This is the story of how I lovingly humiliated my wife, got her back into nappies, improved our sex life and won myself a £10000.

John and I were sat in the bar discussing random issues when after a few beers we stumbled upon some old ground. See, Me and John had discovered at a mutual age that we were into seeing Women wear nappies. We discovered it during an eventful game of truth or dare when we were at University together and ever since we were forever thinking of ways to get a woman to wear a nappy. We had succeeded many moons ago at Uni when we got a girl really drunk and persuaded her to wear a nappy for fun. We took photos of her jokingly, well that’s what she thought anyway. But over the years we had drifted apart and it was only at a recent reunion we had decided to contact each other again.

We were sat in the pub and the issue of the nappies came up. We discussed how we had never made it to getting either of our wives to wear a nappy, though neither of us had actually asked them outright. Then from out of nowhere he came up with a game plan,

“I bet you £10000 that within the next 6 months you can’t get your Wife back into nappies, permanently?” He exclaimed.

“Why would I want to do that?” I asked curiously.

“Why? Because you loved seeing women in nappies and you admitted earlier that your love life was waning and you were thinking of leaving your wife. You said she had cheated on you before, so here is payback.”

I mulled it over, on one hand she had cheated and humiliated me but on the other hand, she would good in a nappy. I asked him if I could go away and think about so at the end of the drinking session, we shook hands and went about our ways.

The next day, after nursing a slight hangover at the office I emailed him and agreed to his plan. He sent me an email back, with a number of links to various websites. I spent that night searching through the various links and purchased everything John had recommended. The first major purchase was laxatives, to be more precise super strength near instant laxatives. I had seen them recommended on daily diapers, a forum I frequented. From the pictures and videos I had seen the results were a mass evacuation of the bowels. I followed up this purchase with urinary stimulants. A plan was forming in my mind, start off with laxatives and urinary stimulants, accompany them with a powerful hypnosis CD and she would be back in nappies. But I wasn’t purchasing them just yet. I had to make sure my plan would work. That night I went over the plan, looking for any flaws, it seemed to be near perfect. My office was in the extension of our home, I worked from home on creating websites, a time consuming job, but financially rewarding.

Knocking off for the evening into the house where Mel, my wife, was just returning from work. She worked a part time job in a local Supermarket. She wasn’t academically gifted like myself, she grew up on a rough council estate, from all accounts was bullied at school and so in life she was very quiet, but also quite pretty. She was 34, an hour glass figure that she was always very reluctant to show, long brown hair, pretty face. But she never wore make up, never dressed herself up, was all about rare, vanilla sex in the bedroom. We never did anything adventurous, she very rarely did oral, never experimented with positions. I never knew what she did when she cheated on me last year, I think to be honest she was very honest and said it was just a drunken kiss at the Christmas party. But I was holding it against her. She did have a daughter when she was 16, I think this was why she was put off sex, a bad experience by all accounts. We shared a kiss and cuddle, I cupped her backside, knowing that soon enough it would be well padded.

The days past until the packages arrived. But when they did, I felt like a kid at Christmas. I opened the packages in my office, a 3 months supply of laxatives and urinary stimulants. Perfect. An email contained the hypnosis MP3, designed to be listened to at night and to make her wet and mess herself. So to implant this plan I had already brought her an mp3 pillow, so she wouldn’t suspect anything. Now, to get the laxatives into her food, I would need to cook. But she would suspect that my cooking was bad and never eat it again. Luckily, both the laxatives and urinary stimulants came in a powder format, so I would have to mix them into her drinks. That night I decided to do a little test, she made the dinner and I made the drinks. I slipped a teaspoon full of each into her cup of tea and we sat down to watch an evenings TV. No more than 10 minutes had passed when I heard her belly grumbling,

“Are you still hungry, honey?” I asked.

“No, I er.. I think I need the toilet.” She blushed, running upstairs.

She was up there for probably 30 minutes, I could only imagine what she was doing. She returned, in her dressing gown, looking slightly worried.

“Are you OK?” I asked lovingly.

“Yeah, I just had a bit of the erm... tummy trouble.” She replied.

“Ah honey, it’s OK.” I replied, smirking and knowing my plan was working.

Before bed that night I spiked her drink with a spoonful of diuretic as another test. And sure enough that night she absolutely flooded the bed, waking me up in a fit of hysterics at her predicament. After showering and changing the sheets I reassuringly comforted her. Playing the caring partner, I gave her a shoulder to lean on and she fell asleep.

It was the weekend. And we began every Saturday with a jog down the canal path. I filled our water bottles, spiking Mel’s with a double spoonful of laxatives and urinary stimulating powder. She had on her red cycling shorts and black spandex leotard. We did the jogging as she felt she needed to lose a bit of weight, plus it was a good bonding session for the both of us. We set off at our pace, jogging side by side down the canal path, taking in the beautiful scenery that backed onto our house. Around 10 minutes in, she started to slow down. I shouted to her to keep up and as I looked back over my shoulder I saw her standing there like a little girl. She grabbed at her crotch with her right hand, but the tell tale gushing and spraying of pee was enough to tell me she was wetting herself. I quickly jogged back and stood by her side.

“Are you OK.” I asked concerned.

“Please, we need to get back, I think my tummy is bad again.” She pleaded.

“Quick, come on then.” I beckoned, jogging on.

“Ryan....” She exclaimed.

As I looked back, I could tell from the redness of her face what she had done. I jogged back, she didn't say anything, apart from bursting out into tears. A putrid smell filled the air, it was then I knew exactly what had happened.

“Honey, have you?” I asked.

She just nodded her head and leaned on my shoulder. I was a good 3-4 inches taller than her and as I looked over her shoulder I could the damage. The backside of her leotard was a new shade of brown, a trickle stream of brown liquid ran down her legs. The result was amazing, but her emotions were scarred.

“It’s ok honey. Let’s get you home and cleaned up.” I said.

Our house was a good 20 minutes walk back and anybody out and about would have seen her predicament. She tried to walk normally but it was no use to her, the mess chaffed against her skin, she had to resort to a waddle. We got back to our house without further embarrassment.

“Let’s get your clothes off and then you can get in the shower and clean yourself off. I will sort you a remedy.” I loving said.

“Can’t we do this inside?” She asked reluctantly.

“We could, but just in case you make a stain anywhere.” I replied, knowing we had cream carpets.

I maneuvered the leotard from her shoulders and pulled it down to her waist. There was a bad smell of pooh in the air and as she slipped down her cycling shorts, the evidence was clear for all to see. I caught a glimpse of her backside, caked in running pooh. She quickly scampered inside and fixed herself a shower. I chucked her dirty kit in the bin, there was no saving that.

She came back down dressed in her dressing gown, again clutching her tummy.

“Whats the matter honey?” I asked curiously.

“I’m really sorry for what happened. I don’t know what came over me.” She replied.

We sat down and discussed events. We figured it must just be a bug she had caught as we both ate the same things. I offered to make us drinks, I didn’t spike these ones. I knew it was working a treat and I would have her ready for nappies by the end of the 6 months.

That week I continued the whole escapade of regularly spiking her drinks and right on cue, she would mess herself uncontrollably. I had to have her make a few public messing appearances including at her work place. I made her packed lunch for work, extra spiking. I sprinkled the sandwiches with laxative powder, filled her drink with a urinary stimulating powder. There was no escaping for her. Halfway through the day she came home, clutching a bag of obvious soiled clothes and not wearing the trousers she went to work in. She was in tears, she had booked herself into the doctors. I accompanied her to the appointment, but as expected the Doctor could find nothing wrong with her. He examined her intimately, putting the cause down to stress. Really, she had no stresses in life, she seemed happy enough before I put my plan into action.

The following days were again filled with her filling her knickers so to speak! A week had now passed since I started and she was slowly losing control. I had brought her an mp3 pilow, that played music to soothe her to sleep telling her it would help relax her mind. But in essence, the sounds of the sea and nature were subconscious sounds making her wet and mess herself. Regressing her to an infantile state of mind. For me it had its negatives, yes every night I would wake up in a wet bed, sometimes messy.