His silence didn't really slow her down. "Now, I know you weren't expecting this, and I'm sorry to spring it on you, but in the end you'll thank me, you really will. Let me explain for you why I think you need our help.

"There are four parts to any successful ICP. First, affordable cost. Second, choosing the appropriate product for your personal wetting and soiling needs. Third, accessibility: you need to be getting your diapers. Fourth, compliance. All the diapers in the world won't keep your pants clean and dry if you're not wearing them.

"You may not have noticed, but we just completed an assessment of the ICP you had prescribed for yourself. That is, your plan of buying the diapers yourself any old time and bringing them home and wearing them occasionally. What I found out during my assessment is that this isn't working, regarding each of the four parts. Too expensive, too leaky, you won't come in to buy them, and once you do, you're just not wearing them like a good boy.

"Doug, you need to face the fact that you are totally incontinent. Probably, well, hopefully, temporarily. But you desperately need a much better and structured ICP for the foreseeable future, and so the bottom line is that I'll be supplying it for you. Believe me, this is a very good thing for you. You'll eventually appreciate the complete protection we can offer, and we'll also lay the groundwork for your eventual attempt at re-potty-training, if that becomes a possiblity."

Doug sat listening in shock. He didn't know what to think or feel. A tiny bit of him was intrigued and turned on by what sounded like a forced return to babyhood, or at least to diapers. But most of him was horrified at the thought of his fantasy getting out of control and effectively running the rest of his life. It didn't sound like he'd be in control, and he knew himself: he ALWAYS had to be in control. He couldn't even begin to process her words, for they seemed impossible, foreign, absurd. But she went on.

"So after considering your needs and problems with compliance, I've decided to enroll you in a special diaper delivery program we offer, where I can decide the best ICP for you, and all you have to do is follow some very simple rules. You'll pay twenty dollars each week for us to deliver a week's worth of diapers to you, as well as the extra pads we talked about, and you'll wear them and use them. Mrs. Warren will check on you and make sure you are following the rules and using your diapers appropriately, and she has some very helpful disciplinary tricks to help you be obedient, which I'm sure you'll appreciate. Then you'll return the used diapers at the end of the week for us to count and examine, so we know you used them all week. So you see, this program is much better with regard to cost, availability, leak protection, and especially behavior control. Doesn't it sound wonderful?"

Doug felt speechless, but knew he had to speak. "Mrs., uh, Sheffield? I really appreciate your concern, but, um, well, I don't actually think I need your help here...."

"Oh, but we just talked about that and decided you did. Remember?"

He remembered HER talking and deciding, but he'd been left out. "Yes, but I think there has been a terrible mistake here. You see..."

She interrupted again. "Don't you worry. There's no mistake. I'm going to help you, and you will never have to wet your pants again. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"No. I mean, yes. I mean, I don't want your help here because..."

"Doug," Mrs. Sheffield said earnestly, "I'm sure you're used to handling your problem on your own, but the fact is, you're just not doing a very good job. I'm afraid you misunderstand what's going on here. I don't mean to be rude, but I'm really not asking you whether you'd like to participate. I'm TELLING you about the ICP that you will begin tomorrow. I'm sorry we couldn't ask for your opinion, but by not wearing your diaper you showed me that you are not reliable enough to make these decisions for yourself.

"And you'll have to trust me here that this is not a bad thing. When you're incontinent, there are only two things that could happen. One is, you'll have accidents with wetting and soiling your pants, which is horrible. The other is much better: all you have to do is wear your diaper. And in this program, believe me, you *will* wear your diaper. Now, do you have any specific questions about your ICP that I can answer for you?"

Doug was starting to panic, because she wasn't listening to him. She was treating him like a child, which hadn't happened to him for nearly twenty years. It was frustrating not to have control! But he had to stop this now. As embarrassing as it was, he couldn't think of anything else but to tell her the truth.

"Mrs. Sheffield, there really has been a mistake. You see, I'm actually not..."

Her voice turned cold. "No, Doug, we're not going to argue about this. This isn't the time for that. I was asking you if you had any questions about your ICP."

"Yes, but I need to tell you that I don't need..."

"Okay, that's enough," said Mrs. Sheffield sternly. "If you don't have any questions, I'll just tell you what's going to happen next. Mrs. Warren will be taking over your care from now on, and she told me to tell you that she'll be over tomorrow at about ten in the morning with your first week of diapers and other supplies. At that time she'll explain all of the rules she has, and what you are to do, and she'll get you into a diaper for good.

"Now, you told me you'll be home tomorrow, and that you don't have any roommates, so I don't expect any trouble from you about this. Ten in the morning. If you want to argue, argue with Mrs. Warren. She *loves* to `discuss' things with clients, and I'm sure she'd be happy to talk with you about whether you need our diapers. So if you want to talk, save it until tomorrow. Does that sound alright?"

Doug felt defeated with this woman. She wouldn't even give him the time of day. Before, he'd been embarrassed when she treated him like an idiot. Now, it wasn't so cute. But perhaps this other lady would at least listen to him. He had to have better luck with someone else. At least he'd have time to think about how he'd explain himself. "Okay," he said. "But I'll just tell you, I'm not doing this program thing."

"I'll leave that for you and Mrs. Warren to work out. It's been nice talking to you, Doug, and I'm happy to have you in our program, even though it may take a while for you to adjust to it. Oh, by the way, make sure you behave yourself with Mrs. Warren tomorrow. Of course, she's very nice, but she doesn't tolerate little boys who aren't polite. Will you promise me to be polite?"

What else was there to say? "Yes, ma'am."

"That's a good boy. And promise me you'll wear your diaper tonight?"

Like hell. "Yes, ma'am."

"Okay, good. Take care until tomorrow, Doug, and please, for the sake of yourself and your underpants, wear your diaper."

As she hung up the phone, Mrs. Sheffield smiled. That had been done skillfully. She worried about cooperation with many of these boys, and so she'd adopted a strategy of getting as much info about them and their habits before breaking the news to them. (And all of them seemed really excited about the survey she been doing recently. She wondered why.) But none of them saw it coming, and while she felt guilty deceiving them, she felt proud to offer them the protection her son never had. If she wasn't a very good mother to him, at least these incontinent boys would benefit from her learning.

She did feel bad about one thing, though, and that was deferring Doug's questions to Mrs. Warren, who wasn't exactly the chatty type. She had an uneasy feeling that she was quite rough with these boys, especially the resistant or noncompliant ones. But the two women had an unspoken rule that Mrs. Warren's methods were not talked about between them. Mrs. Sheffield thought maybe Mrs. Warren spanked them, but wasn't sure. Mrs. Sheffield didn't opppose spanking in principle, but she worried that her partner might go a little overboard. She had to keep reminding herself that keeping these boys in the program and in diapers as long as they were incontinent was *the* most important goal. And since Mrs. Warren had been running the ICPs, Mrs. Sheffield had not heard of a single problem, either from the boys or from Mrs. Warren. All of them clearly wore their diapers, and this was the important thing. So, much as she might have worried, and probably should have worried, Mrs. Sheffield let the methods of Mrs. Warren remain a secret.

As she added Doug's name to the next day's diaper delivery list, a curious observation popped into her mind. Like Doug, all of these boys usually came into her store initially wanting to buy diapers for themselves for "temporary" incontinence. She put most of them in their ICPs just to tide them over until they regained their control. Oddly, though, in the three years since she had hired Mrs. Warren to run her business, not a single one of these temporary incontinents had graduated from their program. "Oh, I know," she lied to herself. "I bet they're just not honest with themselves at the beginning. I'm sure they all would like to believe it's temporary, but it makes sense that bladder and bowel incontinence doesn't just go away. Those poor boys, denying their problem. Well, as long as they're protected." The boys, of course, were not the only ones practicing denial; Mrs. Sheffield had apparently learned how to convince herself there was nothing odd about the program she officially ran but knew nothing about.

Mrs. Sheffield attended to the next order of business by picking up a phone and dialing the number of Mrs. Warren's cellular phone. She wanted to make up for the fact that she'd set Doug up to take the full brunt of Mrs. Warren's wrath tomorrow. He'd be full of excuses that she wouldn't want to hear, and though she had thought at first that a little run-in with Mrs. Warren tomorrow might not hurt this boy a bit, the more she thought about it, the more she realized it would almost certainly hurt. Quite a bit, in a tender, likely undiapered spot. So a little intercession on her part was appropriate. She smiled when she heard Mrs. Warren answer immediately. Tomorrow would be an eventful day for Doug.