Author's Note: This story is about medical bondage. Diapers are used, but it is not the main idea of the story. Instead, the diapers are used as a way to keep Mike locked in his medical bondage that much longer.


When Grace died, I thought my world had crashed down around me. We grew up together, were high school sweethearts and continued together into college. I graduated the top of my class and Grace accepted my hand in marriage. We traveled together to Graduate School where I pursued my Masters and Ph.D. Grace worked as a registered home health nurse. We had two children and I started working as a researcher and writer. As the children grew, we played and prayed and weathered the bumps of life and grew ever closer. When the children grew up and left the house for their own lives , Grace and I started playing with each other all over again, just as we had when we were kids. We enjoyed each others laugh and struggles and predicaments. One night, when Grace mentioned she missed having a baby around to feed and diaper and play with, I casually replied, "Well you can always diaper and play with me if you want." She laughed at that. I didn't think much more about it.

Grace's degree was in nursing. Over the years, nursing brought in extra money to the house. The home health care nurse career was nice because as an independent contractor, she worked when she wanted, and turned down assignments that she didn't want. Over the years, Grace worked with several clients with various degrees of dementia. Some had Alzheimer's and others had other forms of dementia, including brain damage. In some cases, the person had idiopathic forms of dementia, which as Grace explained, is when no one knew why the person was exhibiting dementia symptoms and no tests could explain it either. As far as Grace was concerned, the cause of the dementia did not really matter; the care the patient received did. That's what Grace really like to do, take care of people who could not take care of themselves, especially those with dementia and who needed specialized care. To those patients, Grace was ever bit the angel she was for me.

Some patients only needed minor care and the only reason Grace was there was to give medications. Although not required everywhere, by law in our State, some medicines could only be given by a licensed Register Nurse or Medical Doctor. What I found interesting was that our state also required a Medical Doctor or Registered Nurse be present if a patient was put into restraints. Grace attended several courses to learn how to do that. Over the years, I encouraged her to practice putting me in restraints.Consequently, I found myself not only fully restrained, but diapered too. Normally, she would treat me quite gingerly with massages and teasing and then release me to either use the toilet or to have sex with her once I was sufficiently horny. Even so, there were at least three occasions when she made me fully experience what it would be like to be her patient. Pretend "Doctors Orders" required me to have forced bed rest with no access to anything other than either diapers or catheters and urine bags. While I did not like the catheters, I did not mind the diapers. Grace always made sure I was cleaned properly after any accidents. Most of the time I got physically excited. Grace made sure my erections were taken care of in the best possible and most enjoyable ways.

After the children left our nest, I found myself restrained and in diapers more and more. Eventually, Grace brought home special supplies for me that were no longer needed. For example, I soon found myself wearing jumpsuits designed for people who disrobed at inappropriate times or had habits of digging in their diapers. The jumpsuits had zippers in the back. Several jumpsuits had different types of zippers or locking apparatus that made it even more difficult for the wearer to get off. As I figured them out, Grace added more "mouse-traps" to make it even harder for me. Then she got rid of the "mouse-traps" altogether and replaced them with little locks and loops. She kept the keys. Soon thereafter, whenever I was home from work, I found myself in a jumpsuit and diapers every night. At Grace's insistence, to make things even more interesting, I installed a hasp lock on the bathroom door. I handed Grace the keys for the padlock. Grace kept them from me at all times, and I was only allowed to shower and shave. When I got the chance to work at home full time, Grace whole-heartedly agreed.

On my last day at the office after work, Grace met me at the garage door and told me to shower in the guest room. She had a surprise for me and I was not allowed to peak. I did as I was told. After my shower, I walked into the bedroom and found Grace smiling her biggest grin. My diapers, rubber pants, and jumpsuit were waiting on the bed. Grace diapered me and zipped me up and locked my zipper. When I started to ask why she was smiling so big, she shook her head no and held a finger up to her mouth. She then reached into the paper bag and pulled out some sort of harness. She motioned for me to sit down and to stepped into the harness. The harness went over my head and two straps went around my chest and on my back. As I stood there, I felt her working in the small of my back and then heard two clicks. She then pulled out a leash and attached it too. "Now you won't hurt yourself running into traffic!" Grace giggled.

The next day I began telecommuting to work from home. From then on, I was dressed in my jumpsuits and diapers almost all the time. That first day, Grace explained the harness was a walking harness used for people who might run off from their care-giver. Once made only for children, these harnesses were now designed for very strong adults like me, and could be used in conjunction with steel cables to ensure compliance. Like the jumpsuits, both the harness and cables were locked on and could not be removed without a key or a caregiver's help. From now own, I would be wearing the harness along with my jumpsuit whenever I was supposed to be working from home. Since this was now most of the time, Grace also had me install reinforced D-rings in my work study. Once the cable was measured and installed on my jumpsuit harness, I could only move around my study or onto the back porch where the emergency egress was for that part of the house. We decided, that for safety sake, as in case of a fire, I could leave the house but would be tethered in plain sight of anyone looking in our direction. Since I did not want others to see me this way, it was unlikely I would head out that door. Then, just to make sure I was safe, I installed an alarm on the door that I could not shut off from inside my office. Additionally, I added a lock on door handle form inside my study. In that way, while I could operate the porch door in an emergency to get out of the house, I could not go anywhere inside the house without help. Grace would have to open the door for me from the other side.

Several more years past and we got more and more into the medical play and bondage. The master bedroom then acquired a second bed. I was not very happy about it. This one was given to Grace by a family who treasured her help with their "Grand-pa." They asked Grace if she knew of anyone who could use it and she immediately stated she did. This hospital bed was like any other I had ever seen. It had an electric motor and a crank to raise and lower the mattress in case the power went out. It also included a "Vail Bed Cage." The cage was designed to keep people from wandering during the night. When used properly, the bed cage eliminated other forms of restraints because the person inside could not unzip it from the inside. The cage had heavy fabric netting instead of bars. The fabric was designed so it would not tear. I loved it immediately, but did not like the idea of not sleeping without Grace. But she explained, when I was in the cage, she was just a few feet across the room in the big bed without me. Her argument was that with me in the bed cage, she did not need to worry about me wetting the big bed when my diapers leaked. From that night, I wet myself with the knowledge that I would not ruin our bed. Eventually, we both slept better.

However, a few weeks later everything changed. I woke up in wet diapers and jumpsuit pajamas with the zipper locked in the back just like I had been doing for a few years now. I opened my eyes and saw the sun was up and fully illuminating the room. Through the netting I saw Grace in bed and breathing hard. Her normally pink complexion was gone. Instead, grimacing, her face was gray and her lips looked blue. I called out to Grace in a panic. "Are you alright? What's wrong? Grace?" She did not reply. I didn't wait. I tried to get at the zipper pull, but of course I could not reach it. I tried to rip the netting. Of course that didn't work either. I yelled again and again but Grace just laid there panting and groaning in pain. She was clutching her chest and moving her legs. I couldn't wait any longer. I reached up into the lining along the top of the cage and found my emergency cell phone. The charge was a down to twenty-eight percent. I dialed 9-1-1. At that point I did not care what it would look like to the paramedics, I just wanted Grace to be treated and taken to the hospital. I told the hospital where I was and that I thought Grace was having a heart attack or stroke or both and that I was not in a position to help her. No, I did not have a children's aspirin to give to her. No, she did not have a history of heart problems. Yes, her Mother had died of a heart attack twenty-five years earlier. "Please, just come quick," I said. The 9-1-1 operator said she would stay on the line with me. Moments later, the door bell started ringing. The operator was still on the line. "Yes, they're here but I can't open the door. Tell them the extra key is in the plant box next to the mailbox under the stone." Moments later the paramedics were racing up the stair to the sound of my voice. Two men dressed in blue jumpsuits raced in carrying several large red boxes and a smaller green and white box. They both saw me inside my bed cage and Grace laying on the bed turning blue. They went right to work putting oxygen on Grace and opened up the defibrillator.

As the two worked, several other firemen and one fire woman came into our room. The redheaded paramedic woman saw me and came over to my bed. No one had yet unzipped my bed cage or enquired to why I was in it. So far, all the questions to me had been about Grace, but that was about to change. The woman said, "Sir, my name is Maria. We're going to have to take Grace to the hospital. Do you have someone who can stay with you here?"

I pleaded, "I want to go with Grace. Would you please unzip this so I can get out?"

"I am sorry Sir, but the medical orders I found downstairs state you are supposed to be escorted at all times or kept in restraints for a medical necessity. I am not allowed to counteract medical orders without confirming it with the doctor."

The firemen and paramedics transferred Grace onto a rolling stretcher. They moved the oxygen cable to the tank on the stretcher and placed the defibrillator between her legs. Grace was not responsive to stimulus. Things did not look good. "Look, its all a mistake. I can explain everything. Please unzip this so I can go to the hospital with Grace." With that, I watched as Grace left the room for the last time. "Look, can you be my escort?" I asked. "If so, please unzip this and help me change out of these pajamas. I'll change out of my wet diapers and get dressed in my regular clothes and we'll go to the hospital."

"Where are your clothes Mr.?"

"Call me Mike. Please unzip this. They're in that closet." I pointed to the door next to the dresser with several stacks of adult diapers on it.

"The closet is locked. Any idea where the keys are?" As I watched, Maria took a closer look around the room. She found my jumpsuits, more rubber pants, and several different locking harnesses. They all had my name, address, and emergency telephone contact number on them. They also had little locks and keys ready to be put on them. I knew I had better start explaining in a hurry.

"Look, it's a game we've played for years. My wife was an Alzheimer's nurse and I told her I would love to be her patient. She agreed and the game grew ever since. That's all. I'm not really a dementia patient and I don't need to wear these things. Now please release me from here so I can get down to the hospital."

"Mike, I don't know what you may or may not have been playing with your wife, but I do know that I have to follow doctor's orders. Besides, it doesn't look like you have anything to wear other than your jumpsuits here. Your name is even embroidered in them. According to these medical orders and these papers I found in the dresser, you are a danger to yourself and others and cannot be left alone." When I tried to interject, Maria said, "Let me quote: 'Patient has a history of undressing at inappropriate times. Patient also has a history of indecent exposure in public. Patient is not allowed to be in public without wearing his jumpsuit and harness. No toilet breaks outside the home or hospital room is allowed.' Under clinical it also says, 'Diapers must be wore at all times.' There also appears to be some sort of leash to walk you with. Is that right, or am I just reading this wrong?" Maria asked, eyebrows raised.

"Look, its all just a game. I wrote those orders up myself. They are not real."

"Well, you fooled me. As far as I am concerned, these are real and you are not going anywhere until I find out what's going on for sure."

She started to leave the room with the papers in hand when I stopped her by saying, "Will you at least give me a new diaper to put on?"

"Mike. How am I supposed to do that without letting you out of that bed cage?"

"The same way Grace does. Look, at the end of the bed is a hole that I put my hands through. There is a set of shackles that that will lock my hands and wrists. You can then open the other zipper, unzip my pajamas and put the diapers and rubber pants and my a jumpsuit in here. Then you zip it back up and wait for me to change into my jumpsuit. Then I get my hands locked up again and you zip me up and put the collar on me attached to that cable coiled under the bed. Its attached to the floor and will not let me move more than a few feet from the bed. How does that sound?"

"Okay, but what about your harness? According to this paperwork, It's supposed to be locked up too."

"Fine. After I am hooked to the cable, I'll step into the harness and you can lock it up nice and tight and use the leash to take me down to the hospital. Bring the paperwork with you so we can get this straightened out. Look, I just want to be with Grace. Please help me."

It took a few minutes, but I desperately wanted to get to the hospital and I did not give a dam who saw me dressed this way. But when it was time to leave, it was not the Maria the female paramedic, but two male police officers who put me in the back of a squad car instead. The cops didn't say a word. They just watched me in the mirror as I sat in the back seat. I was afraid to move or say anything out of line. We got to the hospital ten minutes later and the police officers walked me into the emergency room through the ambulance bay and straight into a rooms with a heavy steel door and reinforced glass window. All the rest of the rooms that I could see had curtains. Leather restraints sat in a bag next to the sink. As one police officer, the younger and bigger of the two stood outside talking to someone just out of my eyesight, the other, older and infinitely less amused of the two stood next to the door watching me. I knew from looking at him that if I tried anything, I would be put into restraints. At the time, all I wanted to know was how Grace was doing, so I asked the cop to ask for me. He just grunted and told me they'd be in in a minute or so to talk to me. "In the mean time, just sit down and stay quiet." While the text of what he said seemed innocent, I knew from his mannerisms that he was secretly hoping I would try something, anything that would give him the excuse he needed to beat me or worse. So I sat there and said nothing and tried not to move. The last thing I needed was to be arrested for some trumped up charge too.

A few minutes later, a male nurse came in to get my information and to take my vitals. The cop told the nurse he'd be right outside the door if needed. I asked George, the nurse, how my wife was doing. He said he didn't know, but he'd find out for me as soon as possible. Meanwhile, he kept asking me for information about my family history of violence, if I knew why I was there, and so forth. On the forth time through the questions, I stated I would not say anything more until I found out how Grace was doing. George's response was a little frightening. "You know, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. It is really up to you. Please answer my questions so we can get done with this as easy as possible. Do you know why you are here?"

"Yes I know why I am here. I called 9-1-1 because my wife was having a heart attack. We had been role playing when she had her heart attack and when the fire department showed up, I was still in my bed cage and I could not get out without help. Then they brought me down here so I could be with Grace and the next thing I know I'm answering fool questions about my sanity when in reality, I'm losing my mind over what's happening to my wife! Now please find someone who can tell me how Grace is doing and tell me when I can see her!" When I stood up, the police and several security guards rushed in. Within seconds, I was in full leather restraints and back on the cart. I also had bruised ribs and a bloody nose and a fat lip.

Forty-five minutes later, the door opened and Doctor Paul Fremont, Grace's boss from the agency came in. I was still in restraints and the security guard, who had been picking his nose in the corner of the room, got up and left. "I am sorry to tell you Mike, Grace died twenty minutes ago on the operating table." I screamed out loud, started crying. and then started pulling at my restraints. Doctor Fremont continued, "She had a massive coronary infarction caused by a Triple A. It was amazing she lasted as long as she did. I am very truly sorry. She was a dear friend, and as you know, she worked for me for me and with me for a very long time."

"Can you please get me out of these so I can see her?"

"Mike. Believe me. You do not want to see her in this condition. Give me a little time. I'll have them clean her up and then I'll be back to get you."

"What about these restraints?"

"They said you attacked the nurse, Mike."

"I did nothing of the sort. I just stood up and they came in here and beat the crap out of me and put me in these leathers."

"I believe you Mike. I've known Grace a long time and she never said you were ever mean or cruel or anything but the perfect husband. But I must say, from their point of view, it does not look good for you. If the medical doctor releases you right now, you'll be arrested for assault and resisting arrest."

"But I never . . ."

"Yes, I know. Mike, I'll do what I can to get this straightened out. For now, just try to relax and not get into any more trouble. Don't say anything to anyone until I get back." After Doctor Fremont left, the security guard came back in and returned to digging for gold his nose again.

Twenty minutes later, Doctor Fremont came back, this time with a second doctor and two nurses. The nurse who interviewed when I came into the emergency room was nowhere to be found. Both nurses were females dressed in pink scrubs with cartoon animals on them. I recognized one of the nurses, Grace's friend Teresa. Among the home health care workers her nickname was Mother Teresa. She was sweet and kind of serious at the same time, and known to bend the rules when appropriate. Teresa made a mean peanut butter cookie too. In her mid fifties, Teresa was divorced, had three grown up children, and two grandchildren just out of diapers. She was short and squat and overly loud at every gathering I had ever been too. Her ginger hair was cut in a bowl, making her face look even rounder than it was. For as long as I can remember, Grace had talked lovingly of Teresa. I was glad Teresa was there in the room. At least now I had one person on my side besides Grace's boss. Teresa started cleaning up the blood on my face and whispered, "Play along with us and we'll get you home as soon as possible."

"Mike, we're going to release your restraints now provided you promise not to get violent again." The Emergency Room doctor watched my eyes. I shook my head yes and he said, "Fine. Undo the restraints and lets get Mike over to see Grace."

When I saw Grace, my heart shattered. I broke down again and cried. I reached for Graces hand and stroked the hair on her forehead. I don't know how long I was there when I felt Teresa rubbing my back over my harness and jumpsuit. "Do you need to use the bathroom? I can undo you if you'd like." I muttered no, too choked up to say anything more when she added, "If you do, ask, I can unbuckle you. But know that I'll have to lock you back up when your done. Are you sure? I know your diapers are wet." I shook my head again. I didn't want to leave Grace yet.

We were like that for a while. I caressed Grace's face and hair and Teresa rubbed my back. When Doctor Fremont came in and said, "Teresa, how about getting your coat and taking Mike home?" She said sure and handed my leash to the Doctor." Mike, you are now officially under my care. The charges are being dropped but you will have to come back for a psych eval in the morning."

"But I'm not. . ."

"It's either that or being involuntarily committed for a 72 hour eval. Either way, you've got to be checked out by the Psych doctor at Carvers tomorrow. I'm sorry Mike, but that's the way it is."

"What about my house? I'm not sure where the keys are for my closet or the bathroom or anything else. I've got to get to the hardware store and buy a new drill to open the locks up."

"Can't you just call a lock smith to open everything?"

"I figured drilling out the locks would be a lot cheaper."

"Well maybe so, but I'll have to bring my drill over sometime tomorrow. Also, know that until the hearing, you are confined to your house under medical supervision."

"Medical supervision?"

"Yes, Teresa volunteered to do it. I hope you don't mind but she liked Grace very much and knew how much you two were in love. She told me she wouldn't have it any other way. Is that okay?" I shook my head yes and looked at Grace one last time under those terrible bright lights.

Teresa tried to make small talk on the way home but I wasn't in the mood. It was almost three in the afternoon and I had not eaten anything since the night before. Furthermore, my diapers were soaked and I needed to have a bowel movement. When I told Teresa that, she said, "Go ahead and poop your diapers. We're almost home. I've smelled worse. Besides, with those diapers and rubber pants and jumpsuit, it probably won't smell that bad." She smiled and did not say much of anything more.

To be honest, I tried to defecate but could not while I sat there in the car next to Teresa. Not only was I too embarrassed to do it without standing or squatting or laying on my side, but knowing there would be nowhere for the poop to go except either into the jumpsuit or squished between my legs and down the inside of the pants made me try to hold it even longer. I waited and fortunately made it all the way home without making even more of a mess.

When we got back home, Teresa let us in. She had gotten the key from the police at the hospital and held the key in front of me and smiled while holding my leash. Teresa said. "As far as anyone here is concerned, you are a flight risk and a danger to yourself and others. You are being medicated and are in this get-up for your own protection. Besides, this is exactly what Grace would have wanted me to do."

As we walked into the house I asked, "Did Grace ever tell you about what we did together at home?"

"Yep. In fact, I was the one who got Doctor Fremont to sign your paperwork putting you into Grace's dementia care in the first place, otherwise, you wouldn't have gotten the bed cage and the rest of you gear."

"Wait a minute. I thought it was all just fake paperwork."

"Nope. Grace asked Doctor Fremont to sign off on it, so he did."

"Doctor Fremont knew about us?" Teresa knotted and I said, "I thought the bed was given to her by a family who wanted to thank her for her work."

"That may be what she told you, but no. The truth is that the State requires two RNs and a medical doctor to sign off that a patient is a risk to himself with dementia or other brain problems in order to qualify for a cage bed. We told Doctor Fremont about you and Grace and he signed off after asking a few questions. According to the document, you need all this stuff as a medical necessity. In other words, for the last five or so years, you have been in Doctor Fremont's care and were a ward of Grace."

"No, that can't be right. No, I can't believe it. Why wouldn't I have been told? Shouldn't there have been some kind of meeting with me someplace?"

"Mike, didn't you find it odd that Grace didn't work many hours?"

"No, not really, I make a good living writing and editing text books."

She smiled and said, "For the last five years she has been paid by the State to take care of you. Didn't you know that several inspectors came by to see how you were being restrained and treated?" Teresa could tell I was in shock. "They came by while you were working and sleeping and other times and were really quiet so they wouldn't upset you. They watched you on your video monitor and signed off each time with no questions asked other than how you were tolerating your meds. A few times they asked me about you because I was your other nurse on-call. I verified your psychiatric evaluation and claimed you were getting worse so Grace could add more and more things for your care. Heck, that's why Grace kept getting better and stronger restraints for you. Didn't you ever wonder why you ended up in a cage bed? The State inspectors stated you needed to be free of restraints as much as possible and suggested the bed as a way to do that. They also stated a third party observer would be required to be able to view your videos at any time so once we started. Once that started, there was no turning back. Even now, the psych doctors are reviewing your tapes as we speak." I sat there mystified. "Like it or not. If you don't convince the doctors tomorrow that you need to be kept in diapers and restraints all the time, you might be charged with fraud and grand theft of services and a host of other crimes. I suggest you get familiar with your medical records."

Teresa handed me a big file that I didn't know existed. It went back ten years, about the time Grace first put me into a jumpsuit and diapers. "What about Doctor Fremont, can't he clear this up?"

"He's not going to say anything that might cost him his medical license. If it comes to that, as far as either of us know, you and Grace duped us. If you don't want to go to jail, you'd better be ready to spend the rest of your life in diapers and jumpsuits. I can help you, but only if you agree to allow me to be your primary nurse from now on." I got up and started pacing in my bedroom. "Oh come on. It could be worse. It will be much worse if you don't agree to let me help you. I will lie for you because that's what Grace would want. But I will not risk losing my RN license either." She started to remove my harness. "Look, if you agree, I'll move into you guest room and to take care of you as your nurse. I know what Grace was making from the State. Between what the State pays and what you pay me out of your funds, I can be very happy and can make you very happy too."

"I love Grace," I said, head down, exhausted.

"And she loved you." She stroked me and hooked a collar around my neck and then to the ring in the floor and locked it both of them with a pair of locks before I came out of my stupor. "Grace is dead. You have to decide what to do next. Do you want me to help you, or do you want to go to jail?" Teresa asked matter-of-factly, and too loud.

"Wait a minute. Are you blackmailing me?"

"No, I'm changing your diapers and keeping you out of jail. That should be worth something. Don't you agree?"

I stood up and pulled at the steel cable now locked to my neck. "What about my kids? Won't they have something to say about this?"

"Doctor Fremont contacted them five years ago. Its all in your chart. You might want to read it." Teresa pulled off my jumpsuit and opened the bathroom door. "Why don't you get yourself cleaned up and take a long shower. I'll look for the rest of the keys and we'll talk more in a bit. Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, I haven't eaten since yesterday." I said walking into the shower while trying to hold my sagging diapers up. I didn't even realized I had lost my bowels until I felt the extra weight and smelled the odor.

"Fine. Take a shower and I'll get us some food." The rest of the day I kept a similar routine that I had had with Grace. The only difference was that I also swallowed several pills prescribed by Doctor Fremont. Teresa stated they would help me sleep. They did. I woke up with a very soiled diaper and defecated again before Teresa unzipped the bed cage.

The next day I went for my psych evaluation. Teresa walked me in on my leash. I was fully diapered and wearing my jumpsuit and harness. Doctor Fremont was there with Teresa and several other people. They asked a lot of questions but thanks to the prescribed pills, I was a bit loopy. I am sure I did not answer all the questions how I normally would have answered them. I got confused and agitated and lost control of my bladder and bowels. Soon after, the psychiatric doctors got up and went into another room and Teresa strapped me into a wheelchair. She whispered, "You did great. From now on, you're not going to have to worry about a thing." Teresa was right. It turned out the medication Teresa gave me that morning made me appear forgetful and moody and loopy. To make matters worse, the food was loaded with laxatives and the extra fluids caused me to lose control over my bowels during the meeting. When I became agitated and tried to get up out of the chair, the evaluation ended.

Doctor Fremont told me he would remain as my primary care doctor. Teresa would now be in charge of my home care at home. Additionally, as a condition of home care, I was fitted with a GPS monitor that could not be taken off without a special tool. It was made to withstand the best bolt cutters and I could be tracked and traced at any time if I left my home. I was also fitted with a special secondary monitor that automatically locked any door in the house. It also set off alarms if I tried to leave the house unattended. In that way, without Teresa or the other home health care nurses that worked my case unlocking the magnetic door locks, I could not go anywhere. Furthermore, since I had demonstrated a loss of bowel and bladder and bladder control, diapers were now mandatory. Any nurse who came to work in the house was told to never believe anything I told them. I was a danger to myself and others and if given the chance, would expose myself, dig into my diapers, and throw feces at them. The next day I went to Grace's funeral wearing my jumpsuit, harness, and leashed to Teresa. The people who showed up came by to offer me their condolences and as they did, took notice of the jumpsuit and harness I was wearing. They could not help but to notice my leash and Teresa standing just behind me. I noticed my children spending the morning explaining to anyone who asked that I had had a nervous breakdown and was now under the care of a doctor. Other than the hushed tones from people talking about me, the funeral and graveside services went off without a hitch. With Teresa at my side holding my leash, and with the sun was shining high overhead, I did my best not to make a spectacle of myself.

The following day, Teresa took my predicament a step further. She had a contractor set up tethers in every room. Soon I was never more than a few feet from the nearest floor ring. Whenever I went from one room to another, I would stand in a small taped rectangular area before moving. When I stood there, the door could open and whomever my nurse was that day could take one tether and attach it to my harness and lock it in place. Then she would remove the other tether and lock. As Teresa pointed out, if I ever tried to fight them about it or get away, the two tethers would hold me inside that small space until I regained my composure. If things got really bad, I would be shackled and given a shot of mood mellowing drugs that Teresa told me would eventually cause me to be loopy all the time. "You're a really smart guy. You don't want that to happen."

Today is the anniversary of the day Grace died ten years ago. I am now fifty years old. I think her every day. I also think about how I lost her way too soon. But on the good side, I know Grace was correct about me. She always said that when I settled down and started writing I would make something of myself. With no other choice except to write, I am now a best selling author. My fans think I am a hermit and spread rumors about me because I never leave the house. They call me the Howard Hughes of the modern mystery story. They may be right. I do all my research and writing on the computer in my study. I remain under the constant care of Teresa and Doctor Fremont and the other home health nurses who make sure I am safe. I remain locked in my jumpsuits, harnesses, and diapered at all times. At night, I sleep in a new version of cage bed. It is more comfortable and even more secure than the Vail model. As Teresa said, it is a cage bed on steroids.

I don't get many visitors. What visitors I get are mostly doctors and inspectors and my literary agent. Even so, I do get a lot of fan mail. Teresa lets me read them and answer a few, but she is the one who answers the rest. After all, Teresa cannot be too careful about allowing her golden goose to let the word out that I am a psychiatric prisoner in my own house. If she only knew that I was really happy, Teresa would not bother with the extra security measures. I don't bother trying to escape because I really like being diapered and being in constant medical bondage because I know that Grace went to extraordinary lengths to please me by keeping me diapered and in my jumpsuits and bed and harness and other forms of restraints. My only real concern today is that the authorities might find out I am a fraud. But Teresa is making sure that does not happen, for a price. As far as Teresa is concerned, as long as I do my job of being the psychiatric patient around the cameras the State installed, I can stay diapered and locked up in my restraints until I really do need them for real. So for now, I sit here, tethered to the floor in my office. I write best selling novels. I wet and defecate in my diapers. I think about how much Grace loved me. And I wish she were still here with me. But in a sense, she is because I include her in everything I write.