a place to post my crinkliest daydreams. Male upper 20s. All stories are NSFW and only include adult main characters that are 18+. that being said, if you're under 18, please DO NOT ENTER.
The sound of little socked feet pitter-pattering down the hallway tickled your ears and you couldn’t help but grin.
This was practically routine for her.
Ever since you two had started this dynamic, she was generally open-minded to all of the changes in her life: the diapers, highchairs, binkies, and bottles. But, there was one thing she struggled with.
Bedtime.
Her bedtime was 8:00 p.m. sharp, sometimes earlier if she missed her nap. You wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between her and an actual toddler upset about going to sleep before the sun was even down.
Eventually, she settled in with her early bedtime, finding herself getting sleepy earlier and earlier. You check your watch, ten-fifteen. You sigh, you suppose you should feel lucky, she normally never lasts this long.
You can see her messy little bedhead peeking out from behind the wall from the corner of your eye, trying your hardest not to blow your cover and let her know you see her.
She finally steps out from her hiding spot and into full view. You finally turn and allow yourself to take in the situation you're in. Her nini diaper is considerably soggier than when you put her down for bed, drooping low between her legs, her wetness indicator a bright blue, stars long gone.
Clutched in her right arm was her trusty unicorn, oatmeal, and her other hand was shyly fidgeting with her duckie sleep shirt. Wet little suckles of her Binkie sound off rhythmically throughout the room, that and the low tone of the television all that could be heard in the otherwise silent room.
“What are you doing awake little one?”
You ask, outstretching your arms to her. She toddles her way into them without hesitation. You engulf her in a hug as she settles her little bedhead on your chest.
The smell of baby powder and tinkle fills your nose and you chuckle.
“I can’t sleep,”
She whispers into your chest, her words lisped slightly due to her Binkie. You sigh, rolling your eyes a bit, you’re tired but you nonetheless stand up, bringing your little one up with you in your arms. Her diaper squished into your side and you cringe—no wonder she’s awake.
She’s in desperate need of a diaper change.
You make your way to her nursery as she squirms and whines in your arms, shaking her head no. Little whines in protest fill your ears.
It’s way too late for a tantrum.
“Sh sh sh,”
You soothe. “Daddy is just bringing you to get you in a fresh diaper, doesn’t that sound nice? Being all cozy and clean?” You try to reason with your over-tired, overgrown, toddler. After a moment of thought, she gingerly nods.
Tantrum averted, thank the world.
You open the door to the nursery, the nightlight lighting up the room subtly, you flick on the overhead light and make your way to the changing table, laying your little one down. She blushed, this was another thing she wasn’t quite used to.
You can’t help but smile as she looks anywhere but you, hugging her unicorn tightly to her chest. The telltale hissing came from her diaper as she nervously peed herself in front of you.
“Uh oh, is my little girl going potty for Daddy? I think she is! Oh yes she is!”
You can’t help but tease her as you tickle the exposed part of her tummy. She wiggles and squirms beneath you, giggling sleepily as she rubs one of her tired little eyes.
“Dadddddy”
She whines, her Binkie falling from her mouth. You promptly back off, not wanting to rile up the little one right before you put her back down for bed. You gather the supplies from under the changing table, grabbing one of her extra thick night diapers, not wanting to do this whole diaper change thing again until morning.
You swiftly untape her well-loved diaper that’s snuggly fastened to her hips, earning a little whine from her but no further protest. After warming up the wipes in your hands you promptly wipe your little girls out of use big girl parts clean of any mess she may have made in her sleep.
Before she knew it, you had her little legs lifted in the air as you were sliding a new, thicker diaper under her tush, praying this one would last this time. As you're taping this one up on her hips you know it’s time to tuck her back in.
“Okay, baby, back to bed with you.” You say as you lift your little one off the table.
She moans in protest. “But daddy! M no seepy!” She says defiantly, huffing a bit as her little feet land on the plush carpet. As tired as you are, you can’t help but entertain her.
“Oh, you're not? Then what do you suppose we do, little one?”
Her eyes light up at your inquiry. She jumps up and down, clapping excitedly. “Oh oh oh! I know, daddy!” She shouts,
“We could build a fort, Daddy!”
How could you say no to her?
Thirty minutes later, your little one's room had basically thrown up on your bed.
After she begged and pleaded with you, you agreed to let her sleep with you for the rest of the night after making your fort. Co-sleeping wasn’t something you typically allowed—she tended to get a little too big for her britches whenever she slept with you for too many nights in a row.
But tonight was a rare late-night exception.
Purple and pink blankets were draped around your bed frame, making the perfect canopy for you and your little one. Fairy lights danced through the inside, and of course, all of her stuffies were invited.
But your personal favorite stuffie, was the one with the bed head, passed out in the middle of the bed, thumb in her mouth, with stars missing from her diaper.
Have you ever been on my blog and just wanted to find some ddlg or mdlg captions, but didn't want to wade through mdlb captions?
You're in luck! Now you don't have to. I put them all here in this post.
At least I think so. All the important ones are here for sure.
I labeled them as DDlg, MDlg, or M+D for both Mommy and Daddy doms.
And put a brief description of the caption. Anything with Cuckquean is labeled, as some love it, while others hate it.
The Chilies are a humiliation measurement. Five chilies means you want pure humiliation. One chili means it's a sweeter, loving caption. Squirmies can be found at every chili level.
Anyway, like this so you can always find what you're looking for.
Katie and her mother were out running errands and ended up stopping by the mall to do some shopping afterwards. Despite her pleading that she could be trusted to wear a pull-up, Katie's mom decided that it would be easier for everyone if Katie wore one of the new diapers that they got a couple days ago.
"Mom, please. It was just one accident...why can't I just wear my pull-ups like I always do? I don't want to wear a diaper out in public."
"We talked about this already Katie. The doctor recommended that we try out diapers for a couple weeks since your bladder control has decreased each visit since this all started a few months ago.
I'm sure you won't need the extra protection, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. Remember how embarrassed you were when your pull-up leaked in front of your little sisters last week? I don't want that to happen when we are out shopping."
"That's not fair! The only reason why I leaked was because Naomi took too long in the bathroom when my pull-up was already wet!"
"That's all the more reason to wear some extra protection today. And if you do good today,! promise to let you wear your pull-ups from here on out if you don't have anymore accidents. I tried to pick out a cute design that makes them look and feel more like the panties you use to wear, but l think they sent me the wrong pack, here try them on."
"MOM! These look like actual baby diapers! Why are they Sesame Street themed?? 'm not wearing an ELMO DIAPER in public! I'm 19 years old, I'm not a toddler like you and everyone else seem to believe!"
"Oh stop it. It's not like anyone will even see them, they look cute! Now put some pants on and let's go."
After a couple stops around the town, Katie felt her morning coffee start to tingle in her bladder.
She tried to hold it but her bladder immediately gave out as she took a sigh of relief and relaxed into her seat as they were driving towards the mall parking lot.
"Uh oh, I know that face. It's a good thing you are wearing your cute Elmo diapers today!" Her mom joked as she swiftly pulled down the front of Katie's yoga pants.
"MOM! What are you doing?!"
"I want to show you how the wetness indicator works so you can check to see if you need a change. It's the same as the diapers Lily use to wear before she started potty training. If the wetness indicator is yellow, you are dry, and if it's blue, you are wet."
"I'm aware of how diapers work mom, you don't have to treat me like a toddler who is going through potty training. It's embarrassing!"
"I was just making sure sweetie, diapers are a little different than pull-ups. I brought a few extras in my purse so if you feel like you need a change just let me know and we can go to the family restroom and I can get your diaper changed. I did some research and this mall has changing tables that are big enough for you to lay on when I change you."
"MOM!! You are not changing my diaper. Stop treating me like a baby! You already bought me the most babyish Elmo diapers you could find... please just let me change myself, if I even need to!"
"Katie, stop. The doctor recommended that I change your first few diapers so that you can see how they need to be taped up. For a girl who thinks she's all grown up, these little temper tantrums about your diapers are starting to remind me of what I went through with your little sister! Now come on, let's have a good day here.
Just pretend that you are wearing your pull-ups like you're use to."
Katie eventually calmed down and apologized to her mom as they walked into the mall. When the hominids they grabbed a quick bite to eat and then got some coffee to sip on as they shopped around. They stopped at a few stores until they made their way into Victoria's Secret. Something about being there while wearing a slightly damp Sesame Street diaper made the whole situation even more humiliating for Katie. She looked around and saw girls her age and even younger girls browsing through the panty section picking out all different types of sexy styles designs. If only they knew that the 19 year old girl standing next to them wasn't allowed to wear sexy colored panties; thick Elmo diapers were her version of sexy lingerie for the foreseeable future.
Nevertheless, she kept a good attitude and shopped around the store with her mom until she felt that familiar pressure in her bladder. She immediately froze as she could feel her diaper start to swell up as her bladder released flooding her pee up the back up of her diaper along with slight warmers in the front. Her mom noticed Katie's posture and gave a slight giggle as she continued to make her way through the rack of pajamas.
"That coffee is really running through you today, huh Katie?" Her mom chuckled.
"Ya I guess so.." Katie said quietly, embarrassed that she had wet her diaper for the second time today, in a lingerie store of all places.
"How's your diaper holding up? Her mother said causing Katie's heart to drop, sending her into an almost state of panic. "Let's check it out!"
Before Katie could react, her mom had grabbed the waistband of her yoga pants and pulled them halfway down her thighs to get a good view of the wetness indicator that was dark blue at this point.
As she began to reach her hand towards Katie's diaper to give it a squeeze, Katie instinctively spun out of her mothers grip causing the waistband of her pants to snap back on the back of her diaper.
The muffled snap of her yoga pants on the back of her diaper echoed throughout Victoria's Secret.
"MOOOM....why would you do that!" Katie yelled quietly, not to draw anymore attention to what she was wearing under her pants.
"I told you in the car sweetie. Diapers are different than the pull-ups you usually wear. You can't just slide them off and on if you are able to make it to the bathroom. You are taped in until you need a diaper change." Her mom explained not so quietly.
Katie's face was beat red as she looked around the store, praying that no one saw the interaction with her mom. A few ladies in the store were looking in their direction, but it appeared that they missed the most humiliating part of the scene; a 19 year old girl having her Elmo diaper checked in the middle of a lingerie store...thank goodness! Katie thought to herself as she followed her mom up to the checkout which had a supinely long line.
"Sheesh, it's busy here today" Katie mom said.
Then with a lower tone she continued, "by the way, we need to get your diaper changed before we head home. I just have one more stop and then we can find the bathroom and get you cleaned up.
Katie nodded her head in agreement and let out a sigh of relief, thankful that she had gotten through her first ever public diaper check unscathed. As they waited in line, Katie felt a few extra spurts of pee soak into her diaper. She was actually thankful that she wore the diaper today instead of her pull-ups. What a disaster that could have been.
After a few minutes of standing in line, Katie heard a group of teenage girls behind her giggling as they whispered to each other. She didn't think anything of it and continued to look at all the models on the walls, dreaming about the day that she could wear the sexy lingerie that they all had on. Katie snapped out of her daydream as the whispers behind her got a little louder.
"Huhhh, do you girls smell that? It kind of smells like a daycare in here?" One of the girls giggled.
"Ya that's strange. Usually the smell of perfume overpowers everything else in here...it almost smells like a dirty diaper. Another responded.
"You're right! It smells like my baby brother's room when I'm changing his diaper!" A third girl said as they all laughed.
Katie began to blush heavily but stayed calm as they were almost to the checkout.
"Are you wearing a diaper Penelope?" One girl joked to her friend. "Do you need someone to change your diaper?" They all laughed at the joke.
"Ya right! Even if I did, Victoria's Secret would be the LAST store I would be caught dead in wearing a diaper!" The laughter continued..."ESPECIALLY A SESAME STREET DIAPER!"
The girls erupted in laughter at the inside joke they had been setting up to tease the girl in front of them who had gotten her diaper checked just ten minutes earlier.
"And to wear yoga pants over them is quite the statement! It almost draws more attention to her diaper!"
"She'd be better off walking around in just her t shirt and cute little Elmo diaper!"
Katie had never been so humiliated in her life, and by a group of what looked like middle schoolers at that! Her mom was now at the checkout talking to the cashier, completely unaware of what was going on behind her. What felt like an hour in her head, was really only about three seconds, and in that three seconds Katie found the courage to turn around and say something to the three bratty girls behind her.
Right as Katie began to pivot her left foot and confront the cackling girls, one of them grabbed the waistband of her pants with both hands and ripped them down to her ankles, FULLY EXPOSING KATIES SESAME STREET DIAPER FOR ALL TO SEE.
"OMG GIRL! Those panties are so cute! Where'd you get them? Babies r us?" One girl said with a smirk.
"I saw a lingerie set over there that would match perfectly with your cute little diaper, it's red! It will pair so well with your cute Elmo diapers! It's even comes with a robe!"
Katie was frozen in pure humiliation and panic as they three girls continued to hurl backhanded compliments to her...and then it happened...the third wave of pee was about to flood into her diaper that was already in need of a change according to her mom.
"OMG imagine looking all sexy wearing a robe and lingerie, only to drop the robe to the floor, exposing the thick Elmo diaper you were hiding underneath. How humiliating!"
"I can't believe they even make Sesame Street diapers big enough for girls like you. And why would you even want to wear them if you had the choice of a million other diapers. I mean a diaper is a diaper but you can at least try to make it seem like you are an adult!"
"That's a good point...aren't you a little too young to be shopping in a lingerie store? Maybe your mom should have dropped you off at the play center before she came her because your diaper is SOAKED!"
Katie was fighting back the tears as she instinctively moved her hands down to cover her diaper that she was in the middle of wetting.
"Ewww I think she is peeing her diaper right now.
Gross! You are definitely too young to be shopping in a store like this little girl!"
After the onslaught of humiliating comments, Katie finally found the willpower to pull up her pants and run out of the store. Her mom had been busy with the cashier and missed the entire exchange that had left Katie in complete shambles. As she made her way out the door she could still hear the girls laughing and making comments.
She finally made it out of the store and found a bench where she had about a minute to collect herself before she saw her mom walk out of Victoria's Secret and towards her.
"That line took longer than expected," her mom said to her. "I heard you chatting to that group of girls behind us in line."
'....ummm ya" Katie giggled not knowing where her mom was going with this.
"And I bet they had no idea what you were wearing underneath your pants! I told you wearing a diaper isn't such a big deal!"
Katie chuckled, not sure how to take in her mom's comments but was really just happy that it was all over. "Speaking of that...! think I need to change into a new diaper. This one is staring to get all squishy and uncomfortable. Can we find the bathroom real quick?"
"Of course sweetie. I appreciate you staying on top of that for me."
"I'm not a baby mom, I know you like to think that I am because I wear diapers but I know when it's time for a change."
"Right! You just have a hard time keeping your diaper dry in the meantime!" Her mom winked jokingly at her. "We just have one more quick stop at the play center, then we can get your diaper changed, ok?"
"Why do we have to go to the play center?"
"We are going to have your little sister's 5th birthday there next month so I need to make a reservation. It should only take five or ten minutes."
"Can you do that another time mom? I really don't want to go in there. It's embarrassing.."
"Oh stop it Katie, what makes you think it will be any different than any other store we've gone to today?"
"You don't understand, mom. That place is filled with a bunch of little kids who are all probably out of diapers already. It's embarrassing to think that I would be the only one in there wearing a diaper... and one that needs changed at that...plus I really need to go and I don't want to use my diaper again."
"I promise we will be in and out. And I checked your diaper in Victoria's Secret. It can handle another wetting, diapers hold a lot more than the pull-ups you are use to."
"Ohhh I see..." Katie's mom responded in a different tone. "Still, we will be in and out, then we can get you out of your diaper so you can use the bathroom, and then strapped back in for the ride home. How does that sound?"
"Ugghh fine that works" Katie sighed as she followed her mom to yet another humiliating stop for a 19 year old girl wearing a soaked Sesame Street diaper.
As they made their way to the play center, Katie's mind was split between recovering from the humiliating experience she went through at Victoria's Secret, and the fact that her stomach was starting to tense up harder and harder wit 7 each step she took.
As they walked into the play center, it was filled with little kids running around playing on the play place. They made their way up to the front desk and again waited in line. The cramps in Katie's stomach continued to grow but she was able to zone out as she scanned all the kids running around playing. She actually found a handful of kids who had diapers visibly sticking out of the top of their pants which made her feel not alone in weird way. She then turned her gaze back in front of her as the line was slowly progressing; her stomach cramps seemed to come back even stronger.
"Mom? My stomach is really starting to hurt. Is there a bathroom in here I can use?"
"Yes," her mom responded, "it's way back in the corner over there. Actually, it has a big diaper changing station symbol next to it, perfect! We should be done here in a few minutes then we will get you all situated"
"Ugghh ok but please hurry"" Katie said not very pleased with her mom's response.
Katie started to scan the play place again to keep her self occupied, but the cramps were making it hard to focus on anything else expect for getting to the bathroom. She took a deep breath attempting to calm the cramps down, but with that came the all familiar rush of pee dumping uncontrollably into her diaper. She quickly moved her hands down to the front of her diaper, feeling around to gauge how much room she had left. She had never worn diapers before so she didn't have a feel for how much they could hold...all she could do was hope and pray that Elmo had enough room for one final wetting.
"Oh no sweetie, are you having another accident in your diaper?" Her mother asked seeing all the tell tale signs that her daughter was wetting her diaper. "It was already pretty soaked in Victoria's Secret...I'm sorry I didn't know you had to go again!" Her mom had a loud voice naturally so even when she tried to talk quietly, her voice carried; and her next sentence carried enough to get the attention of everyone around us, including some of the kids. "We only have a couple more minutes, the. We can get your diaper changed at the diaper changing station back by the restroom."
Katie blushed as she heard giggles from some of the bystanders around her. As she turned fully around, her heart dropped to the floor. The three girls who were teasing her in Victoria's Secret were once again standing behind her in line at the play center. Katie quickly turned back around aw her mom had finally made it the front of the line, again, leaving Katie to fend for herself against the group of girls.
"We thought we would find you here." They laughed. "The play center is much more suitable for little girls like you. Look! They even have a diaper changing station right over there for you!"
"Speaking of which, are you really wearing that same diaper from earlier? We definitely need to fix that, am I right?"
"Shut up!" Katie finally barked back. "What I'm wearing is none of your business, ok!"
"It is now!" One of the girls laughed as she sneakily grabbed both diapers out of her mom's bag without her noticing. "We have all your cute little Elmo diapers so if you want a change before you leak all over the place you better come with us!"
The girls then grabbed Katie and yanked her out of the line giggling at the fact that they were overpowering a girl five years older than them. At this point, Katie was ready to stand up for herself and talk back to the girls. The only problem was that the jolt of being pulled away by the girls turned what was a slow dribble of pee into her diaper, into a full on flood. Katie wiggled out of their grips in an attempt to run to the bathroom, but it was too late. The flood of pee FLOODED into her diaper instantaneously, gushing around, trying to find a dry spot to soak it up...but there were none. Her diaper was already soaked before the floodgates opened, leaving her in a new high state of humiliation. As she looked down at her gray yoga pants, she saw the wet spots on her thighs begin to form. Then she moved her hands to her butt to feel the damage, and it was absolutely soaked. This was all confirmed when she looked down once more and saw a puddle began to form beneath her.
"OMG SHE PEED HER PANTS, THEY'RE SOAKED! HOW EMBARRASSING!"
"Ahhh it's ok little girl, accidents happen. No need to be embarrassed. I'm sure your mommy will get you over to the diaper changing station ASAP!"
"They weren't hiding her thick diaper when they were dry so now there really is no use for them!" Another girl said as they began pulling Katie's pants completely off. Leaving her sitting in the middle of the play center wearing only a t shirt and a soaked, leaking diaper. Katie began to tear up as the shear humiliation was too much for her to handle. The play center employees were use to dealing with embarrassing accidents from time to time, but when was the last time the embarrassing accident came from a 19 year old girl!
As Katie sat in the puddle of her own soaked diaper, crying, the girls ran off just before a crowd started to form. Moment later, Katie's mom finally laid eyes on the state of her 19 yet old daughter.
She pieced through the crowd of people surrounding Katie; some giggling at her state, and grabbed her arm to pull her up, attempting to remove her from the crowd and the unwanted humiliation.
Although good intentioned, the jolt of being pulled off the ground churned Katie's stomach beyond the control of her bowels. Realizing that she didn't want to poop her diaper in front of the entire play center, she made a dash for the bathroom once her mom helped her to her feet; but the cramps were too much. After a few steps she dropped back down to her knees as a warm rush of dumped into the back of her SOAKED DIAPER. She could hear the gasps of the adults and the laughter of the kids as the back of her diaper started to expand. The explosion into her diaper lasted about 10 seconds, and with tears running down her face, she stood up again and made a mad dash for the daycare room as it was the closest door she could find that would give her some privacy.
As she approached the door she grabbed the handle and pulled, but it was locked! Still holding on to the door handle, she squatted down and looked over the crowd of people who seemed to be following her, and had yet another explosion into the seat of her diaper. The cramps she was feeling dissipated instantly as they slid into her diaper, this time crawling up to the front. Without thinking, Katie let go of the door handle and fell flat onto her loaded diaper butt, spreading her humiliating act to all corners of her Sesame Street diaper. She hung her head and continued to cry at the situation she had found herself in.
"Mommy, look! That big girl made a poopy in her diaper!" A toddler giggled.
"She sure did! And she had the right idea heading to the daycare too. Her diaper is about to burst!" A mother chimed in followed by laughter of the crowd.
"Ewww that's so gross! She literally pooped her pants like a baby!" A older kid said cover her nose,
"she stinks!"
"Pants? Don't you mean diaper? Where is your mother little girl? You need a diaper change NOW!"
Katie's mom finally made her way over to her daughter who was in absolute shambles at this point. At the same time, an employee of the play center came over and unlocked the door for Katie and her mother to gather themselves.
"Hey sweetie, let's stand up and go get you cleaned up in the daycare, ok?" Katie stood up still crying hysterically. "Where did you put your extra diapers? They aren't in my purse."
"Those girls stole them." Katie choked out. "Can we please just go home. I'm never gonna live this down. I literally pooped my diaper in front of a bunch if kids who I use to babysit. Please."
"Yes sweetie, I'm sure the daycare has an extra diaper we can get you changed into. Let's go get you cleaned up little girl."
Lindsey held Steven's hand as they walked downstairs. Lindsey marveled at the strange feeling of the pull up between her legs. The extra thickness, while not enough to effect her gait, felt strange and foreign as she moved beside her husband quietly.
The trip from their bedroom upstairs to the downstairs living room did not take long.
Lindsey grinned as she looked again at all of the decorations set up. The first floor of her home has been completely transformed.
Lindsey's normal elegant, minimalist, and tasteful decor was still present in the house, but it has been covered up in favor of copious amounts of party decorations for her princess themed '3rd' birthday party.
Pastel pink and white crate paper was strung across every room. It adorned the walls, tables, even the backs of the dining room chairs.
Cheap plastic table cloths covered every table. And, on each of those, princess themed decorations sat, ready to greet party-goers.
Multiple large plastic bowls full of snacks sat on the kitchen counter next to pitchers full of fruit punch and water. Next to those pitchers sat a stack of red solo cups as well as four brand new plastic sippy cups.
Finally, a large, pink banner was hung from the ceiling of the living room. In big, bold letters, surrounded by images of castles, crowns, and unicorns, it declared, "Happy 3rd Birthday, Lindsey!"
Lindsey admired the other changes to her house as well.
Being childless, Steven and Lindsey's home typically didn't contain the toys and supplies necessary for a group of 'kids' to have a good time. The couple had worked diligently to fix that.
One corner of Lindsey's beautiful, modern living room had effectively been turned into a small playroom.
Soft pink and white foam tiles had been assembled on the floor to create a comfortable spot to sit and play. On those tiles, a large toy box filled with stuffed animals, dolls, toy horses, play costumes, and other toys sat next to a medium sized doll house. The toy box and doll house was also accompanied by a toddler-sized plastic easel with a white board attached to it. The white board was already covered with a crudely drawn picture of a purple kitten sitting under a rainbow.
After assessing the inside of the house, Lindsey couldn't help but walk up to the sliding glass door--the entry to their backyard--and marvel at the changes to their yard.
Lindsey and Michael's once immaculately landscaped backyard was now overshadowed by the trappings of a child's birthday party, just like the inside of their house. The most eye catching change, of course, was the giant, pink, castle shaped bounce house they had rented, but that wasn't the only change.
Under the guise of being better able to entertain their nieces and nephews, Steven had constructed a small jungle gym in one corner of their yard. It had two swings, a tower to climb, a few metal bars to hang from, and a bright yellow plastic slide.
Smaller children's toys, bought for cheap from garage sales, were lined up near the house as well. A pink and white fisher price push car that Lindsey knew from trying it out she could just barely fit in, sat next to a well used big wheel and a little red wagon. Laying around those were smaller toys, such as a plastic bucket and shovel to dig with and various metal trucks and tractors. They had everything a toddler would need to entertain herself in the backyard.
As Lindsey stared at the backyard and, more specifically, her bounce house, she felt herself falling deeply into her assumed role for the day. She started bouncing on the heels of her bare feet at the idea of getting to go outside and play. Despite her growing excitement, though, she knew she needed her 'Daddy's' permission to play outside.
"Daaaaaadddy," Lindsey whined, "can I go pway in da bouncy house? Pwwweeeeeeaaaase?"
Steven laughed at his wife's childish behavoir. He couldn't help but love how happy this new game was making her. That being said, he knew it was as important as ever that he stick to his role of responsible parent.
"No, sweetheart, not right now. It's nearly 3:00 pm, and our guests will be arriving anytime. Daddy needs to be near the door to let them in, and you are too little to play outside without supervision."
"But, Daddy, I pwomise I'll be a good girl! I am a big girl now! I'm this many!" Lindsey said, holding up three fingers for effect, while rocking from heel to toe like an excited toddler.
"You are that many! What a smart girl! And you are certainly bigger than you were yesterday, but, you need to be at least this many," Steven held up four fingers, "to be trusted outside without Daddy or another adult."
Lindsey harrumphed and stomped her foot petulantly. "But, Daddy, it's my birfday!" Lindsey almost spit her pacifier out with the force that she yelled those words.
Steven smiled and advanced on his wife playfully. His hands were outstretched to the side as he got closer to her, as if he were going to wrap her up in another hug. Lindsey, for her part, continued to make a pouty face, that was only partially ruined by her small giggles of anticipation of how her Daddy-husband was going to play with her next.
When Steven made it within a few feet of her, he spoke with a low, playful tone. "It is your birthday, Princess, so you shouldn't be such a grumpy goose!"
Steven's words got faster, as did his movements, as he finished his sentence.
By the time he completed the last word, he was on top of his wife. He closed his arms around her, grabbing her sides with his hands, and began to ruthlessly tickle her.
Lindsey began to laugh uncontrollably as she fell to the ground. Her pacifier fell out of her mouth, and her short skirt flipped up, revealing a glimpse of the pull up she was wearing underneath. Between breathes, she tried to protest the tickle torture.
"Please… Daddy… stoooooop… I'll stop… being… grumpy!" She forced out.
Steven continued to tickle his wife, unabated, for a few more seconds, but stopped relatively quickly when asked.
"Okay, baby, I guess I can let you go, if you promise not to be grumpy! It's your birthday! You can't be a grumpy girl on your birthday!" Steven said as he removed his hands from Lindsey's sides.
"I pwomise, Daddy," Lindsey said as she caught her breath. "I just weally wanted to pway in da bouncy house!"
"I know sweetheart, and you will. But, for now, why don't you go play with your dollies while we wait for your friends to get here? Doesn't that sound like fun?" Steven responded.
"Yeah, dat does," Lindsey said, retrieving her pacifier and popping the nipple back in her mouth.
Already on the ground, she decided crawling from the dining room to her dollhouse in the living room was easier than standing up and walking, so she crawled to her toys. Being able to do what she wanted without judgment felt wonderful to her.
As Lindsey crawled, Steven stood, and watched to make sure his little girl went to where she was supposed to. Steven watched as his thirty-year-old wife spread her legs out and started playing pretend with her dolls for a moment, before turning his attention back to the small tasks that needed to get done before guests arrived.
Steven worked and Lindsey played for just five minutes before the chime of the doorbell broke both of their concentration.
Lindsey immediately bounced up from her playmat as Steven turned towards the door.
"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Somebody's here!" Lindsey yelled out, letting her pacifier fall to the ground as she practically vibrated with excitement.
Steven turned to his excited wife and smiled.
"Well, baby, you better go open the door and see who it is!" He told her.
Steven could help but grin at Lindsey's exuberance as she sprinted to the front door to greet the first of her arriving friends.
Lindsey squealed in delight as she opened the door. Behind it was Sandra, Lindsey's lovely 5'5", 34-year-old friend of Korean descent, and her long-term boyfriend Grant.
Sandra and Lindsey met at Lindsey's first job out of college. Sandra took Lindsey under her wing, teaching the young woman how to survive in an office and professional field that was full of people biased against young women. That mentorship blossomed into a close friendship that had lasted nearly a decade and through multiple career changes by both women.
Sandra was a woman who always prided herself on her mature and professional demeanor. In an attempt to overcome the sexism, racism, and ageism she had encountered daily early in her career, Sandra prided herself on doing everything she could to project confidence and authority.
At work, her medium length black hair was often tied back into a tight, but stylish, bun. She always wore designer, fitted clothes, that projected competence and power. Due to her short size, Sandra was almost never caught without heels.
Given Sandra's hang ups with appearance, Lindsey was surprised that her slightly older friend had agreed to come to her party.
For her part, Sandra wasn't the most comfortable with the idea of roleplaying as a kid. But, Sandra loved Lindsey like a little sister and wanted to see her happy, so she had decided that she could put her dignity aside and play dress up for a day to support someone she loved.
She only wished Grant would stop teasing her for the whole thing.
Sandra's slight discomfort with the situation showed on her face as Lindsey threw open the door. Seeing her beautiful, curvy friend dressed in a pink princess party dress meant for a toddler sent a blush to her cheeks. Sandra didn't get long to admire the outfit, however, as Lindsey immediately enveloped her in a hug, just like a child would excitedly hug their friend.
"Sandy! You're here! Let's go play!" Lindsey said excitedly as she greeted her friend.
She grabbed Sandra's hand and pulled, trying to drag the smaller woman into the house. Before she could make it a step, though, Steven had reached the door and placed a had on his wife's shoulder.
"Woah, slow down there, partner. I know you're excited, but let's give your little friend here a chance to breath before you drag her out of her little light up sneakers," Steven said.
Steven, in full parent mode, had noticed how overwhelmed Sandra appeared with the whole situation. While he was excited that Lindsey was embracing her roll today so deeply, he knew that all of the joy she got from it would be ruined if even one of her friends became uncomfortable with their little game and left the party.
In response, Lindsey stomped her foot petulantly.
"But, Daddy, I wanna play!" She whined.
"I know, Princess, and you will. Just be patient," Steven responded before turning his attention to Grant.
Steven noticed Sandra's blush at his mention of her childish shoes, so figured focusing on her boyfriend, who, like him, was dressed like a stereotypical dad would give her time to adjust.
Steven extended his hand to the other man.
"Grant, it's good too see you. Thanks for coming along and bringing little Sandra here. As you can see, Lindsey is very excited to have her at her party," he said. "If you're thirsty, there is beer in the fridge in the kitchen and the cooler out back, if you want. Otherwise, I can make you something a little harder, if that's what your after."
Grant took Steven's hand firmly and shook it.
"Thanks, Steve, I'll have to take you up on that beer. As you can see, little Sandy is excited to be here, but feeling a little shy. I'm sure she'll warm up soon though," Grant responded.
Steven turned his attention to Sandra and took in her full appearance for the first time.
The usually stylish woman was wearing a pastel purple dress with a medium length skirt, held on by two-inch thick straps running over her shoulders. A large, purple bow was tied at her waist, exacerbating the childish look of the dress.
Sandra's medium length blank hair, usually tied up in a bun, was loss and pushed back by a purple head back with a bow on it that matched her dress. Her outfit was completed with the aforementioned pair of light up snickers as well as a pair of matching light purple socks with lacey frills on top.
"It's so good to see you again Sandy! You're getting so big, how old are you now? Four? Five?" Steven asked, letting Sandra set the parameters of her role.
Looking shyly at the ground to avoid the gaze of one of her best friends' husbands, she answered.
"I'm six," Sandra said.
With enthusiasm and a mock conspiratorial tone, Steven responded.
"Oh, that's great! You'll be the biggest girl here, I bet. Do you think you could help me keep an eye on all of the other kids to help make sure they stay out of trouble? You'd be like a secret babysitter?"
Sandra lit up a bit at the idea of being a secret babysitter, rather than just 'one of the kids' at the party. She took a moment to let herself be impressed at how well Steven played his role of parent and made her feel comfortable with the situation.
"Yeah, I'd love to do that," Sandra said timidly.
"Well, that's great! Why don't you go run along and play with little Lindsey. Try to keep her out of trouble. She is only three, and you know how toddlers are," Steven responded as he gave Sandra a wink.
Lindsey took her cue. She grabbed Sandra's hand and tugged as she ran for the playmat.
"Come on Sandy! Let's pway dolls!"
Sandra let herself be dragged by her playmate as Steven lead Grant to the kitchen where the two men popped open beers. They small talked as they watched their partners sit on the floor and play with dolls like children. Lindsey, with unbridled enthusiasm and Sandra with noticable embarrassment at how they were acting.
It didn't take long before the door bell rang again.
"You all stay here, I'll get it this time," Steven said.
No one argued. Lindsey was so enamored at playing with dolls with her most mature friend, she had no interest in getting the door. Sandra, on the other hand, still really didn't want to be seen by more people in her current predicament.
Grant was just content to drink anf soak in his traditionally domineering girlfriend's submission and embarrassment.
When Steven opened the door, he was greeted by a flash of yellow fabric and brunette hair that pushed past him immediately.
"Lindsey, I'M HERE!" the blur yelled.
Steven smiled as he looked at the woman in a teal, satin blouse and, fitting to the theme surprisingly well, khaki pants who remained in the doorway.
"It's nice to see you again, Tasha. Thanks for coming! Katie seems to have gotten into character quickly," Steven said, making room to let Tasha step inside.
As she stepped in, Steven noticed the plastic training potty in one of Tasha's hand.
"Oh, you know you didn't need to bring that! I spoke to Lindsey this morning, and we decided it was best if she was potty training too," Steven said.
"Best to be prepared," Tasha responded, "And, I'm impressed. Did you really get Lindsey to wear a pull up?"
"Yeah, it wasn't even that hard. I think the idea of letting go of everything really appealed to her. You know how stressed she's been," Steven said.
"I'm glad this is doing some good for her. She's such a a lovely person. She deserves the break," Tasha responded. "Now, Katie is just a brat. I am certain she suggested that she should be 'potty training' at this thing as an excuse to make me wipe her ass."
Steven couldn't help but laugh. Tasha was right. Katie probably did find the idea of her wife wiping shit off of her ass hilarious. The woman was bratty even as an adult.
Katie and Lindsey had been best friends since grade school. Katie has always been a wild child. She was always pushing the limits of authority figures and seeking out new experiences.
She was the yin to Lindsey's cool, collected and responsable yang. Katie was always able to drag Lindsey on her exciting, outlandish adventures growing up.
So, it wasn't surprising to anyone that when Lindsey reached out about the theme of her 30th birthday party, Katie embraced it with open arms. She even went so far as to go shopping with Lindsey for their outfits.
Lindsey coming up with something new, exciting, and a little socially unorthodox to do was a welcome swapping of roles for the two friends. Katie was more than ready to support Lindsey's newfound 'wild' streak.
Tasha and Steven turned their attention to the growing group of women dressed as little girls playing in the corner of Steven's living room. Katie was wearing what Steven could now see was a pair of pastel yellow shortalls with a small cartoon duck across her chest over a pastel pink cotton shirt.
Katie's long, brunette hair was pulled into a ponytail, braided, and held in place with a combination of a yellow scrunchy on her head and pink bow tied cutely to the end of her braid.
On her feet, she wore yellow Crocs decorated with Disney themed croc charms. Katie's bubbly energy made the childish outfit look almost natural on her fit, 29-year-old frame.
As Steven and Tasha walked into the scene, Lindsey and Katie were on their feet hugging each other and bouncing with excitement like the toddlers they were pretending to be.
Sandra, on the other hand, was still sitting on the floor, her legs tucked daintily underneath her, rolling her eyes at the antics of the two younger women.
"Lindsey! You look just work a weal pwincess! I'm so jealous!" Katie said with a fake lisp as she embraced her best friend.
"You lookth tho cute too, Katie," Lindsey lisped from behind her pacifier. "Do you want to see my pwincess castle? DAAADDY! Can we go bounce in my castle?"
Steven couldn't help but winced as his wife screamed her request out without any regard for her volume. Before he could answer, both Lindsey and Katie were in front of him, pleading to go out to the backyard.
"Yeah, Lindsey's daddy, can we go bounce? Please, pleeeeeeeasse," Katie begged.
Tasha, getting her first taste of the ridiculous sight of her wife and Lindsey acting like excited toddlers, put a hand over her mouth to hide a giggle. Grant, still not certain how he felt about the whole event, watching the scene from the kitchen, took a long drink from the beer in his hand. Steven, mentally prepared for his role, took the women's actions in stride.
"Now girls, I know you're excited, but we are still waiting on one more guest to…" Steven started, but before he could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by another knock on the door.
Lindsey's face lit up at the noise.
"Kayla's here!" Lindsey yelled, sprinting towards the door with Katie.
Before Steven could even turn fully around to follow, the two women who radiated child-like energy had the door swung wide open. However, once the door was open, the giggles and wiggles stopped.
As Steven turned around, he could see both Lindsey and Katie staring out the door with their mouths agape in shock.
Concerned at the sudden change in attitude, Steven decided to start moving faster.
"Well, girls, who is it?" Steven asked as he half walked, half jogged towards his front door.
"Kayla?" Lindsey said questioningly in response.
At that moment, a deep, young male voice came from the doorway.
"Well, are you little ladies going to let me in or just stand there? The load I've got here is a little heavy."
Steven recognized the voice of Dan, Kayla's boyfriend, as Lindsey and Katie parted, letting the newcomer into the room. As Dan stepped inside, it took Steven a second to even comprehend what he was seeing.
Dan, at first glance, looked normal. The 24-year-old, 6'7" giant of a man wore his shaggy blonde hair unstyled around his head. Playing into the motif of the party, he wore a slightly baggy Hawaiian shirt and jean shorts. On his feet he wore white tube socks and Birkenstocks.
His outfit dripped with dad-energy.
Dan's outfit wasn't what was confusing though. It was what he was carrying.
Perched on one of Dan's hips, her legs wrapped around his waist and arms wrapped around his neck, was Kayla.
The petite, five-foot-tall, 22-year old woman had her short, blonde hair with a pink streak in it, usually styled into a cute pixie cut, tied up in very short, very high pigtails on the top of her head. Kayla's face, like the other women roleplaying as children in the room, was devoid of make up. A pacifier tucked into her lips, completing the infantile look.
Even that wasn't what was shocking though. It was the rest of Kayla's outfit that really through everyone off.
Kayla wasn't wearing much in the way of clothes. All she had on was a giant infant-style onesie. It was decorated with a pattern of images involving cartoon frogs. The onesie bulged out unnaturally around her waist, the result of the bulky disposable diaper she was clearly wearing underneath it. The leg gathers of the diaper stuck out from the leg holes of her onesie, declaring to the world her lack of potty training.
Everyone has agreed to be 'little' for this party, but no on expected anyone to be this little.
Dan groaned in relief as he set his girlfriend down.
Kayla, once on the ground, sat with her legs splayed out, highlighting the bulge around her waist even further.
"There we go!" Dan said as he stood back up. "For nine months old, Little Kay-kay sure is a hefty one, aren't you?" Dan bent down again and tickled Kayla as he teased her, causing the woman to both blush and giggle.
No one else in the room said anything. They were too taken back by the sight of their babyfied friend.
"Hey, Steven, do you mind keeping an eye on this rugrat while I get some supplies from the car? Didn't have enough hands to bring everything in at once, you know?" Dan said into the stunned silence of the room.
Steven broke his stare at Kayla at Dan's words. He looked up to respond.
"Yeah, of course. Anything, I should, uh, know?" Steven asked.
"Not much. Baby Kayla here is your typical nine-month-old. She doesn't use much other than baby babble yet and hasn't quite figured out how to walk yet. She's in a fresh diaper, so that shouldn't need changed. I won't be long, so if she drops a load in her pants, just set her in a corner by herself and wait for me. I can change that," Dan explained.
"Sounds… good," said Steven, "see you in a second."
Dan walked out the door back to his car. Lindsey immediately dropped to her hands and knees. She carefully crawled over to Kayla (unwittingly putting her own pull up on display to the rest of the room) and pulled her pacifier out of her mouth.
"Kayla, you're… you're a baby today?" Lindsey asked, a bit more maturity and concern in her voice than she'd had previously.
Kayla was Lindsey's youngest friend. She viewed herself as Kayla's mentor. The younger woman had only graduated from college a little less than a year ago. Shortly after that, she had taken a position working the front desk at Lindsey's accounting firm. It hadn't taken too long for the two women to hit it off.
Kayla and Lindsey spent most days together. Lindsey always brought Kayla in on big projects to help her move up in the company, while Kayla kept Lindsey up on all of the pop cultural happenings, slang, and style to keep Lindsey 'cool' despite her age.
Given the short amount of time they had been friends and the relative strangeness of this party, Lindsey had assumed that Kayla was going to turn down her invitation initially. However, when Lindsey told Kayla about the party, the other woman had lit up and said there was no way she would miss it.
At the time, Lindsey thought that Kayla was just excited to expand their friendship. Looking at Kayla now, sitting nonchalantly in nothing but a giant onesie and diaper--a diaper her boyfriend very clearly expected her to use for everything--she started to consider whether this sort of roleplay wasn't more common for her younger friend.
In response to Lindsey's question, Kayla continued to suckle her pacifier while nodding her head in affirmation.
"And you're okay with all of… this? Like, Dan isn't taking advantage to force you to act this way or anything, right?" Lindsey continued.
Kayla responded non-verbally again, nodding her head. This time the nod was accompanied by a light blush.
Dropping her voice to a whisper, Lindsey asked, "Do you… um… like this?" The thirty-year-old woman in a pull up and princess dress put extra emphasis on the word 'like.'
Kayla's blush deepened as she nodded her head again. This time she spoke as well though. "Kayla like being baby," she lisped behind the pacifier.
Lindsey blushed herself at her friend's admission. Seeing Kayla like this, combined with Lindsey's own outfit, including the pull up between her legs, suddenly made her wonder if she 'liked' the idea of being babied too.
She shuddered a little as she felt a little waive of pleasure flow through her body at the thought.
Before Lindsey had too much time to dwell on that feeling, Katie took control.
The brunette woman in yellow shortalls dropped to all fours like her friend, Lindsey, crawled up to Katie, and, with all of the energy of an excited three year old, asked the diapered woman, "Do you wanna go pway, baby Kayla?"
Kayla nodded her head and as a smile spread across her face.
"Let's go!" Katie said as she hopped to her Croc covered feet. She then turned towards Tasha, briefly, "Momma, we're going to the castle! Come on everybody, last one to the castle is a stinky baby!"
Katie then took off.
Lindsey, letting herself be overtaken by her role as a three year old again--and not wanting to be called a stinky baby by Katie--lept to her feet and ran for her backyard as well.
Kayla, not allowed to walk, let alone run, by the rules she set for herself, moved into a crawling position and followed the older women, letting her diapered bottom sway back and forth for everyone to see as she moved across the room.
Sandra, still not sure about the situation, especially after seeing Kayla's diapered state, got up slowly from where she had been kneeling by the doll house.
Steven, realizing he wasn't going to be able to stop or catch up to his charges for the day, turned to Sandra in hopes of getting her more into her own role.
"Sandra, sweetie, I have to stay here and help Dan with whatever he is bringing back from his car. Since you're a big girl, could you be a dear and go out to the bounce house and make sure the little kids are behaving themselves?" He asked.
Sandra smiled. Thankful for the out and the reminder that she was still 'older' than her other friends.
"Yes, Steven. I would love to be a big girl and help you out!" Sandra said, getting up and following Kayla, who was still crawling towards the back door.
"Ok, you better hurry though. It'd be no good to have the kids you are watching calling you the stinky baby, especially when we have such an obvious stinky baby in our midst," Steven said.
Kayla blushed from her position on the floor as Sandra caught Steven's meaning. Sandra did not want to be in a position where Katie could tease her. Regardless of whether Katie was supposed to act like a toddler where Sandra was supposed to be an elementary schooler, Sandra knew that Katie was the type of person who could tease a person into submission, despite of apparent power differences. So, Sandra, giving up all the dignity she was trying to maintain, sprinted out the back door.
As Sandra and Kayla made it too the back door, Steven turned towards Grant and Tasha.
"Would you two mind taking a step back there too? I know Sandra is trying to be mature, but it wouldn't hurt to have a couple of actual adults keeping an eye on things too. Wouldn't want any hurt bodies or feelings on my princess' big day!" He asked the other two 'adults' in the house.
"Of course," they both said, and walked to the back door.
Dan burst through the front door moments later. A pink diaper bag was slung over one shoulder. A brown, bag containing a rectangular box. The words "Pac-N-Play" were printed on the side. In Dan's other hand was what was, unmistakenly, a portable highchair folded flat.
Seeing the other man loaded down, Steve jumped in to lend a hand. He grabbed the highchair from Dan's hand.
"Here, I've got that," Steve said, "Wow, you really came prepared!"
Steve really didn't know what else to say about just how far Dan and Kayla had taken the party theme.
"Well, you know, baby Kayla was really excited to get out and show just who she is to her 'big girl' friends," Dan said, throwing Steven an awkward wink.
"Well, good on you. I was a little worried about dealing with wet pull ups from Lindsey today, but it looks like you may be in for some bigger surprises than me, good luck," Steven said. "And, if you want to head out back, the girls are playing back there. I can set up this highchair in the kitchen. Do you want the playpen set up too?"
"Thanks man! And, don't worry about the playpen. I'll just set it up in the yard, if that's alright with you," Dan responded. "See you in a few!"
Steven went to work on the highchair as Dan walked out the door.
He watched all of the girls playing as he struggled to work out all of the latches and locks. As Steven watched Kayla crawl around in a full fledged diaper, he felt something tingle inside. Getting his strong, confident, intelligent, beautiful wife to wear a pull up and agree to potty train for the day had been thrilling. But, the idea of her crawling around the house in a messy diaper turned him on in a way he didn't expect and wasn't sure he was proud of.
After assembling the highchair, Steven went to the fridge to grab a beer before he joined the rest of the party in the backyard. However, before he could get the fridge door open, he heard another knock at the front door.
Steven frowned. Who could that be? Everyone who RSVP'ed was here.
Curious, Steven went to the front door, only to break down in hysterical laughter when he saw who was in the other side.
Julio had been Steven's best friend since grade school. Like Katie, Julio was Steven's wild friend. Julio also has a macho streak.
He loved to work out, drive big trucks, work on cars, and talk about attractive women. Many people, Steven at times, felt Julio's macho attitude was compensating for his short frame. At 5'2", Julio was wide through the chest because of how much he worked out, but wasn't ever winning any height competitions.
If people's jokes about Julio's height had only gotten worse as he got older, they had hit their peak when he got married.
Mary, Julio's wife, was 5'9", beautiful, just as into fitness as her husband, and towered over Julio. The jokes about Julio having Mommy issues has been made 1000 times, and Julio hated them. That was what made what greeted Steven on the other side of his front door so funny.
Before him, Steven saw his best friend dressed like a little kid. Julio was wearing a pair of jean overalls over a blue, horizontal stripped shirt. On his head, he was wearing a red baseball cap backwards. Completing the ensemble, Julio clutched a stuffed dog in his right hand.
"Don't you dare say a word," Julio said ominously as Steven almost fell to the floor laughing.
"Julio!" Mary said, punctuating her word with a quick slap to her husband's behind, "is that any way to speak to our host? Be polite! Apologize to Mr. Steven and thank him for having us. It was you who begged me to bring you to this party anyway."
Steven's attention turned to Mary for the first time as she spoke.
He was taken aback. She wore a beautiful floral sundress that highlighted her full, beautiful body in all of the right ways. Her make up was done perfectly, and her hair was carefully styled into long, flowing large curls.
She wore what must have been 3" tall platform heels, making her nearly as tall as Steven, and that much larger than her husband.
Her look and energy put off a much more mature and authoritarian vibe than that of most of the other women who had arrived. Looking at Julio and Mary together at this moment, Steven wouldn't be surprised if people actually thought that Mary was Julio's mother, or maybe, hot aunt.
After being chastised by his wife, Julio scowled. The look on his face making him look even more like a petulant child than the peak male standard he always pretended he was.
"Julio!" Mary reiterated.
Julio sighed as he relented to his Mommy-Wife, "Sorry Mr. Steven. Thank you for inviting us to this party. We are happy to be here."
Steven took a moment to collect himself at his friend's words. He turned his dad-energy back on. Steven reached out and patted Julio on the head like he would to any child as he spoke.
"No problem, big guy! We're glad you could make it! I'm sure Lindsey will be happy to see how far you'd go to help celebrate her big day! How old are you now? We didn't think you were coming."
Mary spoke up before Julio could say a word.
"We weren't going to come. Julio pressured me and pressured me to go. He really looks up to you, you know, but I told him I wasn't going to pretend to be a little girl for him. Yesterday, he started pestering me again, and I told him that the only way we went was if he had to call me Mommy. He gave in, and now we're here with my big, strong five-year-old boy, Julio."
Julio blushed as Mary explained everything.
He hated being dressed like this. He hated calling his wife, "Mommy." But, damnit, he loved Steven and wasn't going to miss out on one of his parties due to his pride. In retrospect, Julio now felt his pride may be worth a little more.
Steven spoke next, "Well, isn't that sweet! Little Julio wanted to hang out with me so bad he'd agree to follow his Mommy's rules for once? I'm honored." Steven's devilish grin belied his kind tone. "Well, why don't you two come in. The other kids are playing in the back and there's beer in the fridge and coolers, waiting to be drank."
Steven stepped to the side and let his best friend and his wife in. He let them walk ahead of him as they sauntered through the house to the backyard. Steven couldn't help but smile again at how ridiculous Julio looked standing next to his wife.
There’s a moment during a diaper change that gets me every time—when the thick, padded front is pulled up tight between my legs and pressed into place. When it’s hugging me like that it feels like a point of finality - there’s no coming back from this. I know then, that I’ll be taped into this diaper and I will be filling it up. I could watch the motion of the diaper wrapping around me for hours 🤤
Clara woke to the faint crinkle of her Goodnite, the starry padding sodden against her hips under the oversized shirt she’d slept in. Her fingers brushed it—wet, heavy, a full accident soaking the fabric—and she flushed, dread pooling in her gut as she glanced at Jamie. He stirred beside her, his sporty Goodnite dry, the blue clinging to his lean frame as he stretched, oblivious.
“Fuck,” she whispered, shifting, the damp bulk squishing against her thighs. “I’m soaked.”
Jamie blinked awake, smirking lazily. “Seriously? Thought you had it last night.” His hand grazed her thigh—teasing, warm—fingers brushing the Goodnite’s edge through her shirt. “Guess I’m the champ now—one more night and I’m free.”
“Shut up,” she muttered, swatting him, her cheeks burning as the wet padding clung, a humiliating weight. “It’s not funny. Linda’s gonna lose it.”
He chuckled, rolling closer, breath hot against her ear. “Kinda hot, though—you all helpless like this.” His thumb traced her hip, sparking her despite the mess, but her glare silenced him. “Okay, okay—we’ll deal. Maybe she won’t notice.”
“She always notices,” Clara hissed, tugging the shirt down, the crinkle loud in the quiet.
Before she could brace herself, Linda’s footsteps thudded down the hall. The door swung open, and she strode in, eyes sharp. “Up, you two—check time. Girls get here soon.” She tugged Jamie’s waistband first, peering inside with that clinical smirk. “Dry. Good.” Then Clara, lifting her shirt’s hem, fingers brushing the Goodnite’s edge. “Soaked already—you’re in this all day, hon. Daytime rules stick.” Her tone was firm, a disappointed edge cutting through as she dropped the fabric. “Cassie and her friends arrive at noon—get moving.”
Clara’s stomach knotted, Jamie’s hand squeezing hers under the quilt—electric, steadying. “Teenagers,” she whispered as Linda left. “In this?”
“We’ll manage,” he murmured, lips brushing her ear, stoking her despite the dread.
By late morning, Clara stood at the dresser, picking out a light floral sundress—flowy, feminine, a shield for the fresh Goodnite she’d wear beneath. Jamie watched, tugging on shorts, his eyes lingering as she slipped the dress over her head, the fabric settling over the pull-up’s faint bulk. “Cute,” he said, voice low, thumb grazing her hip through the layers—a spark in the chaos. Tires crunched gravel outside, and Cassie burst in—18, tan, blonde curls bouncing, bikini top peeking from her tank, all curves and confidence. Mia followed, petite, dark-haired, piercing green eyes catching the light, her shorts hugging her hips. Sophie, lanky, redheaded, and freckled, trailed behind, her sly grin hinting at trouble. Hot, all of them, their college-fresh energy filling the cabin with chatter and giggles. Clara tugged the sundress lower, the Goodnite a secret ticking bomb.
Linda greeted them, ushering them to the bunk room. “Sheets are protective—plastic underneath,” she said, smoothing a quilt as the girls dumped their bags. “Old habit from when Jamie and Cassie were little—both of ‘em soaked beds like it was their job. Kept it up, just in case.”
Cassie groaned, rolling her eyes. “Aunt Linda, really?”
Mia and Sophie giggled, Mia nudging Cassie. “You too, huh?” Sophie’s smirk widened, her gaze darting to Jamie, who flushed deep red, muttering, “Long time ago.”
Linda shrugged. “Got pull-ups in the closet if you girls want ‘em tonight. No shame—better than wet sheets.”
Sophie laughed, waving it off. “No way, I’m good.” Mia nodded, grinning, “Same,” and Cassie just shook her head, mortified. Clara’s chest tightened, the offer a glaring spotlight on her own situation. Sophie’s eyes flicked her way, curiosity sharpening.
Lunch was sandwiches and lemonade by the lake, the girls sprawled on a blanket, their laughter sharp against the water’s lap. Linda suggested swimming, and Clara froze, the Goodnite a dead weight under her sundress. “I’ll sit this out,” she said, voice tight, but Cassie pounced, grabbing her arm.
“No way, Clara—you’re not bailing on us!” Her grin was relentless, Mia and Sophie chiming in, tugging her toward the shore.
Linda cut in, voice low. “Swimsuit’s fine, hon—but back in the pull-up after. No risks.” She handed Clara her bikini from the bag—dry, neatly folded—ushering her to the bathroom. Clara changed, the Goodnite swapped for the suit, its absence a fleeting relief as she set it aside on the sink. Out by the lake, she dove in, the cool water swallowing her nerves.
Cassie splashed Mia, laughing. “Bet I can dunk you first!”
Mia squealed, dodging. “Not if I get Jamie!” She lunged, shoving him under, and he surfaced, grinning, shaking water from his hair.
“Traitor!” he shouted, grabbing Mia’s ankle as she shrieked, dragging her back. Sophie cannonballed in, spraying Clara, who yelped, laughing despite herself.
“Watch it, Red!” Clara splashed back, and Sophie smirked, swimming closer to Jamie, her freckled shoulder brushing his.
“Nice moves, champ,” she teased, voice low, her green eyes lingering on him a beat too long, red hair slick against her neck. Clara’s stomach twisted—jealousy flaring as Sophie grinned, treading water near him. Jamie laughed, oblivious, splashing her back.
“Gotta be faster than that!” he shot back, but Sophie’s smirk stayed, her gaze flicking to Clara—testing.
Drying off, Linda cornered her again. “Back in it,” she said, handing over a fresh Goodnite. Clara slipped it on under her sundress in the bathroom, the crinkle loud as she rejoined the group. Sophie, lingering by the door later, peeked in after Clara left, spotting the starry Goodnite pack half-open on the sink—Clara’s secret laid bare. “Weird,” she muttered, smirking to herself. By late afternoon, lounging by the lake, pressure crept in—a faint twinge Clara ignored too long. A warm trickle escaped, seeping into the Goodnite, the padding swelling against her skin. She froze, thighs clamping tight, the dampness spreading—clammy, slick, a humiliating secret under the sundress. Every shift made it squish, the faint crinkle taunting her as Cassie chattered beside her, oblivious. The wet fabric clung to her inner thighs, rubbing with each move, a sticky heat blooming where it pressed her core—shameful, arousing, her breath hitching as she crossed her legs tighter. Jamie’s hand brushed her knee, his touch sparking her, the damp pull-up grinding against her—her cheeks flaming as she fought to hide it, arousal pulsing beneath the embarrassment.
The bonfire crackled that night, marshmallows charring as Cassie strummed a guitar, Mia giggling beside her. Clara sat close to Jamie, the sundress hiding the now-damp Goodnite, its sodden weight a constant thrum against her core. Sophie’s eyes kept drifting her way, suspicious. “You’re fidgety,” she teased, popping a marshmallow in her mouth. “Nervous about something?”
“She’s fine,” Linda said, too quick, her glance at Clara’s lap loaded. Jamie’s hand rested on her thigh, thumb brushing the Goodnite’s edge through the fabric—teasing, stoking her heat as the firelight danced, the wet padding slick against her skin. Later, as they headed inside, Linda stopped Clara by the porch steps, voice loud enough for the girls lingering nearby to hear. “Hold up—let’s check you.” She yanked the sundress hem high, exposing the Goodnite’s swollen waistband to the night air, fingers tugging it down an inch as Cassie and Mia turned away, chatting, but Sophie watched, eyes narrowing. “Wet already—and not a little,” Linda said, shaking her head like a scolding parent. “After this morning’s soaking? You’re not even trying, Clara. Pull-ups all week—day and night.”
Clara’s face blazed, the public shaming searing her—Sophie’s smirk deepening, Mia’s giggle echoing faintly as the damp Goodnite sagged, its wet heft undeniable. Jamie’s grip tightened, his breath hitching, a mix of shame and heat flashing in his eyes.
Back inside, Clara excused herself, Jamie trailing her to the bathroom. He locked the door, the air thick as he lifted her sundress, peeling the sodden Goodnite off—lake water and her leak mingling in a clammy mess. “You’re a fucking mess,” he rasped, grabbing a towel, wiping her slow—fingers tracing her thighs, grazing her heat, the rough drag igniting her. She moaned, tugging his shorts down, his bulge springing free, half-hard and pulsing. She knelt, water still dripping from her hair, and took him in her mouth—urgent, sloppy, the humiliation fueling her. He groaned, hands gripping the sink, but pulled her up mid-act. “Not here—tonight,” he growled, sliding a fresh Goodnite up her legs, the starry padding snug as he adjusted it, eyes smoldering. “Wanna see you in this later.”
At bedtime, Linda checked Clara—still in her Goodnite, the sundress off. “Wet again,” Linda said, eyeing the pull-up, her tone sharp with disapproval. Jamie, still in shorts, hadn’t put his on yet, so she skipped him, muttering, “One more night, kid—don’t slack.” She left, and they locked the door, Jamie stripping her Goodnite bare. He pressed against her, grinding, his breath hot against her neck. “No point staying dry—you’re stuck in these anyway,” he murmured, voice rough, fingers slipping into her pull-up, teasing her clit slow, then faster. She gasped, legs parting, the crinkle loud as he worked her—heat building, her wetness soaking the padding. His other hand gripped her hip, grinding harder, and she shattered—cumming hard, a sharp squirt flooding the Goodnite, the warm rush seeping through as she trembled, moaning into his chest. He groaned, aroused, her hand slipping under his shorts, jerking him slow—hot, desperate. They stopped just short of his release—Linda’s rules a faint echo—collapsing in a sweaty, frustrated heap, the plastic sheet rustling beneath them.
“Sophie saw it,” Clara whispered, breathless, the Goodnite pack in the bathroom haunting her. “She’s onto us.”
Jamie kissed her neck, voice rough. “Let her wonder. We’ve got this.” But the doubt lingered, Cassie’s hot crew and Linda’s grip tightening the noose as sleep took them, bodies buzzing on the edge.
Clara and Jamie stepped out of the bathroom, her fresh sweatpants soft against her skin, his hand lingering on her lower back—steadying, warm. The living room loomed ahead, and there stood Linda, waiting by the couch, her expression a mix of concern and stern resolve. In her hand dangled a girls’ Goodnite, a silent judgment. She held it up like a disappointed mother scolding a toddler, her lips pursed, eyes fixed on Clara.
“Clara, hon,” Linda started, voice low but firm, “that couch mess… daytime wetting’s a whole new ballgame. I haven’t seen this since my kids were in diapers. You’re wearing one of these tonight—through dinner, into bed. No arguments.” She shook the pull-up slightly, the crinkle cutting the air. “And I’m putting it on you myself. Gotta make sure it’s snug, no leaks. You’ll know how it should feel for next time.”
Clara’s face burned, her throat tightening as she glanced at Jamie. His jaw clenched, a flush creeping up his neck, but he stayed silent, hand twitching against her. “Linda, I—I can manage,” she stammered, mortified, but Linda stepped closer, undeterred.
“Nope. Daytime’s serious. Upstairs, now—let’s get this done.” Her tone softened, almost caring, but the authority brooked no refusal. Clara shot Jamie a pleading look, but he could only squeeze her hand, helpless, as Linda ushered her toward the guest room.
In the room, door shut, Linda motioned for Clara to drop her sweatpants. Her cheeks blazed as she complied, the cool air hitting her thighs, panties still fresh from Jamie’s tender change. Linda knelt, sliding the Goodnite up with practiced efficiency—tugging the waistband high, smoothing the sides, her fingers brushing Clara’s hips with clinical precision. “See? Tight but comfy. Keeps everything in,” she said, patting the padding like a lesson. Clara’s skin prickled, humiliation warring with the snug fit, Linda’s touch a stark contrast to Jamie’s earlier warmth. “Good. Pants back on—dinner’s ready.”
Clara nodded mutely, pulling the sweatpants up, the faint crinkle deafening in her ears as Linda left. Jamie slipped in after, his eyes dark with a mix of sympathy and heat. “You okay?” he murmured, hand grazing her waist, thumb tracing the Goodnite’s edge through the fabric.
“Barely,” she whispered, leaning into him, his woodsy scent grounding her. “She’s treating me like a kid.”
“She’s Linda,” he said, lips brushing her temple. “We’ll get through it.” His touch lingered, a spark flaring, but dinner called.
At the table—steaks, roasted veggies, pie cooling on the counter—Clara sat stiffly, the Goodnite rustling faintly under her sweatpants. Jamie’s foot nudged hers, a quiet tease, while Linda prattled about the lake. Halfway through, pressure hit—sharp, urgent. Clara froze, fork clattering, then bolted upright. “Bathroom,” she muttered, rushing off, her cheeks flaming as Linda’s eyes tracked her.
She made it, yanking the Goodnite down just in time, the stream hitting the toilet with a shaky exhale of relief. She wiped, pulled it back up—still dry, thank God—and splashed her face, steadying her nerves. Back at the table, she slid into her seat, but Linda wasn’t done. She leaned over, voice low but firm. “Lift your shirt a sec, hon—gotta check.”
Clara’s stomach dropped, Jamie’s fork pausing midair as Linda tugged her waistband down an inch, peering at the Goodnite like a toddler’s diaper check. “Dry. Good girl,” she said, patting Clara’s knee, oblivious to the searing humiliation. Jamie’s gaze met hers—shock, arousal, a flicker of shared embarrassment—his flush mirroring her own.
“Really, Aunt Linda?” he muttered, voice tight, but she just shrugged.
“Rules are rules,” she said, cutting into her steak.
After dinner, they escaped to the porch, the night air cool, stars glinting over the lake. Clara leaned against the railing, Jamie’s arm draping her shoulders, his thumb tracing her neck—stoking her despite the day. “Tomorrow’s gonna be rough,” she said, voice low. “Those girls—Cassie and her friends—get here at noon. Linda’s got me in this thing all day.”
“We’ll keep ‘em busy,” Jamie murmured, lips close. “Kayaking, maybe a bonfire. They won’t notice.” His hand slid to her waist, grazing the Goodnite’s edge again, a shiver rippling through her.
Linda stepped out, cocoa in hand. “Nice night, huh? Don’t stay up too late—girls arrive tomorrow. Jamie, two more dry nights and you’re clear. Clara, you’re in pull-ups for the rest of the nights, and tomorrow daytime too—I’ll check before you’re back to underwear. Gotta be sure.” She sipped, eyes glinting. “Night.”
Clara’s heart sank, Jamie’s grip tightening. “Noon,” she whispered as Linda’s footsteps faded. “They’ll be here, and I’ll be crinkling.”
“We’ll figure it,” he said, voice rough, pulling her closer. The threat loomed, but his touch burned hotter.
In their room, door locked, Jamie stripped to his boxers, then slid on his boys’ Goodnite, the blue clinging to his bulge. Clara peeled off her sweatpants, the Goodnite exposed, and Jamie’s eyes darkened as he climbed onto the bed. “Wait,” he said, hand brushing her hip, fingers pressing the padding. “You’re… damp already?”
She froze, checking herself—a faint wet spot, not soaked, just her arousal seeping through from his touches all day. “I—I didn’t even feel it,” she stammered, cheeks blazing, but his grin turned hungry.
“Hot as fuck,” he rasped, pulling her down beside him, the plastic sheet rustling. His lips crashed against hers—desperate, deep—his boner straining the Goodnite’s side. Her hands tangled in his hair, his slid under her shirt, thumb flicking her nipple. She moaned, loud, as he pressed against her, the crinkle loud between them.
“Clara,” he groaned, nipping her neck, and she tugged his pull-up down just enough, his cock springing free—hard, pulsing, sticking out the side. She slid lower, breath hot against him, and took him in her mouth—slow, wet, intimate. The Goodnite framed him, absurdly childish against the raw act, her tongue swirling as he gasped, hips bucking. His hands gripped her hair, voice hoarse. “Fuck, babe—yes.”
It was embarrassing—her in a damp pull-up, him in his—but the heat overpowered it, their vulnerability stoking the fire. He shuddered, spilling into her mouth, and she swallowed, trembling, arousal pooling in her Goodnite as she pulled back. He yanked her up, kissing her hard, tasting himself on her lips, his hands roaming her body—teasing, possessive.
“Night,” he growled, spent, pulling the Goodnite back over himself as she curled against him, her dampness a quiet thrill. His arm draped over her, hardness softening against her back, the air thick with their intimacy and the looming dread—two nights for him, a week of checks for her, and the girls arriving tomorrow. Sleep took them, teetering on the edge of exposure, bodies buzzing with what they couldn’t outrun.
Clara stirred awake to the soft rustle of the plastic sheet, her body nestled against Jamie’s warmth. Dawn light filtered through the cabin window, casting a golden glow over the quilt. She shifted, expecting the familiar chill of a soaked Goodnite—girls’ XL, starry and snug—but her skin felt… dry. She froze, hands darting under the blanket to press against the pull-up. No dampness, no swollen padding. Her breath caught, a mix of relief and disbelief bubbling up. Jamie rolled over, his arm still heavy across her waist, his boys’ Goodnite crinkling faintly as he blinked awake.
“You good?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep, his morning hardness nudging her thigh through the fabric.
“I… I think I’m dry,” she whispered, eyes wide. He propped up on an elbow, hand sliding to her hip, fingers brushing the Goodnite’s edge to check for himself. His touch lingered—teasing, electric—and he smirked.
“Me too,” he said, patting his own pull-up, the blue outline still taut against his bulge. “Didn’t see that coming.” His grin turned sly, thumb grazing her skin. “Guess we’re beating Linda’s game.”
Before Clara could reply, footsteps creaked down the hall—sharp, deliberate. Linda. The door swung open without a knock, and she strode in, hands on hips, her gray eyes glinting with purpose. “Morning, you two. Let’s see how you held up.” Her tone was brisk, but a faint smirk tugged at her lips.
Clara’s face blazed, yanking the quilt higher, but Linda waved it off. “Up, both of you. No hiding.” Jamie groaned, swinging his legs out of bed, his boxers swapped for the Goodnite making his flush deepen as Linda’s gaze zeroed in. She stepped closer, bending slightly to inspect his pull-up—fingers tugging at the waistband, peering inside like a drill sergeant. “Dry as a bone,” she muttered, almost disappointed, then turned to Clara.
Clara squirmed, heart pounding, as Linda’s hands brushed her shirt up, exposing the starry Goodnite. She tugged the sides, checked the crotch with a clinical swipe—humiliatingly thorough—then nodded. “Dry too. Huh. Maybe you’re not hopeless.” Her smirk softened, but her eyes lingered, assessing.
Jamie caught Clara’s gaze, a flicker of shared heat cutting through the embarrassment, his lips twitching like he might laugh—or pounce. Linda straightened, oblivious. “Good start. Two more dry nights, and you’re free. Today, we’re hitting that diner down the road for lunch, then a hike around the lake—nice views, fresh air. Oh, and tomorrow, my niece—my late husband’s side, not your blood, Jamie—Cassie, just turned 18, starting college, is coming with two girlfriends. Staying the week. Young, loud, full of energy.”
Clara’s stomach flipped, her dry streak suddenly fragile. Jamie’s hand tensed on the bed, his jaw tightening. “Here? With us?” he asked, voice low, a nervous edge creeping in.
Linda nodded, folding her arms. “Yup. Cabin’s big enough. And don’t worry—I won’t spill your… situation. Not if you keep waking up dry. My lips are sealed.” She tapped her mouth, a glint of amusement in her eyes, then left, the door clicking shut.
Clara sagged against Jamie, her breath shaky. “Teenagers? Here? If they find out…”
“They won’t,” he murmured, pulling her close, his lips brushing her ear—warm, steadying. “We’ve got this. Dry run, right?” His hand slid down her back, grazing the Goodnite’s edge, a spark igniting despite the nerves. She swatted him, half-smiling, the tension coiling tighter.
Lunch at the diner was a greasy reprieve—burgers, fries, milkshakes under buzzing fluorescents. Clara sat across from Jamie, Linda beside her, chatting about the hike. No twinges, no leaks—her bladder held steady, a quiet victory. Maybe the stress was easing, her body settling. She met Jamie’s gaze over his shake, his foot nudging hers under the table—a slow, deliberate tease that sent heat up her spine. “Feeling good?” he asked, voice low, layered.
“Yeah,” she said, almost surprised. “Really good.” His grin widened, hungry, but Linda’s presence kept it tame.
Back at the cabin, they prepped for the hike—boots, water bottles, Clara in leggings and a loose tee, Jamie in shorts that hugged his thighs. He cornered her by the dresser, voice dropping. “It’s going too smooth. Want one of these, just in case?” He dangled a baby diaper from their stash, cartoon characters mocking her, his smirk playful but edged with suspicion.
“No way,” she hissed, snatching it and shoving it back in the bag. “We’re hiking—Linda’d hear it, or worse, see it. I’m fine. It’s… better today.” Her confidence wavered, but the risk of crinkling through the woods outweighed her doubt.
He shrugged, hand brushing her waist as he stepped back. “Your call, babe. Don’t say I didn’t offer.” His touch lingered, a promise simmering.
The hike wound through pine-scented trails, the lake glinting below, framed by jagged peaks. They talked dinner plans—steaks, roasted veggies, maybe a pie—Jamie’s arm brushing hers as they climbed, his breath close when he pointed out a waterfall. Clara’s pulse thrummed, the views and his nearness stoking her, but her bladder stayed quiet—until the end. Descending the final stretch, pressure bloomed, sharp and insistent. She gritted her teeth, steps quickening. “Almost there,” she muttered, Jamie’s hand steadying her elbow, his eyes narrowing like he knew.
They hit the cabin, collapsing onto the living room couch, boots still laced. Clara bent to untie hers, laughing as Jamie cracked a dumb joke—something about a bear and a picnic. The giggle shook her, and then it happened: a warm, unstoppable rush flooded her leggings, soaking into the couch cushion. Not a trickle—a full, humiliating gush, the fabric darkening as she froze, mid-laugh. Jamie’s jaw dropped, his eyes wide with shock and a flicker of heat. Linda, rounding the corner with a glass of water, stopped dead, her gasp slicing the air.
“Clara!” Linda’s voice was sharp, stunned, her eyes darting from the wet spot to Clara’s flaming face. “Daytime? I haven’t seen that since the kids were toddlers!” She set the glass down, hands on hips, but her tone softened, edged with care. “Come on, up—let’s get you cleaned. Jamie, grab a towel for this mess.”
Clara stumbled to her feet, legs trembling, the dampness clinging as Linda guided her toward the bathroom, one hand firm on her shoulder. “I—I didn’t mean—” she stammered, mortified, but Linda shushed her.
“Happens, hon. We’ll figure it out,” Linda said, voice steady but cryptic, her mind clearly spinning. She grabbed a rag, wiping the couch as Jamie returned, his gaze locked on Clara—worry, arousal, a tangle of both.
In the bathroom, Linda stepped out, leaving Jamie to slip in with a handful of wipes, a fresh pair of panties, and the soft gray sweatpants from their bag. He locked the door, his breath hot against her neck as he peeled her soaked leggings down, fingers grazing her thighs—slow, tender. “Fuck, Clara,” he murmured, dropping to his knees, the cool swipe of a wipe gliding over her skin as he cleaned her, his touch loving yet charged. Her breath hitched, shame melting into want as he traced her inner thighs, wiping away the mess with a gentleness that made her ache. He slid the panties up her legs, then the sweatpants, his hands lingering on her hips as he stood, pulling her close.
“You’re okay,” he whispered, lips brushing her forehead, his voice rough with care. “But she saw, babe. Daytime—she’s gonna do something.”
Clara pressed against him, shaky, her hands clutching his shirt. “I know. And with Cassie and those girls tomorrow…” Her voice trembled, the weight of Linda’s cryptic “we’ll figure it out” sinking in. His arms tightened around her, his woodsy scent grounding her, but his eyes darkened with the same fear—their secret fraying, Linda’s next move a shadow looming over them. They stood there, wrapped in each other, the air thick with dread and unspoken desire, hearts racing as they braced for what came next.
Clara woke to a damp chill, the plastic sheet crinkling beneath her as she shifted. Her eyes fluttered open, dawn light seeping through the cabin window, and a sinking dread hit—her shirt clung to her stomach, the baby diaper between her legs sodden and useless. The too-small thing, taped tight by Jamie’s trembling hands last night, hadn’t held her arousal or the inevitable leak that followed in her sleep. The quilt was damp, the sheet beneath a telltale wet patch. She bolted upright, heart hammering.
Jamie stirred beside her, his arm still slung over her waist, his morning hardness pressing against her hip through his boxers. “Mm—what’s wrong?” he mumbled, voice groggy, then froze as his hand brushed the wet spot. His eyes snapped open, darting to her soaked diaper, then the sheets. “Oh, shit.”
“I—I didn’t mean to,” Clara whispered, cheeks flaming, tugging her shirt down as if it could hide the mess. The memory of last night—his lips on her neck, her begging, the diaper slick with her arousal—flooded back, now twisted with panic.
He sat up, raking a hand through his hair, his bare chest catching the light. “It’s fine, babe. I’ll handle it.” His voice was steady, but his gaze lingered on her, dark with a mix of worry and that same heat from last night. He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. “You’re still hot, even like this.” A shiver ran through her, despite the mess.
Before she could protest, footsteps creaked down the hall—Linda. Jamie yanked the quilt up, covering Clara, and swung his legs out of bed just as the door cracked open. Linda poked her head in, her sharp eyes narrowing at the rumpled bed.
“Morning, you two. Sleep well?” Her tone was casual, but her gaze snagged on the damp quilt, then flicked to Clara’s flushed face.
Jamie stood, blocking her view, his boxers tented slightly—damn his timing. “Uh, yeah, mostly. I, uh… had a little accident.” He rubbed his neck, forcing a sheepish grin. “Old habits, I guess.”
Clara’s jaw dropped, but she clamped it shut, heart thudding. Linda’s eyebrow arched, her lips pursing as she studied him, then Clara, who shrank under the quilt. “You, huh?” Linda said, skepticism dripping. “Funny, you’ve been dry for years. Sheets don’t lie, though.” She stepped closer, peering at the wet spot, then back at Clara. “Sure it wasn’t someone else?”
“Nope, all me,” Jamie cut in, too quick, his hand brushing Clara’s shoulder under the quilt—a secret squeeze, electric despite the tension. “Sorry, Aunt Linda. Won’t happen again.”
Linda hummed, unconvinced, but waved it off. “Clean it up before breakfast. Lake day’s still on—get moving.” She left, door clicking shut, but her suspicion hung like smoke.
Clara exhaled, shoving the quilt off. “You didn’t have to do that,” she muttered, peeling the soaked diaper free, her thighs sticky with arousal and shame. Jamie’s eyes tracked her, his boner still evident, and he smirked.
“Couldn’t let her pin it on you,” he said, voice low, stepping closer. “Besides, it’s kinda… sexy, you soaking through that little thing.” His hand grazed her hip, teasing, and her breath caught, heat flaring despite the mess.
“Stop it,” she hissed, swatting him, but her body betrayed her, leaning into his touch. “We’ve got to clean this up.”
The lake day dawned bright, a blur of sun and distraction. Clara, in her bikini, felt the pressure build an hour into kayaking—the rhythmic paddle, the water’s lap, Jamie’s grin beside her stoking her nerves. A sudden twinge hit, and before she could brace, a spurt escaped—warm, brief—into her bikini bottom. She froze, cheeks burning, glancing at Jamie. He caught her flinch, eyes narrowing, then widening as she slipped over the kayak’s edge into the lake, the cool water swallowing her secret. She finished there, a faint stream blending with the ripples, praying Linda—watching from shore—wouldn’t notice.
Climbing back in, dripping, she met Jamie’s knowing smirk. “Should’ve packed swim diapers, huh?” he teased, voice low, paddle dipping lazily. Her blush deepened, a laugh escaping despite the humiliation, his gaze sparking her pulse. Linda’s distant stare stayed oblivious, and Clara clung to that.
By nightfall, they sprawled in the living room, sunburned and tired, the fire crackling. Linda set her mug down, her expression shifting—stern, final. “Alright, you two. That bed’s taken enough hits. Jamie, you’re a gentleman, but I’m not buying it was you this morning.” Her eyes locked on Clara, who froze, Jamie’s hand stilling on her knee under the blanket.
Clara opened her mouth, but Linda raised a hand. “Save it. I’ve seen the signs—fidgeting, close calls. You’re both in Goodnites tonight—XL ones, no arguments.” She stood, pulling two packs from the closet—one boys’ version, blue and sporty, the other a girls’ pack, purple with stars, clearly freshly bought. “Only had the boys’ ‘til I slipped out earlier—figured Clara deserved her own. I know how many are in each, so don’t think you can swap ‘em out dry in the morning. I’ll check. Rules are: three nights dry, you’re back to normal underwear. Wet, you wear ‘em ‘til we leave. Leak through? It’s tape-on diapers—big ones—for the rest of the trip. Beds aren’t cheap.” She tossed the packs on the couch. “Put ‘em on. Now.”
Clara’s face blazed—girls’ XL Goodnites, bought just for her, the implication searing. Jamie’s went scarlet, his grip tightening on her knee. “Aunt Linda, we’re not kids—”
“You’re in my house,” she snapped. “Night.” She left, footsteps fading.
Clara stared at the purple pack, pulse racing, her blush a wildfire. Jamie turned to her, his eyes dark, conflicted. “This is… fucked up,” he muttered, but his voice dropped, husky. “And kinda hot.” His hand slid up her thigh, thumb brushing her shorts, and her breath hitched.
“Jamie,” she whispered, half-protest, half-plea, as he leaned in, lips grazing her jaw. “She’ll check.”
“Then we stay dry,” he murmured, nipping her earlobe, his boner pressing against her leg. “But fuck, I want you in that right now.” His fingers teased her waistband, and she squirmed, heat pooling low.
In their room, door locked, Clara stripped to her shirt, Jamie watching, his erection straining as she slid the girls’ Goodnite up—snug, starry, mortifyingly cute. He pulled on his boys’ version, the blue clinging to his bulge, and grinned. “His and hers, huh? Matching set.”
She smirked, climbing into bed. “Yours looks ready to burst, Mr. Seventeen.”
“Yours is begging for it,” he shot back, pressing against her, the plastic sheet rustling. His lips found hers—slow, hungry—hand cupping her hip. Her fingers slipped under his Goodnite, wrapping around him, stroking slow. He groaned, hips bucking, then slid his hand into hers, fingers dipping inside her—wet, warm, teasing her clit. She moaned, rocking into him, the crinkle loud between them.
Her arousal slicked his fingers, a faint dampness seeping into the Goodnite’s lining. “Shit,” she gasped, pulling back, breathless, as the wetness registered. “It’s getting damp—we can’t.”
He froze, panting, eyes wild. “Fuck, you’re right.” His hand retreated, hers too, both red-cheeked and aching.
“Night,” he growled, arm draping over her, his hardness a promise against her back. Sleep came slow, Linda’s check looming, their Goodnites teetering on the edge—dry, for now.
Clara and Jamie lingered in the guest room, the baby diaper’s crinkle under her sweatpants a glaring risk as Linda’s voice echoed—dinner in thirty. Jamie unzipped his bag, but his earlier touches—wiping her clean, taping her up—still smoldered in Clara’s mind. Linda’s sharp eyes, that plastic sheet, the pull-up offer—it was too much. She couldn’t sit through dinner rustling.
“I’m taking it off,” Clara said, voice firm. Jamie turned, heat in his gaze.
“The diaper?” he asked, stepping closer, playful yet nervous. “Sure? After today…”
“Just ‘til after dinner,” she said, shimmying her sweatpants down. She ripped the tabs free, the cartoon-clad diaper dropping, and Jamie’s eyes raked her legs, hungry. “Your aunt’s too perceptive—I can’t risk it. Later, I’ll put it back on.”
“Need help?” he murmured, husky, fingers brushing her hip—electric. Her breath hitched.
“Behave,” she whispered, swatting him, though her skin buzzed. She tugged her sweatpants up, the diaper’s absence a gamble. Her hidden leaks gnawed at her, but she’d manage.
Jamie smirked, hand grazing her back as they left. “Don’t push it—she’s got a sixth sense.”
Dinner—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans—filled Linda’s table. Clara sat across from Jamie, Linda at the head, her gaze flicking as she passed rolls. Small talk flowed—the drive, the lake—but midway, a bladder twinge hit Clara. She’d skipped water, nursed tea, but it crept up. She crossed her legs, shoving food in to hide it.
“You okay, Clara?” Linda asked, fork pausing, tone edged. “You’re wiggling.”
Cheeks warm, Clara lied, “Fine, just settling in.” Jamie’s foot nudged hers—warning, spark.
Linda hummed, skeptical, but dropped it. The twinge sharpened, a dull ache pressing low. Clara excused herself post-meal, darting to the bathroom and locking the door. Standing there, she clenched her fists and muttered, “Hold it,” her voice a desperate command. She’d been dodging the bathroom all day—too nervous with Linda’s hawk-like watch, too stubborn to admit she couldn’t wait. It was a point of pride now, a silent defiance against the pull-ups Linda kept hinting at. But as she fumbled with her sweatpants, a small, warm spurt escaped, soaking into her panties before she could stop it. “Damn it,” she hissed, yanking them down and dropping onto the toilet. The rest poured out in a rush, relief mingling with irritation as she stared at the damp spot on her underwear. It wasn’t much—just a little leak—but it stung her pride. She wiped herself, pulled up the panties and sweats, hopefully they wont make a wet spot on her pants. splashing her face to cool her flushed cheeks she then returned to the others
After dinner, they stepped onto the porch, the night air cool, stars glinting over the lake. Linda leaned against the railing, sipping cocoa, and handed them mugs. “Nice night, huh? Lake’s perfect this time of year—calms the soul after a long day.”
“Yeah, it’s gorgeous,” Clara said, forcing ease, though her nerves hummed. Jamie’s arm draped around her shoulders, thumb tracing her neck—stoking her.
Linda nodded, eyeing them. “You two seem wound up, though. Drive wear you out?”
“Just a lot of… excitement,” Jamie said, smirking faintly, his touch sparking Clara. Then it hit—sharp, urgent. She shifted, thighs pressed tight, a tiny leak dampening her underwear. She laughed too loud at Linda’s next comment—something about fishing—to cover it.
Heart thudding, Clara said, “No, I’m good,” too fast. Jamie’s arm tightened.
“Mm-hmm,” Linda replied, unconvinced. They sipped cocoa, tension coiling. As Linda set her mug down, she added, “Well, rest up—tomorrow’s lake day. Swimming, kayaking, early start. Last chance—Goodnites are in the closet. Beds aren’t cheap.”
Jamie’s laugh strained. “We’re fine, Aunt Linda.” His hand squeezed Clara’s, their baby diapers a secret shield.
Linda shrugged, lingering a beat. “Alright, your call. I’m turning in—don’t stay up too late, you’ll need energy.” She headed inside, leaving the hall door ajar, her footsteps fading slowly.
In their room, door shut, Clara sagged against Jamie. “She’s onto me,” she whispered, the damp spot taunting. “Those close calls…”
“She’s fishing,” Jamie said, pulling her close, thumbs brushing her hips. “Put it back on—just in case.” His eyes darkened with want.
Clara smirked, tossing him a baby diaper. “Maybe you should too, Mr. Seventeen.”
He caught it, cheeks flaming, laughing rough. “Not happening, babe.” He tossed it back, chest brushing hers. “Lie down—it’s easier.”
On the bed, the plastic sheet rustled. Jamie peeled her sweatpants down slow, fingers trailing her thighs. He tugged her damp underwear off, smirking at the stain, then grabbed wipes from their bag. The cool swipe grazed her skin—intimate, teasing—as he cleaned her, knuckles brushing too close. She gasped, arousal stirring as he unfolded the diaper, sliding it under her, lifting her hips. His fingers lingered, tracing her inner thighs, dipping near her heat. Her legs parted, a faint dampness from her arousal kissing the diaper’s lining, and he taped it snug, breath hitching at the subtle wetness.
“Little damp already, huh?” he teased, voice hoarse, leaning in. His lips crashed against hers—hot, desperate—his boner straining his jeans. Her hands tangled in his hair, his slid under her shirt, thumb flicking her nipple. She moaned, loud, as he pressed the diaper against her core, grinding against her leg.
“Fuck, Clara,” he groaned, nipping her neck. Her hand reached down, stroking his bulge. “Please,” she begged, voice trembling, desperate, fingers fumbling with his fly. He thrust into her touch, then froze as faint footsteps echoed—Linda, maybe, down the hall.
“Shit—pause,” he rasped, pulling back, eyes wild. “She might hear us.” Her cheeks blazed, his glowed—both wrecked, breathless.
Clara whined, nodding reluctantly, body aching. He steadied himself, hands shaking as he finished taping her, one last graze along her thigh—torturous. “Done.”
She tugged her shirt down, the faintly damp diaper a thrill. Jamie slid beside her, bulge pressing her back, lips grazing her ear. “Night,” he murmured, the air thick with their pause. Sleep took them, teetering on rawness, Linda’s suspicion—and footsteps—hovering.
The sun dipped low over the North Carolina peaks as Jamie steered the car up the gravel drive to Aunt Linda’s cabin, a rustic retreat perched by a shimmering lake. Clara, 22 and still reeling from the day’s chaos, tugged her shirt down over the cartoon-patterned baby diaper, its faint crinkle a constant reminder beneath her bare legs. The memory of Jamie’s hands—firm, teasing, lingering as he’d wiped her clean and taped her into fresh padding in the diner’s backseat—still seared her skin. At 23, Jamie’s hand now rested on her thigh, a steady weight that anchored her even as her stomach knotted. Linda’s silhouette loomed on the porch—tall, wiry, her graying hair pulled tight—and Clara’s pulse quickened. What if she noticed?
“Relax,” Jamie murmured, squeezing her leg, though his own voice trembled faintly. “We’ll get you in pants before she sees.” But his eyes darted to the cabin, a flicker of something—dread, maybe—crossing his face.
Linda greeted them with a brisk wave. “You made it! Long drive, huh?” Her voice was warm but clipped, her gaze sharp as it swept over them. Jamie popped the trunk, hauling out bags, while Clara scrambled into the soft gray sweatpants from the backseat, the diaper’s crinkle muffled but deafening to her ears. The scent of baby wipes still clung faintly to her skin, a mix of cool cleanliness and humiliation from Jamie’s slow, deliberate swipes earlier.
Inside, the cabin smelled of pine and old wood, cozy yet stark. Linda led them down a creaky hall. “You two’ll share the guest room—hope that’s fine. One bed, but it’s big enough.” She pushed the door open, revealing a quaint space: quilted bed, wooden dresser, a window overlooking the lake. Clara’s eyes snagged on the mattress—a faint rustle as Linda smoothed the quilt, exposing a shiny plastic sheet beneath.
Jamie froze mid-step, his bag slipping slightly in his grip. “Uh… still got the old setup, huh?” His laugh was strained, cheeks flushing.
Linda turned, hands on hips. “Oh, you bet. You and your cousins—Lord, the bedwetting phase never ended. Ruined two mattresses before I wised up. Even you, Jamie, ‘til what—seventeen, eighteen? Figured I’d keep it on, just in case.”
Clara’s jaw tightened, glancing at Jamie. Seventeen? His flush deepened, eyes dropping to the floor, but a strange heat flickered in them—embarrassment, sure, but something else too, a twitch of arousal he couldn’t quite hide. Her own pulse thudded, caught between shock and the echo of his fingers grazing her thighs hours ago, the cool drag of wipes against her skin as he’d cleaned her mess. Her own accidents—those leaks she’d hidden, the diaper still snug against her hips—suddenly felt less solitary.
“Anyway,” Linda went on, oblivious, “back when you kids were under eighteen, I had rules. First couple nights, pull-ups—mandatory. Too many wet sheets otherwise. If you stayed dry, you graduated out of ‘em. Worked like a charm.” She paused, eyeing them with a faint smirk. “Still got some in the closet, if you think you’ll need ‘em. No shame in it.”
Jamie’s laugh was too loud, too quick. “No, no, we’re good, Aunt Linda. Past that stage, right, Clara?” His hand found her lower back, fingers pressing—a plea, a spark. She nodded, mute, her throat dry, the memory of Jamie kneeling before her in the drugstore bathroom flashing vivid: his breath warm, the crinkle loud as he taped her up.
Linda shrugged. “Suit yourselves. Dinner’s in an hour—settle in.” She left, her footsteps fading down the hall.
The door clicked shut, and Jamie exhaled, raking a hand through his hair. “God, that was… I forgot she’d bring that up.” He turned to Clara, close now, his breath brushing her cheek. “I was a mess ‘til my late teens—couldn’t shake it. She’s relentless about it.”
Clara tilted her head, a sly grin tugging at her lips despite the knot in her chest. “Seventeen, huh? So I’m not the only one who’s had… little accidents?” Her voice dipped, teasing, as she nudged his side. “Guess I should’ve packed you some of these diapers too, huh? Keep you safe on that plastic sheet tonight.” She patted her own waist, the crinkle faint but pointed, and watched his flush deepen, a mix of chagrin and heat sparking in his eyes.
“Clara,” he groaned, half-laughing, half-mortified, but he stepped closer, his hand sliding to her waist, thumb grazing the diaper’s edge through her sweatpants. “It’s humiliating,” he muttered, voice low, rough. “But—don’t laugh—it’s kinda… hot, too. Thinking about you like this, and me back then…” His eyes locked on hers, dark with shame and want, and her breath hitched. The sensory memory surged—his knuckles brushing her inner thigh in the backseat, the wipe’s cool glide, the faint baby powder scent mingling with his woodsy cologne.
“Guess we’re a matched set then,” she murmured, her tease softening into something raw as his fingers tightened, pulling her flush against him. The crinkle sounded between them, loud in the shrinking room, the bed’s plastic sheen a taunting backdrop. But then his grip slackened, nerves overtaking desire. “If you have another accident… if she finds out…”
“She won’t,” Clara said, too fast, though her stomach flipped. Jamie’s history, Linda’s rules—it all pressed in, a tightrope they were barely balancing. “I’ll be fine.”
He nodded, but his jaw clenched, eyes darting to the bed. “She’s got a nose for this stuff. One slip, and—” He cut off, shaking his head, but the unspoken hung heavy: Linda’s pull-ups, her rules, a past he couldn’t outrun. And Clara, already teetering, felt the weight of it too—the pack of wipes still in the bag, a silent promise of more moments like the diner, Jamie’s hands on her, steady and teasing.
They unpacked in silence, the air thick with tension—sexual, anxious, electric. Jamie’s hand brushed hers as they shoved clothes into drawers, a deliberate linger that sent a shiver up her spine. The protective sheet rustled as he dropped a bag on the bed, and his gaze flicked to her, conflicted, hungry. Clara’s diaper felt tighter, its cartoon characters a childish taunt against the heat pooling in her core. Linda’s offer echoed in her mind—pull-ups in the closet, a step up from the baby diapers Jamie had taped her into, but still a surrender to the same vulnerability she’d just teased him about.
Dinner loomed, but the real test would be the night ahead—sharing that bed, its plastic shield a silent judge, with Jamie’s past and her present tangled in a way neither could ignore. The wipes, the diapers, the memory of his touch—it all wove into the fabric of their escape, a secret thread pulling tighter with every glance.
Clara, a meticulous 22-year-old fresh out of college, had always been the planner in her three-year relationship with Jamie, her laid-back 23-year-old partner. She’d mapped out their week-long escape to Jamie’s aunt’s secluded mountain house in North Carolina—gas stops, detours, a playlist for the winding roads—all for a getaway of hiking, streams, swimming, and waterfalls. Jamie, happy to let her lead, drove with a quiet ease that always steadied her. Lately, though, Clara had been off-balance. For weeks, she’d been having little accidents, unexpected leaks that left her damp and flustered. Nothing drastic, but enough to spark quiet alarm. She’d kept it under wraps, mortified, though Jamie had caught her dashing off once or twice and flashed that crooked grin, calling it “cute” in a way that made her squirm.
An hour into the drive, trouble brewed. Clara shifted in the passenger seat, her brow creasing as she stared out at the trees. “You okay?” Jamie asked, voice low, his hand drifting to rest on the gearshift—close enough to graze her thigh if he wanted.
“Yeah, just… my stomach’s been weird,” she mumbled, dodging the truth. At 22, she blamed stress—those accidents had been creeping up, but she hadn’t dared confess the full scope. Not yet.
Thirty minutes later, they hit a gas station. Clara bolted to the restroom, barely making it. “Ridiculous,” she muttered, washing her hands, her cheeks hot. She didn’t tell Jamie—why ruin the vibe?
Back on the road, her playlist thrummed, the landscape a golden-green blur. Clara sipped her coffee, but Jamie’s sidelong glance—warm, too long—sent a jolt through her. Then it hit: an urgent pressure she couldn’t fight. “Jamie, pull over,” she said, voice tight.
“What? We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Jamie replied, scanning the highway. “Can you hold it ‘til the next exit?”
“I—uh—” Her face burned as she twisted, Jamie’s eyes flicking to her with a heat that pinned her. Before she could answer, it happened—a warm, humiliating rush soaked her jeans, seeping into the seat. She froze, mortified, as Jamie’s gaze darkened with surprise.
“Oh. Oh, wow. Okay, uh… don’t panic,” he said, pulling onto the shoulder. The car idled as Clara buried her face in her hands, Jamie’s scent—woodsy, close—flooding her senses.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, voice trembling. “This… it’s been happening a little lately.”
“Hey, it’s fine,” Jamie said, their tone soft but edged with something deeper. They leaned closer, a hand brushing her arm—slow, deliberate. “Kinda cute, remember?” The tease hung heavy as he popped the trunk, grabbed a towel, and slid it under her. “Stay in those for now—we’ve got luggage, but let’s wait ‘til the next stop. I’ll clean the seat.”
Clara nodded, pulse racing as Jamie’s fingers grazed her leg while tucking the towel, their touch lingering a heartbeat too long. She stayed in her wet jeans, the damp fabric clinging, as Jamie climbed back into the driver’s seat. The engine hummed, but before he shifted gears, Clara’s voice broke the silence, small and shaky. “Jamie… it’s not just today. These accidents—they’ve been happening for weeks. Little ones, mostly, but they keep coming, and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s stress, or… I don’t know.” She twisted her hands in her lap, eyes fixed on the dashboard, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s humiliating. I thought I could hide it, but obviously not.”
Jamie’s hand paused on the gearshift, his head tilting toward her. “Weeks, huh?” His voice was quiet, thoughtful, but there was a flicker of something else—concern, maybe, or curiosity. “You should’ve told me, Clara. I wouldn’t judge you.” He shifted, his hand finding her knee, a gentle squeeze. “Guess it’s more than ‘cute’ then. We’ll figure it out.” His eyes lingered on her, the weight of her confession settling between them, and then he pulled back onto the road, jaw tight with a new resolve.
An hour later, they rolled into a small town, and Jamie pulled into a drugstore lot without a word. “Wait here,” he said, voice dropping, his hand squeezing her knee again—firm, electric. Clara, still damp, watched him stride inside, her mind spinning. Ten minutes later, he tossed a bag onto her lap.
“What’s this?” she asked, peering in. Her breath hitched as she pulled out wipes and a pack of size 8 baby diapers—cartoon-clad, crinkly, absurdly childish. “Jamie, no. These aren’t even adult ones!”
“They didn’t have adult sizes,” Jamie said, leaning in, his breath warm against her ear. “It’s this or nothing, babe. You’re soaked, and with what you just told me? I’m not risking it—or you.” Their lips quirked, eyes tracing her flushed face.
Her cheeks blazed. “This is mortifying.”
“It’s hot,” Jamie murmured, voice rough, his hand sliding to her wrist. “You, needing me like this? C’mon.” The air thickened as they locked eyes.
In the drugstore restroom, Clara locked the door, hands trembling as she peeled off her soaked jeans, the cold, clammy denim sticking to her thighs. The sharp scent of urine clung to her skin, a humiliating reminder. She grabbed the pack of wipes from the bag, tearing one free. The cool, wet cloth grazed her inner thighs, slick and intimate, sending a shiver up her spine as she swiped away the dampness. Her fingers hesitated, brushing too close, the sensation sparking a flush of shame and something hotter—Jamie’s voice echoing in her head, calling it “cute.” She wiped again, slower, the soft drag of the wipe against her sensitive skin amplifying her embarrassment, her breath catching as she imagined Jamie’s hands instead. The crinkle of the baby diaper on the sink mocked her, its cartoon animals staring up as she fumbled with it, the tabs barely stretching across her hips. Frustration—and a flush of want—prickled her skin. “I can’t,” she muttered, cracking the door. “Jamie… help.”
Jamie slipped in, locking the door behind. “Hold still,” he said, voice low, kneeling before her. His fingers brushed her hips—slow, teasing—as they taped the diaper snug, the crinkle loud in the charged silence. Clara’s breath caught, her hands twitching to touch his hair as he looked up, eyes smoldering. “There,” Jamie rasped, standing, his chest brushing hers. “Fits you just right.”
Back at the car, Jamie eyed her soaked jeans. “Peel those off. With your little habit, I’d rather not chance it. Shirt and diaper ‘til we’re safe—deal?” His tone was casual, but his hands guided the jeans down her thighs, fingers trailing her skin, deliberate.
Clara tugged her shirt down, heart pounding. “What if your aunt sees?”
“She won’t,” Jamie said, voice thick, their palm resting on her bare leg as she settled in. “We’ll fix you up before we arrive. She doesn’t need to know.” Their touch slid higher, then retreated—a promise unspoken.
The mountain roads curled on. Clara tried not to notice the childish cartoons looking back up at her. That evening, the pressure returned—a faint, nagging twinge. She shifted, hoping to ignore it, but as they pulled into the diner lot, Jamie’s hand brushed her knee, and the distraction unraveled her. A small, warm trickle escaped, seeping into the diaper with a faint hiss. She tensed, cheeks flaming, as the dampness spread, the crinkly padding swelling slightly against her skin. “Jamie,” she whispered, voice tight.
He glanced over, reading her instantly. “Again?” His tone was soft, but his eyes gleamed. “Alright, backseat’s better—laying down’ll be easier this time. Let’s do it before we go in.” He climbed out, opening the back door. “C’mon.”
Clara scrambled back, the diaper rustling as she lay across the seat, her shirt riding up. Jamie grabbed the wipes and a fresh diaper from the bag, kneeling beside her. His fingers tugged the tabs free, the sound sharp in the quiet, and peeled the damp diaper away. The cool air hit her skin, followed by the slow swipe of a wipe—his touch firm, lingering, as he cleaned her. Her breath hitched, the intimacy searing, his knuckles grazing her inner thigh just enough to make her squirm. “You’re a mess,” he teased, voice low, taping the new diaper on with a practiced ease. He dug into the luggage, pulling out a pair of soft gray sweatpants. “These’ll do for now,” he said, sliding them up her legs, his hands warm through the fabric.
Inside the diner, over fries and milkshakes, she met his gaze. “Okay, you were right. It’s… a relief.”
Jamie’s grin was slow, hungry. “Told you. We’re a team, Clara. I’ve got you.” His foot slid against hers under the table, a current sparking.
Back in the car, Jamie’s hand rested on her thigh as he started the engine. “Take the pants off,” he said, voice casual but firm. “No point ruining more clothes before we get to Aunt Linda’s. Diaper and shirt’s enough—you’re safe with me.” His fingers tugged at the waistband, helping her shimmy them down, leaving her bare-legged and vulnerable again, the heat of his touch lingering.
By the time they neared Aunt Linda’s cabin—a lakefront retreat in North Carolina’s peaks—Clara had softened to the fix, though nerves gnawed. Linda’s strictness loomed, but Jamie’s hand claiming her thigh, the heat of their shared secret, pulsed stronger. What could’ve been a disaster burned raw, intimate—a charged detour on their mountain escape.
