Archive of Our Own

The annual company vacation was always wonderful: a great opportunity for Colin to kiss ass and speed up his inevitable rise up the company ladder. Soon, he wouldn’t just be watching presentations: he’d be making them, presenting in front of thousands of inferior faces. Unfortunately, his corporate domination wasn’t quite there yet, and as they all entered the villa, Colin knew he was barely noticed between the twenty other people on the Summer Products Development and Innovation Team.

It was him, his boss, Claud and his boss’s boss, Mr Graham, who stuck out to him the most. These were the people that he needed to convince: these were the people who needed to know he was smart.

His bladder cried out for attention, shattering his concentration. Internally, he was hoping room check would be quick: sometimes he was trapped talking to his roommate for half an hour before he even got his bags down.

They were two to a room (for company cohesion, of course) which was perfectly fine for a free trip. The things he’d learned in those many rooms, watching as his peers revealed secrets beyond his wildest dream. Alcohol-addled and foolish, a thousand mysteries had been sold and a hundred backs had been stabbed.

Colin expected to be put with James Kirstin, or perhaps Steven Opley. They’d been at the company just as long as him, clean-shaven and young, and had been the natural choice to put together in their first years together. He didn’t like nor dislike either of those men, not when they’d been so useful over the years, and found himself almost looking forward to the corporate gossip he’d be privy to.

But as he looked at the list taped to the table, Colin noticed with exhilaration and horror that he was rooming with Mr Graham himself, a man so powerful he was almost like a god. Oh, the things he might hear. And this was a brilliant chance to show his skills, too – he’d take Mr Graham out for a drink one afternoon, teach him what a sophisticated man he was. There’d be no doubt who was getting Stephanie’s old position after that…

Yes, Colin was well-practiced in the art of bold-faced sycophantry. It was one of his many talents if you asked him, and perhaps even more important than literacy itself: to be able to convince someone you were so devoted to them that they would give you the world in exchange. Or, at least, that job he wanted.

Colin didn’t dare eye his boss nor Mr Graham as he searched for the room marked Room 25. Colin knew from the number alone that his room was, unlike every other year he’d stayed there, on the second floor of the large villa owned by the company, one reserved for the elite in the company. This year, he’d be dwelling in it, too, a sweet little slice of the cake he would have all to himself in only a few years.

As he walked along, Colin almost licked his lips in exaggeration. Almost. But the thumping of heavy, powerful steps behind him told him otherwise. Colin felt like a child dressed up in his father’s suit as he looked across at the man who practically owned everyone here: Mr Graham. Colin felt a dribble of wee enter his underpants. That man terrified him.

“Ah, hi, Sir,” Colin waved, hoping that he didn’t seem as awkward as he felt. He didn’t dare cast a look at himself in the mirror, not when he was having a conversation that would make or break this week, “It’s a pleasure to be rooming with you this week!”

Mr Graham smiled, “I’m sure it is, rather than being with those youthful party animals downstairs. I’m an old man, Colin,” he smiled, a silver fox at thirty-three compared to his own thirty. So the big boss had a sense of humour after all?

“You’re very funny, Sir,” Colin laughed, though it came off as more of a huff as the nerves seemed to get to him more than he would have liked. Surely, if they were spending a week together he could fix this?

“You as well, Colin – I like to see a comedian on our task force – calling me funny,” he teased.

Nervous, Colin merely deigned to smile – the cowards way out. So what – he was a coward, he could freely admit it. So long as he rose in power, it didn’t bother him who stepped on his toes.

“Why don’t we get to our room, Colin?” he asked, shocking him as he grabbed him by the hand. Mr Graham was no larger than he was but he felt so strong, so powerful when a solid gold watch lightly dug into his arm, when he could look down and see Mr Graham’s expensive Italian shoes from a brand he’d never even heard of. Colin knew even then he was out of his depth but as he was pulled along, he tried his hardest to conceal this truth.

By the time they reached their room (and didn’t that sound stereotypical on a work trip) Colin was sure his hands were more wet than a cube of slime. Truly, he felt dripping with sweat though he couldn’t tell if it was the hot Italian sun or the fact that he was attached so closely to his superior.

In any case, he was relieved when Mr Graham blipped the door open with his key card, holding the door open for him. He’d quickly be able to relieve himself properly.

Their hands finally separated, Colin stood motionless in the middle of the room, staring at the two massive king-sized beds on each side of the room. Each held a mountain of plump pillow as though avalanche-ready. It was a wonder how they didn’t simply spill out onto the bed, yet they were as still as he was, left perfectly prepped by the tireless staff.

Mr Graham spoke first: “Which bed would you like, Colin? I’d recommend the one closer to the bathroom, the one by the door has a certain… smell to it…” his nose wrinkled and as Colin sniffed carefully, his nose noted a rich smell of vomit coming from that bed. Ah, so that’s what he was up to those evenings out…

“Oh, I can take the one by the exit. I like to get up bright and early, Sir – check the news, keep fit, you understand? If anything, you’d be helping me,” Colin lied, wincing at the horrid smell which permeated from the wall.

Mr Graham smiled as he put his things on the bed nearest the bathroom, “Your mindless sycophantry is very entertaining, you know? I hope it gets you somewhere.”

Colin’s eyes widened: that wasn’t what he was supposed to say. That- no, he was supposed to ignore it- no, that wasn’t what bosses were supposed to do. This was all wrong. Colin felt his underpants go warm and wet, felt his bladder empty without his doing. With that, he redoubled his efforts to get into the bathroom – and quickly.

“Sir, do you mind if I put my bathroom set away?” Colin asked, pulling the gaping bag from his pocket. He’d overpacked a little, naturally, and so he’d been stuck throwing things wherever they fit. At least it was coming in useful.

If his boss noticed the accident he’d had, he didn’t let on. Colin’s underpants were as thick as they needed to be and then some, so they absorbed most of it. No doubt, a wet ring around his trousers had emerged but he could simply wrap his jacket around his waist as he came out, then flee into the shower a moment later. Yes, this was all absolutely fine.

Mr Graham nodded and so he fled.

A jacket wrapped around his waist and his showerware placed firmly in the bathroom, Colin returned to the main room, the attention away from himself as his big scary boss’s boss was sat in bed watching YouTube. It was something boring about an area of economics he’d rather die than delve into after those torturous years he’d been forced to. No, if it wasn’t for college he wasn’t doing it again.

With a cursory wave, Colin grabbed his towel and a change of clothes, dashing back to the spacious bathroom before Mr Graham decided he needed a post-flight shower. Oh, who was he kidding? Mr Graham had probably had one on the plane, the rich bastard.

It was in the shower that Colin endeavoured to never wet himself in the presence of Mr Graham ever again, even if the man scared him literally pissless. It was a horrifying thought to be at that man’s mercy but that was all in his head so long as he impressed. If he failed – if he wet himself again – well, a firing might be in order.

Right, Mr Grahams didn’t like sycophantry. That was fine. He’d just have to find another tactic. Or, at least, disguise his sycophantry somewhat.

It was a great feeling to be rid of the piss which had clung to his underpants. He was free, basking in the shower with the joy of a couple getting married. So blissful was the feeling that he could almost imagine he was somewhere else entirely.

Hair soaked like a river-roaming dog and just as pleased, Colin emerged from the shower fully clothed, his short hair dripping slightly into his shirt. It was an almost fatherly shirt, patterned with entertaining pineapples, designed to evoke a feeling of parental cheer, that perfect mix of sophistication and humour which might make him seem like a respectable threat. Yes, he had planned each and every outfit meticulously – his boss and Mr Graham would have no shame associating with him.

The moment he opened the door, Mr Graham’s eyes were on his. He smiled pleasantly, as though in relief.

“You look a great deal more professional than I was expecting,” Mr Graham said, “So I think we’ll be able to go to the pool together yet,” he said with some humour.

Oh? He was being invited to go with him to the first night pool party? Well, he wasn’t passing up that opportunity, no matter how his fearful side protested it was all in jest.

Mr Graham himself was in a classy white shirt, almost blouse like, and some relaxed trousers. He clearly wasn’t prepared to actually get into the pool (unlike some of his younger colleagues) and would likely be talking business around the side of it.

“Of course, Sir, that would be my pleasure,” Colin said, trying to hide the steadily-emerging smile.

And soon they were off, packed and ready to wander out to the poolside. It would at least provide some reprieve from the harsh heat, even being around it. No doubt, there would be talk to have – secrets to learn. Colin knew he was sure to memorise as many as he could, as the drinks plied each one from people’s lips.

They walked together – of course, they did – and Colin wondered how he hadn’t expected that. Maybe it was out of fear for the man who could make or break his career – the man he’d wet himself in front of.

“So, where did you go to college?” Mr Graham enquired, looking across at him emotionlessly.

Colin winced internally. That was not one of those questions he liked to answer. After what had happened to him those depressing months before finals, he’d had to change a few plans.

“I went to West Canawelfia, Sir,” Colin answered, lowering his head in a minute show of submission.

Mr Graham smiled, “Ah, my cousin went there. It’s a nice place, I hear?” he offered.

Colin nodded, “I’d say so, Sir.”

The conversation stopped and Colin was aware that he should have said so much more, that he should have done something else. There were options, of course, but none seemed to reach his brain as he searched mindlessly for ideas.

The outside air was like a sauna even though it was ten o’clock: those intense waves of heat which never let up, much the opposite to his home’s half-hearted warm gifts given once or so a year. Needless to say, he’d be enjoying the heat while he had it.

“Sir, if you need me to do anything for you,” Colin professed, and he meant it, too. He’d sacrifice his life, even, if it granted him a cushy title and enough money for the rest of his life.

They were going down the steps, wet already from the feet of the masses. Someone had already been in the pool and he could hear more of them splashing about like children. He wasn’t egotistical to believe that he was above that all entirely, but there was something so infantile about messing around in front of your own boss. No, Colin endeavoured to stay as far from the poolside as possible, lest it be he who was left drenched in water.

One step, then another, then Colin slipped a little.

But he’d catch his feet, right?

Panic came over him: his legs were going down the side of the stairs, evading them entirely. If he fell now, it would be… how many metres?

Ten?

Twenty?

No, it couldn’t be – not on the first day of the trip that wouldn’t be-

But the floor shoved into him anyway, knocking the air from his chest as his legs splintered into a million pieces. He could feel them smash, feel his legs cry out as though someone had taken a hammer to them.

He groaned, writhed and then, the world on fire, screamed.

It seemed that the pain took his whole body because when he next came present, Colin wasn’t writhing on the floor like a worm. Instead, he found himself in a colourful little room filled with appliances and tools and all of the other strange things you might expect in a hospital.

It took him a moment to realise why he was there but in the end, all it took was the throbbing pain of his legs to know. Both of them had tigers clinging to every tendon. Both were aflame, left discarded in a burning car as he sat in that hospital bed. It was like night and day, for his chest and head and arms were perfectly unscathed. Yes, it was clear what had taken the fall.

His legs had been disappeared, sent off to somewhere else entirely, for they were concealed underneath layers of blankets. He didn’t dare look to see what fate had befallen them, though he hoped that he’d be up and about before anyone important saw him like this.

Colin winced as he looked up to see the one man who couldn’t see him in such a pathetic state under any circumstances: Mr Graham.

And suddenly Colin’s body went beyond any normal fear. Suddenly Colin felt warm, his ears heard the sound of flowing liquid and his heart knew just as much as his head that everything was ruined.

“Sir, I’m sorry you have to see me like this. Please, enjoy your vacation!” Colin pleaded, biting his tongue in fear. Mr Graham couldn’t see what he’d done, couldn’t know what he’d done-

“No, Colin, it’s my fault for putting you into this situation. If you weren’t so sycophantic – if I weren’t so high up – then you’d still be dry. No, I’ll pay for your injury, and I’ll help you with this. Who knows, Colin? Maybe if we interact more, you’ll learn we aren’t so different after all?” He suggested, removing the blanket over him to reveal an ever-growing puddle which expanded around him.

Colin didn’t say anything: what could he say? This man could have him fired in a moment if he didn’t let him. So, utterly unable to do anything, he stayed still, watching as Mr Graham inspected his soggy hospital gown.

“You’re fine with me taking your trousers off, right?” Mr Graham asked, doing so before Colin answered.

Nothing would have come out anyway.

Colin could feel himself be moved; he could feel his trousers be stripped from him; he could feel wipes on his penis, wiping every single area that could possibly have been made wet. He could see people enter the room, see Mr Graham wiping him like he was some child. He wanted nothing more than to do something but it felt so wrong to go against a man who could ruin him if he wanted, could destroy his career on nothing more than a whim.

Blinking, Colin lifted his arms up as Mr Graham put a new hospital gown on him. He wondered how his first had been removed.

“So, what do you say we leave? You’re cleared to leave whenever you want, they’ve fixed you up as best they can for now,” Mr Graham said, suddenly clarifying, “Your family – your Mom I think? – gave consent as you weren’t quite able.”

Colin nodded, “Yes, Sir, I think that’s best,” he said, voice breaking like that of a child.

“Good, Good,” Mr Graham said.

Then, a thought entered his mind that genuinely confused him: “Why are there no doctors or nurses here?” Colin asked, looking around the tiny room.

“Well, there aren’t many doctors in a place like this, and they’re all dealing with the drunks – urgent care, you see? None of them speak English, either, so they’re keeping us to ourselves mostly,” Mr Graham explained.

Colin accepted this information but another question rapidly came upon him: “How am I getting back to the lodge? Both of my legs are…”

Mr Graham laughed softly, “Broken. They’re both broken. But we’ve got you a wheelchair you can use for the next few days – so long as we give it back for the plane, you see,” he said, pulling a small foldable wheelchair out from in the corner.

Colin heavily suspected that they weren’t following standard protocol but he was satisfied with this conclusion: who would want to spend time hanging around the place where they’d literally just wet themselves?

Now unfolded, Mr Graham looked between Colin and the chair as if wondering how he’d get him in.

“I’m gonna lift you into the chair, you’re going to tell me when it hurts, okay?” Mr Graham offered.

Colin nodded – this arrangement seemed as suitable enough as it could be considering this was his boss’s boss, the man who had just seen him naked, touching him to put him in a wheelchair. As much as he found that he never wanted to engage in physical contact with him again, Colin knew better than that: what Mr Graham wanted, he would get: this was an inevitability.

So instead he allowed Mr Graham to lift him into the chair slowly and carefully, wincing when wincing was appropriate and moving when he was supposed to move. It took five minutes longer than he’d expected to be manoeuvred into that chair, five minutes more of Mr Graham touching his skin, breathing onto him like a great mountain lion. It was terrifying – absolutely terrifying.

But he merely stayed still, praying that neither of them would mention this day ever again.

It was a weird feeling to be wheeled through a hospital, no control over where he went. His height was reduced massively, his eyes only able to stare at people’s chest, or the occasional child’s head. He saw blood and gore in those moments being carted through the hospital, violence that Mr Graham appeared wildly apathetic towards. But that was the way of a millionaire, wasn’t it? Apathy – total, complete apathy towards anyone who wasn’t you or your children or your dog.

“Are you okay, Colin?” Mr Graham asked, “Tell me if anything hurts.”

Colin nodded, “I will,” he said briefly, averting his eyes from a bed where a man lay screaming. How was it that he’d been seen so fast when others were suffering, their lives at the risk of ending in a matter of minutes. Colin couldn’t believe that there was so much pain on an island that was so beautiful. But that was the truth behind all beautiful places – they were all built on pain.

In the car park, Colin stared at the vast morning sky. It was a shock to his system that the whole night had passed: countless adventures and hijinks and rumours had already been created and spread. He’d missed out on so much already! And with his broken legs…

Colin watched as Mr Graham wheeled him towards a car. It was a large sports car, a convertible, and Colin almost laughed at the idea of entering it himself. But they were making a clear beeline towards it and Colin quickly realised with amazement that this was the car that Mr Graham was driving – this was the wealth and status afforded to somebody who was in such a position. Colin wondered with astonishment if it was merely rented or just his summer car. Mr Graham was surely rich enough for that madness, wasn’t he?

And he, bruised and in a wheelchair, would be getting into it. He would sit next to Mr Graham ,the richest man he knew, dancing through roads and racing over hills, to get back to the lodge that he’d visited for many years. Despite the underlying situation, Colin could only feel an intense excitement about the fortune which had befallen him: he’d be entering a car worth more than his whole family combined; he’d be pretending to be wealthy for a few minutes. For a short while, he’d have a taste of what his life could be.

Mr Graham grabbed his bottom, sliding his hands underneath him, and lifted him out of the seat. It was a funny feeling, to be suddenly plucked from his seat, instead held up in mid-air by a man he was only somewhat used to being around, much less at such a close distance to.

The next moment, he found himself in the passenger seat, his legs propped up on the dashboard.

“I’ll just get you a bit more space, okay, Col?” Mr Graham asked.

“Uh, okay….” Colin muttered, slightly concerned by the nickname.

With the push of a button, Colin’s legs separated from the dashboard, propped up by Mr Graham’s arms. He winced, staring at the twin casts he’d avoided looking at on the trip to the car. Slowly, Mr Graham tilted his legs downwards, stopping at the slightest inkling of pain, until his feet were once again on the ground.

“There we go! I’m so proud of you,” Mr Graham smiled, patting Colin on the shoulder.

At least there was no dumb nickname.

With that, Mr Graham clicked his seatbelt shut for him, even though Colin knew he could do it for himself. But maybe he just felt guilty? It was confusing. It was even more confusing that he’d been asleep as he could scarcely remember not being awake at all. Or maybe he had been awake…

He’d figure that out at some point, hopefully.

Back at the lodge, bed rest wasn’t so bad. Honestly, he’d thought that he’d be left alone for the whole day but it turned out that Mr Graham had taken pity on him or something, so they were there together.

It was really annoying, though, that Mr Graham appeared completely unable to give help without sounding like the most annoying man ever.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Col?” he asked, using that annoying nickname once again.

Colin, who had been firmly tucked into bed, nodded. Mr Graham had made sure that everything was to his exact preference and they even had a kettle stuck in the outlet on the floor in case Colin needed a cup of coffee at that exact moment. It was a strange situation, to be cooed over and coddled by someone who you’d only seen in a professional capacity before. It was almost nice.

But Colin knew better than that: he knew that sooner or later, Mr Graham would be asking for it all back: they’d be on the plane and he’d bring out the calculator or asking him for a favour or quizzing him on how much he valued working at the company. Something would happen to mess this all up and it wouldn’t be him who did it: it would be the man who even his friends could only call ‘efficient’.

“I’m sure I’m fine, Sir, it’s fine. Why don’t you go out and enjoy the nice weather?” Colin offered for what felt like the millionth time, and Mr Graham sighed.

“Colin, this isn’t what we’re doing here: you’re resting up, which means you might need a helping hand. I’m here for you; I’m at your disposal. Tell me what to do to help you and I’ll do it, understand?”

Colin could, but that didn’t mean he had to like it: if he had it his way, he wouldn’t be sat in his bed all day; he’d be wheeling himself around all the shops he needed to even if he tipped over twenty times. But apparently that wasn’t ideal for Mr Graham so he was stuck on bed rest, his pain only slightly medicated away.

“...Could you put the TV on?” Colin suggested, staring at the remote which was just out of reach.

Mr Graham did so, and put on some suitably boring gardening show that two colleagues could watch together without any offense or too much amusement, just as was right.

The show was a gardening competition from three different states, each an elderly couple who seemed as dull as bricks. But their gardens were pretty enough, if a bit droll, and the sight of the flowers was almost calming to him after the stress of that morning.

“I hope the lady with the purple handbag wins,” Mr Graham supplied helpfully.

In Colin’s humble opinion, red handbag lady had it made. He found himself satisfied when she won the competition after all – her begonias absolutely demolished purple handbag lady’s attempt at the flower.

At some point, Colin began to shift in front of the television. He knew what his body needed – he knew that he needed to go to the toilet. But that would require huge amounts of agony or Mr Graham seeing him nude, neither of which were particularly great options.

So he simply did nothing, laying there as something else, a short documentary about how rabbits lived in some country in Europe, flowed through his ears. They were surprisingly vicious creatures when provoked.

A tap on the shoulder.

“Colin, if you need the bathroom you know you can say, right?” Mr Graham asked, and Colin winced.

“...Yes…?” he lied, though he was still moving like mad. Colin realised with horror that the TV was facing him: Mr Graham had to look past him to see the TV, so he’d probably seen him squirming like a rabies-infected worm for the past half hour.

“Colin, do you need the toilet?” Mr Graham said slowly, looking right into his eyes.

Colin shrugged but they both knew he needed to go – and badly.

“Colin, I won’t ask again: do you need to go to the bathroom? You don’t want to have another accident, do you?” Mr Graham asked.

Colin shuddered, “I- I don’t have accidents. Can we stop talking about this?”

Mr Graham laughed and nodded, “Of course I’ll stop talking about this – if you go to the toilet. I can tell you need it and I’m not cleaning up another bed if I don’t have to,” Mr Graham admitted.

Scoffing, Colin raised his hands in the air, “If you want to take me, I’ll go. That’s your choice, though.”

Mr Graham smiled, amusement evident across his face, “Of course, I’m glad you’re admitting you need to go. We’ll have to do this while you heal and I’d rather this stops being awkward sooner rather than later, you understand?”

Colin nodded, though he didn’t really care about what Mr Graham thought.

But he left his own bed easily enough, wandering over to him with the wheelchair. It reminded him of the morning, when he’d been taken out and changed. As the afternoon sun beamed down, Colin wondered how long he’d be suffering like this. Too long, it seemed. And all because some idiots weren’t dry on the stairs.

In the wheelchair, Mr Graham crossed the short distance to the bathroom and ferried him inside.

Colin shuddered, aware of what had to happen next.

“Don’t be afraid, Col – at least you’re not wearing trousers this time,” Mr Graham offered.

He nodded, unconvinced. If anything it was worse that he didn’t have that layer of protection between this guy who’d seen him nude a weird number of times so far (one, one was weird enough) and his own body.

The moment that he was transferred from the wheelchair to the bathroom, Colin felt so much more vulnerable. All Mr Graham needed to do was pull his nightgown up and suddenly his parts were on show.

“You can go to the bathroom now, Colin,” Mr Graham offered, as though he was a child.

Colin gulped, “Can you look away?”

Mr Graham did, and Colin felt small droplets ease out of his body. Moments before, he’d been desperate for the toilet and though the need was still wild and strong, Colin couldn’t go when he was being so watched. Was this was it was like to be in an institution? Constant monitoring, constant eyes all over you? If so, Colin hoped to all that would listen that he never came down with anything – if his mental health took a turn for the worst, could this be the rest of his life?

He shuddered.

“I don’t think I can go – not like this,” Colin admitted.

Mr Graham tutted, “That’s fine,” he said, “We can wait a bit longer on here.”

A minute. A minute and no amount of straining and pushing and praying could force more than a drop of urine out.

Colin groaned but there was nothing he could do.

“No, I think – I think we should wait a bit.”

Colin grabbed his nightie back from Mr Graham and pushed up as though the wheelchair hadn’t rolled a little bit away from him.

Mr Graham laughed and rolled it back over, helping him back in.

“You’re fine, Col – we can wait.”

Colin was relieved to be back to the comfort of his bed, the TV blaring on about how foxes survived the winter. It was almost comforting that Mr Graham appeared unconcerned and completely not embarrassed on his behalf about anything. It was almost endearing how Mr Graham seemed intent at not causing him any upset. Colin almost respected it.

Sleep came easy to him and by the time he found himself awake again, it was dark and Mr Graham was in his own bed as well. The TV had been turned off and there was an empty mug which hadn’t been there before. His phone helpfully informed him (throwing all the light of the sun right into his eyeballs) that it was four thirty-two.

In short, this was not the right time to need to go to the bathroom.

Colin looked around in the vast darkness of their bedroom in search of his wheelchair but it was in the far corner, beside the bathroom door. And that only reminded him of what he needed to do.

His bladder twinged but he was sure that he could find a solution. If he just crawled…

But a quick twitch of his leg taught him a lesson, coming suddenly alive with waves of intense agony. No, he would not be crawling to the bathroom.

Well, he couldn’t very well wake up Mr Graham to take him to the toilet – that would be ridiculous! Sure, he’d helped him the the day before but that had been different, hadn’t it? He’d been awake and willing. Waking him up would only be rudely dragging him into this whole thing – it wasn’t right.

The other solutions were even worse. He couldn’t just walk and wetting himself right there was out of the question. Colin knew he’d need to hold it but it felt like torture.

And what if he went in the cup?

No, even moving that much would be torture: there was no moving possible. Either he stayed awake the whole night or let it all go, and he wasn’t pissing himself in front of his boss’s boss for the third time in just over a day.

Grabbing at his penis, he cut off the flow as a last measure, a check to make sure that he would never be forced to go without his own doing. It was awfully childish but Colin knew that it was the only solution available when he was in so much pain, unable to move.

His muscles spasmed. It was five oh one.The digging pain of his straining bladder seemed neverending as he pleaded with it to stop. He begged himself to not go, to hold it in. He would hold it in, wouldn’t he? He was an adult and adults didn’t wet the bed like that.

Adults didn’t have bladders who suddenly failed them, pouring a torrent of wetness into their sheets. Adults didn’t suddenly let go of their penis as they failed to hold back the great pressure of the flow. Adults didn’t cry out in half-muffled pain as they finally gave in.

But Colin did.

Colin relaxed in shame as his bed heated up with his own wetness, as he soaked himself for the third time – a bed for the second. His cheeks heated up as he became suddenly aware that Mr Graham would see it in the morning (if not smell it) and would be led to believe that he’d simply wet himself in the night. Well, he’d tell him otherwise. He could negotiate – and negotiate well at that. He was trained in telling people the truth of these sorts of situations, he’d get everything sorted out, he’d make sure that this misunderstanding was cleared up.

Exhaustion, pain and a million other things taking him over, Colin fell back asleep as his bladder went off again, his bed getting even wetter.

Hours later, he felt something on his shoulder. For a moment, he wondered if it was those space bear things he’d been dreaming of but it soon emerged that it was Mr Graham instead. What an original nightmare – not!

Colin was taken aback as he felt his situation: the pain in his legs and the cold, soggy wetness of his nightgown. He wondered with astonishment if Mr Graham had something to do with it until he recalled the horrific tale of the night before; the way he’d wet himself suddenly, falling back asleep with the hope of Mr Graham changing him in the morning.

“Col, have you got anything to tell me?” he asked, glancing down at his bedridden roommate.

Colin blushed, searching internally for a polite way to phrase what had happened only the night before.

“There was… ah… an unexpected outcome when I woke up last night needing the bathroom. I couldn’t get up, and it…” Colin stuttered nervously.

Mr Graham’s face softened, “Colin, I’m not mad or disappointed. This was all my fault for not getting you to the toilet! Listen, Col, you didn’t make it but you couldn’t have made it – it’s not your fault, and I’m going to get you changed and we’ll make sure that we don’t do this again, okay?”

Colin sighed, “Okay. It’s not like there’s anyone else here to help me.”

Mr Graham smiled bitterly, “No, I think your co-workers are doing a wine tasting right now.”

That had been one of the draws for him attending the trip another year going, aside for the whole free part. But alas, that was another thing he was missing out on and perhaps another sign that he’d fucked his sleep schedule up massively. It seemed that being injured took a lot out of you – and the sleep medication took further still.

“I’d like to get out of these clothes now, Sir,” Colin suggested.

Mr Graham nodded in agreement, “Yes, I think you need a change, too… Right, shower, sort out bed, then another documentary?” he proposed.

“Doesn’t sound too bad,” Colin agreed, allowing Mr Graham to wheel him back into the bathroom.

When Mr Graham had proposed a shower, he’d assumed that it meant on his own. Apparently not. Sat on the shower seat, Colin begged for the shower to steam up more than it had already, for on the other side of the glass Mr Graham was watching, making sure that he hadn’t fallen over or something. It was horrific, really, but who was he to refuse a man so high above him on the food chain who seemed so intent on helping him? If he refused, that would be refusing all ties with him altogether and that was career suicide. So, for the sake of his budding career, he allowed Mr Graham to check on him through the shower.

The shadow faded and as he washed the piss from his body, he imagined that Mr Graham was off stripping his bed or doing whatever else he thought needed doing. Therefore he made liberal use of his time in the shower, only turning it off when Mr Graham appeared again to stare at the steamed-up silhouette of his nude body.

When the shower turned off, Mr Graham ambushed him with a towel hoodie, throwing it over his head in a vicious attack. Mr Graham began to rub him dry, rubbing at his arms, his feet and not even stopping at his crotch.

“Hey!” Colin complained.

“You were the one who wet the bed, Colin – I need to make sure you’re clean before you get anywhere near some more fresh sheets,” he insisted.

Colin sighed, “I can clean myself there. You stay away from that bit, Sir,” he demanded.

Mr Graham laughed, “Of course, Col – I’m sure you can do everything on your own.”

“Of course,” Colin agreed, grating his teeth quietly. He flipped Mr Graham off beneath the towel, grinning internally at his secret.

With that, Colin found himself being lifted back into the wheelchair from the shower seat and carted back towards his bed. Only, it wasn’t made and it stunk of disinfectant. On the floor beside his bed, a pile of blankets had been laid out on top of each other, creating something like a bed except it was directly on the ground.

“The bed has a plastic covering on it because, well, obviously with all the drinking there’s bound to be a few types of accidents going on, so the mattress isn’t too damaged. Still, you’re going to have to stay on a makeshift bed down here till at least tonight. You’re fine with that, right?” he asked, placing Colin down onto the bed.

Colin sighed, pushing down to get a feel of the soft, warm bed he’d been put down on. “Fine. Just pass me my clothes, okay?”

Mr Graham did so, rifling through Colin’s bag to find his baggiest shirt and shorts. This was an easy enough find considering the expensive, flowy clothes he’d chosen for this expedition: it was vacation casual if Colin had ever seen it.

Before long, Colin was freshly dressed and prepared for another day of lazing about inside, longing for going on a wine tasting or hooking up or doing something so utterly foolish that it defied the laws of the universe.

“Hey, Colin,” Mr Graham said, “I’m going out to get you something that we can use while you’re suffering from this issue.”

Colin sighed, “So long as it isn’t depends or something – I’m young enough for pants for now,” he joked as best he could while sniffing in disinfectant fumes.

“Of course not,” Mr Graham said, swatting at him in amusement, “Well, if you’ll be okay, I’ll sort this all out.”

Colin waved him off, though he assumed that Mr Graham was truthfully out doing something that crossed the line of inappropriate to tell someone you worked for (which could be many things) and decided to leave it at that.

The remote lay beside him and he switched it on, losing himself to an Italian antique show. It was droll, even more so considering he had no clue what they were saying, and he barely kept his eyes upon but for the fact that he had to keep a strong face up for his boss’s boss.

His stomach rumbled. How long had it been since he’d eaten? He’d slept too much for that the day before, his mind numbed by pain medication. Now that it was all wearing off, Colin found the pain returning in waves, along with his hunger which rose up in him like a great wave.

It still caught him by surprise when he heard the door bleep, swing open and locked eyes once more with Mr Graham.

“You’re back quick,” Colin noted, looking at the strange bag he held in his hand. It contained something large, pushing against the plastic bag containing it. It was a large plastic object of some variety, perhaps… a bin?

No…

Mr Graham took it out of the bag, revealing what was undoubtedly a potty.

It was a mix of pink and blue as if the genders were battling it out for dominance. Colin didn’t doubt that this was designed for kids, the bubbled pattern reminiscent of the ocean. Outside, there was a real ocean – one he could have swam in had he not broken his legs. Instead, he was inside, staring at the potty his superior had jokingly bought him.

“Very funny, Sir,” Colin laughed, taking it all in as Mr Graham tilted it around in his hands.

Mr Graham squinted, “It’s not a joke, Col – it hurts you to be carried all the way to the bathroom, and it hurts you again to get your legs around it. If you just use this, you can go where you are and I can empty it out – it will be far less painful.”

And wow, Colin had to think. He knew that they used a similar system in hospitals, when someone couldn’t get out of bed, and though they were using a potty in this instance, it wasn’t like anything more medical was easily purchasable on some random island, even if you were loaded.

So instead, Colin sighed, “Fine. But I’ll only use it if absolutely necessary.”

Mr Graham smiled, “I’m glad you’re getting on board – I hope that this trip is as painless as possible for you. I’ll pull it nearer to you when you need it, you can do the rest from where you’re laying.”

Colin shuddered at the idea but even then he knew well that he’d end up doing it: there was no point in beating around the bush, was there. No, he didn’t want to take ten minutes to get to the bathroom and this way, he could go whenever he wanted instead of it being a massive thing. Unfortunately, Mr Graham was right; this was the most convenient option, one that didn’t necessitate him being literally placed onto the toilet.

“Good. I don’t need it for now, though,” Colin said, turning to look back at the television, which was presently showing a documentary about how young shrimp reached sexual maturity. Both he and Mr Graham politely refused to comment on that fact.

He expected Mr Graham to leave once again but instead Colin found him stuck to his side like glue. It was remarkable how clingy the man appeared, as though he simply couldn’t fathom just leaving and letting him get on with it. But that was fine when it was all in silence, the TV telling him about some topic or other as he tried not to let the heat get to him.

“Colin, would you like breakfast?” Mr Graham offered, outstretching his phone which was on a food delivery app, “We can get anything you like.”

Colin hummed, taking the phone from him with ease. He flicked through the options, settling on something which would get him re-energised after ages without food. Some pancakes, with sausage and bacon, dressed in a gorgeous maple syrup sauce. Yes, it was just what he needed. And a chocolate milkshake to boot. What was even better, he didn’t need to pay for it.

Still, when he’d picked what he wanted, he said, “I’ll pay for it.”

Naturally, Colin knew that there was no way Mr Graham would ever even think of letting him pay, not being so wealthy, but there was etiquette he had to follow, a performance he needed to put on. In that moment, they were co-workers, squabbling over who paid the check: that was all they needed to be.

“Colin, dear, you don’t need to pay for anything, it’s fine. You just rest up and you’ll be out and about before you know it,” he replied, smiling at him sweetly.

And then Colin realised something: Mr Graham, this strange man, was in love with him. That explained everything: the nicknames; the constant politeness; his inability to leave. Yes, it was an unfortunate truth that this man was in love with him – and Colin was willing to exploit it.

“Oh, well, if you insist,” Colin sighed, turning to look back up at the TV.

“I’m glad you’re getting some rest,” Mr Graham noted, then, after a few taps, “It’s ordered.”

Breakfast was a meal of champions. Colin had the little plastic tray perched on his bed as he lay down, unable to see half the plate for he was still lying down. He was almost hesitant to pour the maple syrup on, seeing as there was a high chance it could get onto his bed. But that was fine: Colin knew that he could clean it up if he had to.

So he opened his mouth wide, cringing as small drips of maple syrup fell down onto his duvet.

Mr Graham laughed, practically guffawing as he choked on his food. It was something so animated, so lively for a man he had seen only in the form of a photo for the first half of his career: this was the real man. And Colin found that he didn’t dislike this guy, even if he had gone in the shower with him. There was the promise of a promotion, of money, of status, just for wooing Mr Graham. And it seemed that he was already most of the way there.

“Hey, what are you laughing at!” Colin sighed, watching as Mr Graham barely avoided spilling his boiling cup of coffee onto those expensive trousers of his.

Laughter almost over, he smiled, “Nothing, Col. You just looked so happy as you started eating.”

Colin severely doubted that but what did it matter? The guy was rich!

He stuck his plastic fork into the pancake and tried to rip another bit apart. Only, it seemed utterly uncooperative, going halfway across the plate without even so much as a tear!

Sighing, he tried once more with another piece and that seemed equally as unwilling, as though the syrup served as glue placing the pieces together forever in unholy matrimony. Colin wondered if this was purgatory: waiting, mouth salivating, to get just one more bite of pancake.

Instead, he deigned to go for a sip of his milkshake and his stomach was momentarily satiated, a beginning to the end of his hunger forming. It was easy enough to take a few more sips and, his mouth blocked by the cup, Colin didn’t even notice the hands grabbing at his tray.

Removing the cup from his mouth, Colin went to stop Mr Graham from grabbing at his food but he was too late: Mr Graham had put it on his lap up high on the bed, so far from his pathetic reach. He almost contemplating trying to stand up but decided against it for the pain from earlier that morning was a good enough reminder of what could happen if he wasn’t still.

“Hey! Get off!” he complained, grabbing at air as he demanded it be put back.

Mr Graham frowned, “I’m just helping you cut up your food – I have the height advantage with piercing it, see?” he noted, tilting the tray down so Colin could see the pancake he’d cut so far.

“What- I can do it myself, Sir!” Colin whined, though Mr Graham ignored these protests.

“It’s important to help someone you care about when they’re in trouble, you understand? And here, that’s what I’m doing. You matter to me, Colin – let me take care of you.”

Colin blushed, taken aback by those words. Was this… a confession? His pink face buried itself in his pillow as he listened to Mr Graham cut up his food. What he’d previously seen as something embarrassing likely seemed to Mr Graham as something romantic. Oh, so this was love…?

“Here, Col, here’s your food back,” Mr Graham said, sitting himself down crossed-legged beside him.

But he didn’t surrender the cutlery: instead, when Colin exited his pillow cave, he found a forkful of pancake entering his mouth.

He blushed, not expecting such behaviour from Mr Graham. It was sweet. Caring. Vulnerable.

Colin closed his mouth around it, allowing the fork to leave when he’d removed the piece from where it had been pierced. He chewed, eagerly taking in the full bite of food that he’d have spent ten minutes on otherwise.

“Thanks,” he smiled, opening his mouth as the second plane hit his tongue.

Mr Graham retaliated in much the same way, a caring look coming over him, “No, it’s nothing to thank me for – just relax and let me do this for you, Col,” he declared.

And Colin did, allowing Mr Graham control of which piece of food he ate, when he had a sip of milkshake… It was easy to just let him do it: Mr Graham, a man he’d thought hard as nails just a day before.

When he was done with breakfast, Mr Graham wiped his face with a tissue, removing the small excess maple syrup which had found itself on his face. Colin could only imagine a lover so attentive, so sweet…

“Did you like that, Colly?” Mr Graham asked.

Colin nodded, words evading him as he stared into Mr Graham’s eyes.

“Should we get the TV back on or do you need to go to the potty now?” he enquired.

That wasn’t exactly what lovers did, but in this situation Colin could let it slide: Mr Graham was helping him, and if he was helping with one thing it followed that he’d help with everything. Sort of like husbands, right? In sickness or in health…

Truthfully, Colin was feeling a little pressure in his bladder so he hummed in the affirmative, “Yes, let’s make it quick,” he added.

Mr Graham pulled down his trousers, not averting his eyes when his penis was on full view. His intention was clear now: Mr Graham loved him.

So Colin let him watch as he grabbed himself, watch as he began to wet into the potty only a bit away. They both ignored the slight leakage onto his bed: he was satisfied that he wouldn’t be judged, not after his previous accidents.

He was smiling freely as Mr Graham tipped the potty out in the bathroom, blushing with affection for the man that cared about him so much.

So Colin let him help him to the potty a few times that day – it quickly became just another ritual, just something else Mr Graham helped him with. Lunch and dinner, too, were Mr Graham assisted, each piece cut up and fed to him.

And as he drifted off to sleep, it was Mr Graham who tucked him in; Mr Graham who kissed him on the cheek.

“If you need to go to the potty, darling, just tell me, okay?” he said softly, only retreating to his own bed when Colin nodded in response.

But, much akin to the night before, Colin found himself awake in the early hours of the morning, so early that it was downright inappropriate to wake even the person closest to you from their slumber.

He cursed the fact that the Potty was three feet away from him, just far enough that his arms couldn’t reach.

And, just like the night before, Colin found himself ruining his sheets, tarnishing it with a warm wetness which drove him back to sleep in shame.

A thick sense of deja vu came over him as Mr Graham tapped him on the shoulder, no doubt smelling the obvious.

“Col, my darling, you know that you can wake me up whenever you need to go to the potty, right?” he asked, concern deep in his brows.

Colin nodded, but it didn’t feel like it, not at three in the morning.

“I’m sensing a ‘but’?” he asked, staring right into Colin’s eyes as if reading his soul.

“But it’s so early in the morning! And you’ve already done so much for me, I wouldn’t want you to wake up for me!”

Mr Graham hummed, taking his words in carefully.

“This, we can fix – I’ll have this sorted out by tomorrow night, okay? Just let me handle this.”

And Colin did – he let him handle everything. Everything, from his movement to the shower to the cleaning of his clammy, freezing wet body was handled by Mr Graham, who lovingly swaddled him in a towel, who clothed him once he was dry.

Indeed, it was Mr Graham who fed him a bittersweet breakfast on a brand new pile of sheets, his old ones discarded into the wash.

“At least, dear, you can sleep in your old bed as it’s dry now,” he provided helpfully, giving it a final spray of disinfectant.

That evening, after a dinner bought and fed to him by Mr Graham, Colin was assaulted by the sight of another bag from a different shop. This one was the pharmacists’, delivered to them through a delivery app like everything else they seemed to eat.

The contents of that bag should have crossed the line: it should have been too much for him to put on what were ostensibly diapers. But as Colin looked into the eyes of a man who cared about him like nobody else he’d ever known, he could only feel trust and care for him.

“I’m glad you’re being so understanding, Col,” he smiled, kissing Colin on the cheeks in a momentary pause in diapering him, “You’re wonderful,” he said, “A perfect leader, someone who understands what must be done for efficiency, to do what’s best for everyone. You’re right – I’d rather not have my sleep interrupted, dear, and now this problem is fixed entirely.”

Colin smiled, taking his words in. This was it – this was his chance. If he remained close to Mr Graham, who knew what prestige and good fortune would come about him? This was his chance to unlock unparalleled levels of fame and fortune, all just waiting for him.

“Thank you,” Colin said, and he truly meant it.

That night, Colin hardly hesitated in soaking his first ever diaper in decades.
He sighed with relief as he freely flooded his padding, releasing everything into it. In a sleepy daze, Colin still knew what he was doing was stupid but what was the other option? Waking up someone who had done so much for him? Pissing himself in bed?

Yes, it was gross as the warmth stuck to him, but at least he knew that in the morning he’d be able to sleep for as long as he liked.

So, rolling back over, Colin smiled to himself at the prospect of sleeping in on his vacation. This was actually quite convenient after all.

“You’re absolutely soaked it, Col,” Mr Graham smiled, prompting a blush from Colin.

As Mr Graham inspected his diaper, it was clear to see that Colin clearly had done a number on it. The padding squished when he moved, wet and noisy, and Colin was conscious that he should have been embarrassed. But with Mr Graham, everything sounded so promising: if he just did what he said, it was like all his hopes and dreams could come true!

“I-” he found himself unable to figure out what to say. Was he actually okay with him doing this? Surely not… But that now-familiar smile shone in his eyes – Mr Graham truly was fine with him using his diaper.

“I’m so glad you were so open to this – it’s made everything so much more convenient,” Mr Graham said joyfully as he removed the soaking mass, plopping it onto a tray.

“I just want to make sure that you’re not waking up for me,” Colin admitted, “You do so much for me, Sir,” he said.

Mr Graham sighed,”I think we’ve moved past ‘Sir’, don’t you?”

Colin nodded, “So, what should I call you?”

“You can call me James for now, my dear,” Mr Graham offered kindly, a bright warmth emanating from his eyes.

“James,” Colin tried, “I like it.”

With that, James went to grab him a fresh pair of clothes, and Colin realised that he hadn’t had to go through any of the pain that came from showering in his state. He’d been able to sit there, carefree, while Mr Graham – James – did everything for him. Truly, it was the better option by far.

When he returned, Mr Graham had a question on his tongue: “Colin, would you like to go out for the day?” he offered, “I know you’ve been cooped up in here for days and I couldn’t help but want to change that. We could go visit the town, get a nice drink somewhere, a meal…”

Colin’s eyes widened, “You’d really take me out?”

Then, blushing, he clarified, “-Not like that-”

James laughed, “Of course, I understand what you mean. We’ll get a nice brunch together, eh?”

And who was Colin to say no?

For the first time in days, Colin was out of the villa, pushed around by Mr Graham’s loving hands. All Colin had to do was sit there as Mr Graham put in all the work, pushing him up every hill on the short walk to the small town which sat only a path away from the villa. He’d been there a million times before but from a different angle, it all felt so different: every view was another entirely; every building could be inspected from another perspective.

Truly, there were benefits to this experience, ones he hadn’t anticipated when he’d broken his legs. Naturally, he wasn’t glad it had happened but there was something about this that he could get used to with James by his side.

“This is beautiful,” Colin breathed as they entered the busy crowds. The chair went roughly over the cobbled streets but he didn’t mind as the air was fresh and the word felt truly alive. All those days he’d been stuck inside, and this place had been waiting for him…

He looked around at those strangers who spoke a language that was not his own, those people who wore totally alien outfits, who came from a different culture entirely. He stared at signs that, while using his alphabet, were hardly understandable even with context clues. Colin was lost entirely in the reverie of this strange place he’d visited so many times.

Mr Graham steered him towards a large building with several different balconies, each decorated in an entirely different theme. It mimicked twenty different cultures, and though Colin had come to explore the island’s, he couldn’t help but find the prospect of experimenting fun.

“This, Col, is my favourite place here,” he said, grunting as he forced Colin up the ramp.

A man stood in front of them, clutching a tablet and a menu. His hair was gelled back and he had a simply ravishing moustache. He was the epitome of a foreign waiter—that Colin could get used to.

The man asked Mr Graham something and before Colin had processed that the noises weren’t English, Mr Graham was already responding in what Colin assumed was Italian. He was sure that the words were probably close enough to English to be intelligible at a slow pace but they were speaking like co-conspirators plotting amongst each other, except they were nowhere a whisper.

Colin shrank into his chair, trapped beneath a conversation he couldn’t understand. What could he do but wait and see what happened? He didn’t dare ask ‘hey, James, mind telling what you two are saying’, so he was stuck helpless till they reached an agreement.

A gesture to come forward, and Colin was moving.

James patted him on the shoulder and Colin tried his hardest to relax into his seat as he rolled through the restaurant, watching hundreds of eager mouths eat their brunch—or whatever Italians called it.

Finally, the waiter stopped at a booth which had no chairs on one side, clearly reserved for people in wheelchairs. It was still alien to Colin to be in such a situation, in a world for people who could walk just fine while he was stuck in the chair. But at least this was only a temporary issue; before long he’d be back to normal, striding into work with his colleagues.

“Gratzie,” Mr Graham nodded, waving the waiter off with a smile as he rolled Colin closer to the table.

Mr Graham sat down, taking a few moments to find his most comfortable position. In every possible position, he loomed far over Colin. Then, finally, after a moment, “Sorry about that, Col—we used to get drunk together when I was younger—but that’s not relevant today. So, what do you want, darling?” he asked, politely enough.

Cringing at the public use of pet names, Colin picked up the menu and, after a moment of confusion, audibly sighed: “I don’t even know… It’s all in Italian…” he frowned, trying to parse the fancy words used for what should have been a simple meal. Colin could already tell that this was one of those places that named each ingredient in the most pretentious way rather than actually naming the dish. While allergen-safe, it did not make it easily intelligible even in English.

Laughing fondly, Mr Graham suggested, “I can read it for you, if you want?”

“Please,” Colin huffed, “It all sounds so pretentious.”

Mr Graham grinned, “Of course it’s pretentious—it’s a stupidly expensive restaurant, after all—so all the food is, well…”

“Not to my taste?” Colin offered.

“Exactly!” he frowned, “Unless you want to eat frog eye and wax? It’s a delicacy here, I hear..?”

Colin laughed, “Not today, James. What’s American-friendly?” he requested, scanning the menu for something—anything—he could understand.

“I’d recommend the… I don’t know its English translation…burger? They have their special sauce?” he offered, “Nothing too strange, I think you’ll like it. And it comes with fries, so that’s a plus.”

“Hmm…” Colin pretended to debate as he looked up and down the menu he couldn’t read. He wasn’t the most exotic eater, truthfully. Naturally, in a business event, he might eat some bizarre shit he wouldn’t eat elsewhere but James seemed like nice company. So instead, Colin simply nodded.

“I think I’ll take the burger,” he said, “And what are you getting, then?”

Mr Graham hummed, “I always like their salads. It’s a good option, I think, especially after the food we’ve had,” he joked. Truthfully, it had been days since either of them hadn’t eaten something that was processed shit.

Colin meant to reply but the moment those words left Mr Graham’s mouth, the waiter was back again—this time with an order sheet.

They spoke, and again the words almost didn’t register as words. To Colin, it was like he wasn’t there at all…

But eventually, their orders were taken and in quick haste, placed on their table.

The first thing that Colin noticed was that his plate was far smaller. His burger was tiny, a child-sized portion like something you’d give a six-year-old. His fries were larger in number but still weren’t much. Beside it, he had a strawberry milkshake, equally as child-sized.

“I would have ordered the adult but you can’t get shakes without a kids meal,” he explained, dragging the burger over to himself.

“Hey, wait–!” Colin said sternly, but Mr Graham gave him a look and he was silent.

“Colin, I’m just cutting your food up for you. You need to take it easy, okay?” he asked, splitting the burger into bite-sized portions.

“Oh, what, and you’re feeding me like a child, too?” Colin scoffed, glaring up at him.

Mr Graham frowned, “No, I’m going to feed you like someone I care about… deeply…” he said, flashing eyes in just the right way.

Colin’s heart pounded, hardly able to fathom what was happening: this was real; Mr Graham—James—was saying…

Colin was so lost in the daze of what had just come true that he jolted when food entered his agape mouth.

“Eat, Col,… All you have to do is eat. Sit back, dear…”

He did so, swallowing the food obediently. Each bite, decorated nicely with a mix of mayonnaise and ketchup, was placed onto the fork by Mr Graham as Colin did nothing but open his mouth and chew.

“You’re so good,” he smiled, patting Colin on the shoulder, “You’re doing so well…”

He placed the shake in Colin’s mouth and he sucked; he put another forkful of food in and Colin chewed. It was easy, and Colin found it so nice to have everything done with him on holiday. He was almost falling asleep at the table, was it not for the sudden temperature switch between his shake and burger.

Then, forcing him fully from his daze, Colin felt a strong need for something he’d been neglecting for a short while. He blushed at the realisation of what he’d need to say in public, whether the locals knew what he was saying or not, and decided to put it off for the time being: he could always go to the potty back home.

But as he sat and ate, he realised what he hadn’t accounted for: unlike lying down, Colin was under the effects of gravity…

Suddenly, when he couldn’t take it any longer, Colin closed his mouth, blocking a sauce-coated fork from entering his mouth.

“James, I need to go to the potty,” he said urgently, closing his legs and trying his hardest to fight the urge to physically stop the pee coming out of his penis. In fact, he was so full of fear that he didn’t even realise what he’d said.

Mr Graham froze, eyes widening.

“I’ll roll you in, dear, okay?” he offered, and Colin nodded, eager to get this nightmare over.

He dropped the cutlery, running to grab the wheelchair as they made their journey of maybe ten metres to the men’s bathroom.

But as Mr Graham pushed him, every movement was like shaking it around; every metre they went, Colin felt more desperate. Colin pleaded with his very being to hold it for just one more second.

At last, they entered the men’s bathroom and Colin immediately caught sight of the urinals. For a mere second, he caught a flash of another man using it, and immediately Colin’s brain was reminded of what he had to do.

Without warning, Colin flooded his shorts: the blood, sweat and tears shed making that journey mourned as they had been shed in vain. Colin gasped, aghast at the tragedy occurring without his doing.

The sound of what he was doing echoed through the bathroom, earning him the notice of the man who had just finished up on the urinal. The man looked away, completely unwilling to look at another man’s wet shorts.

As he left, he and Mr Graham stood there in the middle of the room, both shocked at what had just happened. Or, that was what Colin thought, until…

“...I thought this might happen,” Mr Graham noted, pulling something from his bag, “So I brought spares.”

With that, he pulled a pair of shorts from his luxury satchel, alongside one of the diapers he’d been made to wear the night before.

“No,” Colin gasped, “That’s not fair… I don’t need- I don’t-”

“Colin, you’re injured. Badly. It’s only natural that some other areas might be affected as well. So I’m going to ask you to wear these briefs just for a little while, in the day as well,” he demanded.

Colin glared at the diapers with righteous fury. The moment later, it simmered down as he realised the reality of the situation: this man was his superior and, what almost mattered more, he gave a shit. Who else had helped him so much? Who else seemed intent on making sure he was okay?

So, sighing, Colin acquiesced.

“Fine, just… Don’t tell anyone.”

Mr Graham laughed, “Of course not! These things are secret and I always keep secrets…” he said darkly, though it was almost humorous considering the situation.

Five minutes later, a blushing Colin was ready to get back to brunch, padded in a fresh diaper. Colin knew that it was just in case, but it still felt embarrassing to wear such a stupid thing. He could hold his bladder, damnit!

Returning to brunch, it was just as pleasant. Mr Graham fed him each piece, allowing Colin’s mind to drift into a state of bliss. This, he knew, was what life was supposed to be: carefree joy. So what if he was wearing a diaper? If it was helping him relax on vacation, it almost didn’t matter.

Mr Graham rubbed at his face with a napkin, forcing a laugh out of Colin. His hands, though quick, were extremely ticklish.

“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed brunch, darling,” Mr Graham smiled, sticking his hand up for the check.

The surprisingly attentive waiter came over to them and Colin was suddenly struck with a horrific thought: what if he knew he was wearing a diaper?

He didn’t seem to notice anything was up, but he was laughing about something with Mr Graham. It was so irritating how they seemed to ignore him completely when he was right there.

“I’m here too,” Colin frowned, glaring at Mr Graham angrily.

Mr Graham laughed, “I know you are, Col, but I need to pay the check. Just wait a second, okay?” he asked, his voice sickly-sweet and grossly condescending.

Colin wanted to argue back but he knew that Mr Graham was right: he was doing something important and who was Colin to stand in the way of that? Besides, he was literally paying for the whole thing. Still, he pouted between Mr Graham and the waiter till finally, there was cash on the table and the waiter retreated with the money.

They were silent for some time as Mr Graham wheeled him out of the restaurant but once they left, he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder.

“You do not interrupt me when I’m trying to do something important, okay?” he ordered, gripping even harder.

Colin turned to look at him with fear and he realised with horror that there didn’t seem to be an ounce of mercy in Mr Graham’s eyes.

“I may be taking you out to brunch, and helping you with everything, but I’m still your superior and you need to pay me respect. Understand?” he offered.

Colin nodded, “I understand.”

With that, he broke into a smile. “I’m glad, Col. Now, where would you like to go next?”

That afternoon was something from a movie: Mr Graham took him to every store he wanted, allowing him to buy whatever trinkets his eyes wandered to. It was a good thing that he was in a wheelchair because otherwise there would have been no way to carry everything. It was like Mr Graham had an infinite supply of money, something Colin’s one-bedroom flat simply couldn’t fathom.

Store to store, and still it wasn’t over; store to store, and as the sky turned dark, it was as though nothing could interrupt their blissful afternoon. But all good things must come to an end eventually; take, for example, Colin’s dry diaper.

It was as they were walking over to an icecream bar by the beach that Colin realised that he desperately needed to go to the potty. Looking around, it felt like the boardwalk continued for miles.

“James…?” Colin whispered, though the boardwalk was only sparsely populated.

“Yes, Colin? What’s wrong?” he asked, stopping as though to check him over.

He walked to the side of the chair and pushed down on Colin’s trousers and, by association, his diaper. At this, it was like the pressure was only increasing.

“What was that for?!” Colin whined, urging James to move towards a bathroom he could use.

“You seemed panicked—I assumed you wet your diaper. I guess not,” he said casually, as though it was something he did every day.

Colin frowned, “I don’t wet my diaper,” he frowned. Not in the day, at least.

“Alright, fine. What do you need, then? Are you hungry? Thirsty?” he enquired.

“What– no! I need– I need to go to the potty,” he whispered, praying that nobody else heard.

Mr Graham tutted, “Colin, we’re a mile away from the nearest toilet, further from the closest potty. So, either you go in your diaper now or you go by accident later. Which is worse?”

Colin’s mouth went agape as he processed those words: that wasn’t what he was supposed to say, he was supposed to take him to the bathroom immediately!

“I can make it! Just take me to the potty!” Colin whined, earning him some laughter from the couple passing by them.

Frowning, Mr Graham asked “So, what happened when I took you to the bathroom that was actually in the restaurant? We went there immediately, and yet you still couldn’t make it. I love you, Col, and we both know that it’s better for you if you just go when you need it.”

But Colin still wasn’t convinced: “I can make it, James! Just take me there!” he begged helplessly.

“No, Colin, I think you forget who’s in charge of this chair—and who has the money here. Listen, dear, if you go now, I’ll buy you the most expensive watch you want from that store you were gawking at on the way here. I don’t care if you sell it after this vacation is over; it’s yours.”

Now that… that was convincing.

So Colin tried to relax, tried to ease his pee into his diaper. Grunting, he desperately begged it to go into action but it simply refused, seeing his diaper as the wrong spot to go for a wee.

“Col, I need an answer,” he ordered, but Colin was too busy trying to get something out.

Colin grunted and groaned but instead of releasing his bladder, he was forcing out something else entirely. Rather than just wetting himself as he’d done at night before, Colin could feel a hot, squishy mess enter his padding.

He tried to push it back up but that simply wasn’t how physics worked: it was already coming out: lumpy, fat presents making him stink disgustingly. Additionally, the pee he’d been trying to force out came with it, spraying the padding with a seeping warmth which quickly soaked through. Colin groaned in horror as more mess came out: he could handle just wetting his diaper, but pooping himself was something else entirely.

Clearly, Mr Graham could smell it as he turned to look at what Colin had done, pulling down his shorts ever so slightly and pushing it down.

In disbelief, he turned to Colin and said, “Darling, I don’t think you’re going to be wearing anything but a diaper for a while.”

Silence. Then, “Are you going to change me?”

Mr Graham nodded, “I think you’ve earned yourself a change.

That evening, Colin went to bed with a rolex watch on his wrist and a clean diaper around his waist. Content, he didn’t know that he’d just had his last day in undies for a long time.

As the days passed, Colin became more used to using his diapers. By the end of their vacation, Colin didn’t even consider telling Mr Graham before he went potty, knowing it would just be pointless humiliation. So, sitting in his chair, he learned to wait till Mr Graham noticed what he’d done.

Of course, he was a bit more stubborn about going poo-poo in his diaper, but soon even that was something he’d done once or twice, even if he did demand changes immediately after.

But the real problem came when they entered the plane. A soggy diaper wrapped around his waist, Colin looked up at the man who’d taken care of him the entire week with trepidation.

“...James…?” he asked fearfully.

The chair stopped and Mr Graham hummed in response, “What is it, Col? I don’t think you’ve gone stinky just yet.”

Colin blushed at that statement, relieved that his co-workers had already passed him by on their way to their seats. With hesitation, he asked carefully, “...Are you going to take care of me when we get back? I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Smiling, Mr Graham patted him on his head as though it was silly to even think that way, “Of course, darling! I’m going to take care of you for as long as you need–”

Colin smiled with relief, grunting as he pushed a massive stinky into his diaper. His padding expanded eagerly, welcoming its contents like old friends. Soon, Colin knew that he'd make the plane smell all stinky. Normally, that would have been embarrassing but for him, it wasn't. Instead, he smiled: though it was his 'accident', it was James's little problem to fix.

“-By the smell of it, I think you’re going to need me for a long time,” he mused, wheeling a very messy Colin over to his seat.