Hey you! Yeah, I’m talking to you, soggy butt. I see you sitting there in your crinkly pants, looking for hot diaper stories. Stories with deliciously embarrassing scenarios. Stories that’ll have your girlfriend wondering if she needs to lock you into that chastity cage after all. Stories you can really soak up.
Getting all tingly? Oh, you’re blushing? Silly baby.
I have just the place for you: Ream. On Ream, you can read all of my completed stories. Stories like Baby’s First Birthday, the Cuckold’s Crib, and Potty Retraining. Diaper Discipline: The Strict Wife’s Guide is there, too. Even if you haven’t heard of that last one, I bet your mommy has.
In total, I have over 200,000 words worth of finished stories for you to read in the privacy of your crib. Just don’t get too friendly with your teddy bear, okay?
But that’s not all. Not even close. Each week, I’m publishing a chapter in two huge, ongoing stories: Rian’s New Sister and The Good News. I know you’re going to love both of them.
You might want to sit down and stick that pacifier back in your mouth for this last bit: I’m also adding a new, completed story every other month. That’s in addition to everything above. Wipe that drool off your chin. I’ll pretend I didn’t see it (even if I’ll laugh about it with my friends later). The one I’m launching with is a follow-up to the fan-favorite Our Little Neighborhood.
So go ahead. Take a peek. I’ll be waiting for you.
PS: Like anyone in the AB/DL world, I run the risk of my account(s) getting nuked at any time. If you want to be sure to find my stories no matter what, subscribe to my newsletter. I promise I won’t flood your inbox like you flood your diapers.
The playful texts had been sent back and forth. The teasing had escalated into something more. Now, it was becoming awkward to read the texts in public. What if someone saw the flushed cheeks, the shuffling of pants to not show a rising problem and prevent nearby people from assuming there was a deviant in their vicinity.
What if there is a damp spot on the seat when I stand because my baby boy has made me drip with arousal; while I think of feeling his beard on my thighs and his tongue licking away at my center and his tongue sucking on my clit in that wonderful that he does.
All these thoughts had already happened, but now the script had been flipped. The teasing was being done my Mommy has she pulled her baby boy' face deeper into her.
However, it was her tongue that was causing her diapered boy to squirm while he licked, and sucked at her pussy that was soaked with arousal.
"Did you like teasing Mommy baby boy? Did it bring you pleasure to show Mommy pictures of you and your beard telling her that it was clean, soft, and a good place to sit? Because now you're here where you belong, pleasing Mommy with that tongue of yours, giving me pleasure, and all you can do is try desperately to get relief for my prince part, but you can't. Do you know why?"
I lifted my head slightly to answer, but was immediately she pulled my head back to her pussy.
"You know better than to talk with your mouth full, diaper boy. The reason you can't get relief is because Mommy has her prince part tucked away inside a thick, crinkly diaper, and you will not be allowed to have your cummies anywhere besides that thick crinkly diaper."
I felt her arch her hips and press her pussy harder into my mouth. "That’s it baby boy, make Mommy cum in your mouth. All that teasing you did earlier has her so worked up, and I want you to taste me!"
Without stopping, I did as ordered and tasted her arousal and savoring every drop of it.
When she finally relaxed her grip on my head and settled her hips back down on the mattress; she patted the bed beside her, beckoning me to lay next to her. I couldn't help myself as I moved up to lay beside her, my padded prince part against the naked flesh of her thigh.
"Still trying to be a sneaky baby boy, huh my little one?"
"Yes, Mommy."
"Ok, then show Mommy how you can be a big boy."
I sat up quickly and moved to undo the tapes on my diaper.
"No, baby boy, Mommy put you in those, so Mommy is the only one who can take you out of it."
I watched in resignation as Mommy reached behind her head; beneath her pillow, and pulled out one of the vibrating wands. It was the purple one that she used to tease her prince part.
"Here you go, baby boy. Lay down beside Mommy and show her how you can be a big boy with your prince part all locked away inside this thick, crinkly plastic prison.
As much as I had hoped to be a big boy inside of Mommy’s pussy the thought of being gifted an orgasm was too much to pass up. I just as quickly laid back down beside Mommy, taking the proffered vibrator and switched it on pressing it hard against the rustling plastic just above my cock.
Mommy rolled over and placed against the smooth surface just over my balls.
"Go on, baby, show Mommy how you make yourself feel good."
I let out a gasp of pleasure as I found just the right spot on my diaper, and I started to grind harder against the wand.
"Shh, baby boy, not so loud. Here I have an idea."
She grabbed my pacifier from the nightstand, and instinctively, I opened my mouth, but before Mommy placed it between my lips, she slid the pacifier down her body and then just inside her sex. I could only watch in rapt fascination as Mommy twirled the pacifier inside her for just a brief moment before pulling it back out and letting me see the clear, silicone nipple that was clearly glistening from being covered in her arousal.
She pressed the pink pacifier against my lips, and I inhaled the wonderful scent of her pussy before opening my mouth to except the silicone nipple into my mouth.
"There we go. Much better, baby boy. Now show Mommy how you are a big boy. I want you to taste me and know that you are mine and I am yours. My pussy juice is all over your face and all over your tongue, I've marked you and now I want you to show me your devotion and cum for me, baby hoy. Cum for me in your diapers."
While I suckled and used the vibrator Mommy had placed her hand back on the smooth surface over my balls, pressing and rubbing the cotton padding against me while she used that teasing tongue and wonderful brain of hers to bring me to the edge of of orgasm . As she told me to cum for her a second time. I did!
My whole body tensed. I think I nearly bit the nipple of the pacifier off, I'm sure, but as my orgasm peaked, I looked over into Mommy’s eyes and saw desire, softness, and all the other wonderful emotions, but most of all I saw love.
When I finally relaxed, Mommy cradled me softly against her naked flesh. The vibrator was turned off and tossed aside. It felt as if the only thing in the room was the two of us.
Later, as we lay there and felt the cool autumn air blowing through the windows and cooling are warm flush bodies. Just before we both drifted to sleep. I heard Mommy whisper in my ears. "You are safe, you are loved, and you are Mommy’s amazing baby boy."
I wanted to share with you the first part of a new story I've shared with subscribers at Ream. If you like what you read and want more, check out the details at the end of this post.
===
Well, this isn’t good.
The gauges are going haywire. All the red lights–the ones that are never supposed to be lit–are blinking and flashing. At least three different consoles are emitting ominous beeps, screeches, or sirens.
“Come in, come in! Mayday!” The radio is unresponsive.
Don’t panic. It’s easy to recall those words, but in a situation like this they don’t really mean anything. It’s the same as thinking of the words 'alligator butterscotch.’ Sure, those are words, but what the fuck do they mean?
First thing’s first, I need to come to terms with what is happening. This plane is going down. There’s no stopping that now. Even if I’m to get the damn thing working again, it’s probably too late to recover.
So, then, what are my options?
Don’t panic. Alligator butterscotch.
I’m pulling up. My best chance for survival–my only chance–is that I can somehow stabilize the plane and glide to a landing on the vast sea below me. And even then, it’s going to hurt.
And even then…what the hell do I do after that? Best case scenario, I’m sitting on a piece of floating wreckage, waiting for hope that never arrives, and then I just…die.
Woah, woah. One thing at a time. Let’s get the plane out of the sky first. Let’s get out of the plane. Let’s not blow up or drown. And then I can die.
“Shit.” That’s putting it mildly.
Actually…shit. Yeah, I think I’m on the verge of crapping my pants. How about that? Maybe someday, someone’s going to find me. “Hey, look, we finally found the body of that explorer-guy. And, uh, he shat himself.” And then that’s going to be my legacy.
At least I won’t be around to hear the snarky remarks about it.
Okay, okay. Focus. Alligator butterscotch.
I look out the cockpit window, scanning my surroundings. Blue. Nothing but sea in all directions, as far as the eye can see. Well, there might be one little blop of brown down there, but I can’t afford to take a second look. I pull the nose of the plane up, and after a little bit of a struggle, I mean to get the small aircraft into a nice glide. Aside from all the beeps, boops, sirens, and flashing lights, it’s not a bad ride.
Now it’s just a matter of minimizing the damage at impact. No matter what I do, this plane is never going to fly again; so it’s a matter of whether this thing is going to be my coffin or raft. The water is getting closer. It feels like I’ve managed to slow my descent, but the displays I’d check to confirm that are all busted.
Here comes the water. Bracing for impact.
In a moment, I’m either going to be swimming or dead.
I’m definitely going to crap myself.
Should I say something? Some final words?
“Hey, God, if you’re around, maybe you could…”
Explosion. Darkness.
And then…
My arms and legs are flailing in the water. There’s water in my mouth. In my throat. I don’t know which way is up and which is down. Something, somewhere, is on fire because I can see the orange reflections of it in the water. I reach for anything, and I find it. Something long, flat, and most importantly, floating. Despite most of my stamina being smacked out of my body, I manage to hoist myself out of the water and onto the object.
It’s supporting my weight, that seems good. Though if it didn’t, I’d be fine with just sinking. I’m too tired to do anything else.
What’s the condition of the plane? Where am I?
I think, maybe, I’ll seek answers to those questions later. I’m feeling weak. Sleepy.
And then…
This might be a dream. Because I feel hands touching me. Hands that are not my own. I hear voices. I feel my body being lifted.
Oh. Maybe I’m actually being devoured by a shark right now, and this is just how my injured brain perceives it.
Unfortunate, but there's not much I can do about that.
“Make it quick,” I mutter. “I’m more of a snack than a meal.”
And then…
It’s a surprise to me that my eyes are even opening at all. Well I’ll be damned. I’m alive, huh? But then the surprises keep coming.
I’m lying on something much more comfortable than whatever piece of wreckage I had been earlier. I feel at it with my hands. Soft blankets. This is a bed.
There’s a ceiling above my head. I’m no expert on such things, but it looks like dense thatching of straw and branches.
I try to sit up, but this proves to be too painful.
“No,” a voice says, soft and feminine. “You need to rest.”
“I do like that idea,” I say. “But I’d also like to know where I am.”
“You would no’t know this place,” she says. “So just rest.”
I turn my head to see who is talking to me, and there she is. She’s tall, with tanned skin and long golden hair. She wears a green shoulderless dress of sorts, with intricate designs weaved through it in gold thread. She is a strong looking woman. Back home, I’d assume she’s the type who frequents the gym.
“This isn’t a dream?” I ask.
“No,” she says softly. She comes closer and strokes my head. I wince a little, feeling a sore spot on the side of my skull. Otherwise, I find her hand to be soothing.
“How long have I been here?”
“Days,” she says.
“Days?”
“My sisters brought you here a near half cycle ago. You have been unconscious since.”
“Oh,” I say, pretending that I know what a ‘half cycle’ is. “Your sisters, huh? You live here with your family?”
She smiles. “All in our community are sisters.”
Does she mean that literally? Or are ‘sisters’ just friends? Community members?
“Where am I?” I ask again.
“You will not find this place on your maps. We know this because we have recovered them in the wreckage of your vessel, and we could not locate our home on it.”
“Well that’s not very convenient,” I mutter, already wondering about how I’m going to get out of this place.
“First, we will heal you, Hart. And then we will help you get home.”
My eyes widen at the sound of my last name. “How did you know that?”
“We found many things in what remains of your vessel, Hart.”
“J-Jack, please,” I say. “Hart is my last name.” Does she know what a last name is? She knows English. She–or someone–knows how to read a map and whatever other documents they found.
“Yes, Jack,” she says, nodding.
“And your name?”
“Lei’lo’ialla,” she says, her hand on her chest.
“Uh…you got a nickname?”
“You can call me just Lei if you’d like.”
“That’s going to work a little better for me, yeah.”
“I am glad to see that you’re awake,” Lei says, a kind smile spreading across her face. “I will need to tell my sisters. They too will be happy for this.”
“How many, uh, ‘sisters’ do you have, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“There are many of us,” she says, not elaborating any further.
So this is a community, I gather. In a place that isn’t on any map. I think about that little speck of brown I spotted in the water as my plane was falling out of the sky. Is that where I am now? Some tiny island in the middle of absolutely nowhere?
“Where am I?” I ask again, following it up with: “Like…what do you call this place?”
“Home.”
“Alright, I walked into that one. But, I meant, like…”
“Maternis,” she says.
Yeah, that name means nothing to me. There’s a million questions I could be asking right now, but as my body slowly wakes, I’m becoming more aware of other needs that I have. Namely, the aching in my bladder. Goddamn, I hope this isn’t days worth of piss that I’ve been holding in while unconscious.
“M-maybe you could help me up,” I say. “I need to go your, uh, bathroom–or bathroom-equivilant–and take care of some business.”
“You will stay right there,” Lei says, putting her hand on my chest. “You can just let it out.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Missy, I don’t know if this is part of your culture here or something, but where I come from, it’s frowned up to wet the bed. Especially when it’s someone else’s bed.”
She laughs a little, an amused little chortle, and proceeds to pull back the thin sheet that is covering my body. “Look. You are protected, Jack.”
Protected? It’s a curious choice of word and I lift my head a little to look down the length of my body. I’m not wearing any clothes at all, save for a pair of what appears to be white underpants. For a moment, I pay the undergarment no mind as I gaze at the cuts and bruises strewn across my body. But when my eyes come back to the garment, I observe that it’s…very thick. It almost looks like a makeshift…
“Diaper?” I ask aloud.
“It is okay for you to use it,” Lei says. “That is what it is for.”
“No offense, Lei. But I’m not a baby.”
She gives me that soft smile again. There’s something kind of maternal about it–it reminds me of how my own mother used to smile at me when she was trying to comfort me when I was a little boy.
“No one will judge you, if that is your concern, Jack. Many of us have already changed you.”
“Ch-changed!” I exclaim. “You mean to tell me that a bunch of strangers have been…changing my diapers?”
“Your body was sleeping,” she says, nodding. “But your body still needs to do the things that it must.”
I sigh. “You mean I’ve been laying here, conked out for days, while pissing and shitting myself in diapers?”
Her hand, still on my chest, runs slow and soothing circles on my bare skin. “You must not be ashamed, Jack. We have been happy to care for you.”
I bet I really did shit myself when the plane hit the water. These ladies, whoever they are, probably found me with some brown-stained pants. I feel my face getting hot at the thought of women I’ve never met before changing my dirty diapers like a goddamn infant.
“Just go,” she says again, her voice closer to my ear. “You will feel better.”
“But…”
“Just go,” she says, her finger on my lips to silence me. “I will take care of you.”
It goes against everything I stand for as a strong, independent man–but everything about her tone and body language puts me at ease. I don’t like the situation she’s putting me in, but I can’t deny that she’s making me feel safe regardless.
“Fine,” I say. “Then this is your mess to deal with.”
“Yes, exactly,” she says, almost looking excited about it.
It’s easier than it should be. I sigh, relax as much as I can, and allow my bladder to do its thing. My stream surges out of me into the cloth garment, immediately saturating it. It’s shameful and humiliating, but I can’t deny that it feels good to have the relief.
I’ve almost emptied the tank when I realize that Lei’s hand is no longer on my chest. I look down the length of my body again to see that it’s now resting on the front of this makeshift cloth diaper. She’s feeling it as it swells and warms. And there’s a big smile on her face.
Where the hell am I?
And then…
I sense that I’m still sleeping a lot. It’ll probably be like this for a while as I recover. I’ll come to for a short time and sense daylight coming from somewhere. Then, I’ll close my eyes and open them again, and suddenly everything is pitch black.
People come and go. I remember bits and pieces of conversations or things they say to me, though it all feels like a blur. I know that I’ve seen Lei the most, though there are other faces too. Occasionally, there are hands on me–manhandling and twisting me as they replace the cloth diaper I’m wearing. I rarely even know that it’s dirty.
“Jack?”
I’m daydreaming about those last few moments in my plane, as I careened towards the water, when I hear Lei’s voice. I focus and look towards the end of my bed, where I see her and two other women. One of them is darker-skinned, with thick braids that hang from her head. The other is younger and smaller, perhaps in her late teens. They were similar dresses as Lei does, simple in form, but with complex patterns sewn into them.
“Uh, hey,” I say to them.
“Jack, I want to introduce you to some of my sisters,” Lei says. She points to the braided woman, her dress a deep crimson color. “You may call her Rain.” She points to the other girl, her dress a soft pink color. “You may call her Fia.”
I sense that these are not their full names, but the shorter versions for an outsider like myself. I nod politely.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Jack.”
“We are pleased to see that you are awake, Jack,” Rain says. There’s something about her stature and the confident tone of her voice–not to mention the way that the other women seem to regard her–that suggests that she has some importance here. Perhaps a leader.
“It’s good to be awake,” I say. “And…alive.”
“Yes, we are thankful to see that you have survived as well. You have endured a challenging ordeal.”
“To say the least,” I mutter. “My plane, it’s…destroyed, I assume?”
“Your vessel has broken into many pieces, Jack. Most of those pieces lie at the bottom of the sea now.”
“Dang.”
“Yes, though we may yet be able to send you home,” Fia says.
“Is that so? You got a big boat or something?”
Rain holds out a cautious hand towards Fia. “My sister speaks the truth, Jack. Though we must not get too ahead of ourselves. You are still healing, and it will take time before you are capable of making the trip back to where you came from.”
I don’t love that answer, though logically, I know that she’s right. I can barely move my limbs–and I still can’t even get out of this bed.”
“Look,” I say. “I feel like a bad houseguest, crash landing on your front lawn and then overstaying my welcome while you take care of me. But…”
“No, it is okay,” Rain says. “We want you to stay here for as long as it takes for you to heal. We want to aid you in any way that we can.”
What I need ‘aid’ with right now, unfortunately, is this sopping wet cloth diaper that I’m wearing. I’ve slowly accepted the fact that I have to wear these–and that the women here don’t seem to mind changing me when I need them to. That doesn’t mean that I enjoy it, however. I keep this to myself, though. Sooner or later, they’ll check for themselves and see what I need. In the meantime, I don’t like coming off as any needier than I fear that I am.
“I understand that my sister Lei has been taking very good care of you,” Rain says.
“She has,” I say. “Five-star service.”
“I am pleased to hear this,” she says. Lei, meanwhile, blushes a little, sheepishly looking down at the floor.
“And you,” I say to Rain. “You’re in charge around here?”
“I am the elder sister, yes,” she says, calmly nodding. “Though that doesn’t always mean that I’m in charge.”
“And, uhm, your other sister here?” I ask, my hand gesturing towards Fia.
“Fia here is learning and growing–as we all must at some point,” Rain says. “I have asked her to assist Lei in caring for you. There is much to be learned here. Is that alright with you, Jack?”
“Ah, well…” I feel my cheeks blushing. It would feel strange to decline this, seeing as how I owe them my life. “It’s fine.”
Rain smiles, nodding her head. “Do you have any questions for me, Jack of Hart?”
“Uh…” I laugh and shake my head. I mean, where do I even start with that? I’ve got a million questions. “Are there any men around here?”
“No,” Rain says. “There are no menfolk here.
“None at all, huh?”
Rain smiles, but doesn’t offer any additional elaboration.
“So, then, how do y’all…uh…” But I’m not sure a conversation about procreation and reproduction is anything I should be getting into right now. For now, I’ll let that one go, instead opting to ask a different question: “You speak English very well. Better than a lot of the dum-dums I know back home. What’s up with that?”
All three of the women laugh a little, like I’ve stumbled into a local in-joke. “We know many languages, Jack,” Lei says. “We know many things about the world.”
“Aye,” I say. “But does the world know about you?”
“I believe you can presume the answer to this,” Rain says, her smile widening again.
And then…
I’m sitting up in my bed–the most I’ve moved in the week since I first woke here–and Fia sits at the side of my bed, carefully spoonfeeding me some kind of soup from a bowl. I can’t say for sure what it is I’m tasting, but I get hints of coconut, lemon, herbs, and there’s some sort of meat that I occasionally swallow a small piece of.
I keep insisting that I’m capable of feeding myself, but Fia refuses to take no for an answer. And, well, I think I have trouble saying ‘no’ to a face like hers. Those dimples. Those bright yellow-green eyes. Her wispy strawberry hair.
“May I ask how old you are?” I ask between spoonfuls of warm soup. “I don’t mean anything creepy by that. I’m just not a very good judge of age in the, uh…” I almost say ‘real’ world, but I catch myself. Who’s to say that this world isn’t real? “...in the city I come from, let alone here.”
She smirks, shoveling another spoonful into my mouth. “You will not believe me when I tell you, Jack.”
“Hoo boy,” I say. “So if I guessed that you were 18, how far off am I?”
“Hmm…I would say that you are very far off.”
“Well, you sure as hell aren’t 40. And if you’re, like, 12, I’m going to just let myself choke on this soup and die.”
“I am 73.”
“In human years?”
She giggles. “Yes, that is right.”
“Is that like a joke? I don’t know what humor is like around here…”
“I promise you that this is the truth, Jack. Ask any of my sisters.”
It’s hard to truly believe her, but I’m willing to at least play along. “And if you’re 73, what does that make Lei? 400?”
“She is 143,” Fia says with a playful little shrug.
“Get the fuck out of here…”
“Jack, I must stay and finish feeding you your food.”
“N-no, I just mean…” I sigh and allow her to push another spoon of soup into my mouth. I let it sit on my tongue for a moment, letting the flavors wash over my tongue before I swallow it all. “Are you considered…young here?”
“Yes, Jack,” Fia says. “I have much to learn yet. Much growing to do.”
I continuously have to remind myself to curtail it with the questions. They don’t seem to mind my constant curiosity, but I always feel like I’m interrogating everyone I talk to.
“This soup is good,” I say.
“It is a special soup,” she says, nodding her head. “Made for healing. It is good for babies.”
“Babies?” I don’t like the way she looks at me when she says that.
She nods and smiles. Putting the spoon back into the bowl, she balances it in one hand while her other hand lands on the crotch of the diaper’s thick cloth. “Baby.”
“I…I’m not a baby,” I say, my cheeks getting fiery hot. “My body’s just a little banged up and, uh…”
“It is not a bad thing,” Fia says. “A baby is special and good.”
“Sure, sure, I’m not going to argue with that. I love babies too, you know? But me? I’m not a baby myself. Fully grown.”
“How old are you?” she asks.
“Well, 28, but…”
“See?” she says. “Baby.”
“I have some ex-girlfriends who would probably agree with you,” I say, sighing.
I notice that her hand is still on the front of my diaper. I swallow nervously, not quite sure what to think of that. I like her hand there, but I can’t decide if this is a good thing or not. Is it impolite to get aroused at a time like this? Because that’s happening. I feel my cock slowly growing in the thick cloth garment.
Maybe I should say something? Cut through the tension a little?
“Well,” I say, “I’m glad to see that still works.”
Fia giggles a little before pulling her hand away from my diaper and lifting the spoon again, loading it up with some more broth and pushing it towards my mouth. I slurp the spoon clean, thinking of everything that I can to distract myself from the bulge in my undergarments.
And then…
I don’t care for this part.
There’s a pressure in my abdomen that begs for release–a need to fulfill that I’ve always taken for granted until now, when it’s harder to achieve on my own.
What goes in, must come out. And if it’s coming out, it’s coming out into the diaper.
LIke it or not, there really isn’t any other option. I continue to be too weak to get out of this bed, and the ‘sisters’ of this island, when present, insist that I just use my diaper. Never once have they made me feel silly or pathetic for doing so. They happily dote on me, cleaning me up and leaving me and taking care of my every need without a single disparaging word.
And so I’ve made a little peace with the fact that I’ll be soiling this diaper too. I don’t like it, but I suppose that this situation could be worse.
I’m sometimes a little curious about the diapers themselves. They’re interesting garments, crafted from layers of absorbent fabric that seem to fit my body perfectly, while metal pin-like clips keep the front and back clasped together at my sides. When one diaper is removed, a clean one is presented. It makes me wonder how many diapers they have on hand. Do they have them in different sizes? Or are they being made by someone on demand?
And, well, if they do have a stock pile of these diapers, why do they have them sized for adults like myself?
I won’t pretend to be an expert on diapers–albeit for infants or the elderly–but I was under the impression that cloth diapers needed some sort of plastic pants to go over them, due to the porous nature of the fabric. No such thing has been given to me. They must know something about producing a good diaper, though, as I’ve never had one of these things leak–even after it felt as if I pissed like a racehorse.
I’m stalling, I guess; thinking about everything other than the fact that I need to defecate. I look around this small room that I’m in as I sit up as much as I can. It’s sparse–just my bed, a small side table, and some sconces on the walls that I’ve seen the women use to hang torches from. There’s a window, but it is too high off the ground to see out of, and mostly serves to provide light during the daytime. Am I in a cabin? A hut? A yurt?
I can hear waves crashing against the sand outside, especially at night when the world seems extremely still and silent, so I imagine I’m not too far from the shore.
How big of an island is this?
How has no man ever discovered this place before?
How is it possible that–
I groan as a cramp reminds me of what I’m putting off. I’ve considered this before, and I’ve decided that it’s better to use my diaper when I’m alone and then have someone check in on me, as opposed to having to use my diaper while someone is here watching it happen. Especially for a job like this.
No time like the present, and all that. The sooner I do this, the sooner I’m free of the discomfort in my bowels.
I lean back, close my eyes, and push. I don’t have to push all that hard, though, as my body is more than happy to take over from this point on. My diet–mostly consisting of variations of soups, broths, and little rolls of seasoned vegetables–had made my movements a little loose as of late. My bowels erupt like a volcano, forcing a warm lava-like mess to spill into the padding. I groan and attempt to lift my hips a little in an effort to give more clearance in the back of my diaper, but the pain in my muscles is too great to sustain for long. The mess just goes where it goes, seeping into every nook and cranny that it can.
By some miracle, not a single drop escapes the garment. These strange diapers are simply made too well to allow for any spillage. The downside of this, of course, is that I’m not trapped in what feels like a water balloon filled with mud.
The smell is less than pleasant, but there’s little I can do about that. I just sit and wait. Sit and wait.
Then, there are voices outside, approaching the door. Here come my nannies.
Sure enough, Lei and Fia spill into my humble abode a few moments later, happy as they ever are to see me. Fia carries a small wooden pail in one hand, and another of the cloth diapers in the other. Lei carries another piece of thick cloth in her own hand, folded up into a neat little square. These are the things they usually bring when they are here to change me.
“Ah see, I told you,” Lei says to Fia. “It will be time to change him.”
===
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Note: This story features consenting adult characters and is intended for a mature, 18+ audience only.
I hugged Mr. Fraggles close, trying to get comfortable in the too-small space. It wasn’t just that the crib was cramped or that I had to share the space with Gwen, but it was the overwhelming Gwen-ness of the whole space. The overpowering, sweet-smelling scents that clung to everything she owned. The completely unnecessary number of blankets and pillows with lacey, frilly covers and Disney prints. I felt like I was suffocating in cute.
Gwen lay on her side. Lying like this, our puffy nighttime diapers nearly touched. Our diapers and their matching covers. Now that had been embarrassing, even if it didn’t bother me as much as it did her.
The light in the room was dim, but as my eyes adjusted, I could see her glaring at me like a cockroach you’re preparing to crunch underfoot. Is this how a prisoner felt the first night in their cell? Waiting and wondering if they were going to wake up to their cellmate with a shank in their hand and a demented glint in their eye? Of course, she wouldn’t use a shank. Maybe a ribbon from her hair. Or one of those stupid Beauty and the Beast pillows.
“Do you always breathe through your mouth like a chimpanzee?” Gwen asked. “It’s bad for your health, you know.”
“I don’t breathe like a chimpanzee,” I said defensively. I wasn’t certain that was true. My breathing wasn’t something I’d given much thought to, and what did a chimp breathe like anyway? I knew that it certainly wasn’t a compliment, though.
“And your breath stinks. Have you heard of a toothbrush and toothpaste?”
Brushing my teeth was part of our nighttime routine. Sometimes, Mommy had me do it on my own. Sometimes, she had me kneel in front of the potty while she sat on it and brushed them for me, singing the ‘Happy Birthday’ song through twice.
“Sorry,” I said. “I guess we kinda forgot tonight because of all the…you know.” We’d also forgotten movie night, I just realized. Mommy and I always watched a movie on Saturday night, cuddling in bed with popcorn and snacks. Just another casualty of moving here.
“Whatever,” she said. “Just stay on your side of the crib.”
“There’s not really room for separate sides.”
“And breathe through your nose? I don’t want to bathe in stinky garlic breath all night, thank you very much. You’ll drool on my pillows if you let your mouth hang open, too.”
Just one night. You can survive one night with her. Then tomorrow we can find the crib parts.
“Try not to pee in my plastic panties,” she said. “I know those diapers she puts you in are a joke so it’s not entirely your fault, but at least try.”
I felt a surge of anger. “Anything else you want to whine about? Mommy takes good care of me. And there’s nothing wrong with my diapers. Not everything has to be exactly the way you prefer it, you know. There’s more than one way to do things.”
“Clearly,” she said. “The right way and…”
I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling, which had glow-in-the-dark stars and moons affixed to it. A Totoro nightlight in one corner provided a warm, yellow glow. The room was quiet, with none of the pleasant background hum of traffic noise I was used to. I started to drift off, my mind replaying bits of the day, all jumbled up and out of order.
“Gross!” Gwen said. She shoved my shoulder.
I snapped awake. “What’s the matter?”
“You pooted!”
“Huh?” I mumbled. “Oh, farted. Yeah, probably?”
“Not probably. It was loud. Like a…I don’t know. A goose’s honk!”
“Okay.” I never held it in anymore. Never held anything in. What was the point of holding in my toots? It wasn’t as if I could let them out in the privacy of the bathroom later. Everything—far worse than farts—ended up in my diapers eventually. And diaperboys didn’t have any need for privacy, Mommy liked to remind me, so no sneaking off to fart in solitude. Hiding in a bedroom to pass gas was the sort of thing I did when I first became her diaperboy but now the very idea seemed silly. Absurd.
“Well, it stinks,” she said.
“As if you don’t fart,” I said. “And I’m sure they don’t smell like ginger cookies either.”
She didn’t respond.
“Nothing to say to that, huh? You act so high and mighty, but you’re no different than me and you know it.”
“I am nothing like you,” she spat.
“Oh yeah? Well, I’m gonna laugh my butt off the first time you have a messy diaper. I hope I’m there to watch you absolutely wreck your stupid Royal Rump diaper.”
She huffed loudly and crossed her arms. Such a ridiculous pose, lying there in the crib, that I had to restrain laughter.
“I bet you’re a dramatic pooper,” I continued. “You probably grunt and get all red-faced when you load your diaper, don’t you? Hhhhhhhnnnnnnn! Hhhhhhhnnnnnn!”
“You’re disgusting,” she hissed.
“Not as disgusting as you with a nasty, reeking diaper hanging from your butt, Princess Poopybuns.”
“Whatever,” she said. “I bet you don’t make it until lunchtime tomorrow. I might even take a picture so we can all remember the moment.”
No way was I going to be first, I vowed. I could outlast it. Outlast her. I could hold it as long as I needed to. Probably. As long as we didn’t have Mexican food. And as long as I didn’t drink too many bottles of milk.
“Great,” I said. “We can frame it and hang it on the wall so you can think of me always.”
She huffed again and glared at the ceiling. “As if I’m ever going to have a chance to not think of you again. I’m stuck with you. You and your bad breath and your weird diapers.” She turned towards me, a smirk teasing the corners of her mouth. “At least I don’t have to look at your stupid blocks in my room.”
Right. I took a deep breath and counted to ten. We needed to talk. Actually talk. Not just bicker about stuff that didn’t matter. “Gwen, we need to talk about what David—what your daddy—said at dinner. About how he wants to cook dessert for the big dinner next week?”
She didn’t respond. Just stared up at the ceiling.
“Gwen?”
“You don’t cook dessert. You bake it.”
I sighed. “Sure. Okay. What kinds of desserts does your daddy like best?” I asked. “Is he into chocolatey stuff? Fruit pies? Cake? Something funky like…what are those bananas they light on fire?”
She laughed. A clipped bark of derision.
I tried not to be pissed—or at least not snap back at her like I wanted to. Rude as it was, it was more of a conversational opening than I’d gotten so far. “What? Why do you laugh?”
She rolled over and faced me, the tip of her little upturned inches from mine. “He doesn’t care about that.”
“So…like he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth?” If he wasn’t picky—if this was really more about making Gwen and I work on something together—that’d make this assignment much easier. We could pick something simple, like brownies and ice cream. Or maybe chocolate chip cookies.
“You saw the garden beds, right?” she asked. “All the beautiful flowers?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Many of them are ordinary. But a few are rare. Mostly orchids Daddy bought when he was in Japan. Well, this last spring, the Thai Pearl finally bloomed. That never happened before and Daddy was sooo excited. I was so excited, too. Not really about the flower, even if it was pretty, but because he said when it bloomed, we’d have a big garden party. Do you know what a garden party is?”
“Of course I know what a garden party is,” I said. A party in the garden, I figured. The sort of thing people with too much money and too many Victorian-style dresses did after morning tea and before the evening’s opera.
“Hhhhmmm,” she said as if she didn’t believe me. “Well in any case, I picked out the prettiest dress and a new pair of pearly white Mary Janes for the occasion. We even got my hair done extra special at the salon. Of course, Daddy invited all of those flower ladies from the arboretum. He had it catered by Amelie’s. Canapes and deviled eggs and little finger sandwiches. Nearly everything had egg in it. It was all proper and perfect, down to the last detail.”
“Oookaay?” I didn’t see where this was going or what it had to do with the dessert we needed to bake.
She sighed in exasperation. “Daddy hates eggs. He’s allergic. Not like go-to-the-hospital-allergic, but rashy, sick-to-his-stomach allergic. After the party, he threw up for hours. He didn’t tell me, but I could hear him in the bathroom.”
“Why did he order food he was allergic to? And why did he eat it? He could’ve just…not.”
Gwen stared at me with those big brown eyes. Realization slowly dawned on me. “He served all of that because that’s what you serve at a garden party. That’s what you’re supposed to do. It doesn’t matter whether he likes eggs or not. That’s besides the point.”
She smiled slightly, cheeks dimpling, that the dolt finally figured it out.
“So we need to figure out what kind of dessert you serve at an…investment dinner, talk…thingy?” Her revelation didn’t make it easier. If anything, the opposite. I could picture a garden party spread: little cucumber finger sandwiches and quiche and whatnot. This dinner he had planned didn’t convey any specific image.
“No, that’s what you need to figure out,” she said. “Or don’t. I don’t really care.”
“No,” I said, fighting back the anger, “we need to work on it together. That’s what he said.”
She didn’t respond.
“You don’t want to disappoint him, do you?”
She snorted. “You probably think we can just whip together a box of Betty Crocker cookies or something silly like that. Glop some ice cream on it and call it good. Why would I want to be a part of that? So you can get your stupid blocks in my room? Making anything with you is guaranteed to disappoint him, and I’m not going to be a part of that.”
“So you’d rather get punished? Get spanked or whatever?”
She shrugged.
I couldn’t tell if she was bluffing or not, but I didn’t want to risk it. “What if…what if you get to pick the dessert? And if it’s a hit, you get all the credit. And if it’s not a hit—”
“It won’t be,” Gwen interrupted, “it’ll be a disaster.”
“—and if it’s not a hit, you can blame it on me. Say I picked a recipe that was too difficult. Or I goofed up the measurements. Or that I dropped all the eggshells into the batter. I dunno. Doesn’t matter. You get all of the credit and none of the blame.”
She didn’t agree. But she didn’t immediately shoot it down, either.
“Okay,” I said. “We can do a dry run tomorrow. Pick something out of a cookbook or online and—”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t?”
She shrugged. “I’m busy.”
“Busy? Busy with what?” I asked, laughing.
“Important things that are none of your business.”
“I don’t think prancing around like Belle while you shit your diaper counts as ‘important things,’ princess.” I regretted the words the moment they came out of my mouth.
She rolled over away from me, smacking her padded backside against the front of my diaper. She huffed loudly, then was silent.
“Look,” I said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just think things will be easier for both of us if we work together on this dessert thing.”
No response.
“We can find time whenever it works for you tomorrow,” I said. That much was true. At least mostly. I needed to learn about my new chores and I had no idea how long that would take. I had to meet Colette first, but I didn’t want to think about that now. One problem at a time. “Gwen?”
“Leave me alone.”
I sighed. Outside, crickets chirped. Somewhere, a clock ticked away the time. I was about to apologize again when I heard something else. Something barely audible. I held my breath, listening intently, wondering if I’d imagined it.
“Mmmmmhhhhmmmm.”
The sound of a gentle sighs. They floated down the hallway. From Mommy’s room.
“Mmmmmmhhhhhmmm. “God, I needed this,” Mommy said. Quiet as it was, I could hear the mixture of hunger and relief in her voice. Like she’d just settled down to a delicious meal after a long day at work. My stomach turned.
The room was quiet again for a few moments, then Mommy gasped. A sharp, hoarse grunt, followed by a long, gentle moan.
Beside me, I felt Gwen stiffen. She heard it, too. She yanked out the hairband, nearly elbowing me in the face, and tossed it aside. She pulled at the braids, drawing her fingers through them roughly, like she was untangling a knotted length of rope. Then she huffed loudly.
Dramatic. But then my mind drifted to the cage around my cock. If I could rip that off and toss it aside I would. But I couldn’t. Not yet, anyway. I needed to play ball. Figure out how to make this stupid dessert with Gwen, so David hated me a little less.
I drifted off to sleep to the sounds of Gwen’s muffled crying and Mommy’s desperate lovemaking.
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Rian's New Sister - Ch. 7 - This Nursery Ain’t Big Enough for the Two of Us
Note: This story features consenting adult characters and is intended for a mature, 18+ audience only.
Gwen, David, and I sat in a big chair in the living room for storytime. Gwen on one of David’s hard, uncomfortable legs and me on the other. David was tall, but it was still an awkward position. When Mommy read me stories we were usually propped up in her bed, snuggled under some blankets. But when we read in the living room I sprawled out across her lap. That wouldn’t work with two people. Not unless Gwen and I wanted have our legs all tangled up in one another’s. I wanted as much physical space between us—miles, if possible, thanks—and I guess she felt the same way. So we each sat on one of David’s legs, backs against the sides of the chair, our legs dangly down between David’s, trying not to touch each other when we shifted. It was a fitting picture of everything in our stupid, new life: awkward, uncomfortable, and worse than how things had been before.
I shifted positions, trying to get comfortable. David wasn’t soft and comfy like Mommy. She smelled like vanilla creme body lotion and lavender shampoo. He smelled like aftershave and garlic, and his whiskers scratched me when I got too close. Worse, I’d felt the warm lump of his penis against my thigh at one point.
“Do you always wiggle this much?” David asked me.
“He does,” Mommy called from the kitchen. She’d insisted on cleaning up so David could relax and ‘get in some bonding time’ with Gwen and me. I gritted my teeth and bit back every nasty response that came to mind.
We were on our second story. The Girl and the Dinosaur. It was one of my favorites, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I kept wondering if I’d given in too easily at dinner. Had I caved to David’s demands just I could get my blocks in my room? After all, as much as I loved my little village having it in my room wasn’t going to fix anything. We’d still be living in this big, cold house with him and the brat. But outright defiance and arguing never worked with Mommy. Early on in being her fulltime diaperboy I’d refused to eat a veggie casserole she’d made. I’d called it ‘gross’ and shoved my plate away. Rather than give me the chicken strips I’d been angling for she pulled a jar of baby food out of the pantry and smacked it down in front of me, not saying a word. For a whole week, she spoonfed me peas, apricots, and the worst—turkey. Jar after jar of the mushy goop. The slop got on my chin and on my chest. It plopped down on my diaper. Even after she cleaned me up the smell of the stuff clung to me. Almost as bad, it rushed back out the other end just as quickly; I spent more time sitting in messy diapers than clean ones. ‘If you want to act like a bratty toddler I’ll treat you like a bratty toddler,’ she’d said at the end of the week.
If I refused to go along with David’s request, or stuck to my guns and told Mommy we had to move out, she’d double down. Tell me I needed to give it time. That I needed to trust her. That she was in charge. I’d still end up doing what they wanted, plus they’d be angry with me. So I’d go along with it for now. Give Mommy time to see how controlling David was. And what a self-centered brat Gwen was. See how much better things were when it was just the two of us sharing a home.
“The end,” David said. He closed the book and set it aside.
Finally. I was ready to get in my crib with no one but Mr. Fraggle to keep me company. I slid off his lap. Or tried to—he put his big hand on my tummy, stopping me. Then reached down and squeezed my wet diaper. He repeated the process with Gwen. “Alright, let’s get you two soggy butts changed. Don’t want you leaking all over each other tonight.”
I wriggled away and stood up. Leaking all over each other? That’d be quite a feat. I’d had some epic leaks, but nothing that’d reach across the room. But even if I was that wet, there was no frickin’ way was he going to change me. Ever.
Mommy walked into the room with a bottle in each hand. “How were the stories?”
I shrugged. Gwen didn’t say anything. She hadn’t said much since dinner. I guessed she wasn’t excited about David’s assignment for us either. Finally, something we agreed on. But that I meant I’d have to convince her; I had more at stake than she did, as David clearly treated her with kid gloves.
Mommy chuckled. “Looks like we have a couple of overtired babies.” She handed me a bottle. It was warm, not hot, just like I liked it. “Alright, then. Let’s go change that soggy bum and get you tucked in.”
I followed her up the stairs, David and Gwen behind us. I stopped dead when I reached the nursery. Where my crib should’ve been there was an empty patch of carpet.
“Where’s my crib? Did you set it up in your room?” I asked. When she’d first bought my crib for me years ago we set it up in our bedroom. The bedroom had been incredibly cramped—you could barely walk around the massive crib and king-sized bed to get to the dresser or the closet—but I wanted to feel close to her as we transitioned to a new sleeping arrangement. A new life. A few months later, the guest room became my nursery and I moved in there with my crib.
Maybe she finally realized how hard this move had been for me and did that to make it easier. I didn’t want to sleep in David’s room. I didn’t want to see Mommy in bed with him. But I couldn’t imagine where else they would’ve set up my crib.
Mommy opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again again pursed her lips. She turned to David and nodded at the changing table. “Do you mind?”
“Go for it,” he said. “Gwen and I will brush her toofers.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Climb on up on the changing table and we’ll take about it, sweetness,” Mommy said to me. She put a hand on my back.
I shrugged her hand off. “Where is it?”
She pointed at the table.
I sighed and padded over, climbing up and laying myself down on the vinyl top, setting my bottle down next to me. Mommy loomed over me. She popped the tapes and pulled the front of my soggy diaper down.
“There was a bit of a mixup with the workers today,” she said. “They started to put your crib together and realized they were missing some of the hardware.”
“What do you mean ‘missing’?” I shook my head. “Have you looked in…” I trailed off. I had no idea where the parts might be. There were still some unopened boxes in this room and a few more scattered around the house, and I knew they’d put a bunch of stuff in the garage, but I didn’t know where to start. “I can look.” I started to sit up.
“Ah ah,” she said. “Stay right there, mister. We’ll get the crib sorted out tomorrow.” She wiped me down, lifting the cage so she could get underneath it. “There isn’t any pinching or chafing or anything, right?”
If I lied and told her it was pinching she’d take it off. At least for now. But I knew that would be a temporary fix. She’d realize it was fine and then be angry I’d lied. Or buy a different size or model. And as big a problem as the cage was, all I could think about right now was my crib. “I’m not sure if it’s gonna pinch much. Hasn’t been on long,” I said, not wanting to commit to anything; that was a battle for another day soon. “I’ll put my sleeping bag on the couch. That’ll work for now.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You really think David wants you leaking all over the furniture? I’ve told him what a supersoaker you are.”
“We can build a fort and sleep in it together. There’s plenty of room on the floor downstairs. That way I’m not on the furniture. I can get a couple of sheets and—”
“No, sweetness. You need a good night of sleep. And we need to settle into a normal routine. You’ll be sharing a crib with Gwen tonight.”
“Sharing a…no. No no no. I can’t.” I could barely stand being in the same room as her. Sharing a crib? I’d have to smell her obnoxious, overpowering lotions and perfume. Have to listen to her lecture me on everything I did in that stuck-up, princess tone that she said everything in. I was sure she’d find at least ten things wrong with how I laid in bed in the first five minutes.
Mommy pulled the wet diaper out from beneath me, leaving my damp backside pressed against the cool vinyl. “You’re always telling me how bored you get at night. So now you’ll have some company. You two can talk and tell each other stories. Figure out what you’re going to bake this week. Just try to get some sleep, ‘k? Another big day tomorrow.”
“But she…”
Mommy fluffed out one of my overnight diapers, then slid it beneath me. “She what? You need to give that girl a chance. You two have a lot in common, you know.”
“Yeah, right.”
“You’re both in diapers, sleeping in cribs. How many people in their early thirties can say that? She’s sweet and playful, but can be a bit pouty when she doesn’t get her way. Sounds like someone I know.”
I didn’t even know what to say to that. We were nothing alike, even if some of the circumstances of our lives were.
Mommy leaned closer, her face inches from mine. I could feel her warm breath on my face. See her full, soft breasts hang low in her shirt. “We both know you’re gonna need some kind of distraction, now that you can’t hump your pampers all night long. She’ll keep you company.”
She smiled sweetly, then straightened back up. My mind reeled, unsure what to say as she finished the change. “But, what if I leak on her?” I finally asked, grasping for anything.
“Gross!” Gwen said, walking back into the room. “See Daddy, I told you he was gonna pee on me. You need to find him a different place to sleep. And make him wear Royal Rumps. Not whatever that is.”
David shook his head. “That’s a fine diaper, Jellybean.”
I didn’t want to agree with Gwen about anything and I definitely didn’t want to end up in Royal Rumps. But if she pitched a fit about us sleeping in the same crib, something might actually change. “I dunno,” I said, “I leak a lot.” I pulled the bottle to my mouth and gulped down a bunch of warm milk for emphasis.
“See!” Gwen said. “I’m gonna be in a puddle. Do you want your princess in a puddle of gross boy pee?”
“Plastic pants,” Mommy said. She patted my diaper. “Hop down.”
“They’re still boxed up,” I said, pointing at the stack of boxes by the closet. I slid off the changing table.
“Right. That’s going to be one of your chores tomorrow,” Mommy said. “Gwen will help you find space for all of your stuff.”
Gwen huffed loudly and crossed her arms.
“I have something you can wear for tonight,” Daddy said. He walked over to the closet and returned a moment later with a pair of pink rhumba panties with white hearts on them. Frills traced across the backside and leg holes.
“Oh, uh…”
Daddy smirked. “It’s okay. I’m sure Gwen would be happy for you to borrow them, right Gwen?”
Gwen glared at me. As if this was my fault. As if I had any control in any of this.
“Well isn’t that sweet,” Mommy said. “Say thank you, Rian.”
“You know what, she has another pair,” Daddy said. He went to the closet and returned with a pair that was white with pink hearts. “One for each of you. Now you two will match.”
Gwen stared daggers at me as David led her over to the changing table. This was going to be a long night. Mommy fed my legs through the holes and pulled the rhumba panties into place.
“They’re too tight,” I said, pulling at the elastic around the leg holes.
“They’re supposed to be tight,” Mommy said. “To stop leaks. And they look absolutely adorable on you. We might have to get you a pair of your own.” She guided me over to Gwen’s vanity so I could see myself in the mirror. The panties looked ridiculous. Like someone had sewn a bunch of old lady doilies to satin panties.
She ushered me over to Gwen’s crib and pulled down the wooden side. “Alright, up we go.” She put a hand under my butt and helped me climb up. Not that I needed help, really, but this was our routine.
I stretched out. The mattress was too firm. And it felt narrower than my crib. Far too narrow for two people. The blankets reeked of strawberry or cherry or something sweet and cloying. It was going to be like sleeping in a Bath and Body Works.
“I need my blanket and Mr. Fraggle,” I said. “And my pillows.”
Mommy shook her head. “All of that stuff is still packed away. But it looks like Gwen has a bunch of pillows and blankets. And I’m sure she’d share—”
“I need Mr. Fraggles.”
She sighed. “Alright, sweetness.” She walked over to the boxes and returned a moment later with Mr. Fraggles.
I squeezed him close, his orange fur pressed against my face. He smelled like home, at least.
Then Gwen and David were there. I took a deep breath. David scooped Gwen up in his arms and laid her down on the mattress next to me. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Sleep tight, Jellybean.”
“Love you, Daddy,” she said.
“Love you, too,” he said. He drew the side of the crib up and it clicked into place.
“Night, sweetness,” Mommy said.
I didn’t say anything. I just glared.
She looked sad for a moment, then nodded her head.
I felt a pang of regret twist in my gut. I wanted her to know I loved her. To know that I needed us to be us. But that I was hurt, too.
Before the words could come to me, she was leaving. David shut the light out and left the room, and Gwen and I were left in the darkness together.
I've been having loads of fun writing my current Tier 3 (24/7 Baby) story, titled Just Be Yourself:
"Lucas used to take his wife on dates. Used to dance, drink wine, and wake up tangled in the sheets beside her. Now he sleeps in a nursery and wears the diapers she buys him.
When Eliza plans a weekend away with her dominant lover, Lucas sees a chance to prove he is still a man. Gregory’s sister, Tamsin, will be there, newly free from college and planning a thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail. She represents everything Lucas thinks he has lost: autonomy, adventure, adulthood.
If he can impress her, maybe he can convince Eliza to give him back the independence he craves. But the deeper he pushes against the rules of their relationship, the more he risks losing the intimacy and security he depends on.
To reclaim his manhood, Lucas must decide what he is willing to give up and whether the life he loves is one he can truly choose."
Note: This story features consenting adult characters and is intended for a mature, 18+ audience only.
As much as I loved a warm, wet, squishy diaper, few things beat the feeling of a fresh diaper after a bath. They never stayed fresh and dry for long these days—sometimes not even until Mommy was done combing my hair—but I savored it all the same. She’d towel me off, then lay me down on the towel on the bathroom floor. Sprinkle me with powder, and draw the fresh padding all the way up to my bellybutton. I felt warm and snug and cared for.
Tonight, the rigid plastic of the cage blocked off my most sensitive parts from the bunny-soft cotton of the diaper. I told Mommy as much, but she just told me to sush and moved on to Gwen. And Gwen was a princess—at least in her own mind—so everything took longer. And Mommy allowed it to take longer, for some reason. Gwen kneeled in front of the potty as Mommy sat on it, talking about all of the fun things they’d do together as she braided Gwen’s hair. I sat on the edge of the tub as they talked about girl stuff. Dolls and horses. Makeup and favorite Disney princesses. Then Mommy rubbed coconut lotion into Gwen’s skin. I tried not to stare as she worked it into her breasts. Her tummy. Her thighs. I ached inside the cage. It was so tight I couldn’t even get a little hard.
“Rian?” Mommy asked, eyebrows raised.
I jolted to attention, face flushed. “Are you almost done?” I asked.
“Hhhhmmm?” she said distractedly.
“You’ve been doing that for, like, half an hour.”
“Got a hot date?” she asked.
“I bet she’ll love that little cage,” Gwen said. She giggled.
I resisted the urge to flip her off. The heat on my buttcheeks helped with that.
“Why don’t you go downstairs and help David make dinner?” Mommy said. “I’ll be down soon to help out, too.” She turned back to Gwen, a contented expression on her face.
Had she always wanted a babygirl? Had she just settled for me? I dismissed that thought. She hadn’t wanted any of this. Not at first, anyway. When we were first dating she was vanilla. Or close enough. It’d been a lot of baby steps, funnily enough, to get us where we were. And then that one weekend in Montreal that changed it all for good. But none of it had been her idea. Not initially.
That doesn’t mean she won’t realize she’d prefer a babygirl now, does it? That a cutesy little princess is more adorable than a diaperboy?
“He doesn’t need help,” Gwen said. “Collete does almost all of the cooking. Daddy is…not a great cook. Except for pancakes.”
I had this feeling that if I were here in the room with them I could stop this weird connection or bond or whatever was forming between them. “See?” I said. “He doesn’t need me.”
“Rian?” Mommy said.
“I want to stay.”
Gwen rolled her eyes. “Is he always this difficult?”
“No, I’m not sure what’s gotten into him. He can be a crankypants when he’s tired. Or when his routine is disrupted.” She leaned closer and mock-whispered in Gwen’s ear. “Or when he hasn’t filled his diaper in a few days.”
Gwen snickered.
“Very funny,” I said.
At home, she’d take me into the bedroom for cuddles and story time after a bath. We’d each pick a storybook. Or sometimes, she’d read a chapter of a grownup story to me. And if I was lucky, I’d sleep in her bed. I thought about bringing that up, but I needed to save all of my goodboy points to convince them—to convince David—that I should have my blocks in my room. And I needed her help for that. David didn’t listen to me. He treated me like an actual toddler. And a not very bright one at that.
I waddled out of the bathroom, my thick night-time diaper pushing my legs apart. I crinkled down the steps and into the kitchen. It smelled of garlic and red sauce and cheese. Some sort of Italian dish, I guessed.
David sat at one end of the massive dining room table, a laptop open in front of him and a stack of papers beside it. He typed furiously, stopped and rubbed the stubble on his chin, then typed furiously again.
“Hey,” I said.
He didn’t answer.
I sat down in the chair next to him, diaper crinkling loudly. “So, what is it you do? For work, I mean.”
No answer.
“Are you, an attorney or something?” I don’t know why that profession came to me. I thought Mommy had mentioned something like that at one point. Or had she said accountant?
He sighed and looked up. “No, I’m not an attorney.’
“Accountant?” I asked hesitantly.
“I own a chain of Mexican restaurants.”
“Oh. Cool. I love Mexican food. Especially Chile Rellenos. I’m a librarian. Was, anyway. Before…you know.” I gestured at my puffy diaper.
“Hhhhhmmm,” he said.
“I liked it. Well, I liked the actual job. Managing a highly organized system like that is satisfying. ‘Everything has a place and everything in its place,’ you know?” I chuckled. “But dealing with some of the people was really stressful. Some of our patrons were unreasonable. Most were pleasant enough, but the ones that weren’t were a nightmare. And my boss…yeah.”
He looked back down at his laptop.
“So, uh, how many restaurants do you have?”
“What?”
“You said it was a chain. How many restaurants do you have?”
He sighed and closed the laptop. “Nineteen.”
“Oh, wow. Are you getting any more? Or is that it? I’ve always wondered how someone knows its time to stop expanding.”
“My business partners and I are trying to sell. In fact, a prospective buyer is coming next week to go over the details.”
“Coming here?” I asked. I wasn’t sure I loved that idea. Then again, it was a big house and I could probably just avoid them easily enough.
“Hey, you two,” Mommy said, walking down the stairs. “Care if we join you?” Gwen followed her down the steps in white footie pajamas with a pink belly. They must have been uncomfortably warm, even with the AC going full blast. Apparently the rule about diapers being on display at all times wasn’t consistently enforced. Shocker.
David grinned. “Well look at you, jellybean. Turn around and show daddy the back.”
Gwen did a pirouette, her braids whipping around her, and displayed the bunny rabbit tail in back. She beamed.
“Adorable,” he said. He stood up and patted her puffy bottom. “Let’s get some food in that tummy.”
“Just relax,” Mommy said. “I can make us some dinner now,” Mommy said. “Unless you already started it? Something smells good.”
“Collete left a lasagna in the fridge,” David said. “I warmed it in the oven, along with some garlic bread. There’s a Cobb salad in the fridge. And double-fudge brownies for dessert.”
“Oh,” Mommy said. “Okay. Well, then I’ll dish everything up.”
“Who is Collete?” I asked. I’d heard that name a couple of times, now.
David sat down. “Let the little ones do it, hon. Gwen can show Rian where everything is. He needs to start learning so he can do his chores.”
Gwen pouted. David patted her butt again. “Go on, now.”
I followed her into the kitchen as Mommy was leaving. I didn’t mind helping out, but I wasn’t thrilled to be working with Gwen. “Who is Collete?” I asked her.
“She helps out with the cooking and cleaning. And some other stuff.”
“Oh. And she knows about…” I raised an eyebrow.
Gwen nodded. “She does. She thinks it’s funny, mostly. She’s nice. She helps me with my makeup, sometimes.”
“She thinks it’s funny?” I didn’t like the sound of that.
“The glasses are here.” She pointed. “Plates are up there.”
I opened the cabinet door and pulled out a stack of plates. “Like, what kind of funny?”
“Not those ones,” Gwen said. “Daddy likes these the best.”
I pulled out a different set of plates and brought them to the table. Gwen followed with glasses and silverware. David and Mommy were deep in conversation. “...Wednesday, most likely,” David was saying. “Probably just him this time. But the full group of investors if this meeting goes well. We’ve already met twice, but he wants to…I don’t know, get a sense of who I am?” He shook his head.
“Is this the guy you were talking about?” I asked.
“Sweetie,” Mommy said, “the grownups are talking. Why don’t you get your high chair out.”
“Can’t I just sit at the ta…” David looked my way and I trailed off. “Okay.”
I pulled my high chair over next to the table, pulled the tray off and put it on the table, then sat down. Mommy usually did that. I thought about asking her, but I was saving up for the LEGO question.
“You too, Jellybean,” David said.
“I’ll help,” Mommy said. She stood up and lifted Gwen’s high chair and set it next to mine. Right next to mine.
“Thanks,” Gwen said sweetly.
“Of course,” Mommy said. She removed the tray. “Now why don’t you scoot your buns up there. Or do you need me to lift you up?”
Gwen climbed up and settled. “I got it.”
Mommy slid the tray into place and kissed the top of her head. “Such a good girl.” She turned away to get my tray and Gwen stuck her tongue out at me. It happened so fast I thought I might have imagined it.
Mommy served up food, setting plates down in front of David, then Gwen, then me. As much as I wanted to hate it—if only because it was made by someone who laughed at people like me—I couldn’t. It smelled amazing. Looked amazing. I took a heaping forkful: it tasted even better. Rich and greasy and cheesy.
Mommy settled down next to David. “So, this investor. Does he know about…” she waved her hands around.
David winced. “Kind of. He’s a young guy. Pretty progressive, as far as I can tell. I told him that I had an unconventional relationship. I think he’s filled in the gaps to think that means poly. I’m gonna let him think that’s the extent of it. No diapers or anything. I’m not sure how he’d handle that and it’s none of his business, anyway.”
Mommy nodded. “Do you know what he likes to eat? I make a killer paella. And if he doesn’t like seafood, there’s a bolognese sauce I’ve been wanting to try out.”
David waved his hand. “Colette will prepare something.”
“Are you sure?”
“Mmmhhhm.”
“Alright, then. I can make dessert.”
“I have a plan for that,” David said.
“Oh,” Mommy said. “Of course. Whatever you think will make the evening a success.”
“The important thing is…” David trailed off and scowled at me. Then Gwen and Mommy turned to stare at me, too.
“What?” I asked.
Mommy wore the hint of a smile. “You have some food on your chest. And your chin.” She dabbed at her own chin.
I looked down to see a splatter of sauce on my chest. I wiped a hand across my chin and came away with more sauce and a glob of melted cheese. I popped the cheese in my mouth.
David sighed. “Can you not hold the fork like a shovel?”
I thought I was being good using a fork at all. Half the time at home I’d just dig in with my hands. Though lasagna would’ve been pretty messy, so that probably wouldn’t have been the best idea. “Sure,” I said. I adjusted my grip on the fork. If I could go more than two minutes without annoying him I’d have a better chance of him agreeing to putting my village in the nursery. But that was a big if.
“He usually has better manners than this,” Mommy said. “It’s been a long day. A long month.”
David nodded. “I get it. Gwen too. That fit earlier?” He shook his head. “She usually has more self restraint than that. Even when she’s been provoked.”
Next to me, Gwen held her fork halfway to her mouth, and stopped. The hunk of lasagna plopped onto her plate. She looked crestfallen. Like someone had just run over her puppy.
I snickered. Pretty little princess knocked off her throne.
She whipped around and faced me, eyes blazing. “You think that’s funny, huh?” she whispered. “Guess who is gonna be laughing later tonight?”
“What do you mean?”
She shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m gonna slip my hand in my diaper. Play with myself. Probably for a long time. It feels soooo good when it’s all warm and wet. It makes me all warm and wet. You’ll be stuck in your peenie cage.”
I shrugged. “Whatever.”
“I bet you can’t even remember what a pussy feels like, can you?”
“Yeah, I can,” I said around a mouthful of food.
“Doubt it. How long’s it been since she let that sad little peepee near her? Five years? Ten?” She put her hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “Or are you a virgin? You are, aren’t you?” She giggled.
“No, I’m not. That’s stupid. We…” I stopped and shook my head.
“Looks like you missed your chance, now that you’re in your cucky cage, huh? Gonna be mommy’s sweet lil virgin boy forever.”
I opened my mouth to tell her to fuck off and stopped. That’s what she wanted. She wanted me to lash out. Scream. Call her names. Because if I did, she’d look good in comparison. She’d be back on the pedestal.
“Mommy,” I said.
Beside me, I could practically feel Gwen’s excitement. It wasn’t the fit she’d hoped for, but she thought I was going to complain. Whine. Make a big fuss. Instead, I calmly asked a question. “Can you ask David about…?”
“Ask me what?” David said.
“Oh, nothing we need to worry about tonight,” Mommy said. “You’ve had a stressful day.”
“Please,” I said. “I really want to start adding the coastline tomorrow. ‘specially now that I have the Skull’s Eye Schooner. That’s such an awesome set,” I added. “Thanks again for getting it for me.” Couldn’t hurt to be appreciative, and it really was an awesome set.
“Your blocks or whatever?” David asked. He waved his fork. “Sure, okay. We can set a table up in the laundry room or something. Or under the pergola.”
I cleared my throat. “I was hoping, uh, that we could put the table in my room.”
“There’s no space,” Gwen said. “I already told him.”
“See?” David said. “No room in there. We’ll set stuff up down here. Colette can help you tomorrow.” There was a finality in his tone. My heart sank.
Mommy reached out and squeezed his hand. “This means a lot to him. Can we at least try it? If it doesn’t work out after a few days we’ll move it downstairs. I’ll do it myself.”
David paused. I held my breath.
“Sure,” he said. “Colette will help you set them up.”
Gwen sighed loudly. “Uuuuggghhh.”
“But I need something from you,” David said. “When Cristalli is here next week I want you to be on your best behavior. No sauce splattered all over yourself like a barbarian. No holding your fork like a coal miner. Manners. Adult manners. And you have to prove it to me between now and then.”
It’d been a long time since I’d needed to pretend at being adult. Last week I’d loudly farted in the grocery store without thinking. After all, I did far worse than fart in my diaper, so why hold it in? The two college-aged students in the aisle with me were not impressed. They ran off without their cart while I let the heat of humiliation wash over me. It was a reminder of how much I’d changed.
A month or so before that, we were in the DMV dealing with some paperwork. The clerk asked for our names and I referred to Amara as ‘Mommy,’ a big, dopey smile on my face. That raised some eyebrows, though Mommy just shrugged it off.
I wasn’t sure I could do it. Act like I had a job and played golf with the guys and didn’t piddle my diaper multiple times throughout dinner. But it was worth the attempt right? Not just for my village, but to get off on a better foot with David?
I nodded. “Okay. Sure.”
“And just to be clear, I’d rather use the carrot than the stick,” David said. “But you know I have no problem with the stick if that’s what works best.”
“I know.” I started eating again, paying attention to how I held my fork.
“Oh, and there’s one more thing I’d like you to do,” David said. “Gwen, you need to listen to this, too.”
My longest-running story is The Good News. Seventy-six chapters and counting!
"Hailey volunteers for SHINE, a college organization that believes all males belong in diapers.
While spreading the good word door-to-door, she meets Martin. He's rude, surly, and smells like he hasn't showered in days. She knows he belongs in diapers, but there's no way he will agree willingly. So she enlists some help - and goes to increasingly extreme measures - to put Martin in his place and ensure he will never get out of diapers again."
The world had changed so much in the last few years. Men, boys, really, were regressing everywhere. Some fought it, clinging to their old lives, their old selves, but most eventually gave in. The media, the cartoons, the subtle shifts in society, it all pushed them toward toddlerhood, toward diapers, toward the comforting arms of a mommy. And for those who embraced it, there were places like this: a cozy, sunlit apartment where little boys in onesies and overalls gathered, their stuffed animals in tow, their diapers crinkling with every step.
You’ve been coming to these munches for months now. Most of the boys here are already fully regressed, their lives revolving around their mommies, their diapers, their pacifiers. But Rob? Rob is different. Rob still has a big boy job.
He’s new. Not to regression, oh no, he’s been in diapers for a while, you can tell by the way he moves, the way he fidgets when he’s wet but to this. New to these muches.
Rob is always early to arrive. He sits quietly in the corner, his stuffed rabbit clutched tightly to his chest, his overalls straining just a little over the thick bulge of his diaper. He never asks for help. Never complains. Never even hints at needing a change, no matter how long he’s been squirming. You’ve watched him, seen the way his fingers dig into the fabric of his overalls when he’s wet, the way his cheeks flush when he thinks no one’s looking. He’s so used to handling everything himself that the idea of asking for help doesn’t even cross his mind.
And that, more than anything, breaks your heart.
Today, you decide to change that.
The munch is in full swing, mommies chatting over coffee, little boys playing with blocks or coloring, the air filled with the soft rustle of diapers and the occasional giggle. Rob is perched on the edge of the couch, his rabbit pressed to his chest, his legs squeezed tightly together. He’s been fidgeting for the last half hour, his fingers twisting the ears of his stuffed friend, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts.
You slide onto the couch beside him, close enough that your thigh brushes against his. He tenses, his body going rigid, but he doesn’t pull away.
“You’re so quiet today,” you murmur, your voice warm, inviting. “Everything okay, sweetheart?”
Rob swallows hard, his fingers tightening around his rabbit. “I’m fine, thanks,” he says, but his voice is too high, too tight. A lie. A bad one.
You reach out, your fingers gently brushing the back of his hand. “You don’t look fine,” you say softly. “You’ve been squirming for ages. Are you wet?”
His face burns crimson. He doesn’t answer, but the way his legs press together, the way his breath hitches, tells you everything you need to know.
You don’t push. Not yet. Instead, you lean in just a little closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. “You don’t have to do everything alone, you know.”
Rob’s breath catches. His eyes flicker to yours, wide and uncertain, before darting away again. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to.
You stand, holding out your hand. “Come on,” you say, your voice gentle but firm. “Let’s get you into a fresh diaper.”
Rob hesitates. His fingers twist in the fabric of his rabbit’s ears, his lower lip trembling. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t refuse. He just stares at your outstretched hand like it’s a lifeline he’s afraid to grab.
You wait.
And then, slowly, his hand slips into yours.
The nursery is warm, the walls painted a soft pastel blue, the changing table already stocked with fresh diapers, wipes, and cream. Rob stands in the center of the room, his rabbit clutched to his chest, his eyes darting between you and the changing table. He’s trembling, not from fear, but from something deeper, something he’s never let himself want before.
You guide him backward until the back of his knees hits the edge of the table. “Up you go,” you murmur, lifting him with ease, his slight weight nothing compared to the warmth flooding your chest.
Rob whines as you lay him down, his overalls already unbuttoned, the thick, sagging diaper beneath exposed. It’s heavy, the plastic crinkling with every shift of his hips, the front bulging with the weight of his accidents. His face burns with shame, but you only smile, your fingers tracing the outline of the wetness.
“Such a good boy,” you coo, your voice thick with affection. “You’ve been peeing alot, haven’t you?”
Rob nods, his lower lip trembling. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to.
The diaper tabs come undone with a soft rip, the sound making Rob flinch. You peel the soggy diaper away from his skin, folding it in on itself, the scent of his accident filling the air. Rob whimpers, his hands covering his face, but you only hum, your touch never wavering.
You clean him with slow, deliberate strokes, the wipe gliding over his sensitive skin, wiping away every trace of his accident. Rob shivers under your touch, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps, his fingers twisting in the fabric of his rabbit’s ears.
He whines, his voice breaking.
“Shhh,” you soothe, pressing a kiss to his thigh. “I’ve got you now.”
The fresh diaper is thick, the plastic backing crinkling as you unfold it beneath him. Rob’s breath hitches as you lift his hips, sliding the diaper into place, the soft fabric pressing against his skin. You take your time taping it snugly around his waist, your fingers lingering on the smooth plastic, adjusting the fit until it’s perfect.
Rob is trembling by the time you’re done, his cheeks wet with tears he didn’t even realize he was crying. You wipe them away with your thumb, your touch impossibly gentle.
“There,” you murmur, pressing one final kiss to his forehead. “All better.”
Rob looks up at you, his eyes wide and glistening. “T-thank you,” he whispers, his voice raw with emotion.
You smile, your heart so full it could burst. “Anytime, sweetheart,” you say, helping him sit up, your hands steadying him as he finds his balance. “You never have to do it alone again.”
And as Rob clutches his rabbit to his chest, his diaper crinkling softly with every movement, you know, this is only the beginning. For both of you.
@ameliemommy is a fantastic writer and super cool person. I've liked and reblogged a ton of her stories on here. Do yourself a favor and follow her new blog!
Note: This story features consenting adult characters and is intended for a mature, 18+ audience only.
“But wwwhhhyy can’t I wear a swim diaper?” I asked.
Mommy looked up from her phone and giggled.
“What?”
She sat on a stepstool next to the massive tub as steam filled the bathroom. The frothy peaks of bubbly mountains had just begun to appear over the edge of the tub, so I knew it couldn’t be much longer before I’d need to get in. She’d been scrolling away as the tub noisily filled, and we waited for Gwen.
“I’m serious,” I said.
“Sorry, sweetness. It’s just been so long since I’ve seen you on a toilet. I wasn’t sure you even remembered how they worked. Careful the potty monster doesn’t get you.”
Sitting on a potty did feel weird. Like a memory from another life. Or from someone else’s life. I shifted uncomfortably, and the stupid chastity cage clinked against the toilet seat. After they’d put the cage on me Mommy had ushered me into the bathroom and made me sit on the potty. ‘Don’t want any puddles on the floor, do we?’ she’d said.
I heard footsteps in the hallway. And hushed voices. She’d be here soon. The devil in angel’s clothing. “We have half a pack left over from the camping trip with Martin’s family last summer,” I said. “I’ll go get one.”
“I threw them out. We need to get you a proper, reusable one for the pool here. David’s rules. Besides, how am I supposed to get you all squeaky clean with your boy bits covered up, hhhhmm?”
More voices in the hallway.
“But, I don’t want her to see my…you know…” I looked down at the blue chastity cage.
When I got over my initial shock at first seeing the cage in the bedroom, I was relieved: they’d bought one that was too small. It was maybe two inches long. There was no way I’d fit. I wasn’t huge down there, but it’d be silly to even try to get this thing on me. Like shoving a cucumber into a straw. But Mommy insisted. She untaped my diaper and flopped down the front. She squirted a glob of baby oil in her palm and worked it into my bits. No teasing or playfulness. Just right down to business. Like diaper changes when she had something else she needed to go do. Still, I’d started to get hard. Her hand was so warm and soft. So slick. “None of that,” she’d chided. “I’ll get a bowl of ice water if I need to.” I’d wilted at the thought.
She fed my balls through a plastic ring, remarking that they felt really full. David chuckled and said that was something I’d need to get used to, and that’s when the reality of my situation crashed down on me. No more humping Mr. Fraggle in my crib during naptime. No more stealing Mommy’s vibrator and holding it against my soggy diaper until I exploded. No more special, sticky diaper changes on Sunday mornings, or when Mommy felt I’d been an extra good boy.
I protested. Asked her not to put the cage on. Pleaded to give me one more special diaper change first. Then I begged to just let me touch myself. Just for a few seconds. She didn’t respond to any of it, just kept putting the cage in place. Then there was a *click* and it was on. Tight, but not painful. She slipped the silver key onto a simple chain and then put it over her head. The key to my freedom—to my manhood—hung between her beautiful breasts. She handed a second key to David, who put it in his pocket.
Gwen walked into the bathroom, jolting me back into the present. She had stripped down to just a purple-and-white Perfect Princess diaper and a light pink undershirt. I could see the outline of her nipples through the fabric.
“Hey, Gwen,” Mommy said cheerfully. She turned back to me. “You don’t need to be embarrassed about your peepee’s new home. It’s going to be tucked away in your diapie anyway, remember?”
Gwen looked down at me and frowned. “Is that a…?”
Mommy stood up. “We were just talking about it before you came in. That’s just something to help keep Rian from worrying about big boy stuff so he can stay my sweet lil’ baby forever.”
I seethed at the description. As if this was for my own good.
“It’s not very big, is it?”
Mommy chuckled. “Let’s get you two into the bath.” She dipped her fingers in. “Temp is just right. Rian, why don’t you get in while I help Gwen with her diaper.”
“I can do it myself,” Gwen said.
Mommy put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow.
“Okay,” Gwen said. “Fine.”
“That’s a good girl,” Mommy said.
Finally, someone stood up to the brat. Even if just a little. I stepped around them and over to the edge of the tub. I climbed in and settled down into the warm water, trying not to cry out as my butt came into contact with it.
“Isn’t that nice? So much bigger than our tub at home, you’ll have lots of room for your ships.”
“There’s no shelf for my toys,” I said.
Mommy sighed and shook her head. “Okay, baby.”
“What?” I asked.
“Just because something is different doesn’t mean it’s bad. You know, at one point, you being my baby boy was a big change. A huge change. That wasn’t bad, was it?”
“This bubble bath is weird, too.” It smelled like grape or something and turned the water purple. “Next time I want to use our old kind.”
Mommy sighed and pulled Gwen’s shirt over her head, exposing her breasts. Then came the diaper. Four quick pops and the wet diaper plopped onto the tile. She was fully shaved down there. I felt myself swell against the hard cage. It didn’t hurt, but it was uncomfortable. Worse, I knew I my mind would replay this memory later when I was alone, but I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it with the stupid cage locked on.
Princess scowled at me. “I don’t want to get in.”
“Why not?” Mommy asked. “Do you need some toys? I’m sure Rian will share his boats.”
“Ships, not boats. And I don’t want to share them.”
“He’s looking at me weird,” Gwen said. “Like…dirty.”
Mommy laughed. “Well, believe me, he can definitely be a very dirty boy. Stinky, too. But not dirty like you’re talking about. Not anymore.”
“Really?” Gwen asked. “So that thing…?” She pointed at the place between my legs. The cage was hidden by bubbles but there was no mystery as to what she pointed at.
“Keeps him small and soft and adorable. Nothing you need to worry about.”
Gwen snickered and stepped down in the tub. She plopped down next to me. Far closer than she needed to. Her knee rubbed against mine.
I scooted away. She moved closer.
“She’s sitting too close to me,” I said to Mommy.
“I bet she just wants to be friends. Right Gwen?”
Gwen nodded, but the smirk was still there. How did they not see how manipulative she was? Was it because she was an attractive girl? They couldn’t look beyond that fake smile and the ribbons in her hair and all that nonsense?
“She should wear one, too,” I said to Mommy. I scooted as far away from Gwen as I could. “A cage.”
Mommy looked at Gwen and raised her eyebrows. “See? Such a sweet lil’ boy he doesn’t even know the difference between boy parts and girl parts.” Gwen snickered.
“You know what I mean,” I said. “One for girls. They must make ‘em.”
Mommy ignored me. She was looking all around the room. “Sorry, sweetness. Looks like your ships didn’t get unpacked yet. They must have been put in the wrong room. Maybe the downstairs bathroom.”
“Go look for them,” I said. “I always play with my ships in the tub.”
Mommy shook her head. “Gwen has a basket of toys right here. I’m sure she’ll share, right, Gwen?”
Gwen smiled sweetly. She leaned over the tub, her left breast, slick with bubbles, slid against my arm. A shiver ran up my back. Yeah, that was definitely something I’d replay later in my crib.
No. No, you won’t, I thought. You’ll toss and turn, your wet diaper snug against you as your mind plays a highlights reel of soapy breasts and soft, pink pussies. How was I going to survive like this? I might literally, actually explode.
Gwen held out a toy. A pink, plastic boat with a rainbow across the sail.
I ignored her. “This cage is too small,” I said. “It’s hurting me.”
Mommy arched an eyebrow.
“Can we take it off?”
“You really want to talk about this now?” she asked.
“We don’t want to have to go to the hospital and explain why my parts are all messed up,” I said. “That’d be so embarrassing for everyone. Worse than those stories you hear about people putting carrots and wine bottles and stuff up their butts. We can get a bigger one later. One that fits.”
Gwen shrugged and rested the ship on my knee. “I can’t wear a cage, anyway,” she said in a sing-songy tone. “Daddy and I still have special time. I don’t know what I’d do without that.”
I felt a stab of anger. “Oh yeah? You don’t think anything is going to change now that—” I struggled to get the words out “—we’re here and he’s sleeping with Mommy every night?”
Her eyes went wide for half a second. That certainly touched a nerve. Then it passed. She shrugged and acted as if she didn’t care.
“That wasn’t very nice,” Mommy said. “I’m sure nothing will ever come between Gwen and her Daddy. As for you, that cage is a perfect fit for a perfect little peepee.”
“But, what if it gets infected or something? It’s gonna get so dirty in there. Lots of germs and…”
Mommy chuckled and looked at the girl. “Boys and their bits. Would you believe that just last week I had to remind him to wash his hands three times after he played in the mud with Martin? Now all of a sudden he’s mister hygiene.”
“So gross,” Gwen said. “He’s probably just wondering when you’re going to take it off and wipe him so he can make stickies.”
“Bingo,” Mommy said. She turned to me. “I’ll keep you clean. Don’t you worry about that. And for the question you really wanted to ask, we have a release schedule for you.”
“Release schedule?” I asked. That sounded so formal. So clinical.
“Mmmmhhhhmmm.”
“So, like…sex?”
Mommy laughed. A big, hearty laugh. Gwen joined her. I wanted to sink down under the bubbles. “Oh, sweetie. No. Didn’t you hear what David said? Those parts are just for soaking your diapies from here on out. Your stickies belong in your diapers and that’s just where they will be going.”
“But you’ll take my cage off and give me a special change, or…?”
“I didn’t say that now, did I?” Mommy said. She picked up a washcloth and squirted a glob of baby shampoo into it. “That’s not for you to worry about. Just like you don’t have to worry about diaper changes, right? David and I talked this all over.”
“But, but…what if I need to cum before the scheduled time?”
“Cum?” Mommy asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Make stickies,” I said through gritted teeth. “What if I can’t wait for my next…release?”
She leaned over the tub and began scrubbing Gwen down. “Then you’ll make stickies in your sleep. While you’re having dreams about how much you love your diapies, I’m sure.”
I slumped down against the back of the tub. Why were they doing this? And why did he get to determine when I could cum? How I could cum? The earlier reference to Jake came to mind again. Was David just going to take charge of my life and Mommy’s? Was she going to be a mommy in name only, just doing whatever he said?
“You’re going to bring my village into my nursery, right?” I asked.
Mommy stopped scrubbing for half a second, then resumed. “It’s been a long day, sweetness. Soon it’ll be time for din-din and then night-night.”
“But, I need it in there. I need to start working on my pirate stuff.”
“There’s no space,” Gwen said. “I already told you that.”
“Mommy,” I said.
She sighed. “If you really can’t wait until tomorrow, we can discuss it at dinner, okay?”
Find a TON of stories on Ream, with new chapters added every week.
Here’s chapter eighteen of the ongoing, collaborative story written by my friend, BoysRBabies, and me.
All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older. Readers should also be 18+ only!
“Oh my gosh! Is that Tyger?” the girl in the yellow dress asked. “I almost didn’t recognize you without a load in your pants.”
The girl in the red dress covered her mouth, stifling her snicker.
No way. Not this again.
Tyler backed up towards the door. His back connected with a set of hands.
“Ah ah,” Miss Rosie said. “These lovely young ladies took time away from their studies to help you. Be nice.” She gently nudged him forward with one hand and swatted the seat of his diaper with the other.
Tyler stumbled forward into the room, nearly tripping.
The door clicked closed behind him. A second click locked it.
“Welcome,” Miss Calli said.
A handful of guys sat cross-legged on the floor. One, Jeffy or Jerry or something like that, lay on his stomach, legs kicking playfully in the air. His puffy diaper crinkled with every kick. He turned around and waved.
“Why don’t you have a seat, Tyler?” Miss Calli said. She sat on the edge of the desk at the front of the room, one slender leg crossed over the other, foot bouncing playfully. Behind her stood the girls. There were the three Tyler remembered from last time: the slim, busty girl in blue. Ella. She’d treated him like a puppy dog. Humiliating, but the least offensive of the bunch, by far.
Then there was the chick in the daffodil-yellow dress. Julie, maybe? Hot as hell, but she’d not bothered concealing her disgust at what he’d been coerced into doing. She’d looked at him like something to be scraped off the bottom of her shoe.
And the girl in the red dress. A fitting color for a villain. Her name was crystal clear in his memory: Amy. She’d thought the whole thing was a riot, tears streaming down her face as he’d fouled himself in front of them.
But they weren’t the only ones. There were eight college-aged girls in total, each in a different-colored dress.
Tyler put his back to the door and crossed his arms.
Miss Calli turned around. “See what a big tough guy Ty-ty is, ladies? Such a big, stwong man.”
The girls all laughed.
Tyler scowled, uncrossing his arms and letting them dangle at his side for a moment before crossing them again.
Miss Calli folded her hands in her lap. “Well, boys, can someone tell me why we’re all here today?”
Jerry-Jeffy swung his hand around in the air. “Me! Me! Miss Calli! Here!”
“Yes, Jeffy?”
“I’m here cuz I woked up in my crib and then I got changed and then I walked and then I was here.”
Tyler rolled his eyes.
Got a genius on our hands.
One of the girls in the back snickered. Miss Calli smiled. “Thank you, Jeffy. That’s not exactly what I want to focus on today. Every boy here has a PeePal Pal. Isn’t that exciting?”
Jeffy clapped his hands.
“Can you tell me about your PeePee Pal?” Miss Calli asked. “What kind of creature is your Pal, Jeffy?”
Jeffy rolled over onto his back and started to tug at his diaper.
“No no,” Miss Calli chided. “Remember, boys should never, ever open their diapers. If you’ve forgotten your Pal, why don’t you come ask one of these lovely ladies to help you?”
Jeffy leapt up and practically sprinted to the front of the room. He planted his hands on his hips, legs spread wide, his gaze darting from one girl to the next.
A tall woman with a braid draped over the shoulder of her forest-green dress stepped forward. She hooked a finger in the top of Jeffy’s diaper and peered inside. She giggled. Like a dam breaking, all of the other girls stepped forward, crowding around.
Jeffy wore a big grin on his face.
Unbelievable.
“Ladies?” Miss Calli asked.
“It’s a cuddly koala,” the girl in the green dress said.
“A newborn koala, based on the size of it,” Amy added.
They all laughed.
Miss Calli chuckled along with them. She turned back to the boys. “And do you all have koala PeePee Pals?”
The boys shook their heads.
“Mine’s a ja-waff,” one said.
“I have a goose,” another said. He blushed. “Cuz Miss Ledi says I’m a silly little goose.”
“That’s right,” Miss Calli said. “You all have a different pal. Special, each and every one. Just. Like. You.” She turned and booped Jeffy on the nose.
He giggled.
“But there’s one thing you all have in common. Do you know what that is? I’ll give you a hint. It has to do with your life before you got here. Before you met your PeePee Pal. It’s why you got your special PeePee Pal in the first place.”
No one said anything. Not even motormouth Jeffy.
“Were you always nice to ladies before you came here?” Miss Calli asked. “Hmmm?”
“Yes!” Jeffy said.
Miss Calli winced. “Oh, sweetie. I’m just afraid that’s simply not true. Your aunty told me about that girl at your work you kept asking out. And about that icky gym sock she found under your bed.”
A girl in teal opened her mouth and made a gagging sound. Several of the others snickered.
Jeffy’s brow furrowed, and he looked around the room, puzzled.
Miss Calli turned suddenly toward Tyler. “What about you, Ty-Ty? Were you always nice to ladies? Did you show them the respect they deserve?”
Tyler met her stare and kept his mouth shut.
“Bet he had a crusty sock or two,” one of the girls said.
Tyler whipped around. “Better believe if I did, it’d have a picture of your mom on it.”
Gasps.
Tyler didn’t even bother suppressing his smile.
“See, boys? See how Ty-Ty acts out?” Miss Calli jabbed a finger at him. “You disrespected them. You disappointed them.”
“BS,” Tyler snapped. “I never disappointed any woman.”
All eyes in the room turned to him. One of the dolts on the floor gasped.
Miss Calli’s smug smile cooled. She swept her gaze over all of the boys. “Lucky for you, you’re going to get a chance to prove it. All of you. Go ahead and show one of these lovely ladies how sweet, and sensitive, and cuddly you can be. Show them how your pal will make sure you never disappoint them again.”
The only sound was the faint rustling of diapers as the boys shifted and wiggled, looking at each other. At Miss Calli.
“Go on now,” Miss Calli said. “Don’t be shy, boys. Pretend you’re asking one of these ladies out on a date.”
Two boys jumped up, big, goofy grins on their faces.
“But,” Miss Calli said. “An appropriate date. The kind of date a soft, sweet diaperboy goes on. Not an icky, stressful, grown-up date. Maybe the zoo? Or to watch the newest Disney movie?”
Diaperboys stood up and shuffled to the front of the room.
Tyler watched as they stared at their feet and twisted their hands around. He listened as they stammered their way through silly questions.
“Can I touch your hair?”
“That’s a pretty dress. I wanna pretty dress.”
“Wan-ta meet ma teddy? His’s name’s Hanky.”
Jeffy was talking to the girl in the blue dress. Ella. Even though she was only a couple of inches taller than he, she’d bent over, hands on her thighs, nodding along to everything he said. She smiled. Beamed, really. Then took him by the hand to the Cozy Corner. They settled onto the floor and pulled out a box of blocks.
Good for you, Jeffy. Hope you enjoy your hot ‘date.’
One by one, they paired off, making their way to the Cozy Corner.
Then it was just Tyler, back against the wall, and the girl in the red dress. Amy. She sneered at him. “Never disappointed a woman because you never approached one, eh? Not sure that counts.”
Heat spiked in his chest. His hands curled into fists. He crossed the room in three long strides. “This little charade? This game? It’s all rigged. Give me an hour outside of here, and I’ll have you screaming my name.”
A smirk spread across the pretty girl’s face. “Aww, sounds like someone’s pal is making hims a bit fwustwated. Why don’t we cuddle up on the bean bag and you can tell me all about your big feewings?”
“I don’t want to cuddle,” Tyler snapped.
“That’s too bad,” she said. She leaned close. Close enough her perfume cut through the smell of baby powder and pee. Close enough her warm breath prickled his skin. Close enough he found himself leaning in, craving the feeling of her pressed against him. “Because cuddles is all any woman is ever going to want from you.”
“Bullshit,” he hissed.
“Talking about your icky diaper again?” she asked. “Not sure you can blame that stink on a bull. Why don’t you try again? Show me this world-class charm you insist you have, Ty-Ty.” She looked over at the Cozy Corner. “Because right now, it seems like you’re the only one here who can’t get the girl.”
“Like I said, the game is rigged. You wanna see what I’m like? See what it’s like to be with me? Let me out of here. Or ask one of the many, many women I’ve bedded how unforgettable it was.”
“Like Lindsey Condant?” Amy asked. “Or Melissa, that intern you hired? Or how about we go back to college? Lots of drunk, sloppy ‘satisfying women’ in that period.” She turned to Miss Calli. “Who was that one woman from senior year? She had the story about him squirting on her shirt before she could even get it off? Heather, was it?”
“Hannah,” Miss Calli responded.
Tyler’s mouth went dry. “I…” he cleared his throat. “Whatever. You got some names. Big deal.”
A grin spread across Amy’s face. The mirth didn’t reach her eyes. “We have more than names, Ty-Ty. A lot more.” She shrugged, tone suddenly casual. “But we don’t have to worry about any of that. Ask me nicely to take you over to the Cozy Corner, and we can forget all about disappointing old Tyler and focus on sweet, soft Ty-Ty.”
“You’ve got nothing,” he spat. He barely stifled the ‘bitch’ he desperately wanted to tack on to the end of the sentence.
Amy sighed. “Miss Calli?”
“One step ahead of you,” Miss Calli said.
It was then that Tyler noticed a projection screen had been lowered over the whiteboard. The white background went black for a second, and then a familiar face appeared. A few years older than he’d last seen her, but instantly recognizable. Melissa, the business admin major they’d hired as an intern in the early days of the firm.
A female voice off-screen: “So tell me about your sexual experiences with Tyler.”
Melissa snorted. “Not much to tell. He was charming. At first. I think it was the idea of this powerful, older man that drew me in. I probably should’ve said no when he asked me to dinner, but…” She shrugged.
“You said there’s not much to tell--things didn’t go on long?” the woman off-camera asked.
Melissa sighed. “No. It dragged on for months. By the end, I just felt…bad for him. He seemed so clueless. So…un-self-aware, if that makes sense? He’d make it all of five minutes, then brag about it like he was god’s gift to women. I started carrying a vibrator in my purse so I could take care of myself after he left.”
Miss Calli froze the video and turned to Tyler, eyebrows raised.
“Whatever,” he croaked. “You probably paid her.”
Amy squeezed his arm. “Oh, sweetie. You know that’s not true. You saw it in her eyes. Besides, they couldn’t pay all of those women.”
Tyler shook his head slowly. “Bull. Shit.”
Miss Calli sighed. “A potty mouth and a slow learner.” She held up the remote, and the video skipped to a different face. Hannah Martell. Senior year of college. He’d shot all over her jeans in the backseat of his Beamer. But it’d been her fault for teasing him so long. If she hadn’t dragged her feet, that wouldn’t have happened.
“Can he hear me?” Hannah said to the camera. “And you said he’s wearing diapers now? Did I hear that right?”
A female voice said something off-stage. Something he couldn’t make out.
She laughed. “No kidding! What did you call it? A PeePee Pal? Hilarious. And how fitting. Let me tell you about--”
“Stop!” Tyler shouted. “Shut it off.”
The video paused.
“Is there something you’d like to say, Ty-Ty?” Miss Calli asked.
“So what? This proves nothing. No one has anything good to say about exes. Old flings.”
Amy’s smile grew.
Tyler felt the jaws of the trap--the trap he’d set for himself--close around him.
“Oh, but it’s not just exes,” Amy said. “Monica, your wife? She sent you here, Tyler. She insisted on the diapers. The PeePee Pal. All of it. She sent a video along, too, if you want to see it…”
Tyler’s shoulders slumped. He suddenly felt tired. So, so tired.
She patted his cheek and made a pouty face. “Aww, sweetie. Don’t be sad. You don’t ever have to worry about trying to impress a woman ever again. Not with that silly little thing between your legs, at least. Isn’t that wonderful? No more disappointment. Just snuggles and story times and soft diapers forever and ever and ever.”
The easiest way to read the preceding chapters is on Ream. The entire story so far is available for free to followers.
You'll find tons of other hot diaper stories on Ream, too. Like Potty Retraining:
Erin is fed up with her husband's diaper addiction. His soggy pants keep coming between them in the bedroom. But when she challenges him to potty retraining, neither of them have any idea the wet and messy adventures they are in for.
Erin enlists her friend Kayla to help tease and torment poor, diaper-dependent Joshua into giving up and admitting he'll never escape his diapers. But he's not giving in that easily. With his pride and his love life on the line, he'll suffer humiliations public and private in his quest to prove that he can be a big boy.
Note: This story features consenting adult characters and is intended for a mature, 18+ audience only.
“Hey there, sweetness,” Mommy said when I walked into her new bedroom. “How’re you…” She trailed off. I never was very good at hiding my feelings. Not that my red, tear-streaked cheeks left much room for interpretation. She set the box she was holding down on the bed and walked over to hug me.
“Ooooww!” I said. “Careful.”
“Oh, sweetie,” she said, pulling her hand off my backside. She stepped back and looked at me. “Is it bad?”
I nodded. I felt my lip quiver. Tears threatened to pour out. Again. I choked them back. Once they started, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop.
He’d rained swats down on me longer than I expected. Far longer. Mommy tapered off when she spanked me, easing up as she went. Unless she was really mad like the time I broke her brand-new laptop jumping on the couch with Tim. But the more he hit me the harder the swats got. Like he needed to build up momentum. Or like he wanted to see tears. My whole backside, from the top of my cheeks down to my upper thighs, was a pulsing inferno.
“I hate him,” I said. It just slipped out, surprising even me.
Her frown grew. “You don’t mean that. I know it stung, but sometimes little boys need correction. And screaming isn’t okay.”
“I didn’t scream.”
“Why don’t we cuddle, huh?” She grabbed a couple of pillows and stacked them up against the headboard, then leaned against them and patted her lap.
I wanted closeness with her more than anything right now. She’d always been able to make me feel better in a way no one else could. Safe and protected and cared for.
“You didn’t stand up for me,” I said quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“Gwen was being a monster. She told me I couldn’t have my LEGOS in the room. And she was faking with the crying fit. Trying to get sympathy. And then…him.” I reflexively touched my tender butt.
“C’mere.” Mommy patted her lap again. “We’ll talk about it.”
I shook my head.
“Mister,” she warned, “I wasn’t asking.”
I sighed and shuffled over. I laid down on my side next to her, keeping my butt from making contact with the bed, and rested my head on her lap. She draped her arm over me.
“I know this a lot for you,” she said. “A lot of changes all at once. A new house and neighborhood. A new sister and daddy. A—”
“She’s not my sister, and he is not my daddy.,” I snapped. “And they never will be. I want to go home. I want to go back to how things were.”
“Okay,” she said soothingly. She put her hand on my back and started rubbing. “We don’t have to worry about all of that right now.”
“I want to go back to our house,” I said. “We can take it off the market. You can still…see him if you want to, I guess.”
She chuckled. “You guess, huh? Since when do you make the rules? Remember, you gave that up when you left your job. When sogging your diapies became your full-time responsibility. Boys who piddle in their pants and don’t have adult responsibilities don’t make adult decisions. Isn’t that what we agreed?”
“I do chores and stuff, too,” I said indignantly.
“Of course you do. And we’re gonna figure out what those look like here tomorrow. But that doesn’t change the fact that you need to focus on being my adorable baby boy right now. You’re really, really good at that. The best, in fact.”
I turned away from her and laid my head back down. This was one of Mommy’s comforters. One of our old comforters. A patchwork design we’d bought on a long weekend in Amish country before we were married but after we’d moved in together. It already smelled like him. Like his aftershave or deodorant or whatever. Not bad, but like a man. And not like her. Would Mommy start smelling like him now that we lived together? Her clothes? Her skin? Somehow, that seemed worse than getting spanked. Or having to share a room with that brat. We couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t make Mommy break up with him, but if we could move back to our own house, things would be okay again.
“This is for the best,” she said. “For both of us. Promise.”
“Were you…” I took a deep breath. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She’d done so much to take care of us.
“Out with it,” she said.
“Were you having trouble, like, you know?”
“Keeping you in a dry diaper?” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “You have no idea.”
“I’m being serious. Was money a…thing?”
She knit her brow, then let out a long, slow exhale. “Things have been difficult lately. The cost of living has gone up so much, and my salary has…I don’t want you to worry about all of that. And it’s not an issue now that we’re here with David. He’s going to take care of us. And we’re gonna take care of him, too.”
“We can figure it out. Figure a way to make it work. Take care of ourselves.”
“Hey, I said we don’t need to worry about all of that, mister. You focus on exploring your new house and doing your chores and becoming buddies with your new—with Gwen, ‘k?”
I took a deep breath. Gwen was right about one thing: I had no idea about our finances. But I did know Mommy had been working more and more late nights. She’d had less time, and lately, less patience. I could at least try to make this work for her. But I wasn’t going to just roll over and let that brat ruin my life, either. “I want my LEGOS in my room,” I said finally.
“I’m sure we can work something out. It’s a big house. Lots of space. Have you seen the backyard? That sandbox?”
“You said it’s my room, too,” I said. “I want my toys in my room.”
She paused her rubbing for a half-second, then continued. “Alrighty, if it’s that important to you, I’ll talk to David.”
“Talk to him about what?” I blurted out. Why couldn’t she just decide? She was the boss in our household. No question about it. That reminded me of something else. Something she’d said earlier that had been nagging at me. Before she responded, I asked, “What was your relationship with Jake like? He yelled at you?”
She paused her backrub again. This time she didn’t start right up. She sighed. “Not good. He was manipulative and mean. Not at first, but as time went on, it got worse. We’ve talked about all that.”
“Then why did you stay together?”
“Rian? What does this have to do with—”
“I’m just curious,” I said. “That’s all.”
She sighed. “Okay. Well, I don’t think now is the best time get into it. Let’s focus on the here and now. On us. On the future, you know?”
“Did he…what was your relationship like, though?” It wasn’t what I wanted to ask her. Not exactly. But I was afraid. Afraid to upset her, but more afraid of the answer she might give.
Were you his sub? His babygirl? Are you going to be David’s babygirl?
She sighed. “I’m not…so…”
I tensed up.
“They broke a box of your china,” David said. He stomped into the room. “And one of the boxes was full of ants and they didn’t notice. Now we’re infested with them. Disgusting.”
Disgusting? That seemed like an overreaction, but clearly he liked everything in his life just so and was used to getting his way. A spoiled bratt, basically, but apparently we only used that term for those of us in diapers.
“That’s awful,” Mommy said. “I’ll get a cleaner. We can set some traps out, and—”
“It’s fine. I’ll handle it. I’ll get them to handle it.” He shook his head. “What would Cristalli say if he saw my house was infested with bugs?”
Mommy slid out from underneath me and went over to him. She wrapped him in a hug. It was different than the hug she’d given me in a way I couldn’t quite define. More like he was hugging her, even if she’d initiated it. I looked away, feeling her absence and the stinging, surging heat on my butt at once.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to do it?” Mommy asked.
“I’m sure,” David said. He stared off into the distance.
“Then why don’t I take care of bath time,” Mommy said. “That’s every Saturday night, right?”
David sighed. Gwen will balk. Not that she doesn’t like you, it’s just—”
“That’s usually a special time for the two of you,” Mommy said. “I get it. Tubbies are special for us, too. But I bet it would be a good bonding opportunity for the two of us. Get things off on a better foot, you know?”
“Hhhhhmm,” David said.
“Rian needs a bath too. He’s all sweaty. And he smells like pee.”
“Hey!” I said. They were probably right, but I didn’t like them talking about me as if I wasn’t there.
“No kidding. Nearly knocked me over when I pulled down his diaper.” David chuckled. “Gwen can’t be much better. Hard to avoid in this hot weather.”
“Well, if we don’t want our home smelling like a nursery with two little soggy bunbuns running around it sounds like round of baths is in order.”
He seemed to relax. “That’d be great, hon. Thanks. I’m gonna go babysit these clowns before they put the stand mixer in the sauna.”
Mommy got up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips. “Lucky for us, you’re a fantastic babysitter.”
His hand reached down and squeezed her butt, pulling her close to him. “You know it.”
She giggled. A special kind of giddy giggle I hadn’t heard in…I didn’t know how long. Since the first year or two of our marriage? On our honeymoon? Not the same giggle as when we had tickle fights. Or wiped out sledding down Baxter’s Hill. Or painted each other’s faces. I liked that silly giggle, but sometimes I missed the giddy one, too.
“Before you put them in the bath, let’s take care of that other thing,” David said.
“Oh. Yeah. Of course.” She glanced at me.
“You haven’t told him, have you?”
“Told me what?” I asked.
Mommy winced. “We’ve just been busy with packing, and there are all of these changes and he struggles with…”
“Alright, well, I’ll handle it,” David said.
I slid off the bed and stood up, looking back and forth between the two of them. “What are you talking about?”
David opened a drawer in the nightstand and withdrew a small, black box. He opened it up and set the top aside. I couldn’t quite see inside of it. David stared me down. “I think you’re learning that I believe in boundaries. Clearly established and consistently enforced. So everyone understands their role. Their place in the household. And in this household we have one diaperboy and one man. Do you understand?”
I shrugged, not wanting to talk about this. “I mean. I guess.”
He shook his head. “That’s not going to cut it.” He walked over, box in hand, and stood in front of me. I looked at the ground.
“Look at me. Rian?” He put a finger under my chin and directed my eyes up toward his. “This isn’t punishment. You’re not in trouble. This is for your own good. I need you to understand that. But even if you can’t understand it, you will accept it. You might still have your boy bits between your legs, but they aren’t for sex anymore. Those days are long in the past.”
I glanced over at Mommy. She sat on the bed watching all of this with an expression I couldn’t quite interpret.
David gripped my chin and directed my focus back to him. “Look at me when I’m talking to you. I’m taking care of your Mommy’s grownup needs now. You’re not her man anymore, you’re her baby boy. Do you understand that? So the only thing you need that tiny nub between your legs for is soaking your diapers.”
I tried to twist away, but he held my chin tight. “I have something to help you remember your place in our little family. Something to make sure you don’t get any silly ideas about being a big man ever again.” He released my chin and held the box in front of my face. On a white satin cushion sat a baby-blue chastity cage.
One of my recent stories on Ream is Life Within the Lines:
"On the first day of Public Speaking 201, Nolan Doener just wants to pass as normal: hide the elastic-waist jeans, keep the crinkle quiet, survive a three-minute 'what I did this summer' speech, and start fresh. Then his lie lands with a thud. "
The next chapter of The Regression Center is available for FREE to followers on Ream right now. It's a far easier way to read the entire story so far than on Tumblr.
If you don't feel like visiting Ream and don't mind waiting, the chapter will be published here this weekend, too.
Hey there!
I have a question. since another great story has come to a close with
Baptized in Baby Powder: Chapter 10. When can we expect new chapters of the regression center. I really want to know how it continues :<.
Kind regards!
Happy to hear folks are still excited to read The Regression Center. I'm going to work on the next chapter this coming week, so you'll get an update on Tyler's descent into babyhood soon...
Note: This story features consenting adult characters and is intended for a mature, 18+ audience only.
In 7th grade, I tried out for the baseball team. I was well past the age when most kids tried out for the first time. If you were at all interested in playing—or had parents who pushed you into sports—you’d have made it on a team long before then, even if you sat on the bench most of the time. I had only a vague understanding of the rules and couldn’t have named a single professional team or player if my life depended on it. Andrew, my stepfather, didn’t approve. Sports were a distraction from academics. Or so he said.
Then, I saw The Sandlot late one night on USA, and I put my name on the signup list the next day. I didn’t care about baseball itself; it was the group of rough-and-tumble friends all hanging out and having adventures together. That life was so different than my isolated experience in school and increasingly strict, sheltered home life that I couldn’t not try out.
And that’s how I found myself on second base on day one of tryouts, watching what I later learned was called a ‘pop fly’ plummet towards my face like an asteroid. I held the glove up like Coach Nelson had shown me to, but I knew—I knew—that it’d miss and smash my face. Still, I couldn’t look away. Couldn’t move. I just watched the ball grow larger until it cratered into my face like a meteor, breaking my nose and ending my 45-minute career as a baseball player with a trip to the school nurse and I round of ‘I told you sos’ from Andrew.
Gwen screaming was like that. It didn’t just happen. She wound up for what seemed more like minutes than seconds, sucking in lungfuls of air, face turning red, brow knit, fists clenched at her waist, then she let loose. She howled like some demon-possessed person from a horror movie, the sound cutting into my eardrums worse than any jackhammer or airhorn.
“Sorry!” I said. “I’m sorry!” I wasn’t really sorry. Not even a little. She’d been a jerk and pushed and pushed and pushed. But I needed to make this stop. The two workers looked at each other. The older of the two, a guy with a handlebar mustache, said, “You okay, uh, lady?”
She glared at him and screamed even louder as if she were pissed he’d dare ask. And that’s when I realized that this was all a performance. Sure, she was annoyed with me. Maybe even angry. But she was putting on a show.
Mommy burst into the room first. She had a clothes hanger in one hand and a dress draped over her shoulder. Thank god. I could explain to her what happened. She’d take my side. See that I hadn’t done anything but stand up for myself. “What happened? Rian?”
“Nothing!” I said, having to shout to be heard over the wailing. “We were just talking and then...”I gestured at the scene playing out in front of us.
She looked at me, eyes wide, then shook her head in disbelief.
Gwen gulped in air for the next cry and then let loose again.
Mommy put her hands up as if she meant to hug her or touch or something, thought better of it, then dropped them to her sides. “Gwen, is there…?”
David arrived a moment later. He crossed the room in two strides, nearly hip-checking me as he passed. “Jellybean? What’s the matter?” He glared at me. “Did someone hurt you?”
“I didn’t do anything! I swear!”
“He screamed at me and told me to shut up,” Gwen said. Her lip quivered. “And he used a naughty word.”
Was this all a show or was she really that upset? I started to doubt my earlier assessment. If this was a show, she was a fantastic actor. “I didn’t scream,” I mumbled. That was true. It was more of a shout. And not nearly as loud as her tantrum, in any case.
“Rian,” Mommy chided, “you know better than that. We don’t scream at people. Ever. Especially not your new sister.”
I felt like she’d hit me. She was taking Gwen’s side in this? And ‘sister’? Gross. What was that about? She wasn’t my sister; she was the roommate they’d foisted on me.
I cleared my throat. “But she told me…” Everyone turned toward me. Mommy’s eyes wide. David’s narrowed to slits. Gwen’s red and puffy. I trailed off. Nothing I could say would explain this away. They’d all made up their minds that I was the bad guy here. Even Mommy. “Nevermind.”
David wrapped Gwen in a hug. “It’ll be okay. I’m sure Rian is sorry. Isn’t he?”
Gwen peeked around her daddy’s arms, her red, swollen eyes glinting. Was that smug satisfaction or was I imagining things? Mommy joined the hug, wrapping her arms around the two of them, then looked over her shoulder at me, eyebrows raised. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”
“Sorry,” I said quietly. “For yelling.”
Not screaming.
“I was scared,” Gwen said, voice muffled by the two bodies holding her close. “I thought…I dunno.”
“You don’t have to explain,” Mommy said. “No one likes being yelled at, do they? But I think anger hits little girls especially hard. When my old…partner, well, when he was upset he’d shout sometimes and it hurt so much, but it also made me scared about what else he might do.”
The way she hesitated over ‘partner’ was odd. Like she’d almost said something else. We’d never talked much about Jake if that’s who she meant. She’d said he was an asshole and a part of her life she’d rather leave in the past, and I accepted that. Everyone had a bad ex or two. I certainly did. “I’m sorry,” I said again. “I was just upset about the LEGOs and…whatever.”
The group hug ended. Finally. Maybe we could go back to unpacking now.
“I’m happy to hear you say you’re sorry,” David said.
“Uh-huh.” I nodded vigorously, ready to move on.
“But,” he continued, raising a finger, “that doesn’t mean there aren’t consequences for your actions. I don’t know how Amara handle things like this in your old home. But here in my house, we punish bad behavior.”
My stomach twisted into a knot.
Mommy nodded solemnly. “I will take care of it.”
David shook his head. “Keep unpacking. Rian and I will settle this between the two of us. Important to get things off on the right foot. Establish some boundaries and expectations.”
Mommy looked at me, concern in her eyes. I shook my head slightly, willing her to refuse. To insist that she’d take care of it. Anything would be better than him spanking me. She turned her gaze to him and smiled faintly. “Okay.”
“But, but—” I stammered.
She gave me a side hug. “You can come help me unpack when you’re done. We can talk about your blocks then, okay?”
I shook my head. “No. I…”
But she was already leaving. Leaving me here alone. With them. With him.
David put a hand on my back. “Come on. Best get this over with.”
***
David sat on a stool in the middle of the living room, hands resting on his thighs. “Do you know why I’m punishing you?”
“Huh?” Two minutes ago, we’d been upstairs, hashing it all out. Did he think I’d forgotten or that I was so incredibly dense I didn’t understand why everyone was pissed?
“Do you know why I’m punishing you?” he repeated. “It’s important you know that it’s not because I’m angry.”
It occurred to me that I didn’t need to stand here and listen to him talk down to me like I was a moron. I could walk away. Hell, I could walk out the front door if I wanted to. The thought was jarring: I hadn’t experienced this level of self-doubt in years. Sure, sometimes I’d wonder if I was making a big mistake. Like when my high school pal Maro reached out and invited me on a week-long camping trip in the Poconos and I had to turn him down. How would I explain the diapers, which I legitimately needed at that point, to him and the other guys? Or when I saw other people moving forward and starting families. When we were out at a restaurant or the park or a movie and saw a couple on a date and I remembered what that was like. What it was like to have Mommy on my arm, looking at me with those smiling eyes. What it was like to take her home afterward and fuck half the night.
“Rian, look at me,” David said. He put an index finger under my chin and brought my eyes to his. “You like this life with your mommy, right? You get to be free, in a sense. And you get to be yourself.”
It was like he’d read my mind. Realized I’d been having doubts. Real, significant doubts about this whole arrangement.
I nodded.
“That’s what I thought. But you can’t just pick and choose, you know. If you want to live as a baby boy, then you need to accept guidance and correction along with the toys and the bathtimes and the fun stuff.”
“Okay.”
“Amara—your mommy—is an incredible woman. She’s so strong. She does so much for other people. And she’s smart as hell, too.”
“I know that,” I said defensively. “She’s my wife.” I hadn’t called her that in a while, but it was true. She was my wife, not his.
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that really the word that best describes her role in your life? ‘Wife?’”
I shrugged.
He sighed. “She’s been stretched thin for a long time,” he continued. “Too busy trying to keep you both afloat to give you everything you need. Give you the correction you need. To remind you where the boundaries are and punish you when you’ve crossed them.”
That wasn’t true. At least, I didn’t think it was. Sure, I rarely got spanked anymore, but that was just because I didn’t break the rules.
“It’s okay if you don’t understand me yet. You will.” He patted his lap. “Lie down.”
I sucked in a deep breath. When Mommy spanked me, I knew what to expect. How hard she’d hit. How many swats. This would be different. I laid my chest against his firm thighs. He smelled like aftershave—not at all like Mommy’s lavender body lotion. Even when she spanked me, the smell of her was comforting. And I knew she’d hold me afterwards and rub my back.
He put a hand on the front of my diaper and pulled free one of the tapes. The diaper loosened and he tugged down the rear waistband so my cheeks were exposed to the air.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Can we—”
His bare hand hit without warning.
SMACK!
I flinched, my feet instinctively pushing against the floor to move out of the way. He readjusted me, pulling me forward so only my toes connected with the floor. “Don’t move or this will only be worse,” he said.
SMACK!
SMACK!
SMACK!
SMACK!
Each swat seemed harder than the last. I closed my eyes and balled my fists, and imagined myself in my happy place. It’d be over soon. It had to be. Didn’t it?
Some pamperbutts learn things the hard way, don't they? Read Johnny's story on Ream:
"Saturday mornings used to mean golf. Now they mean cartoons, diapers, and a blanket he isn’t allowed to leave. Visiting friends who’ve fully embraced a mommy/baby lifestyle, Johnny tells himself this is temporary: just roleplay, just for Adele, just until things calm down. But rules have a way of multiplying, especially when everyone else seems comfortable enforcing them. As a small rebellion spirals into public discipline, Johnny is forced to confront what this new structure really offers: humiliation, certainty, and a strange kind of peace. Caught between the man he was and the boy everyone else already sees, he must decide whether to keep fighting or finally let go."
Note: This story features consenting adult characters and is intended for a mature, 18+ audience only.
The driveway up to David’s house—our new house, Mommy would correct me—was long and winding. Longer than the street our house was on. Our old house. The drive snaked up a steep hill with sugar maples, oaks, white pines, and a smattering of boulders and ferns on either side. It all looked tidy and curated. Like someone trimmed the dead branches and raked the leaves. The scent of pine needles and fresh air drifted in through the vents. Which was fine, I guess. Some people really liked that. But I was going to miss the smell of tandoori chicken from Muna’s when the wind picked up, and the chlorine from Jim and Margaret’s pool next door, and even the diesel fumes from the odd truck that rumbled by.
After a few minutes, we rounded a bend, and the house came into view. The dark brown and gray building sat up on a rise, looking down on the valley below. I couldn’t see too clearly with the house in the way, but the view must have been at least twenty miles. Maybe more. You could see a sliver of Merritsville below, and the city of Clarion beyond that. Somewhere in that city was home. Our real home.
David parked the car. “Here we are. Home sweet home.”
I’d expected something big because David obviously had money. He drove a nice car. Two nice cars, actually. Sometimes he picked up Mommy in a silver Porsche Cayenne with spotless leather seats, and other times in an Audi that still had that new car smell, which is what he drove us in today. He was always talking about business deals, to Mommy and on the phone, though I didn’t pay close attention to the details. He’d get all excited and pace back and forth, or talk over the top of her at dinner, and I’d tune out and play Castle Crashers on my Switch or shop for LEGO sets on my phone.
Still, the house surprised me. It wasn’t so much that it was massive—though it was—it was that it looked like it could be a Frank Lloyd Wright design. There was something about how the shape and colors just fit with the hill and the woods and the whole area that reminded me of Falling Water or Taliesin.
Mommy turned in her seat and squeezed my knee. “What do you think, baby?” Her eyes danced with excitement. She wanted me to like it. To be as elated as she was. “We won’t be cramped in here, will we?”
“It’s nice,” I said. It wouldn’t be cozy, either. And it wouldn’t be just the two of us.
I looked around the front yard and driveway. We weren’t the only ones here. A moving truck was parked out front, and a small army of burly, uniformed workers hauled boxes of our stuff to the front door, like a row of ants. Someone lifted my oak rocking horse—Sir Percival—out of the back of the truck. The worker said something to one of his colleagues, and they both laughed and shook their heads.
I slumped down into the seat.
“What’s the matter?” Mommy asked. “Are you leaking?”
“He’s not getting pee on the seat, is he?” David asked. “That’s Spanish leather.”
I shook my head.
She pursed her lips. “Alright. Give me five things.”
I shrugged and looked out the window again.
“Right now, mister.”
I ignored her.
She sighed. “Okay, well, if you can’t give me five, then David will help out.” She turned to him. “When Rian is feeling anxious or sad, we like to come up with five things to be excited about together. I think he’s a bit anxious about the big move, so maybe you can help him come up with five things to be excited about?”
“Sure thing,” David said. “Why don’t you start unpacking your clothes. I’ll show Rian around his new home.”
She beamed and pecked him on the cheek. “Fantastic. See you soon, sweetstuff,” she said to me. Before I could tell her I’d rather come with her to help unpack, she was out of the car and bounding up the slate steps two at a time toward the house, skirt swirling around her legs and hair streaming behind her.
“Alright, bud, let’s check things out, huh?” David asked. “Important you get the lay of the land. You’re going to love it.”
I climbed out of the car and followed him across the lawn, past fragrant, neatly manicured garden beds and weird, ornamental trees that looked like they could’ve been from an alien planet, to the back of the house. Or maybe it was the front. I couldn’t tell. A big deck jutted from the house. The lawn was flat for a bit, then sloped steeply downward into the forest. I stopped and took it all in. Between the deck and the forest was a huge wooden playground set, more like the kind you saw at a public park than at someone’s house. Even from here, I could smell the distinct odor of cedar baking in the blazing summer sun.
Next to the playground was a sandbox filled to the edges with dunes of golden sand and several massive, adult-sized ride-on construction vehicles. A stone pathway led from the playground area down to a pool area, and what looked like a jacuzzi. Tim would love this place. I’d have to have him over for a playdate soon.
“How many things does this count as right here? That get you to your full five?” David asked with a chuckle. “At least a few, right?”
I shrugged.
He pointed at the pool area. “Couple of rules about the pool. You can only use it if you’ve already had a messy diaper that day. And swim diapers are a must. Not the disposable kind, either. The heavy-duty rubber ones. I’ll get you one if you don’t have one already.”
That seemed kinda silly. I never had messy accidents. I mean, everything came out in my diaper. I hadn’t used a toilet in years. For anything. But messing wasn’t an accident. I was never surprised to find a stinky pile in the seat of my diaper. Well, almost never. But it wasn’t a hill I was going to die on. “Okay,” I said.
He pointed down the slope. “You can’t quite see it from here, but Gwen’s treehouse is just below the dip in the hill. I’m sure she’ll show you that later. So what do you think?”
I shrugged. “It’s cool.”
“That’s it? ‘It’s cool.’”
“The park by our house—”
“Your old house,” David interjected.
“The park by our old house,” I said, dragging out the ‘old,’ “was even bigger. And there were two slides. We’d meet up there for playdates every Wednesday in the summer. Mommy would bring snacks, and—”
“That was a public park. We went there together, remember? This is your own. Just for you and Gwen to enjoy whenever you want.”
“Okay.”
He frowned. “Let’s go see the rest of the house.” I followed him up onto the spacious deck and then into the house. He paused on the threshold. “Alright, we need to get you out of those shorts.”
“What?”
“House rules. Unless I say otherwise, your diaper’s gotta be exposed at all times when you’re home.”
“Why?” I asked.
He crossed his arms. “That’s not the response I was looking for. This is my house, and you will follow the rules. That’s why.”
And just like that, ‘our home’ had become ‘his house.’
He stepped closer, unbuttoned my shorts, and pulled them down. I stepped out of them when they were around my sneakers. “There you go,” he said. He put his large hand on the front of my diaper and squeezed it, mashing my parts uncomfortably.
“Hey!”
He stood up. “Diaper checks and changes happen whenever the grownups feel they should. I’m pretty sure that was already a rule in your old house.”
“That’s not how you check a wet diaper, that’s—”
“What did I just say?” He put a hand on my shoulder and spun me around, then pulled out the waistband. He followed it up with a firm pat on my butt.
Diaper checks and changes did happen at any time in our house. That was one of the first rules Mommy implemented. But she was the only one who checked my diaper. Or changed me. I was going to make sure it stayed that way.
“You’re wet, but you can wait for a change,” he said.
‘I know,’ I almost replied. I was soggy. That tight, squishy feeling I loved. Like being wrapped in a warm beanbag chair. But I wasn’t on the verge of leaking or anything. Not unless he squeezed me like that again. “Sure,” I said.
He looked like he was going to say something, pursed his lips, then stepped through the sliding glass door. I followed him into the house. We walked through room after room as he pointed things out to me. Well, more like area after area. It was an open floor plan with high ceilings and lots of empty space. I almost shouted at one point to see how much it echoed. You could practically play a volleyball game in the living room area, though it’d probably be a bad idea, considering all the clay pots, weird woven basket things, and huge, modernist oil paintings. This would be like living in a museum. And not the fun, hands-on kind.
A weird art thing sat off in a corner. A waist-high pedestal with a cow skull on top. The skull was painted in red, white, and blue stripes. Ornamental vines wrapped up around the pedestal, and there was a plaque at the bottom. It looked so out of place. I walked closer to see what the plaque inscription said.
“Don’t,” David said. There was an edge to his voice.
“I was just gonna…” I trailed off. That was fine. I could look later.
“Let’s keep going. There’s a lot more to see, and I need to get back to giving the movers directions. They keep putting kitchen stuff in the bathroom.”
Our next stop was his home office. “Off limits at all times,” he said in a stern tone. Like I wanted to go in there anyway. Then there was his music room. I caught sight of several electric guitars in stands through a sliver in the doorway. Framed concert posters hung on the wall. Rolling Stones. Pink Floyd. Led Zeppelin. “You’re only allowed in there when I’m in there,” he said. I almost told him I liked classic rock and thought better of it.
In the living room, he noted that I couldn’t sit on any of the cloth-backed furniture. “Gwen likes lying on the floor when she’s watching cartoons. I’m sure you will, too.”
My head was swimming with the rules and restrictions. They kept coming. This house was big, sure, but it wasn’t a home if I couldn’t, like, exist in it? Living in a museum was starting to sound nice—this would be more like a prison.
We walked upstairs next, down a long hallway. At the end of the hallway, I saw an open door with a massive, four-poster bed inside. That must be his bedroom. The master bedroom. Which also made it Mommy’s room. The room they slept in together. Had sex in together. I pushed those uncomfortable thoughts aside. He pointed at a room to the right. “And this is your new room,” he said. “You’re going to love it. Go ahead. Go on in.”
I stepped inside. The space was huge. Easily double the size of my old room, with bright pink walls and purple curtains that hung over the floor-to-ceiling windows, but it was stuffed with crap. There was a big white crib with the name GWEN stenciled on the headboard and a big sticker of Belle from the Disney animated Beauty and the Beast above her name. No, not a sticker—a painting. A quality one, too. And that wasn’t the only Beauty and the Beast thing in the room. The changing table was covered in stickers of all the characters from the movie—the teapot, the candle, and all.
There was a corner full of toys, including a massive wooden dollhouse that looked like the castle from the movie, including a big golden ballroom.
Where was I going to put my LEGO sets? And my SNES? My posters?
Two guys in uniform were bent over a pile of wooden pieces that I realized were my crib. One turned and looked at me; he nudged his colleague, who turned and looked too. They both snickered.
I instinctively covered my diaper with my hands. Or tried to, at least. I had grown used to people seeing me in my diapers, but always friends who shared our lifestyle. Others in diapers and their caregivers. Plus a couple of other people in our life who’d found out, like Mommy’s sister, Elisa. But never strangers. “Maybe I should come back later,” I said, backing out of the doorway.
David put his hand on his back and gently pushed me into the room. “Nope. I have some things to take care of. Gwen will show you around your new room, right, Gwen?”
I hadn’t even noticed her at first. Though once I did, I wondered how I’d missed her. She sat in one corner at a small desk with a mirror, a laptop open in front of her. She wore a vibrant yellow summer dress that poofed out at the waist. A petticoat, I think they called that? She snapped the laptop shut and turned around. She was cute. Pretty, even. All dolled up with makeup and straight blonde hair with a yellow bow on top. She wore pink and white saddle shoes. The perfect image of an adorable babygirl.
“Daddy!” she shouted.
“Heya, jellybean.”
“I was just watching this video about the new ride they are adding in Disney World. It’s going to open—”
“Sorry. I gotta get back on top of this moving stuff. I can’t wait to watch it with you later, okay?”
She nodded, then her face fell as he walked out of the room. She turned to me, scowling like I was a bit of gunk on the bottom of her shoe.
I waved awkwardly.
She stood up slowly and smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from her dress. “We’re going to have to find some other place for your LEGO sets.”
“Huh?”
She rolled her eyes and jerked her head at the pile of boxes off to one side. “Your LEGO sets? Boxes of little plastic blocks? This room is already going to be stuffed with your crib and horse and…all the other stuff.”
“I play with my LEGOS every day.”
“LEGO.” She said it slowly like I was hearing impaired. She walked over and stood right in front of me. She smelled like bubblegum. “Not ‘LEGOS.’ And you can go downstairs to play with them. A little exercise never hurt anyone.”
“Uh, I don’t think there’s any place downstairs for me to set up. Seems like all the rooms are…I dunno. For other stuff?”
“Believe it or not, Daddy and I had a whole life before you and Amara first arrived. We had rooms full of ‘other stuff.’” She flashed air quotes. “But I’m sure you can squeeze your blocks in somewhere. Maybe in the laundry room? Colette wouldn’t mind, I bet.”
“The laundry room? Look, I didn’t want to come here either. We were doing great at our old house. Our life was great. I didn’t have to squeeze anything in there.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because that’s not what I heard. I heard your mommy could barely keep up with the bills. But it doesn’t matter. Daddy decided to take you both in for some reason, so we will have to make it work.”
“That’s not true. Mommy has a great job.”
“Oh yeah? Like you’d have any idea. Look at your stained shirt. Greasy hair. And that sagging diaper is going to leak all over my floor.”
I laughed in shock. Who did she think she was? She was in diapers too, I knew. And my hair and shirt were dirty because I’d been helping clean up at our old house all morning. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the two workers turn around to watch the spectacle. I knew I should back off. Let it go. But I couldn’t. “This is a Crinkle Crusher. I pointed at the stylized T-Rex on the front of my diaper. It’ll hold—” I lowered my voice so the workers couldn’t hear “—like five heavy wettings.”
She giggled and held a hand to her mouth. “Five heavy wettings? As if you aren’t constantly dribbling like a leaky hose.” She held up her pinky finger, curled over, and made a couple of wet raspberries, twitching her finger when she did.
Pssstt!
Pssstt!
She shrugged. “Royal Rumps are the only diapers worth wearing. You should throw that garbage in the bin and switch to a real diaper today. You can wear one of mine. If it fits.” She gave me an appraising look, pausing for a moment on my tummy.
“I wouldn’t be caught dead in Royal Rumps! Such a stupid name. Like an actual toddler came up with it. And the tapes suck.” The tapes didn’t suck, but the name sure was stupid.
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m going to tell Daddy you have to wear them.”
“He’s not in charge of me.”
“Oh, no? If you don’t do what he says, he’ll take you over his knee and paddle you raw.” She shrugged, and a sly smile crept across her face. “Come to think of it, that sounds wonderful. I’d love to see you wail like a little brat.”
“Stop it.” I felt the anger building inside me.
She put her hands up to her eyes and twisted them around. “Wah! Wah!”
“Just stop it.”
“I bet you get all red-faced when you’re spanked.”
“Stop. Talking.”
“Probably cry a lot and kick your feet around, huh?” She laughed.
“Shut! Up!” I screamed. “Just shut your stupid fucking face!”
If you're enjoying this story, you might also like No Running, No Diving, No Dignity on Ream:
"Ethan’s plan was supposed to be simple: impress Chloe at the community pool and land a date before the square dance. Instead, a harsh lifeguard and a single bad choice turn all of that on its head. It’s a long, hot summer ahead, and Ethan’s about to learn that some humiliations don’t wash off."
Rian's New Sister - Ch. 1 - The Perfect Little Village
Note: This story features consenting adult characters and is intended for a mature, 18+ audience only.
Rian's New Sister is a complete, fifty-nine-chapter story on Ream. I'm going to release the first several chapters here on Tumblr. But if you want to read the whole story now, along with TONS of other stories, check out the All4theDips Ream.
Mommy was gonna be so frickin’ proud.
I clicked the final gray block into place on the castle wall and stepped back to admire the scene: the perfect, complete medieval village with castles and knights and wagons and a dragon. Just as I’d imagined it as a kid. My eye caught the blank patch of green LEGO base on the sprawling table. Well, nearly complete. I’d almost given up on finding the King’s Castle set, the only one remaining from the '80s and '90s sets I’d grown up with.
“Mommy,” I called out.
The house was silent but for the ticking of the clock downstairs.
“Mommy!” I called again, louder this time. Then I remembered she was out. With him. At a new Italian restaurant or something like that. Or were they going to Rogers Park? I looked up at the clock. Either way, she should be back by now. She couldn’t be spending the night at his house or she would’ve sent Lisa over to babysit me. And more importantly, it was Saturday: we always watched a movie together on Saturday. I felt a flutter of anxiety. Had she forgotten?
I heard footsteps on the stairs, then Mommy was standing in the doorway to my nursery, a glass of red wine in her hand. She was dressed up in a long black evening dress that sparkled a bit in the light. Her dark hair was up in an elaborate hairdo with a long pin stuck through it, and she wore bright red lipstick and strappy high heels. “Hey, sweetstuff.”
The tension dissipated. “I finished it!” I said, pointing at the newest addition to my little city.
“Will you look at that,” she said. “Nice work.”
She smiled, and I felt that warm glow in my chest.
“Have you come up with a name for it yet? For your little town, I mean.”
I shook my head. I’d name it when it was complete. When I added the King’s Castle.
She walked across the room, her heels clicking on the wood floor, and stood next to me. She smelled like lavender perfume and alcohol. Like date night. “This is the new one, right?” she asked, pointing at the castle I’d just finished.
I nodded. “This was the first set I ever got. For Christmas when I was six.”
“Lots of good memories, I bet.”
I grabbed the two sides of the castle and opened it wide, displaying the interior rooms. “The dungeon has a secret entrance right here. And you see this? It’s the armory.” I pointed at the rack of swords and halberds on the wall of the armory. I’d had to buy those separately, as they were missing from the set I found on eBay.
She reached down and squeezed the back of my diaper. “Looking a bit droopy there.”
I shrugged. “I’m not leaking.”
“Famous last words,” she said with a chuckle.
I surveyed the LEGO table and the row of coastline base pieces I’d just added. “Gonna start adding pirates now, I guess.”
“Still no luck online with the King’s Castle?”
I shook my head.
“Maybe we can try the flea market by David’s house this weekend. What do you think about that, David?”
I startled. “He’s here?”
I heard the bathroom door open down the hall, and a moment later, David stepped into my room. He always reminded me of Ted Danson. Younger Danson, like when he was on Cheers. He even had the same smirky smile. He held a tumbler of something dark brown in one hand. The other hand was tucked behind his back. He was tall and lean. Strong, but not all bulgy like those guys that live at the gym. ‘A swimmer’s body,’ Mommy called it. When I reminded her I was a good swimmer, she’d called me her ‘seal pup.’ I knew I’d put on some weight over the last three years and worried that might be part of the reason she called me that, but I liked the nickname anyway. Seal pups were cute.
“Hey, bud,” David said. “Looks like you’ve had a fun evening.”
I turned to Mommy. “He’s not staying, is he? You didn’t say he was spending the night. I thought we were gonna watch Inside Out and have popcorn and Sour Patch.” Movie night was my favorite. We always had snacks and cuddled in Mommy’s bed. Sometimes I even spent the night in there with her, if I fell asleep during the movie. And tonight felt like an extra celebration, after finishing the castle.
“Don’t be silly. I wouldn’t miss out on movie night with my favorite baby boy,” she said.
I glared, still feeling annoyed that no one had told me he’d be coming over. Mommy gently pinched my chin and brought my gaze around to hers. Her light blue eyes stared into mine. “Hey, remember your manners, okay?”
Just a few feet behind me in the nursery was my spanking bench and row of paddles. I nodded. “Hey,” I said to David.
Mommy smiled. “There’s my good boy. Now, I think he has a little something for you.”
For me? He’d brought Mommy plenty of gifts. Especially when they first started spending time together a couple of years ago. Roses. A necklace. Boxes of clothes I never saw her wear, which made me wonder if they were for the bedroom. But he’d never gotten me anything, aside from a hot dog and ice cream at the Badgers game that one time. And tickets to the zoo. And the aquarium. And that remote control car last Christmas.
“Is it a teddy bear?” I asked warily. Everyone who knew about Mommy and me, about our special relationship, thought I needed a teddy bear. Mommy said that was the template they had to work with—little ones like teddy bears. And I did like teddy bears. And plenty of other stuffies. But I only needed so many. David should know better, though, right? He had his own little girl. And Mommy would’ve told him I had plenty of bears.
David chuckled. “I saw that massive pile of stuffies last time I was here. Looks like you’re all set on the ursine front.”
“Last time?” I didn’t remember him coming into my room…ever.
“Your mommy was all tuckered out after a, uh, long night.” They both shared a glance, and he chuckled. “I knew she hadn’t changed you when we got back from dinner, so I decided to make sure you weren’t leaking while she rested.”
“What? I didn’t know that!” He’d come into my nursery and checked my diaper? What if it had needed to be changed? That was Mommy’s job and no one else’s. Not even the other mommies at playgroup would change me. Had he touched my diaper? Stuck a finger in the leg hole like Mommy did sometimes?
“You were a bit soggy, but nothing that couldn’t wait until morning.”
“No one else changes me,” I said. I glared at Mommy.
“Your babysitter, Lisa?” Mommy asked.
I shrugged. That was different. She was a babysitter. That was half her job.
“And Miss Meredith that time you had a blowout at the park? Or how about Miss Karoline when you slept over at Tim’s house? Or—”
I blushed. “Okay, but, I didn’t know he did it. You should’ve told me first.”
“What do I always say?” Mommy asked.
I looked at the floor.
“Rian?” her tone had an edge to it. She rarely got angry with me. Not really angry, at least.
“Little boys in diapers don’t get to say who checks and changes their diapers,” I mumbled.
“That’s right,” she said. “You’re lucky to have a loving mommy. But we’re also lucky to have friends that support us. Friends like David.”
I looked at him again. He stood patiently, the hint of a smile on his face. He wasn’t my ‘friend.’ And I’m not sure he counted as Mommy’s ‘friend,’ either. Not without something else tacked on to that word. But at least he hadn’t actually changed me. That’d just be weird.
“So, do you want your present, or should I give it to someone else?” he asked.
“I’d like it,” I said. “Please,” I added a moment later.
He pulled his arm from behind his back and held out a LEGO set.
“Woah! Skull’s Eye Schooner!”
He chuckled. “Indeed. Your mommy deserves the credit for telling me about it, though. You’re a lucky lil’ fella.”
“Where did you find it? How?” It was nowhere near as rare as the King’s Castle, but still one of the harder sets to find. While looking for the King’s Castle, I’d been watching for this one, too. I knew it’d be hard to find, so every time I pawed through musty old junk at yard sales and flea markets I kept an eye out for it, hoping I’d see the telltale yellow box under a pile of tupperware or beneath a stack of flannel shirts.
“My friend Chris owns a company that organizes estate sales. He put the word out, and sure enough, it popped up in Des Moines. This old guy had copies of almost every set LEGO ever put out, he said. Bit of a hoarder.” He held the box out, and I took it.
It was opened but in mint condition, which probably meant all the pieces were there. Anyone who took such good care of the box probably didn’t lose pieces. I brought it over to the table and carefully opened it, admiring the bags of bricks—taped closed with blue painter’s tape—and minifigs. The assembly manual was as thick as my thumb, with page after page of glossy, full-color instructions. I flipped to the first page.
Mommy put a hand on my back. “Maybe don’t put that together quite yet, okay? Why don’t we save it until tomorrow? Or maybe after…”
“Right,” David said. “After might be best.”
“After what? It’s 878 pieces,” I said. I held up the manual, showing her how thick it was. “I need to get started or it’ll never be done.”
“Bud,” David said. He walked over to my other side and put a hand on my shoulder. “We have some exciting news.”
I shrugged his hand off and pointed at the bag of minifigures and weapons. “See all these cannons? Some of them sit on little turntable things that slide around. It’s frickin’ awesome.”
“Rian,” Mommy said, “did you hear David? We have some exciting news.”
I reluctantly set the bag down and turned to face him. “Are we going back to the zoo? The monkeys were hiding last time, remember? Maybe this time they’ll be out.”
“No, not the zoo.”
“Oh.” I turned to look at the set. Maybe I could start working on it while he was talking.
“There will be plenty more zoo trips together, I promise. But that’s not what this is about.”
A knot of anxiety formed in my stomach. I turned to Mommy. “What’s going on?”
She smiled, but I could see the worry on her face. She squeezed my hand. “Rian, David and I have decided that it would be best, if, um…”
“What?” I asked. “Just say it.”
“I’ve decided that you and Amara are going to move in with Gwen and me,” David finished for her.
“Move in, like…out of this house? What about my LEGOS? And all of my other stuff? I like this house.” We’d bought it together, back when I was working. Almost our whole life together had been here.
“Oh, sweetness, of course, we will move all of your stuff with us. David and Gwen’s home will be your home too, and you can make the space your own.”
Daddy cleared his throat.
“You’ll be sharing a room at first,” Mommy added, “but we’ll get you settled in your own room soon enough.”
I frowned. “I thought you liked sleeping in your own space and having the whole bed to stretch out and not get kicked. Or having the plastic cover on the mattress. That’s what you always say.”
David chuckled. “She’ll be sleeping with me, bud. And I don’t think we’ll be needing a bedwetting cover on the mattress. You and Gwen will share a room. She has a big nursery. I’m sure she’ll love the company.”
I knew he was sleeping with Mommy, of course. I’d reluctantly agreed to that years ago. She’d made it clear she had grownup needs I couldn’t meet anymore. And I was okay with it. Mostly. Usually, I didn’t have to think about it. But if we were all living in the same house, that’d be different. I’d have to see him touching her. Kissing her. Squeezing her butt, like that one time in the entryway when they didn’t know I was watching.
And then there was Gwen. I’d only met her once, but she’d told me I had pudding on my shirt. That was the first thing she’d said. Not even hello. She was right, there was a big glob of chocolate pudding on my Transformers shirt, but what was I supposed to do about it? And why did she care?
“I don’t want to share a room,” I said. “I like my room. I like my stuff.”
“I know you do,” Mommy said. “But this will be best for everyone. David has a big house with lots of fun stuff. And I know you and Gwen are going to get along famously. Please just give it a chance, for me?”
She had that look on her face. Eyes kinda wide. Lips pursed. Like she was worried I’d say no or throw a fit or something. I wondered what she’d do if I did say no. Would we move anyway? But I couldn’t do that. I’d at least try. I owed her that. And we’d agreed long ago that she made the big decisions. And most of the small ones, too.
I nodded.
The worried expression disappeared, replaced by her biggest smile. The kind that dimpled her cheeks and made her eyes shine. She wrapped me in a big hug and whispered in my ear. “Thank you, baby. I love you soooooo much.”
“I love you too,” I said back, “more than anything.” I meant it, of course. I’d do just about anything to make her happy. But saying the words—and feeling them—did nothing to loosen the knot in my stomach. Everything was going to change.
