Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
It’s not every day you see a grown man sporting a full-on tuxedo with, shall we say, a little extra padding in the rear. But then again, my relationship with Bartholomew is anything but ordinary. He’s my big boy, emphasis on the big, and sometimes, bless his heart, his body just malfunctions.
Last Saturday was our friend Brenda’s annual “Soiree of Sophistication,” and naturally, I wanted Bartholomew to make a splash. Hence, the tuxedo. He looked dashing, kinda like heèd accidentally wandered into a James Bond film. The problem? Bartholomew gets cripplingly shy in social situations. His default setting is “awkward,” and apparently, his anxiety expresses itself through wetness.
a grown man
We barely made it past Brenda’s ridiculously oversized floral arrangement when I saw the tell-tale signs: the widening of his eyes, the slight quivering of his lower lip, and the unmistakable darkening stain spreading across his impeccably tailored trousers. “Uh oh,” he whispered, his voice barely audible above the tinkling of glasses and Brenda’s booming laugh. “Accident?” I asked gently, already mentally calculating our escape route. He just nodded, mortified.
“Operation Dry Pants is a go,” I announced, grabbing his hand and steering him towards what looked like a deserted study. Thankfully, after years of this, I always bring along an extra diaper and a change of pants. I like to call it being prepared, Bartholomew calls it me babying him. It is what it is. “Wait here, big boy” I said, as I went out to the car to put both the diaper and the pants in my purse.
The changing process was comical. Picture a grown man, six-foot-four and built like a linebacker, trying to contort himself into a semi-dignified position while I wrestled him out of his soiled trousers. Diaper on, fresh pants on, and a pep talk about breathing exercises later, Bartholomew was a new man. A slightly self-conscious, diaper-wearing man, but a new man nonetheless!
Back at the party, he was noticeably more relaxed, probably because he knew he had a safety net, literally. He even managed a few coherent sentences with Brenda without blushing. Later, as we were leaving, Brenda pulled me aside. “He seems so much more confident tonight,” she said, winking. “Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it!”
I just smiled mysteriously. Let her think what she wants. She doesn’t need to know the secret to Bartholomew’s newfound confidence involves absorbent polymers and a silent promise that tonight, we’re ordering pizza and watching cartoons. After all, a little regression therapy never hurt anyone, right?
Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
https://phonesexcandy.com/cory