’t supposed to stick the toilet paper inside, but nobody seemed to recommend that. So there didn’t seem to be anything else he could do to convince her he was doing an adequate job. And he decided that at this point, he didn’t want to have another conversation about it. Talks with her were so embarrassing! So even if he didn’t like it, he didn’t complain again.

When she asked him to lift his legs, he would start to tense up, squeezing his anus closed in protest. But it didn’t matter. Her finger, wrapped with a cold wet wipe, still found its way inside him. It didn’t linger, just in and out. But he felt embarrassed to be invaded there. He never really wanted to look her in the eyes for a few minutes afterward.

Julie seemed to sense this, however, and often tried to engage him either during the process or immediately afterward, calling him on his reticence if he didn’t answer right away. She seemed to be trying to get him past his embarrassment, though he wasn’t sure why she cared. He wished she would just leave his bottom alone. He’d mostly gotten past peeing in his diaper in front of her, but…there were some things that were just too private.

But usually, her hands felt great. During the day, she was generally all business. She changed and cleaned him faster than he could pee and wash his hands on his own in the old days. At the end of the day, though, often amid conversation, her hands would slow down, gently caressing him with a wipe. These cleanings would last long enough that the wipe would warm up and feel so, so good. Her hands would linger everywhere, from his shaved pubic area, to his testicles, to the cleft between his cheek, and to the area right around his bottom.

And once he realized that this last change was more of a leisurely and pleasurable event, he began to look forward to it. When she untaped him as he lay back on the table, his erection would spring forth, usually drawing a knowing smile from her. And she didn’t neglect his penis, either. She made sure to clean it carefully and thoroughly, deliberately stroking him. He stopped trying to hide his excitement—how could he? And she seemed to enjoy pleasuring him almost as much as he did.

But she never brought him all the way to orgasm.

He was not sure why, but she clearly had no interest in going that far. She would start stroking him faster and faster, gripping more firmly, until his breathing began to get more ragged and fast. But whenever he thought that today might be the day, she would stop or pause, leaving him waiting and hoping. After a moment, she might turn and dispose of the wet diaper she had removed, or she might return to stroking him. She kept him guessing.

He never voiced any discontent, though. He didn’t want her to feel like he was ungrateful for what she did, or to change their intimate relationship. He thought he understood that she was trying to make this situation more enjoyable to him. He had never had any prior experience with tease and denial in a relationship. But he sensed that Julie was in control, and that it wasn’t up to him what happened. He had learned to relax and enjoy it.

He puzzled over the rules that seemed to guide her behavior, though. Why did she think it was okay to caress him, but not bring him fully to orgasm? He guessed it was more professional not to cross that line. This is how he rationalized this end-of-day activity, and defended her denial of him in his mind. He would go home every single day denied and hungry, but didn’t stay that way for long.

He found himself thinking about it all day in anticipation. During the day, his diaper and lack of private time kept him from touching himself. But he had no such limitations at night. He rushed home daily to relieve himself, and sometimes would pleasure himself multiple times each evening. He would see her face and imagine her hands on him whenever he masturbated, and fantasized about the two of them together. Oddly, it wasn’t only regular sex he imagined. Though he had never been turned on by leather and whips, he started imagining Julie telling him what to do in the bedroom. She seemed like she would know just what she liked, and how he could pleasure her. She took care of him during the day. He would like to take care of her in return.

Despite the direction their work and personal relationship had taken, he wasn’t certain he wanted to push it further down that road. He knew all about sexual harassment, and respected her far too much to chance making her uncomfortable. He’d love to ask her out. But what if he broke what they had? It would be risky. Maybe it was better to be satisfied with their wonderful, strange intimacy just the way it was. And anyway, she seemed to have no problem asking for something if she wanted it. Surely she would tell him?

When the next week had ended, he didn’t even consider asking to stop using diapers. She surely noticed, but also didn’t bring it up. They had settled into a very workable—and very enjoyable—relationship. The price for their flirty teamwork—wearing diapers—was high, but it worked!

Julie continued to be amazed at how smoothly things were going. He hadn’t even brought up the subject of the diapers at the end of the next week. He seemed to be growing more comfortable in his submissive and infantile role. He accepted her rules and supervision, kept himself closely shaved, and didn’t even complain when she popped her finger in his anus, which she was careful to do every single time she could. That would come in handy sometime soon.

Sure, her teasing sessions were undoubtedly helping the process along, but what was new? She had learned that men could be influenced via their genitalia. It was too easy not to do it. Men were just built to be manipulated. It wasn’t their fault. Her job was to use her powers for good. She had always tried to help them do what was needed, and she had a responsibility not to take advantage of their simplicity and hurt them. This particular man was a good man. He was so vulnerable and naïve that she had to take care.

So far, she thought she was doing well. Sure, she was taking advantage of male weakness and his need for intimacy. She was inducing dependence and submission, but it was for a good cause. Of course she wasn’t going to let him come. It reinforced her dominance, loving though it was. It let him know that his pleasure was not the main goal. It kept him on the edge, stoking his sexual appetite. It introduced the idea that sometimes he might not get to come, and that she was in control of that. But mostly, it let him know that she wasn’t “easy” or there for his satisfaction. If he wanted more, he’d have to ask (or beg, she thought hungrily).

He had been uncertain about their “arrangement” at the beginning, but he wasn’t complaining now.

She’d been delighted the very first day she teased him and left him hanging. He had sighed, and she thought he might whine. But instead, he seemed to accept her gift to him for what it was. She knew then that she could develop his submissive nature, even if he wasn’t aware of it yet. He could be perfect for her.

Time to raise the stakes.