College dorm floor that's all bed wetters. The same way you can indicate your preference for a single-gender or quiet floor, you can check a special box confirming you can't keep your sheets dry.
On move in day you see people's cases of pull-ups and diapers being toted in on carts, alongside their bags of clothes and knick-knacks. All the beds are already fitted with plastic sheets, even though you brought your own.
On the first night you wander into the lounge and find a group of people playing cards and getting to know each other. When you sit to join the group you notice a crinkly diaper waistband poking out of someone's pants. The girl across from you in the circle is wearing a crop top and the edge of a purple pull-up is just above her sweat pants. You're surprised they're already changed for bed, then jealous that you aren't.
There's a diaper pail in the communal bathroom. You seem to run out of toilet paper at a much slower rate than the other floors.
A few weeks in you realize you didn't reorder more diapers in time. No need to panic, your roommate has extras. They're a little much for you, with baby animals all over, but you have to admit they're more comfortable than yours. Maybe you'll get a pack like these next time.
You've made a little group that likes to get up early for breakfast before the dining hall gets busy. You can tell by the bulge and waddle your friend has as they shuffle through the line that they haven't changed yet.
You start putting your diaper on a little earlier every night. You realize you like the cushy dry feeling, one you never got to savor when you waited until the last possible minute before bed to change. Sometimes it's already a little damp before you've turned out your light and closed your eyes.
Finals roll around you head to the library for an all nighter. Friends from the floor and your roommate join too. No one makes a single bathroom trip the entire time.
The Softest Start (Morning on the Bedwetter Floor)
You wake to that now-familiar warmth, spreading low and thick beneath you, clinging in soft squishy folds. Your eyes blink open against the dim early morning light, filtering in through the curtains, and your first thought isn’t the time or even what class you have today—it’s the slow, gentle realization that your diaper is soggy. Again.
A sleepy smile curls at the corners of your mouth. Of course it is.
You don’t sit up right away. Why would you? The crinkle of your blanket shifts as you stretch, and there’s something oddly comforting about the way your thick overnight diaper—your “babyish” ones, as you used to call them — clings between your legs. A pastel safari of smiling animals peeks out over the waistband of your pajama shorts, faded and slightly blurred from use, the prints almost tender now from how many nights you’ve worn this brand.
You let your hand rest over the front, feeling the bulk. Definitely soaked. Not leaking, though—thankfully. The plastic sheet under your bedding might never see action with how reliable these things are.
Still, you've got a routine to stick to.
With a sigh, you swing your legs off the bed and stand, wincing just a little at the familiar squish and droop. The first step is always a shuffle, the padding forcing you into a slow waddle until it settles. You tug your pajama shorts up, but they barely do anything to hide the swollen shape. Not that it matters. It’s not like anyone on this floor hasn’t seen worse.
You pass by your roommate’s bed—already empty. The bathroom light’s already on, too. As you shuffle inside, your bare feet cool against the tile, the smell of powder, lotion, and faint ammonia greet you. The familiar scent of the floor’s shared morning ritual.
You slip your pajama shorts down and untape the diaper with a practiced sigh. The tapes give way with soft pops, and you ball it up neatly before tossing it into the corner pail. It lands with a padded thud among the others.
You glance in the mirror while washing your hands. There’s a ghostly imprint on your hips where the elastic left its mark. Your skin is still a little pink, a little soft. You pull out a pair of regular cotton panties from your drawer—plain and simple. They fit, sure, but they feel... wrong. Exposed. Paper-thin.
There’s no hugging bulk. No protective cushion. No rustling softness between your thighs. Just fabric, and skin, and the vague chill of being unpadded. You tug your jeans on, sighing at the rough way they sit. They’re almost too roomy now, ever since you started ordering that brand of thick nighttime diapers that bulked you out so well. Maybe you’re used to it. Maybe you miss it.
Maybe you don’t want to admit how fast you reordered them.
You brush your teeth, still adjusting to the coolness of cotton against you. You hear someone come into the bathroom behind you, another dormmate padding softly past—wearing a shirt and nothing else, thick pink pull-up on full display. They give you a sleepy nod, rubbing their eyes as they walk right past the row of stalls and lift the lid on the diaper pail. Another one changed.
And then—finally—you hear it: the flush of a toilet. Just one. A single stall, once, across the whole floor. It sounds almost... out of place.
You snort a little into your toothbrush.
You tuck your toothbrush away and glance once more in the mirror.
Everything about you looks normal. Jeans. Hoodie. Hair pulled up in a lazy bun. But under it all, you feel… wrong. Lighter. Colder. Cotton doesn’t hug you the way your usual padding does. And the longer you go without it, the more you notice that absence like an itch behind your ribs.
You sigh again and step out into the hallway.
The dorm is quiet at this hour. But your floor—the bedwetter floor, as it’s been lovingly nicknamed—always has a few early risers. And it’s easy to tell who’s up by the soft crinkles and heavy footfalls echoing off the walls.
You pass a guy from down the hall, shuffling toward the lounge. His pajama pants hang low in the back, pulled down by the soggy bulge pressing against the fabric. Every step makes a faint squish, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. Just yawns, stretches, and scratches his belly on the way to the microwave.
You don’t even blink anymore.
At the elevator, you catch the sound of slippers behind you—quick, light, but with a familiar plastic-y undertone. You turn as Ellie, the same girl from the bathroom, jogs up with a bright smile.
“Hey! Wait up!”
Her hoodie is oversized, sleeves bunched at the wrists, but the hem of her skirt barely covers her thighs. She bends to tie her shoe, and you immediately see it: the band of lavender stretching across her hips, the soft puff of her pull-up pressing beneath the fabric. When she stands again, the skirt flutters just enough to flash it again.
She doesn’t seem to notice. Or care.
“Morning,” she chirps, pressing the elevator button. “You coming to breakfast?”
“Yeah. Everyone else is already down there?”
“Think so. Mason said he was waiting for waffles, and Jules was ‘testing the structural limits of her morning diaper.’” She grins as she says it, air quotes and all.
You snort. “Nice. I guess I’m the only one not waddling down today.”
Ellie eyes your jeans. “You changed?”
You nod.
“Boring,” she teases, bumping your arm.
“Comfy.”
“Cold.”
“Dignified.”
She rolls her eyes. “Whatever helps you sleep dry at night. Oh wait…”
The elevator doors open before you can hit her with a comeback.
Author's Note: This story is for readers 18+ only. All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.
I eyed the plastic potty for the hundredth time since waking from my nap.
Set off in a corner by one of the old diaper genies they didn’t use anymore. Unused except for Friday afternoons. It was white and aquamarine with a comfy foam seat. At least Ruby told me it was comfy when she graduated last year. Stickers were plastered all over it: princesses, Transformers, Pokemon. Even a few Diaper Dan stickers. I was gonna add mine today. I’d already decided on a castle.
I looked around the room. There were a bunch of us here in Back to Basics Nursery School. Some crawling around, some toddling, some sitting together with their favorite toys, lost in their own little worlds. The teachers moved from one student to the next, checking diapers, adjusting clothing, offering gentle words of encouragement. One of the teachers, Miss Becca, was bent down, her hands hovering near the waistband of a diaper. She leaned back and waved a hand in front of her nose.
I smirked. Craig wouldn’t clog up the potty line today. And he wasn’t the only one. I spotted more than one saggy, soggy diaper.
I sat at one of the little wooden tables, crayons in hand, sketching a picture. I’d asked for colored pencils—more precise, better for details—two years ago. Miss Susie gave me some. Then Hansen swiped a handful and dropped them in the fish tank. Mr. Goldy almost died cuz his filter got messed up or something. They took the colored pencils away after that. So, back to crayons I went.
I set down the blue crayon and picked up the forest green. I was sketching the block tower that Rosie and I had been trying to build all year. The tower in my drawing soared to the ceiling, little people below smiling up at it. Each block was neatly stacked. Stable. I knew it was possible. The blunt tips of the crayons made it hard to tell, but each block in my sketch matched one in the big box of blocks.
Rosie sat by herself, a concentrated look on her face as she stacked a few blocks at the base of the tower. She was always so eager, so determined, and yet… something always got in the way. Today, it looked like she’d reached that moment again—she’d built a decent base, but the tower’s height had stalled out. I could see her eyes flitting between the blocks and the taller stacks around her, frustration starting to cloud her face.
She glanced over at me and, after a second of hesitation, got up and wandered over. Her diaper crinkled louder with each step. “Pete,” she said, her voice soft and hopeful. “I can’t make it go higher... Could you help?” She smiled hesitantly. Hopeful. The kind of smile she gave me when she wanted to remind me of the fun we had building together. “You always make it work, and it’s more fun when you help.”
I scanned the room again. I wasn’t scoping out the potty competition this time. I was looking for him.
Hansen. If I so much as thought the words that came to mind when I saw his piggy little face Miss Roberta would soap my mouth and then spank me till bubbles popped out. He was making a show of building something of his own—a half-hearted effort at a block tower, probably. He didn’t have any ideas of his own. His hands were all over it, awkward and flailing, like he was making a mess on purpose. As always, he was loud and disruptive, knocking into anyone who got too close.
“I’d like to, but…” I glanced over at Hansen again, feeling a tightness in my chest. “You know how it is with Hansen. He’ll just wreck it like he always does.” I shook my head, giving Rosie a half-hearted smile. “Sorry.”
My stomach grumbled, a deep, low sound. It had been like this since lunch, a gnawing reminder that I hadn’t been able to hold my stinkies all the way from nap time until the end of the day since…well, ever. My attention flicked back to the picture I was drawing, focusing on the tower I could never build.
“Besides, I’ve got other things to focus on,” I muttered quietly, my hands gripping the crayon tighter, trying to ignore the discomfort.
“You’re going to remember me when you graduate and go to preschool, right?” Rosie asked. Her gaze flicked to my diaper, still clean and dry for the moment.
“Of course,” I said. “I’m dry, see?” I looked around the room, glancing at the other students who were playing, some of them rolling around in their diapers, others chatting with the teachers or distracted by toys. Most of them seemed so carefree, so comfortable. None of them had been stuck here as long as I had. Hansen’s eyes met mine.
Dangit.
He sauntered over. He also looked dry, I noted. “Oh, look,” he sneered, making sure the room heard him. “Petey Pampers. I’m surprised they haven’t named the nursery after you yet.”
“You’re in diapers, too!” Rosie shot at him.
Hansen ignored her. “How long’s it been? Two years? Three?” He let out a mock laugh. He leaned close, his breath smelling like apple juice and Cheerios. “I’ll send you a postcard from preschool. They let you use markers there.”
Miss Maryam looked up from putting away the tubs of playdough. Her face scrunched in disapproval. “Hansen, that’s enough. Don’t be mean.”
“But it’s true!” Hansen said. “He’s been here longer than anyone ever. He’s never getting out of diapers.”
Miss Maryam chuckled. “Every little diaperboy and diapergirl graduates when they are ready. I’m sure Peter will too, someday.”
My heart dropped into my stomach.
Hansen rolled his eyes at me and wandered off.
The other students in the coloring area had quieted. A few looked my way. I wanted to defend myself, to shout, to lash out and tell them I’d seen their saggy, stinking diapers too. But I swallowed my words. I didn’t have to justify myself to them. After today, I’d never see any of them again.
Rosie smiled softly at me, brushing a strand of black hair from her face. “I don’t care if we build the tower or not. We can just hang out. Wanna play cars instead, Pete? We can make a loop and a jump this time. Or something else?”
I sighed. Set down my crayon. “Maybe we can work on the tower for a few minutes. I have an idea for—” I stopped.
Hansen had sidled up behind Rosie’s tower, that grin of his stretched wide. He nudged the base with his foot, sending the blocks tumbling in one swift, careless motion.
Rosie gasped, her hands going to her mouth as she stared at the collapsed structure. “No!”
I opened my mouth to say something, to defend her. Before I could, Miss Susie called out to the whole nursery. “Everyone, line up. It’s diaper check time.”
My eyes were on Miss Maryam. They were always on Miss Maryam during the Friday afternoon diaper check. She picked up the training potty and carried it into the middle of the open play space.
Students started to shuffle into the play space, looking expectantly at the plastic training potty in the middle of the room. The excitement in the air shifted, the playful atmosphere transforming into something more serious, more pressing.
I got in line next to Rosie. She was still looking at the remains of her tower. Tears welled in the corners of her big brown eyes.
I squeezed her hand. “You’ll get it next time.”
She didn’t respond.
The teachers worked their way down the line. Pulling back waistbands. Squeezing. Poking. Sniffing. Making their little remarks.
“Looks like someone got a visit from the sog-monster.”
“That’s one saggy diaper there, sweetie.”
“Pee-yeew!”
The ones who weren’t clean and dry—most of them, I was encouraged to see—were led away by teachers. Some cried. Most didn’t care. They were shuffled over to the row of changing tables with soft reassurances about how ‘they could try again next year’ and how ‘a fresh, dry diaper would make them feel right as rain.’
I wouldn’t miss this one bit. Checks and changes. Sitting in soggy diapers—or worse. Smelling like baby powder and pee. Preschool had pull-ups, and pull-ups were practically big boy underwear.
Just a little longer.
Miss Susie stepped in front of the few of us who remained. “Does everyone remember what today is?”
“Bromsday!” Lily shouted. She had a big, dopey grin on her face.
I rolled my eyes.
Susie chuckled. “Good try, sweetie. Today is Friday, which means you get a chance to prove you’re ready to graduate and move on to preschool. But this Friday is extra special. It’s the last Friday of the session. Your mommies and daddies need to renew tonight or sign you up for preschool. So if you haven’t proven you’re ready to use the potty, you’ll get to spend another year with us. Yay!”
I could feel the weight of her words. I knew how important today was. I didn’t need any reminders. I just needed to hold my stinkies a little longer. The discomfort in my tummy was
growing harder to ignore, though.
Miss Susie held the list of names on a clipboard. They assigned the order randomly. At least that’s what they said. I was always at the back. Well, nearly always. It’s why I hadn’t graduated.
“Lily,” Miss Susie called.
Lily jumped up, brown braids flopping around like she’d won the lottery. Which she basically had. She stood so close to the plastic potty her bare toes touched it.
“Derek,” Miss Susie said.
With each voice she called out, my hopes sank.
Finally, they called Rosie. Then me. And then, at the very back of the line, there was Hansen. He was fidgeting, clearly impatient, his hands on his hips as he muttered to no one in particular. “This is so unfair,” he complained. “I should’ve gone first! Why do I have to wait behind all these losers?” His words drew a few eyes, but the teachers only smiled politely and ignored him, focusing instead on the rest of the students.
I wished I could be happy Hansen was last, but all I could think about was the number of people in front of me in line. I’d never make it. Never. Rosie was beside me, her eyes bright with optimism, her hand brushing against mine just briefly.
“Alright, get ready to start the timer for five minutes,” Miss Susie said to Miss Quin. Miss Quin nodded and held up the stopwatch so everyone could see it.
I groaned quietly. “We know, we know. It’s always five minutes.”
Hansen leaned close. “Not everyone has been here a million years, Petey Pampers.”
I stared straight ahead, doing my best to ignore him.
“Lily,” Miss Susie said.
Lily stepped forward, her face bright with excitement. Miss Susie pulled the tapes off her diaper and removed it. The room was silent as she gave the diaper one last check, then nodded. Lily plopped down on the potty, and everyone cheered. Everyone except me and Hansen.
Lily leaped up when the timer dinged five agonizing minutes later. She beamed with pride, pointing at the potty. “I peed like a big girl!”
Miss Susie peered down into the potty and nodded appreciatively. “Good job, Lily! Preschool is gonna be so lucky to have such a sweet, clever girl. Now pick out your sticker and show the class. That way, they can all remember what a big girl you were every time they see it.”
Lily plucked a sticker from the sheet and showed it to the classroom. “A Zoonicorn!”
Hansen snickered.
“That’s a very cute unicorn,’ Lily,” Miss Susie said. “Now run on over to Miss Peggy for your very first pull-up.”
Lily scuttled off, half running, half skipping. Her proud daddy greeted her, gushing over her new, pull-on undies.
Come on, let’s keep it going. No one liked Lily, anyway. She ate the playdough.
Next came a diaperboy named Derek. He was tall. Tall enough I thought if we ever got our tower almost to the ceiling, we could ask him to reach up and put the last few pieces on. He had been in the nursery school for a while. Always quiet. But nice enough.
He froze halfway to the potty.
“Derek?” Miss Susie asked. “Did you just wet your diaper?”
He shook his head vigorously, his messy blonde hair flopping all around and covering his face.
Miss Susie approached and gave the front of his diaper a squeeze. His face turned red, tears welling up in his eyes as he hunched over. “I—I couldn’t hold it,” he stammered through his sobs, his hands shaking. Miss Susie hugged him. “Aww, that’s alright. Run along to your daddy. He’ll help you get your pants on.”
Derek ran off crying.
At least it was only pee, I thought. At least he hadn’t pooped. That was something, right? The tension in my gut was still building, gnawing at me as I watched the boy being led away, tears still falling.
Hansen, of course, couldn’t resist a jab. “Pathetic,” he sneered loudly. “Can’t even make it five minutes. Maybe you should just go back to nursery school.”
I turned around to give him a dirty look and stopped. His face was all screwed up. His jaw clenched. Fists balled.
He has to go, too, I realized.
I turned around and smiled to myself. I was going to make it. Not only that, I was going to make it and Hansen was not. Maybe Mommy would get ice cream tonight to celebrate. Cookie dough!
They let Derek’s timer run the full five minutes. Those were the rules. They were dumb rules, but I’d stopped sharing that opinion a couple of spankings ago. Besides, every second longer was a second Hansen would have to squirm, too. I was going to watch him when they sat me on the potty. Make sure he saw me relaxing and doing my business like a big boy. Comfy. Confident. On the way to preschool.
Marta was next. A petite girl with a shy smile. Her diaper was clean and dry, and there was a momentary hush in the room as Miss Susie planted her on the potty. She looked back at the rest of us, ready to prove she could do it.
Rosie would be next after Marta, her usual chipper energy still intact despite the failed tower. She leaned toward me, her voice soft. “It’s okay, Pete,” she said, giving me a warm smile. “You’ve got this. I know you do.”
Appreciation washed over me even as the pressure in my stomach was growing unbearable. My mind kept returning to the tower, to the fun we could have, but the thought of the potty made everything feel more pressing. I shuffled a little closer to her, feeling a connection between us. “You too. We’re gonna have so much fun in preschool together. I bet they have even better blocks there. Legos!”
As the timer continued ticking, the tension in the room grew thicker. My stomach churned again, and I let out a toot. It was louder than I thought it would be. Hansen snickered.
I shifted, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. Not that I didn’t toot in my diapers all the time, but not when the room was quiet and we were all lined up. Not when Rosie was right next to me.
Rosie turned to me.
“Sorry,” I winced.
She waved it away. “I pooped my diaper this morning, right before snack time. Remember?”
I giggled. I did remember. It was really stinky, too.
“Can I see your sketchbook,” she asked.
“Why?”
“I wanna see your tower drawing. So I know what to do after you’re gone.”
I hadn’t shown it to anyone yet, not really, but I didn’t hesitate. I handed her my sketchbook, and it flopped open to a different page with a picture of a sailboat.
She started flipping through the pages the smile on her face growing. “These are amazing, Pete. You’re so talented!”
My face flushed with heat. “Just go to the tower one. It’s on the last page.”
She stopped, her fingers hovering over a page with a different tower drawing. This one was the two of us building a tower that stretched all the way to the ceiling. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Is that… me?” she asked, her voice small, almost a whisper. “You made me look really pretty.”
My face flushed. I snatched the book back, a wave of embarrassment flooding over me. “It’s nothing.”
Rosie opened her mouth to say something.
Tiinnggg
I heard the gentle ding of the door chime. Mommy. She was still in her work clothes: a long brown coat and a blue skirt, her long blonde hair flowing behind her. Her heels clicked on the tile as she walked over to the other parents and the teachers. She exchanged a few words with Miss Becca, their voices low and friendly.
Our eyes met, and she gave me a wave. Miss Becca said something to her. I could barely make it out. “...really trying…another year...potty dance.” They both chuckled.
I realized I’d crossed my legs at some point and was holding my tummy. My stinky-diaper dance, as my Mommy called it. I felt a pang in my chest, hearing them talk about me like that, as if my failure was inevitable.
Hansen’s potty dance was worse than mine, at least. He clutched the back of his diaper, his forehead all scrunched up. He was getting desperate. He was on the verge of messing himself. Hansen didn’t say anything now; for once, his arrogance had faltered.
Marta’s timer dinged.
I nudged Rosie. “It’s almost your turn.”
She looked up at me, sad.
“What’s the…oh.” I saw the sagging, yellow front of her diaper.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. Her eyes shimmered with the threat of tears. “I—I tried. I really did.”
“It’s alright. You’ll get it next year. You won’t be stuck here in diapers forever.”
Rosie shrugged. “I like it here. Teachers are nice. There’s loads of fun toys and activities. I like feeding Mr. Goldy.”
“So…what’s the matter?” I asked.
“I really thought we could get the tower all the way to the ceilin’.”
“Come on up, Rosie,” Miss Susie called out.
Rosie suddenly wrapped her arms around me and squeezed tight, her head pressed against my chest. “Have fun at preschool,” she whispered.
She thinks you’re going to make it. She’s certain of it.
She let me go and walked up to Miss Susie, who checked her diaper and found it wet. She consoled her, offering the usual assurance of ‘that’s what diapers are for,’ not realizing the real reason she was so sad. Then Rosie shuffled over to her daddy as her five minutes ticked away.
I was sweating now. My stomach a hurricane of cramping pains. Time crawled.
Finally, a light ding.
“Come on up, Peter,” Miss Susie called.
I shuffled forward slowly. Carefully. Hands on my aching tummy.
The teachers and remaining parents gave a half-hearted cheer, their voices soft, polite, but without the energy I’d seen them give to the others.
A few of the students chuckled, including Hansen, who made no effort to hide the amusement on his face. “Look at Petey doing his little potty dance,” he teased, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Bet he won’t make it.”
Mommy didn’t laugh. At least, I didn’t think so. But some of the other mommies and daddies did.
My eyes met Rosie’s. She dabbed away the tears in them and was smiling. Hopeful. Happy for me, even though she knew it meant we wouldn’t hang out anymore. Wouldn’t finish our tower together.
I glanced over at the jumbled pile of blocks. I wanted to finish that tower together. Desperately. And maybe, if Hansen were gone, we finally could.
We didn’t get to make many choices in nursery school. Not like preschool. They told us when to have snacks and when to take naps and how long to wash our hands after we fed Mr. Goldy. But I could make this decision.
I stopped right in front of the potty. “Sorry, Miss Susie,” I said.
“What for…?”
I dropped into a squat and let the stinky mess push out into my diaper like I had a million times before. Like I probably would a million times again.
“Oh, sweetie,” Miss Susie said. She sighed.
I stood up when I was done. Everyone was silent. Even Hansen.
Miss Susie put her arm around me. “It’s alright, Peter. We will love to have you for another year. Run along, now.” She gave the back of my diaper a light swat, smooshing the stinky mess I’d deposited there.
I didn’t care. Not really.
Mommy’s smile tugged at the corners of her mouth like it did when I spilled juice on the floor or forgot to empty out my diaper pail. Soft, patient love mixed with exasperation. She didn’t look surprised, though. She pulled me tight against her and kissed the top of my head. “It’s alright, sweetie. There’s always next year.”
I nodded.
“Ice cream?” she said.
I smiled. “Can I get cookie dough?”
“Of course.”
I looked over at Rosie, whose daddy was helping get her coat on.
“What’s the matter, babycakes?” Mommy asked.
“Can I have a bit more time?”
She patted my diaper. “I’m sure they’ll let me change your stinky britches before we go. Let me just get your diaper bag from the car.”
I shook my head. Glanced at Rosie, who was almost out the door now. “Somethin’ else.”
Mommy looked at Rosie. Nodded. “Of course. Take your time. I’ll talk to Miss Susie about getting you signed up for another year.”
I ran over to Rosie.
She stared at me, her eyes wide in shock for a moment. Then, as realization dawned on her, she smiled softly, the corners of her lips curling in understanding. She didn’t say anything, but I saw it in the way she looked at me—there was no judgment, just quiet support.
“Do you want to finish our tower?” I asked her.
She looked up at her daddy, who nodded. “Of course, darlin’. I’ll catch up with the other mommies and daddies for a bit. Have fun.”
I took Rosie’s hand in mine, and we crossed the room.
“Sorry I’m stinky,” I whispered.
She squeezed my hand. “I don’t care.”
We’d just started the third level of the tower when Hansen screamed. “Yes! I’m going to preschool!” he shouted, the noise grating in my ears. “You see that, Petey? That’s how you do it!”
I ignored him, slotting a big blue block into place. He could have his pull-ups and his Lego blocks.
I had my friend.
---
Big thank you to my friends @diapergirlstories and @batarangaroo for their feedback on this story!
If you enjoyed this short tale, you'll love my full-length stories - check 'em out on Ream! There are 42 stories there, several of them novella or novel length, and I add more every week.
You shifted nervously, twiddling your thumbs. You wanted this for as long as you could remember.
All you have to do is say yes.
“It’s okay to be nervous, little one. Mommy knows it’s the biggest little decision you’ll ever make.”
She wasn’t wrong. The post is written. If you hit send your life will never be the same. Everyone will know the truth.
You spit out your paci, letting it dangle from the clip. Your mouth is far too dry for it, anyway.
“S-scared, Mommy.”
“I know, honey. It takes a lot of courage to take a leap of faith, doesn’t it? But aren’t you ready to let go and embrace who you are?”
You nod meekly.
“Baby, look at me. Mommy will never, ever let anything happen to her special boy. You know that, right? Who cares what anyone thinks? You have Mommy! You’re safe with Mommy, wrapped in her love.”
“P-promise?”
“Pinky promise, hun. You belong to Mommy. You’re mine, forever and always. Mommy will take care of your every need and fix every problem. I’ll protect your sweet innocence from the big bad world, I promise. You’ll never have to pretend to be a big boy ever again.”
Your heart thumps in your chest, though you can’t tell if it’s from excitement—or fear.
One simple yes—just one—and you’ll never have to make another decision ever again.
You’ll get everything you ever wanted.
So why won’t your brain let your mouth say the word?
“All you need to do is surrender to Mommy, baby. Let the world know you are Mommy’s. Wholly and irrevocably mine. Mommy will take care of the rest. Your utter dependence on me is the greatest gift you can ever give me.”
“It is?”
“Of course it is! I love you, baby. More than you could ever understand. Do you know how proud I am to be your Mommy? How hard it is to hide the best part of you from everyone? I am the luckiest woman in the world!”
She’s proud of you?
You feel yourself stand a bit taller.
“Aren’t you tired of living a lie? Babies shouldn’t be going to work! Or paying bills. You’re too small for any responsibility. This isn’t the life you deserve! Let Mommy give you the life you always wanted. As Mommy’s forever baby.”
“Mommy will be your whole world. You’ll be free, baby. No more cell phones, no more social media, no adult TV, no more doomscrolling. Nothing but the joyful innocence of your nursery. Nothing but cuddles, bubble baths, and cartoons.”
“Mommy will take care of everything. Everything. You’ll be Mommy’s baby—and only Mommy’s baby. Mommy will keep your diapie clean, your belly full of nummies, and swaddle you in your crib every evening. Just like the baby you are.”
A smile spreads across your face, only to falter soon after.
“But Mommy…it’s not fair! You have to do everything and I…I...”
She walks over to you, wrapping you in a tight hug. The seat of your diaper crinkles as she rubs it.
“Sweetie, I want this. Nothing in this world makes me happier than caring for you. All I need is to hear your laughter as I blow raspberries on your tummy. To smell the baby powder wherever you waddle. To see the pure joy in your eyes as you live your authentic life!”
Tears trickle down your face. You instinctively hide your face.
“No, baby. Don’t hide your tears from Mommy. You’re my baby. Babies cry. You don’t need to be ashamed of your feelings anymore.”
You sniffle, eyes full of tears. “S-sorry, Mommy…”
“It’s okay, sweetie. Just remember you’re not a big boy anymore. That means no more big-boy expectations. Mommy expects you to behave like the baby you are, silly!”
“Hehe, okay Mommy!”
“Good boy. Now, are those happy tears or sad tears, honey?”
“Happy!”
“Awww, just what Mommy wanted to hear! Now, baby. Can you be a big boy for just a little longer? I need you to understand that I want this as much as you. I will never abandon you. That I will always be there for you. Can you say, ‘Yes, Mommy’ if you understand?”
You smile at her, cheeks glistening with tears and a small snot bubble forming.
“Yes, Mommy!”
“Good boy! And you understand that once we hit send, you’ll never be a big boy again? You’ll listen to everything Mommy says and trust her to do what’s best for you?”
“Yes, Mommy!”
“You’re okay with giving up every adult privilege you’ve ever had—no exceptions? No more car, no more bars, no more sports, no more sex? Giving your privacy and independence to Mommy? And saying bye-bye to the potty, forever?”
“Yes, Mommy!”
“Okay, baby. As long as you understand there’s no turning back! You want that, right?”
“I want that, Mommy! I love you!”
Mommy's eyes fill with tears as she hugs you again.
“I’m the luckiest Mommy in the world! I have my baby boy!”
“YAYAYAYA!”
“You’re so cute, little one! Ready to push send?”
“YEAH! PUSH IT! PUSH IT!”
“Okay, honey, here we go! You’re new life starts…now!”
Mommy never let you see what people commented on the post—but you couldn’t care less.
You didn’t have to hide anymore. You didn’t have to pretend. You were Mommy’s baby. Now and forever.
Despite your best efforts, a tiny smile crept across your face—even as your older sister lifted the back of your dress, exposing your messy diaper to the room.
“Ut oh, I think our little diaper girl made a poopoo! Yes, she did!”
And you’ve never been happier.
For as long as you can remember, you’ve been drawn to the thick, crinkly, and delightfully comforting padding of diapers. You couldn’t help it. You couldn’t explain it.
Life was just better in a soggy diaper.
Yet, you always hid your shameful lust for diapers. Forced to fill your diapers in utter privacy.
Not anymore.
There is no going back.
Now everyone—your family, friends, and coworkers—knows you’re just a diaper girl. Every time they see you, they expect a thick, poofy, and most likely wet diaper between your legs.
Nothing makes you happier than seeing their eyes drift down, searching for your diaper bulge. Or those pitiful looks only reserved for a poor 25-year-old girl trapped in diapers.
For all they know, you can’t help it. You need your diapers.
You know the truth.
All those embarrassing accidents were part of your plan. To lock yourself into diapers.
To expose yourself as a diaper girl.
Sure, it was embarrassing to mess your panties in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner. Or when you peed your pants at the Taylor Swift concert with your sisters.
But it was all worth it for this.
Nobody doubts why you're in diapers anymore.
“Oh good,” your younger sister says, hugging her two young daughters, “I’m proud of you two for keeping your pull-ups clean when Auntie Maria is still pooping her diapies!”
You blush, letting the humiliation wash over you.
That subtle, condescending humiliation you crave.
The humiliation your sisters are all too happy to provide. Because you, the golden child, are back in diapers.
“Stop teasing Maria, girls,” your mom scolds.
She looks at you with the same expression you’d expect from seeing a baby duck covered in oil, needing rescue. “Why don’t you go change your diaper, sweetheart?”
A pitiful look for a helpless diaper girl in a poopy diaper.
You oblige, grabbing your diaper bag. Doing your best to hide a smile.
As you reach the top of the stairs, your mom shouts, “Let me know if you need help, honey! I know messy diapers can be tricky!”
Exposing yourself as the diaper girl you are was the best decision you’ve ever made in your life.
Kayla: Ummm…Julie what is that sticking out of the waistband of your shorts? And don’t say those are panties, because they’re not like any panties I’ve ever seen before. Plus, every time we were practicing our cheer routine I kept hearing a crinkle coming from you.
Julie: Oh, that. That’s my diaper. (says it nonchalantly as she lifts her shirt up to expose the waistband of her diaper to her friend and fellow cheerleader Kayla)
Kayla: Your DIAPER! Why are you wearing diapers Julie?
Julie: Well it’s a long story, but basically when I was young I was difficult to potty train. I mean super difficult. I would pee or poop my pants all the time, and would run away from my parents when they tried to take me to the potty, I pooped and peed every pair of big girl panties my parents tried to make me wear, and was only truly happy when I was wearing my diapers. So my parents kind’ve gave up and just decided to let me stay in diapers.
Kayla: Wow! Really?! And you don’t ever use the potty or try to be potty trained?
Julie: I mean my parents tried throughout the years by suggesting that other girls my age used the potty, but I just never wanted to give up my diapers, so eventually they gave up and let me just stay in diapers 24/7.
Kayla: And it doesn’t bother you to pee or poop your pants while the rest of us girls go and sit down on the potty?
Julie: Nope, in fact I love it! I love being able to pee and poop wherever I am and whenever I want. I don’t have to worry about having to rush and find a bathroom worried I’ll have an accident like so many girls our age. And my activities don’t have to be cut short or interrupted because I have to pee or poop. I just go in my diaper.
Kayla: But what about changing your diaper? That still takes time doesn’t it?
Julie: It does, but I don’t change my own diapers. When my parents let me stay in diapers they said that part of the deal was I wasn’t ever allowed to change myself. So they change me, the school nurse changes me, my babysitter changes me, even Coach Mullins changes me.
Kayla: No Way! Coach Mullins changes you too! OMG! I always wondered where she was taking you when we would have water breaks during practice or halftime during the games we cheered at.
Julie: Yep, she was taking me to have my diaper changed.
Kayla: Well, I think that’s pretty cool Julie that you’re brave enough to wear diapers. I bet it’s kind’ve convenient. Wish I had a diaper right now…I’ve really gotta pee.
Julie: Yeah, it’s pretty great! And you’re more then welcome to wear one of mine anytime. But for now, you better go to the bathroom before you wet yourself. As for me, I need to go see Coach Mullins.
Angela pressed her phone closer to her ear, her attention focused on the staticky masculine voice emanating from the tiny speaker. "Medical research… checking in… survey… if you have time… gift card…"
She sighed. But then, with a resigned glance around the empty bedroom room, nodded to her invisible caller. "Uh, sure. Sure, I guess I can do that." She bounced gently in place, her half-naked body swaying gracefully as she maintained her balance. "What's the first question?"
"Uhh… oh. That? Really?"
Her eyes dropped in a sudden flash of self-consciousness, and her fingers fidgeted at the plastic waistband of her gaily decorated diaper. "Uh, yeah. Completely incontinent." A pause, and then a shake of the head. "No- not really. No medication- Nope, nothing else. Just… yeah. Just the… what you said. 'Protective briefs'."
Her mouth twisted into a wry smile at the phrase, and again she glanced downward – this time in silent amusement at the odd euphemisms folks loved to use for an ordinary diaper. "Umm… three times a day? Sometimes four." Another pause, while her fingers strayed downward and probed unconsciously at the cotton and plastic bunched between her naked thighs. A bit wet. Nothing major. "No, not really. Just a little chafing now and then, but nothing serious." Another pause. "Oh, relationship? Yeah, married."
On and on it went, question after probing question. Her family history. Her hobbies. Whether and how her condition interfered with them. Occupation. And so on, and so forth, as the clock ticked on and her patience grew ever more thin.
But finally came a truly unexpected question: one that brought the already awkward conversation to a full stop. Angela hesitated, eyes flicking downward and back as she considered her response. "Uhh…" Fingers slipped over the sensitive regions between her legs, so amply protected by the thick garment she wore. Then… with a naughty grin and flushing cheeks, she leaned closer and spoke.
"No, actually, my husband loves it. Tell you the truth, we actually both love it."
She grinned to herself, and now her fingers were steadily stroking at her padded crotch. "Sure! Umm, lots of reasons. I don't have to run to the bathroom constantly, for one thing. And, um, I don't have to worry about accidents anymore." She paused, then shrugged as if her polite discretion had entirely evaporated along with her patience. "And, I mean… have you ever worn one, mister? They're freaking comfortable! And listen: when you feel everything just let go and you absolutely soak them full… uuhnnnn…!"
It was nothing short of a full-throated moan of undisguised pleasure. A devious grin spread across her face as she cocked her head, listening to the stuttering fellow on the other end trying to recover his composure. "Everything okay there?" A few seconds paused, and then she grew thoughtful once more. "Oh, okay. What I'd like to see in future products? Hmm, let me think…"
She gave her diaper a quick squeeze, then broke silence once more. "Well, there's two things, actually! First off, these diapers of mine need to be a heck of a lot cheaper – like, half what they are now. And then… I mean, since you're asking…" Here she trailed off, and once again a devilish grin flashed across her face. "Honestly, I think they need to be much thicker, and far less discreet. Because after all, mister… when a naughty girl like me piddles in her pants non-stop, don't you think she deserves to have everyone know about it? Don't you think she ought to be absolutely humiliated for being such a wet, dirty little diaper girl?"
She laughed then – a full-throated, lusty laugh of confidence and derision at her stunned interviewer. "Aww, what's the matter? Done with your questions already? Or did you want me to tell you more about how badly I need my diapers?"
Perhaps it was for the best that the poor fellow on the other end couldn't see Angela once she hung up and tossed her phone onto the bed beside her. Though then again… the way she began shamelessly grinding her padded crotch into her defenseless pillow would at the very least have been…
Educational, perhaps? Or at the very least, informative. Because maybe, just maybe, he'd have learned that dealing with a disability could actually be a hell of a lot of fun.
Image Credit: DiaperGal.com
Be sure to check out my Patreon here if you want to read more of my naughty short stories!
She never felt more attractive in her entire life. The scent of soft and sweet perfume leaving her padded panties with the pats and rubs on her tenderly loved bottom left her with just as much butterflies in her stomach as the now cooling bottom that is awaiting for her to add more to it whenever she wants to.
Biting her bottom lip, the supposed adult who looks to be afflicted with some more infantile garb felt herself feeling especially gluttonous for more of this feeling, her lips aching for something. The desire for a pacifier to bob in her mouth caused her to dribble a soft drooly moan as she remembered how she looked in the mirror, her eyes seemingly glowing in pleasure as the pacifier covered all of her lip and much of her cheeks and chin, causing her to look so wonderfully cute. It didn't help that she felt so relax and calm suckling on it as if it was like breathing to her, something she thought nothing of as she let her hands be free to do whatever she pleased...
Or maybe not. The idea of her being cuddled up with a bottle had its own appeal. She never fed herself of course; princesses like her weren't meant to do anything but be pampered after all. She had all of her meals fed to her, a feeling that became mutual with pretty much everything else that should be something that someone her age would do for herself. For the 'adult' baby though, she had a hard time thinking of doing anything with food other than having it fed to her. Letting herself fall to sleep as she filled her tummy with sweet warmth and her tongue singing as a proper adult was stroking her hair, rubbing her tummy, or patting her diaper? The last time she was given a bottle without assistance caused her to mewl in frustration until she was whimpering behind the rubber teat after she was hushed and fed properly.
As she felt a familiar feeling touch her, she felt herself loosen as she looked down on herself. A sigh of pleasure allowed more of her bib and chin to be soaked as she felt her cooled padding be rewarmed once again. Lust and sloth from the comforts she felt caused the big baby to rub her bottom, enjoying the sensation of something that she was becoming more and more accustomed to. The threat of it being oversoaked didn't ward her desires... in fact, it was something that she hoped would happen. In truth, the idea of her being forced into thicker pampers was something that she had already been progressing through as she continued to fall face first back to this infantile lifestyle, and the thought of getting an upgrade for her little bottom caused her to rub her bottom with satisfaction.
Thoughts of the constant dawdling and attention she got from her infantile life was way more pleasurable than any attention she got when she was a big girl. Feeling protected, she always felt like a firm hand was keeping her safe and controlled, always making sure that she was as warm as she can be. Feeling pleasure, she had a hard time not feeling a constant buzz, a drunken sensation that needed no drugs or additives as she had a hard time doing anything but feel touched and be touched with so many sensations. Feeling loved, the adult baby was addicted to her caretaker as much as she was addicted to her progressing infancy, finding herself wanting to be downgraded to crawling, babbling, and being as silly as she can be... knowing that someone is there to give her so much attention and love, making sure that she was the center of the world.
Feeling herself bubble, the idea of doing something infantile caused her to almost grab a stuffie and relieve herself then and there. The thought of her caretaker walking up to her as she chewed her toes in her soaked pampers caused her to let out an involuntary moan at the thought of their face looking at her... nearly filled with caring love that saw her as so adorable and precious, having nothing but a desire to give her kisses and hugs. Her hips moved without control at the thought of her getting hair strokes and being told how good she is as she watches her baby shows, bouncing on her stuffie and feeling so needy and desperate for attention. Thoughts of acting so infantile and getting so much congratulations and sincere love caused the thought of her going all the way back to being their permanent babydoll did nothing to dissuade her descent...
In fact, as she continued to rub her pampers and feel how wet she was from both lips, the thought of making more of a present and finding herself to waddled with thicker pampers caused the adult toddler to bend over and push in front of her caretaker's door... the thought of them cooing and dotting over her caused her heart to pump in her ears with excitement and desire.
Poor Jenna was having a hard time getting back into the role. Waddling about despite the thinner adult pampers she was given, the adult baby waddled about, trying to replicate what she use to do a number of times. Being near-naked and slightly drooling, the pseudo-adult attempted to do what was tasked for her by her 'husband'.
The Adult Woman use to be able to do a number of things as an adult, but she and her husband had a shared interest that lead to her to lose much. Being given the privilege of being pampered in the literal sense, she got to live the fantasy that most were unable to live... having someone constantly fawning and adoring her and always supporting her for being herself. In this case, Jenna's 'self' was that of an Adult Baby.
A former working in the adult world and capable of caring for the home, Jenna found herself quickly living in a Crib and eating liquid meals before they even got married, with their union together only cementing her to fall deeper and deeper down into the rabbit hole. When she was able to do taxes and count and read fairly well, her head began to hurt and would wail when her husband wasn't reading her little books to her that she half-understood after a long time. Able to clean and take care of herself, she found herself wearing swaddlers for her diapers and bibs to deal with her constantly drooling, soaking self as she depended on her new daddy to clean up after her. The chores and jobs she use to do as a respectable adult turned to her sitting in TV, drooling without any thoughts as she chewed stuffies and clapped wet hands and feet until her dada came with her meal and fed her since she couldn't even be trusted to do that anymore...
But some people get tired after awhile, or at least for Jenna it was more so fear. A fear that her Dada wasn't seeing her as the big girl that he married, that he was treating her more like an infant and less like an adult. As Jen-jen told her desire to be an adult again though, her husband-turned-daddy went to help her progress towards some form of adulthood... an adulthood that her husband knew was never likely going to happen at this point.
And here she was... an adult infant attempting to be older than she is. Tasked with washing the kitchen tiles, wearing nothing but her thinned diapers so that she can be protected whilst waddling about. She had no idea how to use the potty anymore, so they both agreed, in the reluctance to Jenna, that she needed them permanently now. After helping her how to waddle after living much of her infantile life being carried around, she still never truly got the handle of it and had to find a wall or something to keep her from falling down... even adult clothes over her weren't possible since she always ruined them in some form or another.
It doesn't mean that, despite her trials, that Jenna didn't stop though. She was determined for her Husband to see her as more than just a baby and give her the attention she desired. Even if she leaned on the mop, not even started much less half finished, unknowingly soaking her diapers to the point of making a mess on the floor she was suppose to clean, and thinking longingly about what she missed... things she could not admit otherwise risk finding herself on her back and bawling her eyes out, wanting to go back to babas, thicker diapers, swaddling clothing, plushies and toys, and her crib. Even if she couldn't admit it herself, Jenna realized that there was a reason why she was an Adult Infant in the first place.
But it won't be long. Her Daddy knew what Jenna wanted, and although he will always be there to support and encourage her for whatever she 'wished', he knew that the Infant was just scared and need lots of love and support. Even if she failed acting the big girl that she never was in the first place, a nice clean up followed by lots of special cuddles and care to help her little heart settle down was something that he knew Jenna needed best. As every day pasts and Jenna finds her 'desire' to be a big girl quickly die only after a month of relearning how to walk, babble words that her dada 'could' understand as some kind of language, and now do something as adult as cleaning and organizing was something that she soon resented... realizing that her vulnerable wishes was quickly dying as she longingly thought of her dada giving diaper rubs and humming to her as she was swaddled up, not even having a care that she needed a change after making a mess rather than cleaning as she was suppose to do.
Despite the hurdles, Jenna may not burst and mewl to her Dada to go back though. But that was ok for both of them. Her husband was very patient, and as he looked at her without her knowing, he had the patience to help support her wishes, whatever they maybe. Some babies just needed some extra time being swaddled and cared for, and were not made to grow up yet... sometimes ever.
A virus that causes women to manifest babyish behaviours, or even mentally regress entirely, is sweeping the world. When Naomi develops very mild symptoms, she nonetheless loses her status as an adult in the eyes of society, much to her anger and humiliation.
***
“This is ridiculous!” Naomi whined. “There’s nothing wrong with me!”
“You tested positive, sweetheart,” her boyfriend said, patiently. “And your potty issues aren’t nothing. How many pairs of undies did you ruin before you agreed to start wearing your training pants?”
Naomi felt her cheeks burning. “They’re not training pants, Isaac!” she insisted, stomping her foot, suddenly very aware of the thickness of the protective underwear between her legs. “They’re just… just…”
“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” Isaac said. “They’re your just-in-case pants, aren’t they? But my point is you’ve got to stop pretending that your life isn’t going to change because of this. You’ve got Baby Fever, my love.”
“But there haven’t been any mental changes!” Naomi practically shrieked. “The only thing that’s changed is that my bladder control is weaker! So why do I have to have my driving licence revoked? Why do I have to lose my job? Why do you have to be named my legal guardian? It doesn’t make any sense!”
“It’s for your own safety, Naomi,” said Isaac. “You don’t know that there won’t be any mental changes. Your little pee-pants problem could just be the start.”
“If there were going to be worse symptoms, they would’ve happened by now!” Naomi insisted, cringing at his choice of words. “I’ve been looking into it online. There are loads of women like me! We barely show any symptoms at all, and yet we’re subjected to all the same rules as a bunch of overgrown toddlers!”
“We don’t know enough about how the virus works, baby,” Isaac said, calmly. “For all we know, you could go months without any more symptoms, only to develop severe ones all at once. What if it happened while you were driving? What if you suddenly found yourself with the mind of a little girl while you were out alone in the city somewhere? Just think what might happen! Anyone could take advantage of you, sweetheart!”
“But there have been hardly any cases where a women develops more severe symptoms after three weeks!” Naomi protested.
“But there have still been some,” said Isaac. “Do you know what would happen if you ended up mentally regressed, and I’d allowed you to just wander about like you didn’t have the virus? The government would label me an irresponsible caregiver, and I’m not going to risk that. I’m not going to risk you being taken away from me and dumped in foster care. Is that what you want, Naomi? Do you want to end up in foster care?”
Naomi was blushing furiously. After a moment, she looked down at the floor and shook her head.
“Then be a good girl and do as Daddy says.”
Naomi tensed. “You’re not my Daddy,” she mumbled, still looking at her shoes.
“I am now, baby,” Isaac said firmly, “and I’m going to take care of you properly.” He took her by the hand and started leading her out of the living room.
“Where are we going?” Naomi asked, meekly.
“I ordered some new clothes for you,” said Isaac, “and they arrived today. They’re in the bedroom.”
“New clothes?” Naomi repeated, confused. Then she realised what he must mean. “No!” she squealed, trying to dig her heels into the carpet. “Please, Isaac! Please just let me just wear my normal clothes!”
“Don’t be silly, sweetie,” he said, pulling her along effortlessly. “The official guidelines state that you have to be recognisable as a virus victim. That way people will know something’s wrong if you’re by yourself. You’ve been walking around in adult clothes for far too long already, little missy.”
“But I don’t want to dress like one of them!” Naomi whined, thinking of the virus victims she sometimes saw in public, grown women dressed up in ridiculous rompers and overalls and frilly dresses. Mostly they had gormless, happy expressions on their faces, victims of the full mental regression, but others, who had merely manifested babylike behaviours that rendered them helpless and dependent, blushed with embarrassment as they toddled along in their ludicrous outfits. The idea that she should have to dress like that too, when all that was wrong with her was a little trouble holding her pee, was utterly absurd. “People will think I’m fully regressed!” Naomi complained desperately. “Isn’t it better that they know I still have my adult mind?!”
“It’s better to be safe,” said Isaac. “Plus the guidelines say it’s a good way of signalling to everyone that you’re out of your contagious phase. That will give people a lot of peace of mind if you do something babyish in front of them.”
They entered the bedroom, and Naomi saw that there were several large cardboard boxes sitting on the bed. They looked perfectly innocent, but the thought of what was inside them made her chest tighten. “Please, Isaac…” she tried again, but her boyfriend paid her no mind.
He got to work opening the boxes, and Naomi thought she might faint at the sight of the clothes he began to pull out. The fact that it was exactly what she’d expected, and feared, was no comfort to her. Childish tops and leggings, a soft pink tutu, a snug-looking pramsuit, a sparkly leotard with Disney princesses on the front, a sky blue onesie with a pattern of yellow ducks; Isaac unpacked them all and folded them neatly on the bed, ready to fill her drawers. He glanced up at her. “Start getting undressed, baby,” he said, as he folded a set of purple pyjamas covered in prancing unicorns. “I want to get you into your new clothes right away.”
Naomi opened her mouth to protest, but Isaac shot her a warning look and she closed it again. Cheeks flushed, she started to strip, removing her loose, V-neck shirt and letting it drop to the floor. She slipped off her shoes, and her jeans went next, falling to her ankles and leaving her standing in nothing but her bra and her thick cotton pull-ups. She looked down at the clothes at her feet, wondering when she’d get to wear them again. The possibility that the answer might be never hit her suddenly like a blow to the stomach. Feeling faintly dizzy, she examined her absorbent underwear, and with a fresh rush of embarrassment, she noticed they looked a little discoloured. She squeezed her legs together experimentally. There a slight squish. When had that happened?
“Did you have an accident, baby?” Isaac asked.
Naomi froze when she realised he’d been watching her. Her face felt as red as a tomato. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at him, so she just nodded her head, still looking at the floor.
“Do you need changing?” he asked.
“No,” she mumbled. “It’s not much.”
“Alright, darling,” Isaac said, gently. “For now we’ll just get you dressed, okay? Arms up!”
“I know how to dress myself,” Naomi said, petulantly, raising her head to glare at her boyfriend. But she lifted up her arms all the same, allowing him to pull a long-sleeved pink top down over her head. At first she thought it wasn’t that different from the shirt she’d just removed, except for the colour, but then she spotted the writing on the front. Daddy’s Girl.
“Seriously, Isaac?”
“It looks cute on you,” her boyfriend said, planting a quick kiss on her pouty red lips. Naomi felt butterflies fluttering in her tummy despite herself. Cute as in adorable, she reminded herself. Cute as in not sexy. She imagined trying to seduce him in any of her new clothes, and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was bad enough trying to be sexy in padded underwear, let alone a romper with a pattern of rattles, baby blocks, and diaper pins.
A pair of thick white tights came next, and Isaac knelt down in front of her, allowing her to stabilise herself with her hands on his shoulders while she stepped into them. “Left foot first, that’s it. Then the right. Good girl!” He pulled them up her legs and over her bulky protective pants, but despite the tights’ thickness, they didn’t quite conceal what Naomi wore around her bottom.
Isaac stood after that, picking two pink ribbons from a pack on the bed, and started running his fingers through her luscious black hair. Naomi knew what he was planning at once. “No!” she squealed, stepping back. “There’s nothing wrong with keeping my hair down! It’s fine!”
“The government guidelines say that pigtails and pink ribbons are the best and easiest way a virus victim can be identified, Naomi,” said Isaac, firmly. “This way everyone will know you’re a Baby Fever girl.”
Naomi clenched her fists. She wanted to scream and shout, but she knew that if she did, Isaac would just say she was throwing a tantrum and suggest it was evidence of her developing virus symptoms. She took a deep breath. “Fine,” she said, through gritted teeth.
“Good girl!” Isaac said, and he started tying her dark hair into a pair of high pigtails that dangled down to tickle her cheeks. “Perfect,” he announced, once he was finished. “Come see what you look like, baby.”
Naomi wasn’t at all keen to see her reflection, but Isaac dragged her over to the full-length mirror and stood her in front of it. “Oh my God…” she whispered when she saw herself. She looked like a giant three-year-old, complete with training pants bulging out from under her tights. Tears welled up in her eyes. “I look like a joke!”
“Don’t say that, sweetheart,” Isaac cooed, bending down to kiss her cheek. “You look adorable! You’ll be the cutest girl in your class!”
“In my… in my what?”
“Your class, baby. At your daycare.”
Naomi stared, horror struck, at her boyfriend’s face in the mirror. “At my what?!”
***
The full story can be found on Patreon for those who want to read more.
I sat on the floor of my Mommy’s room, legs splayed with a coloring book and some crayons on the floor. Mommy was in the bathroom, standing at her sink and inspecting her reflection in the mirror as she was getting ready for her date.
This was the first time she was going out, leaving me at home under the care of a mutual friend. When we first started dating, Mommy and I would sleep in her big bed together and go out on dates all the time. But since she started putting me in diapers a few months, I had been relegated to the guest room.
It had started as something she suggested when the stress from my work started to catch up with me at night. I always struggled to keep my bed dry growing up, and by the time my parents were tired of buying their teenage daughter diapers, I only had accidents when I was feeling really fried.
When I started wetting the bed a few months ago, Mommy suggested that I wear diapers to bed. I was completely against the idea, not wanting to return to the place of self-consciousness and embarrassment at having to wear protection to bed. I tried to argue, but Mommy wasn’t having any of it.
“Pleeeeeaase?” I begged, my voice slipping into more of a whine than I wanted while trying to prove my adulthood.
“Tell you what, girlie. Starting tomorrow, if you wake up in a wet bed more than twice, I’m putting you in diapers.” Mommy stated calmly, rubbing my thigh to soothe me. I felt my cheeks flush. I knew I would likely fail.
By Tuesday, Mommy came home from work with a pack of diapers under her arm. She hadn’t even taken off her coat or put down her things before I was voicing my displeasure.
“Noooo I don’t need those,” I whined as I followed her around the house. She didn’t acknowledge me, and instead went to the guest room and placed the diapers on the bed. I was on her heels and gave her a questioning look once we were in the room.
“I got a plastic sheet for this bed,” Mommy explained, noting the look of confusion on my face. “I don’t want you ruining my nice mattress, and as a matter of fact, I think your behavior these past few weeks has be convinced this will be for the best.”
“I can’t help it! I just sometime have accidents at night when I feel stressed!” I pleaded, not entirely sure what all of “this” entailed.
“Sweetie, even when you do keep your bed dry, you act like a toddler most the time. I’ve been thinking about this for a while; your recent nighttime troubles just convinced me this is what you need,” she told me. Her voice was sweet and syrupy, bringing more blood to my face as she led me by the shoulder to the bed.
“I don’t! I’m an adult and I just am having a rough week!” I protested, trying to keep the whine out of my voice. I tried to struggle against Mommy’s hold on my shoulder, but she tightened her grip when she felt my resistance.
“Sweetheart, when we are sitting down to dinner and trying to find something on to watch, if I let you pick, where do you always look?” she asked, using both hands to sit me down on the bed.
“Uhm, I don’t know,” I said, not wanting to answer. “You go to Disney+. And, if I’m picking and choose something more grown-up, you get so fussy and complain about how boring it is,” she said as she pushed me back into a lying position on the bed. “If we are having a big dinner that needs cutting up, do you cut it up yourself or ask me to help you?”
I didn’t answer her, choosing to turn my head to the wall and stare it. My thoughts were racing around in my head. I knew that Mommy liked it when I played a little bratty, and it sounds like maybe I played too far into that. I wasn’t a baby though!
As I turned my head and opened my mouth to say such, a pacifier was slipped past my lips. Without thinking, my mouth started to work the nipple and I felt my heart rate slow a little.
“See, sweetie? This is for the best,” she said as she moved to undo my jeans. “I know it’s not bedtime yet, though yours will be much earlier than it used to. I think we should start you in diapers at home all the time. I’ve seen your undies when I do our laundry, and you have little pee-pee accidents in them all the time, don’t you?” she asked, tickling my tummy.
“I don’t wet my pants! Those are just tiny little spots,” I pouted behind my pacifier.
“Anyone who ruins their undies like you do deserves to be in diapers,” she said with a certain finality that I knew I’d have to revisit this in a few days if I wanted to change her mind. Her hands were poised at the top of my jeans, getting ready to unbutton them and take them off. I missed when she opened the package, but a thick, folded diaper lay next to me on the bed, some wipes and powder next to it.
“Please don’t,” I whined through my pacifier, but she ignored me as she pulled my pants down and started getting me into my first diaper in years.
All characters in this story are consenting adults well over the age of 18.
I’m in the bedroom with my LittleOne. The door is closed because baby boys are curious and I don’t want to be chasing him all over the house tonight. There’s a playmat on the floor with some stuffies and legos and other toys. My BabyBoy is playing quietly with his legos and it gives me a chance to do some ‘Mommy stuff’. I’m on the bed planning out the week on my iPad. As I start to fill in LittleOne’s chore chart I get a whiff of something stinky. Just a hint of it and it isn’t even enough to be sure what I smelled so I take another sniff of the air. Oh yes, I definitely smell poopies. Hoping I didn’t miss the whole show, I subtly glance over at my Babyboy. I can’t help but smile when I see him squatting and leaning on one of his toys for balance as he scrunches his face. It looks like this is quite a pushie and I make a mental note to make sure my littleguy eats some more fiber at his next meal. He is grunting and straining and struggling. Finally I see his diaper start bulging downward as I hear a big sigh. He takes in another big breath and bares down again. That’s when he notices me and catches my eye. Blushing, he diverts his gaze to the floor.
“Such a good boy” I coo wanting him to know this is what I want too.
He shyly smiles at me as he finishes his poopie with a big groan. He turns and goes back to playing. I can’t help but feel bad. My poor baby must have had quite the tummy ache. He looks like he feels so much better. Maybe I need to be pushing more water sippys throughout the day along with his fiber.
“Hey sweetie? Can you please come here?”
“But I’m trying to build my castle mommy.” He whines.
“What did Mommy just ask?” I say, so he knows there is no getting out of this.
Immediately he comes over looking at the floor. I stand up from the bed and motion for him to turn around. I cup the bulge in the back of his diaper and give it a firm squeeze up agains his bum and his head instinctively falls backwards, his mouth open. I love how much he loves that.
I turn him around facing me and run my hand over the bulge in the front of his diaper before sliding my hand between his legs and reaching around again to his bum to press his messy bulge forward towards his balls. He whines about getting messy.
“Honey, you don’t need to worry about that. Mommy is here and I’m the one cleaning your messy bottom. Mommy wants a very messy boy to clean.” I whisper in his ear and I see his apprehensions disappear as he lets himself truly experience his desires.
I turn him around once more and give him a firm smack right on his poopy bulge as he lets out an involuntary moan. I lay him on the bed on top of the changing mat. It takes every ounce of self control I have to not rip off the diaper and mount his cock but I want to do this right.
I slowly untape the diaper and peel off the front. But my desire gets the best of me. Seeing my man so regressed and allowing me to take care of such an intimate moment of his makes me so wet and wild. His cock is standing straight up practically pulsing.
“Babyboy, do you want mommy to ride your chubby?”
“Oh yes Mommy, please.” He begs
I climb on top of him and guide his thick cock into my dripping pussy. He may be my little boy but, he has the most perfectly exquisite cock of any man I have ever been with.
“That’s my boy.” I say as I ease down on his cock. God he feels so good.
As I begin to ride his thick cock I tease “Does it feel good being in mommy’s kitty? You make mommy feel so good baby boy. You did such a good job making a poopy for mommy in your diapers.”
When I feel both me and him getting close I can’t help myself and the words spill out of my mouth as I increase the pace. “Does it feel good fucking mommy on top of your diaper with your big poopy pressing up against your bottom? You are mommy’s dirty dirty boy. Mommy loves how naughty you are.”
“Mommy I can’t…I’m gonna”
“Cum in your poopies for mommy Baby”
And with that my man erupts into me and I explode in a furry of pleasure.
We catch our breath and I hop off him grabbing the wipes and cleaning myself before tending to him.
I make sure to tell him what a good boy he is and how happy he made me by using his diapers while I clean and wipe down every inch, crack, and crevice. I roll up the dirty diaper and put a clean one under him sprinkling powder and taping him up.
“How bout some cuddles?” I say “grab a stuffie while I put this in the trash and wash my hands”
I discard the dirty diaper in the pail and wash my hands. When I return my baby has his favorite bear stuffie and is waiting for me on the bed, sucking his thumb.
“That’s my SweetBoy. Come here” I say as he cuddles close. I take out my breast so he can nurse and I know we will both fall asleep this way shortly.
“I love you StinkyBoy” I say as I kiss his head. And my baby instinctively squeezes my breast as he falls into dreamland.
"How does this look sweety?" your girlfriend asks, as she turns around showing you her blue lace bra and thong.
"Should I wear my blue or black skirt with this? What do you think?"
You frown into the baby bottle nipple that you're sucking from, glaring at her.
Concerned, she walks across the room to the large crib you're sitting in. Peeking over the bars she smirks, "What's wrong sweety? We just changed your diaper and you've got a fresh ba ba."
Frustrated you pop the nipple out of your mouth and toss the bottle into the bedding. You stand up, causing your large white diaper to crinkle as you grab the top of the bars. You're dressed like a toddler in just a diaper and tight blue t-shirt.
"I don't want you to go out tonight mommy!" You plead with a sad look on your face.
"Honey, we discussed this." She says in a coaxing tone, rubbing the back of you head with her hand. "Mommy needs some time to herself and her friends. I love being your mommy but I need a break from time to time."
"Noo!" You whine in a completely infantile tone, hitting your fists against your bare thighs. "I don't wanna be in here by myself!"
"You've got your Nintendo, some toys and a clean diaper mister. You'll be just fine" she says, moving her hand to your jaw, quickly snatching it. "If you keep whining like that I'll be happy to take your toys away".
Frustrated, you jerk your head backwards, causing her to gasp. Not sure what to do or how to stop your girlfriend from leaving you quickly decide to do the most infantile thing you can think of.
Bracing yourself against the bars, you bend your knees and tighten your tummy muscles as hard as you can.
"Excuse me mister but what are yo-"
She's cut off as a loud fart erupts from your diaper. Ignoring her shocked face, you focus on your deed as you tighten your face, feeling it flush as you continue pushing.
"You can't go if you have to deal with a dirty diaper" you think to yourself.
You grunt as a large log of poop slowly pushes pass your schincter, loudly crinkling your diaper as it pushes into the backside of the undergarment. You feel the large mess drop into the diaper, as several smaller spurts of poop quickly come out.
Your bladder relaxes and you feel a warm of wave of liquid spraying into the front of diaper, causing it to swell.
As the last of the poop is pushed out, you relax your body looking up at your girlfriend.
In an instant she grabs you by the ear, and unlocks the wall of the crib.
"Ow ow ow!" You wail as she pulls you out and to the floor.
Before you can react, you're pulled to a nearby chair and forced onto your belly over her lap. You feel her wrap one of her legs over the back of your knees, completely pinning you. She angrily shouts, "Bad, bad baby!"
A shock of pain erupts from the back of your thigh as she slaps it.
Your eyes widen as the strikes continue lashing against your skin. Tears erupt from your eyes and you blubber "I sowry! I sowry!", wailing to the floor.
"I don't want to hear it!" She hisses as she begins spanking the back your diaper, causing the massive bulge of poop to spread across your backside.
You continue bawling with your eyes shut as she abruptly stops and lifts her leg up, releasing you
"On the floor now!" she commands.
You quickly move off the chair and sit down on the ground, smashing the mess even further up your backside.
Your girlfriend glares at you as she steps away to the closet. Expecting her to return with a clean diaper, you're shocked to see a pair of restraint mittens and booties in her hands. It had been a long time since you wore them. The thick blue fabric hindered any fine movements, and a set of dull spikes sat inside the booties, preventing you from walking. You absolutely hated them.
"No not those, please mommy!" You cry at her. "Please go have fun tonight, I'll be a good boy I promise!"
"Act like a one year old and you'll be treated like a one year old." She says mockingly.
Grabbing your wrist, she slips the mitten over one hand as she tightens the strap and clicks on the black magnetic lock. Shaking in fear you watch her put on the other mitten and proceed to slip on the booties. You feel the metal spikes against your skin and you blubber to yourself in shame.
"Now crawl to your crib before you earn another spanking" you hear her command.
Hesitating you shift your knees and beging shuffling towards the white crib. Each movement forward causes the sticky mass of poop to shift against your backside. The foul odor of your diaper had enveloped the room and you feel completely humiliated. Moving up into the crib you sit back down on your messy bottom, looking up at your girlfriend.
"Sure stinks in here" she says, waving a hand in front of her face making a disgusted look with her mouth. "I'm opening a window".
Sliding the window open, she walks back to the crib, grabbing the baby bottle.
"Finish your bottle little baby and I'll be right back." she says, handing it to you.
Not resisting at all you grab the bottle with your gloved hands. Putting the nipple in your mouth, you have to tightly squeeze the bottle between the mittens to keep it from slipping. Your girlfriend walks out of the room as you suck the warm milk from the bottle.
As you finish the last gulp of milk she returns to the room with another milk filled bottle. Leaning over the crib she sets it next to the large teddy bear in the corner, and grabs your Nintendo switch and other toys.
"You won't be needing these now will you?" She says chuckling at you with a smile. "You can snuggle your teddy weddy bear instead, Mr poopy pants". She lifts the wall of the crib up, locking it in place.
Your stomach sinks in anxiety and you want to start crying again.
"Mommy please change my diapy it's icky" you complain to her.
Not acknowledging you, she walks to the other side of the room. She picks up the blue dress and turns towards you.
"I don't think so mister." Smiling with a devilish grin she continues, "How about you sit there in your dirty diaper, drink your ba ba, snuggle your bear and think about how much you love being a complete baby. I'll change you when I get back."
"wha.. what? No mommy please!" You beg. You try to move to your feet but the booties stab into your skin, causing you to fall backwards.
"Oh sweety?" She says. "One last thing you should know. That bottle you just finished was filled with laxatives so you better hope your little diaper there can hold up, or we'll have a real mess on our hands. Nighty night sweety."
Tears begin streaming down your face again as she turns around, switching on the nursery noise machine and dimming the lights. She disappears into the dark hallway as she closes the door.
The soft lullaby melody plays as you look around the room. You grab the large bottle with your mittened hands and roll onto your back, sobbing. You put the nipple into your mouth and stare up at the ceiling, slowly sucking the warm milk. A loud rumble courses through your stomach causing you to wince and cry into the bottle. You start to feel your eyes grow heavier and heavier as you continue sucking. You stick the nipple deeper in your mouth as you feel yourself regress, feeling like an actual one year old. You close your eyes and slowly fall to sleep.
He groaned. A mix of exhaustion and frustration, the sea of taillights attached to snails of cars. The day had stretched on and on, a nightmare of drudgery from the moment he stepped foot out of the house that morning. Neither of them had known that his commute would be such a strain, they hadn’t moved that far… but the construction in this part of town had been unexpected. And awful.
Work had been terrible, his boss breathing down his neck with so much of his department out sick, on paternity leave, or laid off. His workload had tripled and now the manager only had two employees to oversee instead of seven. Which turned a normally enjoyable job into a horror show of micromanagement.
As he neared the bottleneck of the construction, the left two lanes ending, an old beat up white pickup with only half a bumper came flying up the shoulder. He slammed on the gas, veering to the right, his heart pounding in his chest as the asshole knocked over three of the barrels, careening through the space where his Mazda had just been.
Most people would have frozen in that moment, slamming on the brakes instead of the gas, and it would have potentially cost him his life. The pickup cut off the next two lanes, moving across the whole of the highway before riding the other shoulder to the next exit. As the shock dissipated, rage bubbled in his heart as he leaned out the window, screaming. A vein bulged in his forehead, and the car behind him honking to move forward into the two car lengths that had opened in front of him was maddening.
Fury driving his hand much as he drove the vehicle, he pulled back into his lane and made it through the bottleneck. Where normally the renewed flow of traffic, that moment of bliss when two lanes becomes four and the road is open, would bring him peace… he had only rage. Visions of the white pickup clobbering him wouldn’t go away, and his chest was tight as he finished his drive home.
By the time he pulled into his driveway, his fury was gone and only weariness remained. He wanted nothing more than to sink into his couch with a beer and let his mind empty in front of the television. He wanted to not move, not think, and not exist… just for a little while. Her car was in the driveway - she beat him home, as usual. He hoped she wouldn’t need much attention tonight, he didn’t think he had it in him to be comforting and consoling about whatever inane gossip was going on with “the girls at work” today.
He stopped, his hand on the doorknob, and banished those thoughts.
I love her. Yeah, I had a shit day but if she needs me, I’m there for her.
With a deep breath, he stepped in through the door.
“Sweetie, I’m home!”
Silence. Maybe she was asleep? With a weary sigh, he closed the door and pulled his shoes off, leaving them in the entryway before trudging to the kitchen. Beer in hand, he lowered himself onto the couch and grabbed the remote, looking for something completely mindless.
Even in his exhaustion, he couldn’t help his smirk as he heard the crinkling coming down the stairs. He stilled his face, hiding the growing glee as the crinkling came closer.
He took a moment to admire her when she stepped between himself and the TV. Light brown hair tied back in pigtails with huge pink bows, shining green eyes and a smattering of freckles across her nose. That one tooth that wasn’t quite straight in her otherwise flawless white smile. The tiny dimple in just the left cheek. Her shirt was three sizes too small, making her pert breasts seem larger. It proclaimed “Daddy’s Princess” in sparkly white letters on the pink fabric. The skirt she wore was short, soft, and frilly - a light blue to match one of the striped knee socks she wore, the other a pink that matched her shirt.
And her diaper was impossibly thick and unhidden by her skirt, she had to be wearing three layers, making her walk an absurd waddle, a cacophony of crinkles. Happy stars and clouds showed that she was dry - but that was expected with the amount of padding she had on, she could be soaked under there and the wetness indicator would lie for her. He felt a stirring in his pants at the thought. She had introduced him to this idea, to being his baby girl… but he loved it. With effort, he kept the shining beam of glee from his face with incredible willpower.
“Hi Daddy.” She put her hands behind her back and rocked from side to side. "Can I have a drink of your pop pretty please?“
"Oh princess, this isn’t for little girls. This is a daddy drink.” He watched her face fall, her lip poking out as she pouted at his refusal.
“But Daddy.” He moved his drink quickly as she climbed into his lap, scrunching that padding against him as she spread her legs wide to put a knee on either side of him. "I’m real real thirsty. Real thirsty.“
"What does my pretty little girl want to drink?”
“Your pop!” She sniffled dramatically, tilting her head so her eyes looked larger, batting her eyelashes at him. "I’m soooo thirsty, Daddy!“
He leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on her soft, pouting lips.
"Let’s get you a bottle, sweetie. We’ll lay you down in my lap and you’ll have a nice bottle while we watch some cartoons.”
“I don’t want a bottle, daddy! Bottles are for babies and I’m a big girl.” Her diaper crinkled loudly as she shifted in his lap, crossing her arms. "Please please pretty please may I have some pop?“
With a stretch, he set his beer on the table beside the couch, wrapping one arm behind her back before plunging a finger through the legband of her diaper, brushing his fingertips through the bush hidden within. She squeaked and wiggled, turning a bright shade of red.
"Well, you are still dry - does that mean that someone changed you just before I got home? Were you good for the babysitter?”
“She was so mean! I had one tiny accident and she put me in extra diapers!” She rubbed her eye dramatically with the back of one hand. The fictional babysitter often set the mood for their play, whether his princess was going to be a good girl for him… or if she’d need some adjustment.
“I’m sure her note will tell me exactly what was going on.” He slid his hand down her back and patted her bottom while he brought her head to his shoulder with the other hand. She melted into him as he tapped a rhythm gently on her backside before standing, settling her on one hip easily. His friends had teased him about dating a girl a foot shorter than he was… even he had no idea how wonderful that would turn out to be.
He walked toward the kitchen, he stress and worry left on the couch as he carried the most precious treasure in the world to the kitchen as she snuggled against him.
“Dadddyyyyyy… ”
That childish whine, that tone, that word - filled him with more joy than he would have believed possible before he had lived it. His precious little girl was giving him the loveliest of gifts. Her submission fulfilled him. This was no tedious task, this was doting on the most precious person in the world. And as his hand gripped the soft padding of her diaper, he felt the last of his stress melt away.
With effort and only one free hand, he prepared a bottle for his princess - her favorite one, adorned with sparkles and unicorns - full of chocolate milk, and settled back down on the couch. Her padded bottom was gentle set in his lap, her head cradled in one arm as she lay back. He placed her stuffed turtle in her arms as he reached his hand around, her head turning to accept the nipple of the bottle between her lips without fuss.
As she suckled, as he watched her throat bob with the rhythm of the bottle, his free hand rested between her thighs, rubbing her thick diaper gently, patting every so often and drawing a soft moan from her. His own manhood was throbbing in his jeans as his love sucked at the offered nipple, her eyes closed, her hips grinding ever so slightly against his hand.
He took the bottle gently when it was drained, a small trail of chocolate milk trailing from a corner of her mouth. Setting it aside, he drew her closer as he kissed it away, tasting the chocolate on her face and tongue. Her own tongue slid beyond his teeth as their lips locked, dancing with his own as she held his hand between her legs, pressing his fingertips against her diaper. A long, low moan came from her as they kissed, a tiny gasp as it broke.
“I love you Daddy.” Her voice didn’t have quite the same degree of innocence it had earlier. "Fuck me. Please?“
"Oh but you’re so beautifully padded, princess.” He grinned wryly as he rubbed against her diaper. "Maybe we should just slip some nice locking panties on over that thick diaper and put you in your crib for the night?“
"Nooooo!” Lust was in her eyes as she whined, sitting up to straddle him again, her back arched and leaning in close as she slowly ground her hips back and forth, sliding the diaper against his pants. "Daddy, I’m horny. Please? Please daddy?“
Those little pouting eyes were back, but there was a different glint to them, a hungry one. She leaned forward and kissed him again, dragging her diaper against his pants, rubbing against his member and making his blood stir in him.
"Please daddy.” Her teeth against his jaw, his neck, his ear. A flick and touch of her tongue. A sultry whisper. "Fuck me… “
Without another word, he stood, hooking a finger in the waistband of her innermost diaper and giving a tug, yanking them down over her body. Her hands went to his pants, unbuttoning them quickly and yanking them down in kind. He grabbed her hips and lifted, hoisting her into the air, her skirts bouncing. He sat back down on the couch, holding her close, holding her to him as he lowered her gently onto his cock.
She was warm and wet, a sharp gasp coming from her as he slid deep.
"Daddy… ohhh… ”
Her nails dug into his shoulders as he rocked, his hands on her hips, moving her back and forth, lifting her slightly as he fucked her, pulling his own hips back to withdraw just to plow into her again, drawing a small grunt from her each time.
“Who’s my precious princess?”
The feel of her surrounding him was amazing, the nails raking his back equally so, as he kissed her neck, bouncing his girl on his lap.
“Me Daddy, me!” She arched her back, letting out a long moan.
“And what’s my princess good for?”
“Fuck me!” She howled as she bounced in kind, rolling her hips and biting his lips. "I’m good for fucking. Use me, Daddy! I want you!“
"I’m in you.” His growl rumbled in his chest as he thrusted, his fingers digging into her soft skin. "You’re mine. You’re my princess, my doll, and my fucktoy.“
Each word drew a new moan from her as she spasmed, her thighs shaking as she came. He knew her buttons well.
"When I’m done fucking you… ” He pumped furiously as he held her tightly, grinning madly at the line of drool that slid down her face, her tongue hanging out. "I’m going to lay you back down, I’m going to put those diapers back on you, and you’re not allowed to speak the rest of the night. I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll only have baby babble tonight!“
She let out a piercing moan as she spasmed again, squeezing his manhood inside her. Their breath was in ragged unison as they moved, her skirts bouncing over his bare thighs.
"What do you say?”
“Yes Daddy!” She gasped between words, barely coherent. "Thank you Daddy. Oh god… “
"Cum for me again, princess. Now!”
She shuddered another climax as he felt himself peak as well, lifting them both off the couch with his thrusts. He arched his back and let out a long moan as she continued to grind against him, driving him completely over the edge.
When they were done, when they had a moment to breathe, he laid her down as promised.
He put her carefully back in those three diapers, knowing that they would be soaked by bedtime.
And she didn’t say another word the rest of the night, pointing and babbling and bouncing, bringing joy to his heart.
Min bent forward in her seat next to me, fishing a Coke out of the battered old Igloo between her feet. Her shirt rode up and her jeans stayed in place, flashing six inches of porcelain skin, some ass cleavage, and a thin, black strip of fabric.
How was it I could find a fat diaper and a skimpy thong equally attractive?
Well, almost equally.
She straightened up again and handed the soda over the seatback to Cal, who grunted out something like a thanks.
"Ash?" she asked.
Ash turned around in the front passenger seat. "Nah, I'm good."
She turned to me, one triple-pierced eyebrow raised.
"Sure. Why not. I'll take a Coke."
She rolled her eyes and handed me a can, dripping with condensation.
"What?" I asked.
The car crept forward a few feet, then stopped.
"You know," she said, closing the cooler. She propped one bare foot on the cooler lid and tucked the other underneath herself. "Between you and camel bladder up there," she said. "We're never gonna pull off."
Ash snort-giggled. "You know that doesn't make sense, right? Camel bladder? Good band name, though."
Cal looked in the rearview mirror. "You see a bathroom around here?" He gestured at the two lanes of deadlocked traffic blocking us in on either side. The line of cars crept over the hill in front of us.
"No, I don't. That's why I wanted to stop at the Jiffy Mart forty-five minutes ago."
"Gas was $3.90," Cal said. "Fucking ridiculous."
"They had a bathroom," Min shot back.
Cal said nothing, but I could hear the cracked vinyl of the steering wheel strain under his death grip. Since we'd left Kinkcon they'd been on the outs again. The on-again-off-again relationship, once more, in an off phase. No one said anything; no one needed to. She'd spent half the drive to Indianapolis with her hand, leg, or both draped across his lap, telling him about all of the things she wanted to do at the con. Now for the return journey, she sat back here with me, the only housemate she hadn't fucked, staring daggers into the back of Cal's skull. 2007 Corollas weren't known for the spaciousness, but apparently, the extra foot or two of separation was worth it to her.
For a moment, the only sound was the struggling AC unit blowing tepid air into the car. I counted to ten. I needed this to land well. Not desperate. Or pushy. Not...weird. I turned to Min. "You know--"
"Here we go again," Ash cut me off.
Cal laughed and shook his head.
"What?" I asked indignantly.
"You're worse than a vegan who…runs marathons!" Ash said. She wiped the grin off her face, raised a hand, and made a knocking gesture. "Good afternoon, sir. Have you accepted our lord and savior Diaper Christ into your heart?"
My cheeks flushed. I glanced at Min. Her arms were crossed. She'd twisted her body to the side so she could stare out the window--or not look at me, more accurately.
"Sorry," I said. I wasn't. Not really. We'd all connected on Fetlife in our junior year and decided to get an apartment together off-campus. It was mostly awesome, just being around chill, kink-friendly folks. Communal paddles and floggers littered our common spaces. Open the bathroom vanity and there were as many types of lube as there was toothpaste, aspirin, and lipstick. Hell, a St Andrew's cross sat propped in our living room for a hot minute around the holidays. It was weird. It was alternative. Three months into living together, I told them what really wound me up. Sure, rope's fun. And my straitjacket collection rivaled a 1950s mental institution. But diapers? Those were my jam.
"No need to be sorry," Ash said. "Not judgin'. You're just kinda…predictable."
"Right. But see, it's not always a horny thing. Not just a horny thing."
Ash raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes it's…?"
"Sometimes it's a 'relief' thing."
"A…' relief' thing," Ash said. "Huh."
"Sometimes it's a lady astronaut murdering her husband thing," Cal said, chuckling at his dated true-crime reference.
"What?" Ash said.
"You know, the one who drove across the country in diapers and--"
"A lady astronaut?" Ash said. She frowned. "Why did you have to specify that it was a woman?"
"Because she was a woman?" he said. "Or is? I don't know, is she dead?"
The conversation was getting away from me. I glanced over at Min again--she was still turned away from me, opting out of this exchange altogether.
"Sometimes, being able to pee yourself whenever you want is fucking amazing!" I nearly shouted. "Doesn't have to give you a boner. Or a lady boner. Or whatever. It's just…convenient."
Again, only the wheezing AC. Then Min faced forward again. "We need to get off soon," she said. "I need a bathroom."
"Where?" Cal asked. "Do you see an exit?"
"Then pull over and I'll go in the woods."
Cal sighed. "I can't cut through a wall of cars. You just gotta hold it."
"Or…" I said softly.
"Dude, give it a rest," Cal said.
I leaned forward and gripped the back of Cal's seat. "Just think--no more stopping every other hour for the gir--no more stopping. We'd get back so much sooner. Maybe even in time for Shark Tank."
Cal glanced at me in the mirror. I could tell he was thinking about it.
Ash frowned at him and then at me. "It's streaming anyway. Who cares? And I don't appreciate--"
"It would be pretty cute, right?" I continued, cutting her off. "Your--I stopped myself right before saying 'girlfriend'--" Min in a puffy diaper."
"So you guys are just gonna talk about her like she's not here, huh?" Ash said. "Super cool."
Now I could really see the gears turning in Cal's head. He wasn't just imagining her back here in a diaper, saving him an unwanted stop, he was thinking about how he could incorporate it into their power dynamic. Longer sessions. Control. And of course, her cute ass would get a little rounder, a little cuter. All things I'd hinted at before, but this time they stuck.
"Except diapers are gross, right Cal?" Ash said. "No offense, Harris."
"You think that works?" I asked. "Just saying 'no offense'?"
She turned around in her seat. "Look, sweetie. You and your little friends were adorable this weekend. All the pacifiers and footies and stuffed animals? Especially that guy in the Tigger onesie. Oh my god. For half a sec, I wanted a manbaby of my own." She wrinkled her nose. "But deep down, you know it's kind of ick to sit in your piss."
"More ick than having strangers spit in your mouth?" I snapped.
Ash frowned and I instantly regretted my words. She turned to Min. "Some backup here?"
Min turned to me, jaw set. I prepared for the onslaught. How she had no interest. How it was gross. How I was gross.
"Get me a diaper," she said.
"What?!" Cal and I said in unison.
"Don't give in to them," Ash said to Min. She glared at me. "Really."
Min just stared at me calmly, like she'd ordered a burger and fries or a latte.
My heart raced. "Yeah, right, of course."
I pulled my diaper bag backpack onto my lap, my hands shaking a bit, and rummaged around. Wipes. My Switch. Half a bag of edibles. There. I pulled a stack of three diapers and set them on the seat between us. "Hang on, let me find the powder."
"Nah," she said.
"It'll keep you dry. Comfy."
"Just the diaper," she said.
I shrugged. "You've got options. I think you'd like the farmyard one. They're super absorbent." And I've been thinking about you in one ever since I saw them online.
"Sure. Whatever."
OK, she's playing it cool, like it's no big deal, so I gotta do the same. "So do you want to take off your pants? Or should I turn around and, uh…" I unbuckled and scooted forward in my seat. It wasn't the most spacious changing table, but we'd make it work.
She shimmied out of her pants and dropped them on the floor, exposing the rest of that black thong. I tried not to stare. I'd seen her nearly naked before--she wasn't uptight about such things--but walking out of the bathroom in a towel and getting ready for a diaper change were a world apart.
She picked up the diaper and turned it over. It looked massive in her small hand.
I was grinning. I could tell I was grinning. A big, stupid grin. I should have wiped it off my face, but I couldn't.
"This one?"
I nodded.
"OK."
She opened it up, a cascade of crinkling and crackling filling the tiny car, followed by that plasticy, new-diaper smell. I tore my gaze away for half a second to look at the front seat. Cal smirked. Ash stared straight ahead, arms crossed.
"Do you need…help?" I offered. "Getting changed? Or should I turn around?"
Min spread the diaper out on the middle seat, flattening it with her hand. Then she patted it.
"Is that a yes on the help?"
"Sit on it," she said.
"Okkkay? You want me to show you how to do it?"
She patted the diaper again, then lifted her hand.
I shifted on top of the diaper. Min smiled.
I melted a bit inside.
"There," she said. She leaned forward and popped the button on my jeans.
"Uh…"
She looked up at me, one eyebrow raised.
"I don't need a change yet," I said. "I mean, thanks and all. But let me finish helping you and then--"
She unzipped my jeans, ignoring me entirely.
"Min, I…"
She pulled my pants down my legs, then tossed them on top of my diaper bag. Seventeen different thoughts pinged around inside my skull, but the most prominent were:
Holy shit, I have no idea what's happening right now, but it's the hottest thing that's ever happened to me.
Holy shit, I'm sitting in a diaper in heavy traffic. Everyone is going to see me.
She put her hand on my chest and pushed me back into the seat. I glanced out the window. A middle-aged woman in a Lexus was so close I could reach out and touch her if our windows were open. She was fiddling with her phone, but it was only a matter of--
Min put a finger on the side of my face and turned my attention back to her. "Hey, over here. Don't worry about her."
"But I--"
"You been telling me how amazing these things are, right?"
I nodded.
"Have you fantasized about me wearing one?"
"I, uh…"
The hint of a smile twisted her lip. "Be honest. You've thought about me in a diaper. Probably rubbed your own wittle diapy when you did, right?"
I nodded again.
She swung her leg over me, straddling my waist.
I gasped. It just slipped out of me.
She squeezed me with her thighs. Her legs were warm, somehow both soft and firm. She leaned in close. "Did you make a mess in your diapy when you thought about me?" She settled herself down onto my diaper. "Hmmmm?"
"Yes," I rasped out.
She giggled. "I thought so." She slipped her hand between her legs and ran the tip of her index finger up the outline of my cock. "Tell me what you thought about."
"I don't know if--"
She leaned forward. Close enough to kiss. Her breath warm on my face. "Tell me," she whispered.
I grasped her thighs. "It's not--"
"Close your eyes and focus."
I closed my eyes. That only heightened everything else: the feeling of her legs squeezing me, pinning me; the teasing pressure of her finger running up and down my shaft; the hint of cinnamon and weed vape on her breath; the heat of her bare pussy grinding against my diaper.
She pressed her chest against me. "Tell me everything," she whispered in my ear.
"So many things," I blurted out.
I felt, rather than heard, her giggle at that. She continued rubbing.
"You peed yourself."
"Oh, I did?"
I nodded, eyes still closed. "You had an accident. I stripped you down, throwing your wet panties in the trash. Laid you out on my bed. I took my time cleaning you up. Powdered you. You watched me, biting your lip. I spread out the diaper. Brought it up to your belly button--"
Her hand slipped into the top of my diaper, her finger tracing a circle on the tip of cock. "Don't stop," she said. "I want to hear all of it."
"I…I taped you into the diaper, nice and tight. Then…I spanked you."
"Mmmm, for peeing my panties?"
She was barely touching me, but I felt like I was skipping along the edge of a cliff. One wrong move and I'd tumble over, spurt in her hand.
"Yes," I continued. "Then I said you need to come tell me when you have to pee or you'd get another spanking."
"Ohhhh," she cooed. "What happened next? Was I a good girl for you?"
My mind raced. "Yes. Yes. You came and got me in the living room. You were doing a potty dance, clutching your diaper."
She shifted, moving up my body. "Don't stop."
"You asked me if you could pee your diaper."
She put her forehead against mine. "And what did you say? Did you let me pee my diapy?"
"Yes. Fuck yes. I put my hand on the front of your diaper."
"Keep your eyes closed," she said.
"What?"
A second later, I felt her bare pussy against me. Warm and slick on my stomach.
I drew in a deep breath.
"What did it feel like?" she asked. "When I wet my diaper?"
At first I thought she was just excited. Really excited. A trickle of heat started where her pussy touched my body. Then it expanded, a hot stream that ran down my tummy, over my throbbing cock, around my balls and finally settled into the seat of my diaper. She squeezed me tight with her legs. "Tell me what it felt like."
"Warm," I gasped. "So warm. And soft. The front of your diaper got warm. And soft. And squishy."
"Mmmmm," she moaned in my ear, as her pee flowed down around me and into my diaper. "Sooo warm. Sooo wet!"
A rivulet traced a line around my side--into the car seat or the diaper beneath me--I didn't know or care. The stream slowed to a trickle. I wanted to open my eyes, to see her so I could lock this moment into my memory. Something I could come back to again and again and again when I was lying in my bed at night alone.
No.
No, what I really wanted--what I needed--was to pull her down onto me. To feel her slide down onto my cock. To fuck her senseless in the back seat of the car, my balls cradled in her wet diaper.
She pulled down the diaper waistband and cool air wafted over my cock.
Here we go.
Her pussy settled against the diaper. Her hand was there too, dabbing herself. She swung herself off me with a contented sigh.
I opened my eyes, heart racing. Ash was turned around in her seat, eyes wide, watching everything. Cal stared in the mirror, only glancing away when our eyes met. I didn't dare look at the car next to us.
My diaper was soaked--swollen and yellow and smelling like fresh pee. Her pee. The diaper I sat on was wet too. I reached down to pull it out from beneath my legs.
"Unh uh," Min said. She stopped pulling up her pants to put her hand on my arm.
"What?
"Just leave it there."
I stopped.
She finished pulling her pants into place and buttoned up. She flashed a big smile. "You were right."
"About what?"
Diapers are fucking amazing."
"That's not what…I mean…"
She opened the cooler and pulled out a Coke, took a big gulp, and sighed. "Such a relief."
----------
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“Are you sure this will work?” Ashley asked as she stared uneasily at the swirling foaming colours of the bubble bath her mom had poured into the tub.
“That’s what the doctor said” Ashley’s mom replied though a hint of worry lingered as she said it.
A few months ago Ashley was a normal High School girl. She was in grade 12 and set to graduate at the end of the school year. However shortly after her 18th birthday she began wetting the bed. Her mother took her to the doctor who did a few test and sent some blood and urine samples to a lab for additional tests.
While they waited for the test results to come in Ashley began wearing pull-ups and started finding it harder and harder to make it to the toilet in time during the day. To make it a little easier for her while at home, Ashley’s mother bought a large sized potty chair that could be moved to what ever room Ashley was currently in. While embracing at first Ashley found herself grateful for it after a few close calls.
After two weeks the doctor finally got the results back but they weren’t good. The test results revealed what they had already expected. Ashley had contracted Regression Disease and was slowly regressing into a giant baby. Luckily a new cure had been found that was faster and more effective than the previous treatment of regression therapy.
The cure was a harmless chemical bubble bath and had an almost 100% success rate in clinical trials. There was only 1 small problem. The clinical trials also revealed the existence of a variant of Regression Disease called Type-B. The variant is practically Identical to Regression Disease and is impossible to tell the two apart with they one different being that when exposed to the chemical bath instead of leaving the body, Type-B appears to double down, regressing the patient faster and becoming permanent.
The doctor explained the risk while writing the prescription for the bubble bath and giving it to Ashley’s mom. After picking up the bath from the pharmacy the two went home and and prepared Ashley’s first treatment.
Ashley was hesitant after hearing the risk of becoming a baby permanently but after uncontrollabley pooping her pull-up while staring at the bath she took a deep breath and stepped into the tube.
=================================
A semi sequel to one of my one off captions. This one about a potential cure to Regression Disease that has the risk of making the Disease permanent.
It was the start of a new season. The tree tops blazed with autumn foliage. A crisp breeze plucked a quivering bronzed leaf and carried it gently to the path which crossed the park in a great sweeping motion, like a giant rocking a baby to sleep.
The leaf made a satisfying crunch under Maisey's boot. She giggled loudly with childlike ignorance to the fact bystander's turned to see why a 23 year old young women was seemingly as delighted to be kicking up leafs and splashing in puddles as a little child would be.
She turned to her partner, Amelia, and grinned wildly, seeking praise for her accomplishment.
"Well done baby. That one matched your cute little hair clips." Amelia beamed and squeezed her partners hand, she was pleased with how well Maisey seemed to be taking the recent adjustment in their relationship dynamic and lifestyle. Not only was it the start of a new season but autumn also marked the turning of a new leaf in this chapter of their life's. After much deliberation, Maisey had agreed to become 'Mummy's Little Girl', full time, not just in the privacy of their own home.
They were each thankful this was something they could enjoy together. Whilst public displays of MD/LG and other ageplay dynamics weren't wholly mainstream, it was largely tolerated since the Regression Revolution.
For her part, Amelia was glad to be able to let her baby enjoy play outside and in a variety of settings, rather than it being confined to the home, which had lead to a frustrating bobbing in and out of Littlespace for Maisey previously.
Since embracing babyhood 24/7, including in public, Maisey could regress deeply without feeling like she had to hold a part of herself back incase she needed to switch back to being grown up.
Amelia had noticed the deep regression had effected Maisey in a number of ways. Shed was quicker to turn to tears if she was upset about something, but generally happier all round. She was less able to communicate way she wanted but her needs were simpler to take care off, generally constant cuddling and attention seemed to do the trick. Her libido didn't seem to be effected but thick diapers were a means of chastity, stopping Maisey from touching herself inappropriately.
Amelia remembered her little girl hadn't needed a diaper change before they had left home but they had been walking for some time now and she knew there would be tears if Maisey leaked and had to waddle home in wet socks.
"Baby. Can you come here for a second?" Amelia asked.
"Why Mummy?"
“I have to check you diaper sweetie."
Maisey obediantly stood on the spot and dutifully held her skirt as Amelia lifted it and then probed the leg guards of the diaper cover.
"Yep, just as I suspected. The sog monster snuck in when we weren't looking."
"Oh no. Not Again!“ Maisey giggled and squeezed her thighs to feel the squish of her heavily wet diaper. Amelia was curious to know if Maisey could even tell when she was wetting herself recently? She supposed eventually Maisey would be completely reliant on diapers after continuously wearing them.
"Let's get you changed."
Amelia toted her diaper bag and led them over to a bench which would make a suitable impromptu changing table. Maisey sat on the bench with a squish and swung her legs around so that her mummy could undo the snaps of her diaper cover. She loved how being Little meant that in exchange for generally being well behaved and obediant, her Mummy took care of all the little responsibilities, allowing her to be carefree like a child. She never had to worry about holding her bladder incase she over soaked her diapers because Amelia would always be looking out for her.
"Let's see what the damage is." Amelia said to herself as she pulled back the diaper cover to reveal the saturated cloth padding beneath.
"Can we see the duckies before we go home?“ Maisey asked as her diaper area was wiped.
"We sure can!" Amelia answered enthusiastically. She laughed to herself and how innocent her Little One had become. When they'd starter their kink journey together being changed in public would have been mortifying for Maisey but here she was now, just like any other baby, albeit bigger.
"Yes, dear. You heard me right." The caretaker's words were quiet, firm, as cool and uncompromising as granite. "You're here with me now for as long as we need you. As long as it takes. As many weeks and months as the program requires until we've met our goal."
Wide eyes filled with questioning and terror. A stifled whimper. A desperate shaking of the head. All these spoke volumes, screaming out in a way that the young woman's dummy-swollen mouth never could. She wanted out. She had to escape. She didn't want to do this anymore-
"And you see, it's not so easy to back out now," the caretaker went on, almost as if the hapless patient shivering before her had found a way to voice her frightened protests. "All the forms have been signed. All the proper human subject paperwork, and monitoring and consent forms, and waivers of liability and non-disclosure – they're all signed and sealed and notarized. You know this. You're our test subject here, of your own free will. You're receiving generous compensation, and 24/7 housing and food and medical care, all in the comfort of this comfortable apartment we've provided. You're supported entirely by the program – and with that level of investment, we simply can't allow any sudden changes of heart."
Shame crept into those eyes as they lowered to the ground. The caretaker's words were true, and the patient knew it. She'd signed ever so many forms: so eager, so willing to do anything to secure that incredibly generous pay…
"So lest you have any more doubts about how this program will proceed," the caretaker resumed, lifting the patient's head in her hands and gazing coolly into her quailing eyes, "Let me be absolutely clear about what you're likely to experience these next few weeks and months. Perhaps you won't like what you hear. That is fine. You don't need to like it. You just need to listen and understand that this is what will happen."
She cleared her throat and continued. "You already know our project: to explore the benefits and limits of regression, play, and other non-standard methods of therapy on the individual. You have already had stressors from your adult life removed: communications devices, work obligations, social relations, clothing, and even toileting needs. Your mobility and your dexterity have been limited. You are being transitioned to a high-nutrient, low-stress diet even now. Your instinctual behaviors of suckling, crawling, and playing are being encouraged, and your speech and motor skills are being inhibited. Your sleep cycle is being shifted to that of a young child, with further alterations dependent on your progress…"
Seeing the confused questioning in those eyes, the caretaker went on, a subtle smile playing on her lips. "In practical terms, you will simply become diaper dependent. You already are for our purposes, of course – but thanks to our conditioning you are likely to lose significant, perhaps even total control. Your meals will be fed to you regularly as liquids or soft solids, typically in bottle form. Your main activities will limit as much as possible your need to use cognitive abilities; you will play, crawl, and toddle at most, sleeping frequently and at intervals we define. Your life will essentially revolve around eating, drinking, soiling, and sleeping. Your mind will gradually empty and quieten as we remove stressors from it and eliminate your need to process language or use higher-level cognitive faculties. And by the end of the program, I suspect your life will have become a soft blur of napping, and drinking, and soiling, and allowing your caretakers to care for you. You'll be lying there, gazing out with those pretty, wide eyes at a world you no longer understand…
"Then, and only then, will we have reached our goal: of complete regression and a return to stress-free, instinctual life. You, my dear, will be the first to reach this goal – I know it." And then the caretaker smiled at last, a true, broad smile full in the recoiling face of her aghast listener.
"You have no choice. You agreed to this, after all."
Image Credit: @abdreams
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