thinking about a kind of roleplay "school" for littles and middles of various agespaces, and some are diapered and need to be changed, others are regular wetters, etc. the teacher cg keeps an eye on all this and metes out punishments etc.
anyway there's one middle who always makes fun of the others when they wet, overdramatically makes faces when the littles are dirty, constantly making smartass remarks. they wear cloth training pants because they can almost always control themself during the daytime, other than the occasional leak or small accident if the bathrooms are closed or there's a line or something. this is a multi-day event so as days pass, the middle gets more openly mocking. they actually are mean enough that it begins to bother the other littles/middles. once or twice they even need to be spanked.
one day about halfway through the class, the teacher notices that the brat hasnt talked for a while and is sitting very still, looking at their hands. a few minutes later, the little sitting behind them raises their hand and says "[middle] pooped on themself". the middle immediately denies it and blames another little. the teacher comes around the desk and approaches the middle, and they get very panicked, saying "no no it wasnt me". they try to squirm away but the teacher grabs their wrists. a struggle insues, making the smell more obvious. the middle is overpowered and the teacher pulls the back of their pants out...yep, full.
middle starts bawling. the teacher has to punish them for lying so much, so they're marched up to the front of the class, the seat of their pants sagging. they're trying to make excuses that it was food poisoning or that they're sick, but the texture is all wrong for that. the teacher spanks them, HARD, making sure to flatten their mess and make them feel it. the they're sent back to their desk to sit in it for the rest of the class as it cools.
they're sobbing but no safeword, and later admit that they came so hard during the spanking that they nearly fell down on their walk of shame to the back of the class.
Taylor thought her senior year of college was going to be the best year of her life. It was her last year to soak in the college experience, and she intended to do just that.
She never expected it to end up like this.
Taylor always wondered how her boyfriend, Sean, managed to stay so relaxed under pressure. It was the quality she admired most about him. No matter what was happening he was always calm, cool, and collected.
Unlike Taylor. Whether it was midterms, essays, or even making it to the 8 AM class she had to take, she incessantly stressed over it. Not even Sean's steady presence and assurances could soothe her frayed nerves.
The situation only got worse as she started Spring semester. With graduation approaching like a runaway freight train, Taylor knew she'd be thrust into the adult world in only a few months. She'd need a job, an apartment, all of it. Taylor couldn't have been more overwhelmed.
Unfortunately for Taylor, her nerves came with significant side effects. Side effects that would change the trajectory of her life and relationship with Sean.
You see, there was a direct correlation between Taylor's nerves and her overactive bladder. The more nervous she became, the more you'd find Taylor sprinting to the bathroom, fighting an overwhelming urge to pee.
For years, it had merely been an annoyance, not a problem. Sure, she'd need to rush to the bathroom, but she'd always make it. Nothing to worry about, just something to deal with.
So Taylor pushed it aside. She had more pressing concerns, anyway.
“What do you want to do for spring break, babe? Sean asked as they ate dinner at his apartment. Taylor loved his apartment—it was her safe space, her haven. Unlike Taylor, Sean lived alone. Though Taylor spent so much time there she might as well have been on the lease.
Taylor thought about it. She wouldn’t settle for somewhere basic and cliché—it was her last Spring Break, after all. No, this trip had to be special—their last hurrah before they became boring adults.
Taylor didn’t know it yet, but she would never become the adult she imagined.
“What about Mexico?” Taylor responds, “maybe Cabo or Cancun?”
For the rest of the night, they mulled over increasingly exotic destinations. For a few hours, Taylor forgot all about her worries and concerns. At least until she tried to sleep. Before long, Taylor went from imagining partying on some foreign beach with Sean to her future after it, never noticing her growing need to pee as she fitfully drifted off to sleep.
“Taylor…Taylor. Wake up.”
Taylor heard Sean’s voice trickle into her dream. For as anxious as she was falling asleep, she had remarkably good dreams. She was dancing with Sean, taking shots on bars, and…something else. She remembered sprinting to the bathroom, feeling the intense relief of making it on time.
“Taylor,” she heard Sean say again, shocking her awake. She felt cold and…wet. “You wet the bed last night.”
Sean expertly handled the situation. Taylor was obviously mortified, but both of them chalked it up to a one-off event. She wasn’t a bedwetter, Sean assured her. It happens every so often.
Except Taylor woke up in a puddle every morning for five days. The more it happened, the more worried Taylor became. The more she worried, the more likely she was to wake up wet. It was a vicious cycle. A cycle that Taylor would never escape.
As always, Sean never showed any signs of panic or concern. Every morning when he inevitably woke up in a wet bed, he calmly woke Taylor up and washed the sheets, assuring Taylor everything was okay.
That night, Taylor went to Sean’s apartment as usual. It had been a long week for Taylor between the bedwetting and a tedious, difficult courseload. She needed a quiet Friday night with Sean.
Taylor noticed something different about Sean, though. There were subtle, almost imperceptible changes in his behavior. Sean was always helpful, respectful, and generous, yet tonight he seemed even more so. Taylor couldn’t put her finger on it.
Something about the way Sean acted made him feel…was powerful the right word? Maybe authoritative? Taylor tried to decide. He wasn’t bossy or mean—no, it felt too loving to be either. He just seemed more…in control. Protective.
Whatever it was, Taylor didn’t mind. She felt surprisingly safe and comfortable, even when he insisted he handle dinner while Taylor relaxed. Or when he cleaned the dishes himself. Or when he unilaterally decided they should watch Finding Nemo, saying it was “perfect” for her. Even when he rebuffed Taylor’s request for a glass of wine. Taylor contented herself with cuddling with Sean under the blankets on the couch, watching the movie.
Once the movie ended, Sean decided it was time for bed. As they got up to head to his bedroom, Taylor heard him say something that flushed her cheeks with embarrassment: “Taylor, can you try to go potty before bed?”
Taylor froze. She’d never heard Sean call it a “potty” before. Despite her overwhelming embarrassment hearing his suggestion, Taylor meekly agreed. “O-okay,” she said, barely more than a whisper. Taylor didn’t use the “potty,” though, unwilling to give in to Sean’s infantile demands.
But Taylor’s embarrassment was only beginning. As she walked into his bedroom after humiliating time on the “potty,” she found another, even more humiliating item waiting for her on his bed: a package of pull-ups. Sean sat next to them, waiting expectantly for Taylor.
“Wh-what are those?” Taylor stuttered.
“It’s time you wore some protection to bed, Taylor,” Sean said sternly, yet with a surprising undercurrent of love, “your accidents aren’t stopping. So you need to wear these until you get it under control.”
Taylor understood this wasn’t a negotiation. Sean expected her to wear the infantile garments next to him. She watched as he calmly opened the package, taking out the pull-up she would soon be wearing. Seeing it made her stomach drop, the yellow and blue stripes a poor imitation of the underwear it would soon replace.
“Come here, Taylor,” he said, the authority unmistakable in his voice. Taylor did, wordlessly walking towards the inevitable humiliation. Without another word, he pulled down Taylor’s pants, then underwear. He fluffed the pull-up, separating the leg holes.
“Up,” he demanded, tapping her left leg. When she did, Sean slipped the pull-up over her leg, up to her calf. The process repeated with the other leg. Soon, the pull-up was lifted into place.
“There,” Sean said, satisfied, “how does it feel, Taylor?”
A dawning realization grew in Taylor’s mind. Sean’s behavior all night made sense. He treated Taylor exactly how you’d expect to treat someone who still wears pull-ups—all part of the power dynamic that inherently comes with diapers.
“No, no, no, this can’t be happening!” Taylor thought in a panic, “I don’t need pull-ups!”
Sean never took his eyes off Taylor. He patiently waited for her to answer.
To Taylor’s horror, her body answered for her. Her frayed nerves were pushed past their breaking point, throwing her bladder into overdrive. Without warning, Taylor felt her bladder violently spasm. Before she could even react, she felt a growing warmth in her pull-up. She looked down in terror, unable—unwilling—to comprehend what was happening.
For a nanosecond, Sean’s eyes grew wide when he realized what was happening before regaining his composure. He saw a darkness spread in Taylor’s pull-up, expanding as it did. Neither spoke until Taylor finished.
Calm as always, Sean looked up at Taylor’s face, her cheeks red with shame. “Well, I’m glad you were wearing your pull-up!”
“I-I-I don’t u-understand!” Taylor sobs, humiliation getting the best of her.
“I do,” Sean replied, getting up and hugging Taylor, “you had an accident. Like the ones you’ve been having all week. But it’s nothing to be ashamed of, Taylor. I’m here.”
Their embrace was interrupted by the sound of dripping. Sean stepped back, looking down at Taylor’s now leaking pull-up.
He sighed. “Taylor, honey, I don’t think these pull-ups will cut it, especially if you’re going to keep having accidents when you’re awake. Tomorrow, we’ll get you something more suited to your needs.”
Even though it was left unsaid, Taylor knew exactly what he meant: diapers. And even worse, he thought she was having daytime accidents. Well, she was having daytime accidents.
Panic and frustration welled inside Taylor. “I don’t need diapers! I’m not a baby!” Taylor shrieked, her tone very much as infantile as the baby she denied being.
“Look at me,” Sean commanded, “I understand you’re embarrassed. But you just leaked through your pull-up. You weren’t sleeping when you wet it. You obviously need diapers if you don’t want to leak every time you have an accident. And you’ll need them whenever you’re at risk of having an accident, which now appears to be when you’re asleep and awake.”
The next morning, Taylor followed Sean into his car. Every step reminded her of the pull-up that he insisted she wear. Not that Taylor could deny its necessity anymore as she passed the garbage can that now contained two wet pull-ups.
Taylor meekly held Sean’s hand as he perused the diaper aisle of the medical supply store. Grabbing diapers from the shelf, slowly, methodically inspecting them to determine if they will meet Taylor’s needs. He never asked or accepted Taylor’s input or opinion.
Finally, he settled on a case of Northshore Megamax diapers over Taylor’s whining that those diapers were too thick. She didn’t pee that much, she insisted, and besides, how would she go to the bathroom? Sean brushed her concerns away.
Once they got home, Sean led Taylor straight to their bedroom, grabbing a Megamax from the package. “Lay down,” he ordered.
For the first time she could remember, Taylor was about to be put into a diaper. Despite her fear and hesitation, she laid down. Sean—not her—was in control. She watched as he gently ripped the sides of her pull-up and removed it from her body. She expertly fluffed the diaper that would soon be wrapped around Taylor.
Without warning, Sean lifted Taylor’s legs with his left hand, sliding the diaper under her with his right. Taylor felt his strength as he did. Despite her embarrassment, she almost enjoyed his newfound authority over her.
He generously applied baby powder, its babyish scent filling the room, a subtle reminder of Taylor’s position. Taylor felt her diaper pulled up to her stomach before hearing the tabs opening, trapping her in her first diaper.
“There,” Sean beamed, checking his handiwork and fretting with the leak guards, “perfect fit!”
Taylor stood up, the bulk between her legs unmistakable. “These are so bulky, Sean! I don’t need them this thick!”
Sean just laughed. “You don’t need to worry about that, okay? Besides, we need to go over the new rules for your diapers first.”
“R-rules?” Taylor stammers.
“Yes, silly,” Sean responded, “what did you expect?”
“I expected not to be in a diaper!” Taylor retorted.
“Well, I’m not the one who wet the bed all week. Or leaked through a pull-up when I was wide awake. Hard to expect not to be in a diaper when that happens, babe.”
Taylor glared at him, no clever responses forming in her head.
“Anyway. Rule number one: you are absolutely, unequivocally not in charge of your diapers, understand? I am. You are not to touch, remove, or change your diaper under any circumstances. I will check and change your diaper when I see fit.”
Taylor opened her mouth to argue. “Don’t interrupt, sweetie. I need you to hear these rules, okay?”
“Good, thank you, Taylor. Rule number two,” Sean continued, “you can tell me whenever you need to go to the bathroom and I will help remove your diaper. If you go two weeks without having an accident during the day, I won’t keep you in them. Same for night. But if you do have an accident, the 2-week period resets. If you are not out of diapers by Spring Break in three months, I will keep you in them permanently. If that happens, you will use them for everything. No exceptions.”
“Rule number three, you are not to wear anything over your diaper when we are home. I want to see if you’ve had an accident. And, hopefully, it will inspire you to act like a big girl and not wet your diapers.”
“Rule number four: you will listen to what I say at all times. Anyone in diapers cannot be in charge. It’s absurd to think they could. So, until you’re out of diapers, I am in charge. I will order for you at restaurants, decide what you wear for class, and when you go to bed.”
“Rule number five: you will not touch yourself or orgasm without my permission. Diaper girls do not get such luxuries.”
“And, finally, rule number six: if you break any of these rules, you will lose a “big girl” privilege. They will not come back until you are out of diapers. So, for example, if you do something like talk back to me, I’ll expect you to use a pacifier until you learn to think before you speak. Got it?”
Taylor couldn’t believe what she heard. Sean expected her to follow these rules? She’s an adult, not some petulant little girl. But even as she wanted to yell at him, to tell him what she thought of his BS “rules,” she realized she was…turned on.
How could she be, though? It didn’t make sense. Why did this bulky, humiliating diaper between her legs feel so good?
As she stared into Sean's eyes, she knew she would follow his rules. She was a diaper girl, wasn’t she? And if she was, Sean should be in charge. He’s always been so calm, so collected while she was never either of those.
Taylor didn’t understand it, but she knew she wanted this. She needed this. A devious smile flashed across Taylor’s face. “Got it, daddy.”
Sean returned the smile. Whatever this was, it was going to be fun.
Okay but imagine me forcing you into diapers and strapping you into a baby bouncer with a rattle and a little remote-controlled vibrator underneath your diaper's liner. I keep you there all day, working on grown-up things that you're just too dumb to understand.
Every hour, I take a quick break to feed you a big bottle of milk, before resuming my adult activities. Since you're just a baby who can't control when you pee yourself, you're making peepees in your diaper in no time at all. As a reward, I turn on the little buzzy toy inside your diaper.
I keep it on a low setting at first, and I turn it off whenever you're close. After all, that diaper can get fuller, and you haven't earned cummies yet. I continue to feed you your bottles, and as you fill your diaper more and more, I turn the setting up more and more.
Eventually, I'm satisified with how much you've filled your diaper. I turn the buzzy toy to its highest setting, allowing you to cum. Your little whimpers and cries are music to my ears, but it's time for the pacifier gag to go in, since Mommy has to go on a call soon. It's a good thing that you'll be occupied with what's going on in that diaper.
Oh, you're so helpless, aren't you baby? There's no thoughts in that little baby brain. All you're able to do is bounce while you make peepees and cummies inside your diaper, over and over and over again. And don't think that I don't see you leaking. I bet you love that all the more, being able to bounce in your own mess both between your legs and beneath your feet while making cummies.
I don't think you'd be coming out of there anytime soon, unless it's for a change. I think you belong there, and I'll make sure you stay there. Don't worry, little one. Mommy will take care of you and all your needs. All you'll need to worry about is bouncing and keeping those diapers nice and full for Mommy. But judging by your performance today, I'd say you'll have no trouble doing that.
I bet you'd enjoy that. I bet you're squeezing your legs together just reading this. Or trying and failing to do so because your diaper is too thick~ Now, come here, baby, and we can make it happen. After all, Mommy knows best! ♡
This is NOT my image. All credit goes to the incredibly gorgeous mush-tush @misspandapants! I highly recommend checking out her content at misspandapants.com
"Well don't just stand there, lil guy." She purred in a sultry voice, beckoning with a crooked finger.
You didn't move. It wasn't that you didn't want to. You just couldn't. Only a moment before you were in the bathroom, washing your face, fixing your hair, brushing your teeth, primping and preening for the insanely out of your league goddess who'd invited you back to her place.
Now she was sitting on the floor in front of you, legs lasciviously spread, wearing nothing but a bra, lacey white fishnet stockings and... what looked like a very large, pink, diaper.
"What's taking so long?" She pouted, sticking out her lip in a way that made your heart race.
"Is... is that a diaper?" You finally choke out.
She laughs. "What else does it look like?" She asks, smiling unashamedly.
You blushed hotly, looking away. It didn't seem right. She was the person who was half-naked, wearing a ridiculously thick diaper. So why were you the one embarrassed?
"Do you uh, wear them a lot?"
She shrugged. "Hmmmm, I dunno. Just when I feel like it." She gave you a sly look that told you it was probably a lot.
You just stood there dumbly, unsure what to do next.
"What's wrong? Don't you like it?" She asks, getting onto all fours and wiggling her thick, rounded ass in your direction.
Your throat tightened. You did. To your surprise, you really liked it. You were about to say so when you thought of something. "Do you like... use them?"
She got up from the floor and stalked across the room, diaper crinkling.
You let out a soft gasp as she backed you against the door, shutting it and pinning you in place. Her breasts pushed against your chest. She smelled like sex and perfume, and it made your legs weak. She leaned in, gently brushing her full lips against your sensitive earlobe.
"If I did..." She whispered quietly. "Would you change me?" She pulled back to look you in the eyes, blinking innocently.
"Oh god yes." You groaned.
She giggled, and placed a hand on your thigh, giving your very obvious erection a squeeze. "What's this? Did you bring me a present?" She asked playfully.
You nodded eagerly, leaning forward for a passionate kiss.
She laughed again and danced away. "Hang on a minute! I want to unwrap my gift."
You started tearing at your pants, fighting with the zipper when she grabbed your wrist. "Hey! I'm supposed to do that, dummy." She said, rolling her eyes. "And not there. Put it on the floor. I might want to play with it after."
You rushed straight to the spot and dropped on your back, appreciating the new view of her long legs.
"Good boy." She purred.
You were still appreciating the mouthwatering view when she suddenly bent down and straddled your face. The diaper muffled your cry of surprise. The crinkly padding pushed against your face, filling your nose with the smell of baby powder and clean plastic.
She shifted her butt around, making herself comfortable. "Hey!" She exclaimed. "How am I supposed to open my present when it keeps moving around? Lift your legs up." She ordered.
Your legs went in the air. Your head swam. Your penis throbbed.
She let out another giggle and gave your head a pat. "Good boy. Now just one more thing..."
You heard a patter and felt something tickle your face. What the? The pattering increased, turning to a trickle, then a flood. You realized what it was when you felt the heat. She was pissing on you! The heat spread quickly, making the diaper swell even further. You moaned helplessly underneath her, leaking a river of precum into your boxers.
You could hear her... feel her, touching herself on top of you. Her hand was in her diaper, rubbing. You could smell her pee as she rubbed, more and more, hot and depraved, until finally you felt her thighs shiver against your ears and she moaned in delight. She stopped rubbing, panting above you.
You whimpered underneath her. You wanted to cum. You wanted her to make you cum. More than anything. Your cock was crying, ignored and desperate in front of her, sticky and wet with your need.
She seemed to notice your plea. "Oops, sorry, lil guy. Forgot you were there." She wrestled to get your pants off. " Mmm... won't be needing these anymore," tossing them across the room with a satisfied huff. "There. Now I c- Oh? What's this?"
The diaper lifted off your face. She sat next to you, holding up your boxers. "Can you explain what happened here, mister?"
A good portion of the fabric was dark and shiny where your precum had soaked into it. You swallowed. "Thats... I just... well, like, when you got on-"
She tutted and placed it on your chest. "Bad boy. I thought you were big, but you clearly need this more than I do."
To your horror, she quickly undid the tapes on her diaper and went between your legs. "Wait wait what are you doing?!" You cried out.
She smiled evilly, producing a huge pacifier from somewhere and shoving it between your lips. "What does it look like? Diapering the baby, duh."
You weren't sure why you didn't resist as she taped you into the soaked diaper. The wet padding hugged your cock, pressing her pee against you. Her hand was on your crotch, rubbing, squishing, kneading, slipping and sliding over the head of your sensitive cock, rubbing, and rubbing and ru-!
You let out a breathless whine and lost control, splattering cum all over the inside of her... your, diaper.
"Uh oh! Did the baby have another accident? Bad boy! You have to tell Mommy if you have to use the potty." She shook her head in disappointment, reaching under her bed for another diaper. She fluffed out the wings and began to tape it over the one you were wearing. "Well, mister. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
You blinked up at her, smiling stupidly. "... No... Mommy."
She grinned and spread her legs. "Good. Now crawl over here and lick up this mess. Some stupid baby butt got my pussy all wet."
Something inside you clicked into place. Your cock started to grow again. You crawled forward and meekly spoke the only two words you would really need to know.
What's up, crinklebritches?! Here's the next chapter of the ongoing, collaborative story written by me and my friend, BoysRBabies. We are writing alternating chapters—she wrote this one.
Check out the previous installments of Tyler's adventures in the Regression Center here:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
This story is for readers 18+ only!!
Chapter 4
Tyler stared down at his new outfit in numb disbelief, at the stupid logo on his t-shirt, at the way his diaper scrunched together between his legs, at the childish shoes he was wearing, which made it totally clear that he was fully dressed.
Rosie turned to address Jamie. “How are you doing, sweetie?” she asked brightly. “Do you need changies?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned the man around and pulled out the back of his diaper. “No messes yet,” she announced, peeking inside. Then she turned him back to face her and slipped a finger down the front. “Hmm… You’re a little soggy, but I think your diaper can a bit more. You’re good for now, mister.” She patted the front of his diaper and Jamie giggled.
Tyler watched Jamie get his diaper checked like he was no more than three years old, and felt the beginnings of panic welling up inside him. He’d seen enough. This place was clearly some kind of brainwashing center where women turned men into diaper-pissing morons. The music was proof enough of that. And he had no intention of ending up like Jamie. Without warning, Tyler leapt off the changing table and started moving as fast as he could towards the door, the thick diaper between his legs turning his run into a ridiculous toddle. He heard Rosie laugh behind him, a pleasant, girlish laugh that sent a shiver down his spine, but he’d already reached the door. He flung it open and bolted out, right into the bosom of one of the enormous nannies stationed outside. Her arms wrapped around him at once, holding him tightly in place.
“Thank you, Catherine,” Rosie said, walking up to them while Tyler struggled to break free of the older woman’s vice-like grip. “I think I know a certain little boy who needs a spanking. Would you like to do the honours?”
“Get the fuck off me!” Tyler shouted. “I’m not going to end up like him!” He looked over his shoulder at Jamie, who was standing in the doorway with his thumb jammed between his lips, his eyes slightly crossed.
“Don’t worry”, Rosie said soothingly, “you won’t end up like Jamie.”
“Oh yeah?” Tyler sneered skeptically, still trying to squirm out of Catherine’s muscular arms.
“ABC offers a lot of different options for how a male should be regressed,” Rosie explained patiently. “Baby level or toddler level. Mind-wiped or self-aware. Happy or humiliated. Jamie here is just a sweet, empty-headed little boy now. But your wife wants you to keep your mind, for the most part. She wants you to understand who you were and what’s happened to you. Otherwise it wouldn’t be much of a punishment! You’ll still be you when your regression training is over, you’ll just wear baby clothes and diapers, you’ll suck your thumb and your pacifier, you’ll drink from bottles and eat baby food, you’ll play with toys and dance along to silly songs. So you won’t be a toddler, sweetie. You’ll just act like one! Isn’t that lovely?”
Any relief Tyler felt at being told he wouldn’t end up like Jamie vanished at once. He started struggling even harder to escape, panic welling up inside him again. That sounded even worse! But his squirming was useless. Catherine took a seat on a chair in the hallway, and he was pulled over her knees with his arms held tightly behind his back. She deftly undid the tapes of his diaper and pulled down the back to expose his bare bottom.
“I wish you could have been a good widdle boy, Ty-ty,” Rosie said in mournful baby talk. “Then we could have done things the easy way. But I can tell you’re going to be a widdle mister gwumpy-pants about your regression training, and boys who act naughty need red tushy-wushies.”
Tyler didn’t make a sound when the first smack landed on his rear. He was too shocked by what was happening. He was a grown man. He ran a successful consulting firm. And now he was over a woman’s lap getting spanked. But when the second smack landed with a sound like a whipcrack, he couldn’t help but let out a gasp of pain. He gritted his teeth, not wanting to give these bitches the satisfaction of knowing they were getting to him, but it was no use. The smacks started coming down harder and faster, until he couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Ow!” Tyler yelled. “Stop this! You can’t do this! Ow! Stop!” But the nanny didn’t stop. She kept on spanking, deaf to his shouts, and Tyler started writhing in her lap to get away, kicking his legs madly. To his shame, he realised that his eyes were filling with tears. “Please!” he sobbed. “Please stop! Please Miss Rosie, making her stop! I’ll be good! Owww! I won’t try to run, I promise! Owwwiee! I’ll be a good boy! I’m sorry!”
At once, the spanking stopped, and he was left gasping for breath over Catherine’s lap. His face was flushed red and covered with tears.
“It’s okay, little boy,” Rosie said soothingly, bending down in front of his face and wiping the tears from his cheeks with gentle fingers. “It’s all over now, and you’re going to be a good boy, aren’t you?”
Tyler nodded feebly. He didn’t want to fight, not while Catherine was there at least. He didn’t want her to start spanking him again.
He felt a cool hand on his burning bottom and heard Rosie giggle. “I do love the sight of a man with a bright red bum-bum,” she said, “but this little tushy needs a diapee.” He heard a crinkling sound, and felt the soft padding of the diaper cover his bottom again as Rosie re-did the tapes. “Don’t worry, honey. I know it felt bad, but it can be a lot worse than that. Your cute little butt will probably be fine in a few hours.”
Tyler said nothing as he was helped to his feet. He couldn’t look at either of them. He didn’t want to see the smirks, the looks of superiority that were surely on their faces.
“Good boy for saying sorry, Tyler,” said Rosie, taking his hand. “Now let’s go to the nursery. It’s lunchtime, and you need some nummies in your tummy, mister!”
She led him down the corridor, Tyler conscious of the way his diaper pushed his legs apart and made him waddle, and even more conscious of his sore ass. He stared at his feet the whole way, sick with humiliation. How could he have been reduced to a stupid sniveling child like that, sobbing and pleading for them to stop? He was a man for fuck’s sake! And more importantly, how was he going to escape? It was clear he couldn’t overpower them, not with those hulking nannies lurking around the place. He’d have to be patient, he told himself. It wasn’t exactly his greatest skill, but he didn’t have a choice. He’d just have to play along for a while, gather more information, and look for a way out of this nuthouse.
Rosie opened a door they’d come to, and Tyler was suddenly bombarded by noise. He looked up and felt his jaw drop. He was looking into an enormous, oversized nursery. Only there were no toddlers here. There were about a dozen grown men of various ages, all in uniforms like his, scattered around the room. Some were sat on the floor, stacking blocks and shaking rattles. Others were crawling along with toy cars and trains, and still others were sitting around a low plastic table, playing with playdough. Some had vacant, happy looks on their faces, like Jamie had, while others looked like they’d rather be anywhere else.
A number of women were wandering around dressed in pretty sundresses like Rosie’s, or else the nursemaid-like skirts and blouses of the large women, or even simple shirts and jeans. They couldn’t have made more of a contrast with the men and their puffy white diapers. As Tyler stepped inside, he was assaulted by the strong smell of baby powder and pee, and he wrinkled up his nose in disgust. He looked around at the line of changing tables that stood along one wall, and the row of highchairs that stood along the other. This place was a freakshow!
As he watched, a stern-looking middle-aged woman walked into the centre of the room and clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Alright little ones,” she said in a mocking, syrupy voice, “time for lunchies!”
The women helped the men to their feet and started leading them over to the highchairs. Rosie pulled Tyler along too, flashing him a bright smile as she did so, and took him up to one of the big plastic chairs.
“Up you go, diaper butt,” she said sweetly, with an encouraging pat on his bottom. Tyler barely felt it through the thickness of his diaper, but when he clambered up and sat down obediently in the seat, his rear throbbed painfully, and he winced.
“I think someone’s sitting on a sore bum-bum, isn’t hims?” came a cooing female voice. Tyler looked up to see a woman helping Jamie into the highchair next to his. She was looking over at him with a teasing grin.
“He certainly is,” Rosie answered for him. “Little Tyler here tried to run away, but thankfully Catherine caught him before he could go far.”
“Oh dear,” the woman laughed. “No wonder he’s sore! That woman sure knows how to spank a man’s hiney. So is this the same Tyler who had a little accident earlier? I hope Jamie was able to clean everything up for you.”
“Oh yes, he was a great help,” said Rosie. “Thank you, Miss Elanor. And yes, it’s the same Tyler. He made quite the little puddle on the floor! And to think, he said he didn’t need diapers.”
“It was the music!” Tyler blurted angrily. “That stupid humpty-dumpty song!” He felt himself turning red. The words sounded ridiculous on his lips, but it was the truth.
The two ladies just chuckled and exchanged looks. At that moment, another woman came by and placed a bowl on his and Jamie’s trays, followed quickly by a large baby bottle for each of them. Tyler looked down in disgust at the greenish-orange mush in the plastic bowl in front of him. It was clearly baby food.
“Now Tyler,” said Rosie, in a business-like tone. “Are you big enough to feed yourself? Or do you need Miss Rosie to do it for you?”
Tyler was about to say that he wasn’t going to eat this shit at all, but his bottom was still painful, and he could see the threat in Rosie’s eyes. He didn’t want to be spanked again.
“I’ll do it,” he said stiffly.
“What a big boy!”
“Here you go, Miss Rosie,” said Elanor, handing a crumpled up bit of fabric to her. It seemed the staff had been passing whatever they were down the line.
“Thank you,” Rosie said primly, and she flashed Tyler a smirk as she unfolded the fabric.
“I don’t need that,” Tyler said at once, when he saw what it was.
“Of course you do, silly!” Rosie chirped. “A diaper’s not the only thing you’ll need to take care of your messes, Tyler. You’re also going to need a bib! Part of the ABC program involves training you to have the eating habits of a baby. You could have the table manners of a prince right now, but by the time your training’s done, you’ll be the kind of boy who gets spaghetti in his hair and choccy pudding all over his face. Yes you will!”
Tyler felt a coldness in his stomach, even while his face flushed hotly with the embarrassment of being spoken to like he was two years old. He thought back to the video Holly had shown him earlier. Their threats felt a lot more real now. These women really were trying to turn him into some kind of overgrown baby man, and if the diapered idiot sitting next to him was anything to go by, they certainly had the power to do it too.
Rosie tied the bib around his neck. It was a soft baby blue, and his name was written across it in white letters. Baby Tyler. He grimaced at the sight of it, and then he became aware that there was faint music playing again.
“Alright, Tyler,” Rosie crooned, pressing a plastic spoon into his hands. “Show me what a big boy you are!”
Tyler dipped the spoon into the bowl of baby food almost absent-mindedly and lifted a spoonful up to his mouth. It wasn’t as bad as it looked. Vegetable-y but sweet. He was distracted by the music. Were they trying to mess with his head again? Because this time he was going to be ready for it. What was that they were playing? It sounded upbeat and cheerful.
Do you know the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man? Do you know the muffin man, who lives on Drury lane?
The muffin man. Tyler wished he could have a muffin instead of yucky baby food. A nice chocolate muffin. Or maybe blueberry. He ate another spoonful, and another.
Yes I know the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man. Yes I know the muffin man, who lives on Drury lane.
“Good boy, Tyler!” Rosie was saying. “What a good boy for eating your num-nums!”
Tyler ate another spoonful. This time a little bit of baby food spilled down his chin, but he didn’t care. He was busy focusing on the music, making sure it didn’t get inside his head. He could hear it again, that syrupy voice substituting words, and that deeper female voice beneath it, murmuring something else.
Miss Rosie grinned at him, and he grinned back. He was too clever for her. He was too clever for all of them. He ate another spoonful. He ate it a little sloppily and got some on his cheeks, but what did that matter? He had to make sure they didn’t turn his mind as mushy as his lunchies.
Miss Rosie was holding the spoon now. When had that happened? But he didn’t really mind. It let him focus on ignoring the music more. “Open up for the airplane!” she said cooingly, and Tyler giggled as she made airplane noises, guiding the spoon towards his mouth. She was so funny. And so pretty. “Good boy,” she said, and Tyler felt as though fireworks were going off inside his head. “Good baby.” She was holding up the bottle now. Had he finished his nummies already? “We need to keep you hydrated, don’t we?” Miss Rosie asked, but he knew she didn’t really expect a response. “That apple juice went right through you before! Such a little tinkler!”
Tyler giggled again. He was a little tinkler. He’d tinkled all over the floor earlier. He’d wet himself. The woman in the video had said he’d never use a toilet again. That made Tyler frown a little. Because he didn’t want that. That would be icky. That would be awful. That would be-
Miss Rosie shoved the bottle into his mouth, and he started to suck. His milkies were yummy. She showed him how to hold his bottle properly, with two hands, so he could feed himself like a big boy without spilling, which was a good thing too because he’d already made a huge mess of his face and his bib, Miss Rosie said. He was a mucky boy.
Tyler sat there proudly in the highchair while he guzzled down his formula. Eventually, he was sucking on nothing but air, and Miss Rosie helped him down again and started leading him over to another room.
This room was dark, and there were lots of cribs in it. Big cribs, big enough for a big boy like him. A different tune was playing now. Was that Rock-a-bye Baby? He wasn’t sure. He was very tired. Miss Rosie was speaking quietly to him though.
“And you won’t always go off into baby-land like that,” she was saying, although he didn’t really understand. “But the music helps you learn how to behave, so you know what to do next time.” She lowered the bars of one of the cribs and helped Tyler into it. “We need to make sure all those adorable little babyish behaviours are as natural as breathing.”
There was a teddy in the crib for him, and Tyler clutched it automatically to his body. As the lullaby filled his brain and he drifted off to sleep, he didn’t notice his thumb slipping into his mouth. “Enjoy your nap, baby Tyler.”
Want to read some more stories?
BoysRBabies posts fantastic captions of forced regression here on Tumblr.
I publish stories of diapers and domination on Smashwords.
discoholicmusic
turnnoffyourmind
jacobvanloon
2087
ellievsbear
andulkaphoto
izzy806
