NSfw. I guess I should say hello. My name is Dannyl. I love diapies and boys in them. I am well, 26, at college. Defs a little, and I would say my little age is 2 to 5, but still in diapers. Normally 3. I also love wetting myself and the bed. Messy's are fine as long as they can be cleaned up. I feel littler when I do so. And that's me.
The stroller’s wheels squeak softly as Mommy pushes you through the front door, the sound of laughter and chatter spilling out from the living room. You can feel the weight of the thick diaper between your legs, the plastic backing crinkling with every slight movement. The shortalls do little to hide the obvious bulge, the fabric stretched taut over the padding. You wiggle your toes, the socks on your feet feeling absurdly small, like they belong to a child rather than a grown man. But that’s what you are now, aren’t you? Mommy’s little boy, strapped into a stroller, about to be paraded in front of people who once knew you as an equal.
You grip the tray of the stroller, your fingers tracing the edge of the plastic as Mommy steers you into the room. The conversations falter for a moment, then die entirely. You can almost hear the confusion in the silence. A few of your former coworkers glance over, their expressions shifting from polite smiles to outright bewilderment. One of them, Mark, from accounting, does a double take, his beer bottle pausing halfway to his lips.
“Uh…” he starts, then stops, as if his brain can’t quite process what he’s seeing.
Mommy doesn’t miss a beat. She stops the stroller in the middle of the room, her hand resting on the back as she beams down at you. “Look who I brought!” she announces, her voice dripping with that infuriating, affectionate pride. “Say hi to everyone, sweetheart.”
You squirm, your face burning. You want to shrink into the stroller, to disappear entirely, but there’s nowhere to hide. The diaper is impossible to ignore, the bulk of it pressing against the seat, the tapes digging slightly into your hips. You can feel the warmth spreading through the padding, you’d peed a little on the way over, nerves getting the better of you, and the wetness indicators are probably already an embarrassing blue.
“Hi,” you mumble, your voice small, your eyes fixed on your lap.
Mark, your old coworker, is the first to break the silence. He tilts his head, squinting at the obvious bulge beneath your shortalls. “Dude… is he wearing a diaper?”
Mommy doesn’t hesitate. “Of course he is.”
Sarah, from HR, steps closer, her eyes flicking between Mommy and the unmistakable outline of the diaper. “No way. Seriously?”
Mommy nods, her fingers already working at the snaps of your shortalls. “Seriously.”
Jake from marketing crosses his arms, his expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. “But does he, like… use it?”
Mommy’s grin widens as she unfastens the last snap and tugs the shortalls down your legs in one smooth motion. The fabric pools at your ankles, leaving you in nothing but your t-shirt and the thick, crinkling diaper. The room falls silent again as the full sight of you is revealed, the bulky padding, the plastic backing, the way the diaper forces your legs apart.
And then they see it.
The wetness.
The deep blue stripe on the front of the diaper is impossible to miss, the plastic glistening slightly where the moisture has spread. Sarah’s eyes widen. “Oh my God. He peed in it.”
Mommy chuckles, bending down to pull the shortalls free and set them aside. “Told you he uses them.”
Mark lets out a disbelieving laugh, crouching down to get a better look. His fingers hover just above the diaper, as if he’s afraid to touch it. “That’s… that’s wild.”
Jake shakes his head, his grin spreading. “So he just sits there, in a wet diaper, like it’s normal?”
Mommy ruffles your hair, her touch affectionate. “It is normal. For him, anyway.” She taps the front of your diaper, the squish loud in the quiet room. “See? Nice and wet. Just like a good little boy should be.”
The room erupts into laughter, the initial shock giving way to teasing. Sarah reaches out, her fingers brushing against the plastic backing. The crinkle is deafening. “Damn. That’s thick. And wet.”
You squirm, your face burning, but you don’t protest. What’s the point? The evidence is right there, plain for everyone to see. The diaper is heavy between your legs, the wetness a constant, embarrassing reminder of your regression. But beneath the humiliation, there’s something else, something warm, something comforting. This is who you are now. Mommy’s little boy, diapered and cared for, and if that means being the center of attention for a while, so be it.
The teasing continues for what feels like an eternity. They ask if you can walk (you can, but Mommy prefers to keep you in the stroller for “safety”). They ask if you want to be like this (the answer is complicated). They ask if Mommy changes you (yes, and you hate how much you love it).
Eventually, though, the novelty wears off. The adults drift back to their conversations, work, politics, the latest sports game, leaving you and Mommy on the periphery. Mommy bends down, her face softening as she looks at you. “You doing okay, baby?”
You nod, but your throat feels tight.
She smiles, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Good boy. “Now go play.”
Play. The word makes your stomach twist, but you obey, shuffling toward the corner of the room where a few toys have been left out, a stuffed bear, a stack of blocks, a coloring book. You can feel the eyes on you as you move, the occasional snicker, the whispered comments. But you ignore them, because Mommy told you to play, and good boys listen to Mommy.
You sink down onto the floor, the diaper crinkling loudly beneath you. The blocks are in front of you, but you don’t reach for them. Instead, you sit there, your hands resting on your knees, the thickness of the diaper a constant, comforting presence.
Across the room, the party continues. Laughter, clinking glasses, the hum of adult conversation. And you? You’re just… there. A curiosity. A joke. A little boy in a diaper, left to his own devices while the grown-ups talk about grown-up things.
It’s humiliating.
It’s perfect.
Because for all the teasing, for all the stares, you know one thing for certain: you’re hers. And as long as Mommy’s happy, as long as she’s proud of her good little boy, you can endure anything.
Going to a “dinner party” with a partner but being brainwashed into believing that you’re acting like a sophisticated adult. In reality you’re at a munch behaving like a toddler in a daycare…
———————————————————————————
You think you’re dressed to the nines. You think you’re being allowed big-kid underwear for the evening, that you’re being allowed to wear a suit or dress or whatever you’d like. You distinctly remember beaming with confidence, a bottle of chardonnay in hand, as you walk through the house party’s doors ready to impress.
In actuality you’re dressed even more like an infant than usual. You’re placed in nothing more than shorts and a Winnie-the-Pooh t-shirt, your “chardonnay” being a little matching backpack containing snacks and emergency diapering supplies.
Your partner slides down your pants after greeting the hosts to ease checks and show off your graduation to pull-ups for the evening to all the other littles. You beam with pride as the real adults in the room giggle at your adorable display.
———————————————————————————
You think you’re chatting up a storm with the other guests. That the conversation is flowing, your jokes are landing, and the vibes are great. You feel the urge for the restroom and duck into the hallway, meeting your partner absentmindedly chatting about something you don’t quite understand. You pull them into the bathroom with confidence, the both of you drunkenly giggling as you share a few passionate moments together.
In actuality, you’re playing in a gigantic playpen in the living room with six other littles. You’re all fully regressed and pathetic, crawling around and drooling on yourselves as the grown-ups have actual conversations.
Your urge for the rest room is really a prancing potty dance in front of your caregiver and a mutual friend as the two of them casually flirt back in forth in the hallway, their intentions fully unknown to your infantilized mind. They excuse themself and rush you by hand as you’re just about to give in to urge to pee yourself in front of everyone.
Your several minutes in heaven consists of them pulling down your pull-ups and sitting you on the toilet, praising your ability to speak up about needing to go. “I think we’re looking at big kid underwear in your future,” they coo, caressing your cheek softly. You blush and nod with spiral-eyed enthusiasm before returning to the festivities hand in hand.
———————————————————————————
You simply think that one too many glasses of bubbly got to you. That the rumbling in your stomach was nausea and that after pulling trigger in the bathroom you blacked out on the ride back home.
In reality, one too many chicken nuggets caught up with you. Your subconscious mind disregards the potty-training attempt entirely, and you huff and puff as you expel your bowels in the middle of finishing a block tower. You’ve sat down on your full-ups absentmindedly before it even registers, and your infantile decision to keep playing bites you in the powdered ass when your playmate exclaims to the entire party that “Someone’s Stinky!”
You can feel sweat beading from your forehead as your partner pulls back your waistband. They sigh and mutter, “Yep, found the culprit,” as you’re led again to the bathroom, this time by the ear, for a well-needed change back into your precious diapers. You’re powdered and taped up with efficiency, and your partner grins with sinister enthusiasm as they lean over you, whispering, “Don’t worry, hun. We’ll try potty training again next year when you’re a bit bigger.” You just giggle and grin, thinking all of this is perfectly appropriate for a big-kid.
They wink and smile before kissing your cheek and leading you by the hand into the now-peaceful party goers to say your goodbyes. After being led to the car and strapped into your trusty booster seat, your partner sets off, fingering a napkin with a phone number written down. You dream of the evening and just how mature you were, grasping your padding softly as the two of you head home through the quiet night.
“You had to have known this was coming, didn’t you baby?" She said, "Be honest with me. Did you really think you were just going to be peeing in your diapers all the time and that was it? That you’d get to keep some scrap of big-boy dignity while waddling around in thick padding?" She let the silence hang. "No… deep down you knew this moment was inevitable. You knew that one day you’d be right here, on your knees, feeling that heavy pressure build, and you’d have no choice but to make your first real poopy diaper right in front of me.”
Mike let out a soft, mortified whimper, his face already burning crimson as he shifted uncomfortably on his knees, eyes darting away. “Valerie… please,” he whispered, voice shaking with embarrassment. “I-I didn’t think it would actually go this far. I can’t… it’s too humiliating. Can we please not do this? I don't think I can--”
"Shh..." Valerie said, pressing a finger firmly to his lips to silence him. "No more of that whining. This is how it is now. This is your new normal. And protesting only makes you look even more pathetic than you already do. You’re just going to have to accept it.”
The tension thickened unbearably. Mike’s breathing turned shallow and ragged, soft desperate whines as he clenched instinctively, trying to fight the inevitable. His hands fidgeted at his sides, knees pressing hard into the rug while waves of humiliation crashed over him.
“I really can’t do this,” he whined, voice cracking pathetically. “It’s going to be so gross and—and—and...Please, Val! I’m begging you! Please don't make me do this...”
Valerie tilted her head slightly, her expression calm and almost sweetly pitying as she looked down at him. “Oh, sweetie… I’m not making you do anything. This is what you wanted, remember? You were the one who begged me to put you in diapers in the first place.”
Mike shook his head desperately, tears already welling in his eyes. “But I didn't want this!" He whined, "I just wanted to feel little and taken care of. Maybe wet a diaper or two. But I never thought you’d actually make me do…all of this!"
Valerie gave a soft, amused chuckle and reached out to cup his burning cheek, gently wiping away a leaky tear with her thumb. “Sweetheart, you know I don’t do anything half-assed. You wanted me to take control. You wanted me to treat you like my widdle baybee. Well, this is what that looks like. You don’t get to pick and choose which parts feel good and which parts are too gross or embarrassing. I was being nice before, letting you use the potty for your dirty business. But those days are over. The diapers aren’t just for cute little wettings anymore...they’re your potty now. For all of it. This is what you asked for. Now you’re going to live with it."
Mike let out another broken whimper, face burning with shame. “Please… I’m begging you. Just this once, can’t we—”
But before he could get out another word, a pacifier was pressed into his mouth.
"Shhh...no more talking," she said, her tone firm and unsympathetic. “Just pushing. You’re done protesting. Now be a good boy and focus on filling that diaper like you know you need to.”
Mike’s made pathetic little sounds around the pacifier as he sucked on it instinctively. His face burned hotter than ever, tears of pure shame glistening in his eyes. He tried to look down, to avoid that look, as if it would give him some semblance of privacy, but Valerie lifted his chin with a single finger, forcing his gaze back up to hers.
“Look at me, baby. Eyes up here. I want to watch your face while you do it. Let Mommy see every little grunt, every little squint, every little strain. Feel that pressure building stronger and stronger? That’s your body telling you it’s time for your first poopy diaper. This is how it goes from now on. Now relax your bottom… it’s time. Let Mommy see exactly what a helpless little pants-pooper looks like!”
The pacifier quivered in his mouth. Mike held out for another long, agonizing moment, muffled whines vibrating around the silicone as his cheeks puffed slightly from sucking on it. Then, with a shaky, defeated breath, he finally gave in.
The first hesitant push came slowly. His face contorted in visible effort, brow furrowed, eyes squeezed half-shut in embarrassment as he stared up at her. A faint, muffled crackling sound broke the silence as the seat of the diaper began to expand, the bright little cars stretching obscenely while the warm, mushy mess pushed out. The sensation hit him instantly: the growing warmth, the heavy bulge forming between his legs, the unmistakable squish beginning to settle against him. Fresh shame flooded his cheeks as the reality sank in, he was actually doing it, right in front of her, grunting softly around the pacifier.
“Awww!! There we go!!” Valerie giggled, her voice warm with approval but still laced with that unyielding dominance. “You're doing it! You're making poo-poo's!! Ah-ah! Don't look away! Eyes on me. Just like that. Theeere we go!! Good boy! Your first poopy diaper as a grown man!! How's that feel, hmm? Go on! Keep pushing! Get it alllll out into your widdle diapy!! This is how you go potty from now on! Right here on your knees, facing Mommy, filling your diaper while I watch every humiliating second of your face. No more bathrooms, no more dignity. Just warm, squishy messes in your pants whenever nature calls."
Mike let out a higher, mortified whine around the pacifier as another he continued pushing, his cheeks flushing deeper, eyes watering as the diaper grew even heavier, the material rounding out noticeably.
"Just like that, baby! You're doing so well!!" she continued, leaning in closer. "Look at you making biggg boom-booms in your diaper where the little cars go vroom vroom!! Hahaha! Mommy can see that diaper sagging more and more with every little push! Feel that warm mush filling up your seat? Mommy's so proud of you!"
The smell began to drift upward, growing stronger with each passing second.
"Oof!" Valerie wrinkled her nose and wafted a hand in front of her face. "Stinky boy!! Is that you?? Are you the one making all that smell?? You're doing so amazing, sweetheart! Making a big, stinky present for Mommy! That's it. Keep pushing, baby...get it all out! I want that diaper nice and full for your very first time.”
He whimpered helplessly around the pacifier, knees trembling as the diaper sagged lower and lower, the back growing thick and heavy with a final, unmistakable crinkle. The warm, mushy weight settled heavily against him, and the pungent smell became impossible to ignore.
“That’s my good little diaper boy,” she cooed, pinching his crimson cheek, “doing his big stinky business right where he’s supposed to.”
Mike stayed on his knees, breathing shakily around the pacifier, the thick, warm mess squishing with every tiny movement. He didn’t know what was worse: the heavy, squishy feeling or the awful smell now hanging in the air. His face burned with utter shame.
“All done?” Valerie asked cheerfully.
Mike gave a small, defeated nod.
“Say ‘all done!’” she instructed, demonstrating the little hand sign she used when feeding him, raising her hands and twisting them. “Come on! Do the sign like a good baybee!”
Blushing furiously, Mike mimicked the stupid motion back at her with shaky hands while mumbling “aw done” around the pacifier. Nothing like telling your wife that you're done crapping all over yourself.
Valerie clapped her hands rapidly in delight. “Yayy!!! You did it, baby! Your first poopy diaper like the pathetic little boi you are now! And there will be sooo many more just like it in your future! But first…”
She leaned forward and gently plucked the pacifier from his mouth.
“I need to hear you say it,” she said, her voice sweet but commanding. “Tell Mommy exactly what you just did. Use your big-boy words. What happened back there? Be specific and honest about what a messy, stinky baby you’ve become. Make it good if you want any chance of being changed.”
Mike hesitated, another tiny mortified whine escaping him. Fresh waves of embarrassment washed over his face, but her expectant silence pressed down until he finally mumbled, red-faced and defeated, barely above a whisper:
“I… I went p-p-p-poo-poo's, Mommy... I...m-messed myself… ”
“Louder, sweetie. Don’t mumble. Tell me what a stinky little pants-pooper you are now.”
He swallowed hard, tears of humiliation pricking at his eyes. “I pooped my diaper… I went potty in my pants like a stupid baybee. I filled it all up and now it’s all squishy and stinky back there… and...and..." he didn't know what else to say. What words could capture how degraded he felt?
But Valerie nodded, satisfied, her voice steady and final, wrinkling her nose slightly with a knowing smile as the smell lingered. "That’s right. Your first dirty diaper, and far from the last. This is exactly how it goes from now on. No more fighting it. No more big-boy excuses or dignity. When you have to go, you come tell Mommy what you need to do...or you use your diaper right then and there."
She paused, eyes sparkling with mischief. Mike's throat tightened.
“But I’m gonna need you to do one more thing for me before you get changed, mmkay pumpkin?" She let the silence and anticipation hang again, then continued, "Since this is your first one, I need you to really feel it. To get used to it. So I’m gonna need you to sit down on your bum-bum, okay? Can you do that for Mommy?”
Mike’s eyes widened in fresh horror. “Val… please, no,” he whispered, voice cracking, wriggling in the ruined diaper. “It’s already so gross and heavy… Please don’t make me—”
“Awww, poor baby!!" Valerie cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Look at you! all teary-eyed and cringing. It’s okay, sweetie. Mommy knows it feels yucky right now. But this is part of it. You wanted to be my little boy in diapers… so now you have to learn what that really means.”
"But can't I just—"
"Do you want to stay in that warm, squishy, stinky diaper even longer?" Valerie snapped, her voice turning firm and sharp. "Because I can leave you like this allll afternoon if you’d rather. Your choice.”
Mike sobbed softly, his shoulders shaking. But she was right, he didn't want to stay in this nasty mess any longer. Defeated, he shook his head ‘no’.
“Then sit,” she said sweetly, but with steel underneath. “Right on your bulgey little bottom. Now.”
The heavy, mushy weight already felt unbearable. Humiliated beyond words, he slowly lowered himself onto the striped rug.
The moment his bottom made contact, the warm mess squished loudly beneath him with a wet, crinkly squelch. The thick load spread out, pressing up and around him in the most degrading way imaginable. He let out a sharp, mortified cry, his whole body cringing from his toes to his spine as the mush molded disgustingly against his skin.
“Therrre we go!!” Valerie cooed, her voice flipping back to that soft, motherly tone. “Hear that squish? Feel how it’s all spreading and smearing inside your diapy? That’s your big stinky poo-poo's, baby! You made that! All of that! Now wriggle for Mommy… bounce up and down. Really feel it squishing everywhere. Good boy.”
Mike whimpered and cried, fresh tears rolling down his burning cheeks as he obeyed. He shifted his weight from side to side, then gave a small, reluctant bounce. The mess squelched loudly again, spreading further and coating him more thoroughly. Another broken sob escaped him.
“Shhh, shhh...that's it. Cry it out, baby. Let it all sink in.” Valerie said, feigning pity while her eyes sparkled with amusement. She reached out and gently stroked his hair. “Such a sad widdle baybee sitting in his own dirty diaper. Does it feel all warm and nasty back there? Does it feel gross? Poor thing… but you’re going to get sooo used to this. I promise! This heavy, stinky, squishy feeling? It's your new normal. No more running to the bathroom like a real grown-up. Just you squatting and pottying in your pampers whenever you need to."
It was his fault. It was all his fault.
He asked for this. He wanted the diapers, he wanted her to take control. But he should have known. He should have thought it all the way through. He just never thought it would lead to...this.
She let him sit there for a long moment, letting the reality sink deep into his bones, before finally standing up from the couch. She held out her hand, smiling down at him with that sweet, knowing smile.
“Come on, baby." She said, "Waddle to your room. Let's go change your first dirty diaper!”
You sit in your car seat and think, your brow furrowed slightly. You loved getting lunch with Daddy, but deciding what to eat was so hard for you.
You used to be so fast with making decisions; ever since you started dating Daddy, you sometimes felt like you were thinking through some kind of haze. This was one of those times. What sounded good? You just couldn’t think of anything.
“Ummmm,” you say, spacing out slightly.
“I think I know what sounds good, buddy. I gotcha,” Daddy says, turning the wheel of the car into the next parking lot.
“Where are we going, Daddy?” You’re getting excited, since Daddy always knew the best places to eat.
“Close your eyes, kiddo, I want it to be a surprise!”
You closed your eyes dutifully, and tried to guess where you were going. Vaguely, in the back of your mind, you registered a fullness in your tummy, but without pressure or urgency. You’ll need to poop when you got home, probably.
The car stops moving, but it’s still idling. Is he in a drive-thru line?
“Daddy! What are we gonna get?!” You’re wiggling in your carseat, eyes still closed, so excited.
Daddy rolls down the window and a scent wafts in. Burgers. You loved the idea of burgers! Your tummy makes the sound. You know your body— you’ll need to go potty right when you get home, apparently. You shift your hips with the uncomfortable pressure.
An unfamiliar voice says “what can I get for you?” Eyes still closed, you hear Daddy’s voice quickly whisper to you, “Earmuffs!”
You don’t notice that your hearing stops working just before your hands reach your ears. If you had, you wouldn’t have cared much anyway.
You assume that Daddy is ordering for you, as you sit deaf and blind in the car seat. The smell of the burgers becomes stronger as you feel the car moving forward. Where are you? It’s not some typical fast food place…
You feel Daddy’s hand on your shoulder. You drop your own hands from your ears, and open your eyes.
It’s obvious now, from the particular scent. You should’ve known.
It’s In-N-Out, you realize. The haze in your mind gets suddenly thicker, your tummy burbling noisily.
“Surprise, kiddo!” Daddy’s beaming face shines at you from the driver’s seat. “It’s your favorite: In-N-Out!”
It’s like the last words he says are slowed, somehow. Or spoken through a tunnel. Your head feels fuzzy for a moment, the haze suddenly cresting like a wave, stifling light and sound. Then an image arises, unbidden, into your mind.
You’re lying on the bed, staring up at Daddy. His… big boy parts are in your bottom. Thrusting. Slowly sliding… in, and out. The rhythm of it is relieving, relaxing. So relaxing; so relaxed. You want him in there, gently making love to you. In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
“Peeyew! Honey, are you OK?” Daddy pushes a button and rolls down the window. “Goodness, you’re pretty gassy, aren’t you?”
You smell it first, the earthy scent of your mess. Your face scrunches up in disgust and humiliation before you can even register the sensation of the filthy load sliding out (in and out) of your slackened little bottom. Realizing with surprise and terror at what’s happening— you are pooping your pants in Daddy’s car!— you try to clench but your muscles barely give a half-hearted twitch. You practically jump out of your seat in panic…
… and with a speed you’ve come to admire, Daddy reaches behind the seat, pulls out a disposable absorbent mat, and slips it under you to protect your seat in a single, fluid, practiced motion. You’re too shocked to hold yourself off the seat. Your legs tremble, and then give out, your bottom settling into the involuntary mound.
Before you can react any further, Daddy has picked up the drive-through order and is driving away. You stutter a curse. Daddy tells you, sternly, “watch your tongue, baby boy. That’s big kid language, and it smells like you’re not a big kid right now, are you?” You swallow your response, still processing what had happened.
It dawns on you slowly, over the next few minutes, point by point:
Daddy isn’t surprised this happened.
Daddy knew this would happen.
Daddy planned for this to happen.
Daddy made this happen.
You remember, partially, the soft chair in Daddy’s study. You remember his voice, so comforting. He must’ve hypnotized you! You’ve never had a public accident before, but you’d told Daddy how much the thought excited you, and he must’ve done something to your mind to make it happen!
You turned to him, face flushed, and said in your little kid voice “Daddy? Did you make me potty my pants?” You couldn’t hold back all of the grin at the idea.
And neither could he, which is what gave away the lie he then gave you, his voice laced with staged admonishment: “kiddo, you don’t need Daddy’s help being little! You had an accident all on your own, right in the car seat, no less! and we’re going to need to put you in diapers for the rest of the month!”
You looked down at your feet. A whole month? You worked from home, so it wasn’t like it was a difficult sell. You were excited, but also scared. You knew you could say no, at any time. You took a moment and made your decision.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, baby boy?”
“Can we get — can we get burgers from that place more often?” You thought it might be wise to avoid saying it out loud.
Daddy broke out in a tremendous smile, then put his hand casually on your crotch, gently squeezing your excited little boy parts.
“I thought you liked Jack-in-the-Box more?” He pronounced the words carefully, annunciating them to make sure you heard every syllable.
Jack-in-the-Box.
Your eyes fluttered. A groan escaped your lips. The last coherent thought you managed to produce before your mind was overtaken again by the haze, before your hips spasmodically started thrusting against Daddy’s wide palm on your crotch, before you helplessly blew your load in your pants like an overexcited teenager, was an incredulous how many triggers did he put in me?
(this one is for @bouncy-baby-bun! Thanks for the request, and for inspiring this-- I hope you enjoy it!)
Daddy asks for my phone when I get home from work. I wish I could be little ALL the time. But, that's not the world we live in.
He takes me phone, keys, wallet, anything that's not little from me when I get through the door. He already has my little outfit for the night picked out at the door. I'm not allowed much further into the house until I'm all little again.
This isn't the post. That's just how it should be. But... Then one night... After dinner and my heads all woozy from bottle time, I kind of half notice him playing with my phone, wallet, and keys. But every time I turn to look, he just redirects me to the cartoons on TV.
The next morning, I find out what happened. My wallet has diaper and ABDL stickers stuck on it, as does my phone. My keys have a "ask me if I peed my pants" charm on them. My phone, when I unlock it, has a diaper background on it that says "I wear diapers".
I don't say anything until I'm in the car and driving to work. Daddy would drive me, but he, too, has work. I try to remove the background, except I can't. He's locked the phone. I try to open the internet but it's locked except for specific pages. Then, the shock really hits. The phone calls. It's daddy. He's changed the ringtone to the theme of the cartoon I was watching last night. He's locked the volume on high.
Today is going to be an embarrassing day at work...
“please, please big bro…” he pleaded, his hands pressed between his legs.
“if you pee, you lose our bet,” big bro said. “and you know what happens then.”
his mind flashed back to the bottles of water he was forced to drink, the locking of the bathroom door. he pressed his legs together as his overfilled bladder spasmed. his older brother loved to tease and torment him — this was just the latest in a long list of humiliations.
“i’m gonna piss myself,” he said, tears welling in his eyes.
“remember, the bet was if you pee, i’m taking all your underwear and you’ll be in pull-ups all summer long.”
as if he needed a reminder.
“i don’t… know how… much longer… i can…” he groaned, the pressure in his bladder growing and growing. “i can’t…hold it…”
and with that, his bladder muscles gave out. he moaned in embarrassment and relief as he began to pee. a wet spot spread across the front of his underwear as pee dripped through the fingers that had been so tightly pressed between his legs. a wet spot spread across the front of his underwear, the light grey fabric doing little to hide his humiliating predicament.
his older brother laughed with glee. “i can’t believe you actually did it! you pissed yourself. what a loser!”
he wanted to cry but the relief of finally peeing was too great. for a moment, he didn’t even care about the punishment that was coming his way. it was enough just to not have to hold it anymore.
“take those off,” his big bro said. “and let’s pack away the rest of your underwear. you won’t be needing them all summer long, but don’t worry, i’ll keep them safe.”
he peeled off his soaked underwear, as his brother handed him the first of many pull-ups he’d be wearing this summer.
“all day, every day,” his brother said. “i’m sure you’ll get used to them by the end of the summer. who knows, maybe you won’t even need to get your undies back…”
Working from home, I was enjoying the mixed freedom that came with that. There was no need to wear pants at home, because nobody could see anything below my belly button. Mixed, of course, because, well... There was one person who could see below my belly button, and he was taking full advantage of my ability to work remotely.
Obediently, I raised my phone and snapped a picture for my dom.
"You've got a long ways to go, buddy," came the reply.
I groaned internally. "Yes, sir," I texted submissively.
This was my first experience with this brand of diapers, and I was amazed at their absorbent capacity. Due to some "smart" comments I had made earlier (well, at least they had seemed clever at the time), I was wearing not one, but two of these monsters between my legs. This by itself wasn't unusual for me, as my previous dom loved putting me in thick diapers with multiple layers. However, this new, younger guy was making me actually *use* them-- and not just a little bit, he wanted them soaked all the way through until I was practically leaking.
"Drink up," he said. "You should be wetting yourself every 10 minutes, if not more often than that. If you can hold it longer than that, you're not drinking enough."
Reluctantly, I took another gulp of water. He had been making me drink nonstop the entire morning, and I felt like I was going to burst. "Look, sir," I said, "I think it's getting pretty full, isn't it?"
"Not even close," responded my dom, and I could imagine him guffawing as I read it. "You'll know you're getting there when your diaper gets so soft and squishy, you can push your hand into it and make a handprint. You're not even halfway there yet."
My embarrassment increased another notch. Wearing diapers was bad enough, but pissing in them, let alone filling them to capacity, was on another level. It seemed that my dom wanted me waddling around with a soggy diaper squishing between my legs, and pissing myself in a diaper during work meetings. I checked the clock-- I had my next meeting coming up in 15 minutes. There was no way I'd be able to hold my bladder for the whole hour-long meeting, so it seemed like he would be getting his wish.
I felt the pressure building again, and since there was no point in holding it, I relaxed and let my piss slowly flow out into the thirsty diaper. It felt like it went on forever. I felt the tapes around my waist tightening ever so slightly, as the diaper eagerly soaked up all of it. The relief of letting go was pleasant, and I found my butt briefly sitting in a warm pool of wetness, before it was all quickly absorbed. I sighed in pleasure. Finally, the flow trickled off, and I felt the tension go out of me. From the outside, nothing had changed, except that my diaper was a little bit heavier, and hugged my crotch a little bit tighter... and felt a little bit squishier.
The bladder urgency had been coming more and more frequently, with the amount of water I was being forced to drink. There really was no reason to hold it, I found myself thinking. I *could* just let go and piss myself every 15 minutes or whatever, like my dom had said... The embarrassment of that thought went through me, and I blushed a little bit. Well, it seemed unlikely that I would make it through the next meeting anyway, so why bother? Mentally I began to steel myself to pee my diaper while on camera with my colleagues from work. I just hoped my facial expressions wouldn't give me away when it inevitably happened.
My phone buzzed again. "A whole glass, bitch," texted my dom. "Take a video of you drinking it, right now, and send it to me as proof."
I pressed my hand to the front of my diaper to test if it was getting soggy enough yet to satisfy him. Inside, I felt the inner layer squishing around my junk, but the second layer was still mostly solid and dense. But it felt so heavy already!
With another groan, I set up my phone camera, poured another glass of water, and began recording.
You hear the front door open and know it's your boyfriend coming home from school. He'd been at his college campus nearly all day. You managed to get a quick call in with him on your lunch break, but you hadn't kept as close of tabs on him as you typically like to.
"Hi!" you hear from down the hall. There's a pause and a shuffling sound. He must be taking his shoes off in the doorway.
"Hi, baby! How was your day?" you shout back, heading from the kitchen through the living room so you can meet him in the hallway.
"Not bad, we-" he responds.
"Did you poop your pants today?" You cut him off right as you arrive to the hallway where he is, in fact, taking off his shoes. Checking in with him about any accidents has become a normal part of your afternoon.
But, it isn't just him standing there. His classmate is right behind him in the entry way, hanging up her coat. Oh, you remember, that's right, they're going to work on their group project together. He had mentioned it on the phone earlier today.
He blushes fiercely and gives you a deer in the headlights look, mouth agape.
"Uh, th-that's such a silly question, why would you ask that?" he manages. Unfortunately, he isn't a very good liar.
His classmate, her name is Cassie you remember, muffles a giggle behind her hand.
"It's OK, Ryan, I know you have trouble with that sometimes," she says in an attempt of reassurance. But it's pretty obvious she's amused.
He whips his head around.
"You do? Who told you?"
"Uh, no one? It's kind of obvious the way you speed to the bathroom with your backpack sometimes. I saw the waistband of a pull-up poking out of your pants the other day, too. You wear the blue ones with stars on them".
He looks horrified and so embarrassed.
"It's not a big deal! Lots of boys still have accidents!" says Cassie.
"You weren't supposed to find out..." says Ryan, turning back to face you and bowing his head.
You wrap him in an embrace. It's endearing how embarrassed he gets even though it's not that uncommon.
"Well, now she does. So no use in beating around the bush. Did you go poop in your pants? I'm pretty sure you had jeans on this morning, didn't you?" You say, tugging on his tan pants.
He just whines into your shoulder, but gives a slight nod of his head.
"That's what I thought. Go start the washing machine," you give his bottom a pat to send him along and feel the soft padding of a pull-up. He must have put one on after his accident. It gives a slight squish. "And stop by the bathroom, too. I just restocked the change drawer."
"Stooop" he says, but takes his backpack to the laundry room obediently.
"Is he alright? Sorry if I embarrassed him," says Cassie.
"Ryan? Oh, he'll be fine. Sweet of you to worry, though. Honestly it's good. He needs to get used to it being talked about, I think it'll help him be less embarrassed. Come on in to the living room, you guys can work at the table. Do you want to stay for dinner? We were going to order in tonight."
Ryan and Cassie work together at the kitchen table, planning a presentation on a book their class read. You sit across from them, scrolling through your inbox, but also listening in. Cassie has a lot of opinions on how the slides should look; she has no problem directing Ryan on how to format them.
"I don't like that quote you added, you should change it," Cassie says, squinting at her laptop screen.
"Really? I think it goes along pretty well with what we're talking ab-," says Ryan.
"No, I have a better one, and change the font size. It's way too small."
"Ok, ok. If you say so."
It's cute to hear him get bossed around by someone other than you. You glance up to see Ryan shifting a bit in his seat. His right hand works the trackpad of his laptop while his left is wedged in between his legs. You watch him for a few minutes as he rocks back and forth and then side to side. You want to see if he'll realize what's going on and take care of the issue himself, or if he really is oblivious to his body's signals. The squirming continues, and you decide to step in before he embarrasses himself even more in front of Cassie.
"Ryan, you should go potty," you say to him.
His eyes shoot up at you and a blush creeps across his cheeks.
"What?! I don't need to-," he seems genuinely surprised you would suggest such a thing.
Cassie's eyes bounce in between the two of you as if she was watching a tennis match.
"You've been wriggling in your seat for the past five minutes, and your hand is in between your legs. Go, before it's too late," you say.
Ryan looks down at his lap and yanks his hand out from its spot wedged in his crotch. He really didn't realize what he was doing.
"Oh! Uhm, excuse me for a minute, Cassie," he mumbles, getting out of his chair and speed walking towards the bathroom.
Cassie turns to you once she hears the bathroom door close.
"How long has he had issues like this?" she asks.
"Mm, just about his whole life, I think. He's always been a bed wetter. His daytime accidents have been kind of on and off for the time I've known him. He tried really hard to stay dry when we first met, I think to impress me. Didn't last too long though," you say with a smile. You point to a chart that's pinned to the fridge with a magnet. A calendar grid with last month's name at the top shows a consistent block of rain cloud stickers, with only two or three smiling sun stickers dispersed throughout. The squares in the last week of the month are blank. "We were trying to keep track for a bit, but it was kind of damaging his confidence. Now I just try to make sure he's wearing protection, or at least prepared to deal with accidents."
"Aw, that's kind of cute, honestly," says Cassie.
The doorbell rings, it must be the Thai food you had ordered once Ryan and Cassie got home. At the same time, you hear the toilet flush and tap turn on. You rise from your chair and head towards the front door.
"I'll get it. You can have Ryan set the table."
Once you've gotten the food, you stop before heading back into the kitchen. Standing just outside the doorway you can hear Ryan and Cassie talking softly.
"All good? No leaks in your pull-up?" asks Cassie.
"Um. Yeah, all good, I guess," says Ryan. You can only imagine the look on his face.
"Good job! Why don't you set the table for us?" she says.
She's good at this, you think to yourself.
Dinner passes without anything too interesting happening. You lean over and cut up some of Ryan's pad thai noodles for him while he's talking about a different class, and it makes him blush and stutter for a moment. Cassie shares that she's going to Europe for spring break. After you clear everyone's plates and return to the table you see Ryan rubbing his eyes. Cassie looks at her phone to check the time.
"I think I'm gonna get going. Thanks for having me! Ryan, I'll look at the slides again to make sure they're good to go before our presentation next week," says Cassie.
Ryan nods in acknowledgment, but doesn't say anything. He looks pretty tired. It's a little earlier than when you normally start getting ready for bed, but he's had a long day.
"It was so fun to have you over! We should hang out again," you say to Cassie. Then, you put a hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Why don't we get you in your nighttime diaper, huh, baby? I know it's early but you look so sleepy. Then we can watch a little TV, ok?"
"Yeah," he says, with a breathy yawn.
"C-can I watch? Or help?" blurts out Cassie.
You and Ryan both turn your heads to where she is, standing next to the table looking awkward. Neither of you were expecting that.
"Sorry, that was weird. Forget I said anything. I'll just go home now," Cassie says very quickly, turning on her heels to leave.
"It's ok, Cassie! It's really sweet of you to ask actually! I'm ok with it if Ryan is," you say. It's pretty exciting to have someone else interested in this part of him.
Ryan shrugs his shoulders then nods. He's rubbing his fist against his mouth, like he wants to suck on his fingers but isn't quite aware of it yet.
Cassie gives you both a big smile. You grab Ryan's hand and start to lead him towards your bedroom, beckoning Cassie to follow you. In the bedroom you unfurl the waterproof mat that was folded neatly at the foot of the bed and give it a pat. Ryan lays down and you reach for his belt.
"The top drawer has his diapers. Can you grab me one, please? Oh, and the powder and wipes," you say to Cassie.
She opens the top drawer to find rows of diapers, pull-ups, and underwear. The underwear row has gotten shorter and shorter recently. He's had to throw away quite a few pairs. But it's ok, he's not wearing them as much anyway.
"Here you go,"
Cassie hands you a diaper. It's mostly white, but little sleepy teddy bears and stars pattern the landing strip. There's a yellow line running down the crotch that manages to turn blue every morning without fail.
"Thanks! Have you ever changed a diaper before?" you ask.
You fold the diaper and tug on it gently to fluff it up, then slide it under Ryan. He lifts his hips automatically. You had expected him to put up a bit of a fuss at Cassie sticking around. He seems to be too tired to whine, or at least resigned at the fact that Cassie knows about his accidents and diapers.
"Only on a little baby, a long time ago," says Cassie.
"Well, it's not that different on a big baby," you say.
You walk Cassie through the rest of the diapering process, and let her do the last tape to get a feel for it. She pats the front of it carefully.
"It's so thick and crinkly. I wasn't expecting that. What does it feel like, Ryan?" she says.
"Soft...and safe," says Ryan with a thoughtful expression on his face. His hands have migrated, and his thumbnail is under his bottom lip.
"Thanks so much for letting me stay for that. I really should get going now,"
"Of course. Let me walk you out," you say.
Ryan stays in the bedroom, and there's a good chance he'll be more than halfway asleep, with his thumb in his mouth, by the time you get back.
"Don't fall asleep on me, baby. You still need to brush your teeth and wash your face," you say as you leave the room.
Cassie gets her coat and shoes on in the entryway. You open the door for her and she pauses for a moment.
"Listen...if you ever need a babysitter..." she starts then trails off.
🌹Everyone thought you were the perfect couple, but the florist down the street knew otherwise. It felt like you were at his flower shop every other day trying to compensate for your shortcomings in the relationship. Let’s face it, you had differences. Your better half’s love language was gifts, especially flowers. Your love language, on the other hand, was much more complicated…but after setting aside their own unattended desires, they came to enjoy the nurturing aspects of your needs - like getting to dress you up, feeding you bottles while cuddled up on the couch and sending you to bed early when they wanted some time to themselves. However, they were far less enthusiastic about changing diapers. You tried to explain to them that “babies don’t change their own diapers” and that it spoiled the experience, but the most they’d agree to was diapering you when you were fresh out of the bath.
Eventually your continued persistence about the matter started causing trouble in the relationship - not to mention an even larger amount of your paycheck landing in the pocket of the florist. One day, he casually asked to see a photo of “the lucky person” he’d been making all these expensive flower arrangements for. Still flustered from a recent lover’s spat, you found a photo on your phone and absentmindedly handed it over to him before returning your attention to the credit card reader. Big mistake. Not only because he realized you were dating his old high school crush and that it was his flowers keeping the relationship afloat, but also because you hadn’t turned off notifications for your social accounts.
❤️ Diaperbabyboycuck4evr liked your post suddenly popping up over the image of his lost love told him all he needed to know about how to get you out of the way, and keep you there - and thanks to you, he had plenty of money to enact his plan. The next day, flowers you hadn’t ordered started showing up in the house, the next week you got up to get some water after being tucked in early and found a note saying your partner had gone out for the evening “with an old friend” and the next month you were shocked to find the florist waiting in your kitchen and nonchalantly informing you that “Daddy needs to have a serious talk with you, tiger, about your future in this family.”
One year later and that “future” has flourished into full bloom. Now all the ladies at the bank are aflutter to see “their little man” dressed up in his red gingham Jon Jon as you accompany “Daddy" on his Saturday errands, now the “adults” are headed to Paris for two weeks while you enjoy an all expenses paid vacation to the Fisher Price Spin ’N Play Safari Activity Center in “Nana’s” living room, now everybody thinks you’re “just perfect” to play cupid in the flower shop’s new Valentines Day billboard campaign and now the best part of your day is Daddy returning home from work. Sure, most people wouldn’t be so happy to see the man who took almost everything from them return to their house - but you see, unlike his newly reclaimed love, Daddy has been wrist-deep in fertilizer so many times that a few dirty diapers don’t slow him down one bit - even at the mall, as you learned the other day. However, seeing as he’s the only one willing to handle the job, and as you once so helpfully pointed out “babies don’t change their own diapers”, you’re often stuck spending your days planted in your own soil and certainly not smelling like a rose.🦨🥀
This ended up being way longer than I anticipated, so I hope you all enjoy!!
Ethan stood in front of the bathroom mirror and wiped away the condensation from his shower with a wash cloth. He was ready. Or at least he thought he was. He smoothed his hands down the front of his button-up, checked his belt and fly, and took an extra second to make sure his bow-tie was straight. He was definitely ready.
After a grabbing a granola bar for the road, Ethan looked through his briefcase for what felt like the hundredth time to make sure that all of his hand outs and presentation notes were in place. He tried to quell the butterflies in his stomach with some deep breaths, but it didn’t do much good.
Driving and listening to music, he decided, would get his mind off of things long enough to get to work. Then it would be showtime.
Ethan sang and grooved his way down the highway to work, thankful that traffic was light for a Monday, and, before he had even made it through five songs, he was pulling into the company lot.
He climbed out into the cool morning air and checked his hair in the window before looking around to see if Brad was here yet. There was no sign of the other man’s truck, but Ethan hurried inside anyway, not wanting to be the last to arrive.
As Ethan crossed over the threshold into work, he straightened up and brought his shoulders back, feeling the usual burst of confidence that accompanied a day at the office kick in. That’s right, he thought, today is just like any other day. If you can manage to ignore the fact that you have to present in less than an hour, that is.
Ethan said his hellos to the woman at the front desk as well as some of his co-workers, many of whom wished him good luck. It made Ethan feel good to know that they had his back. Brad might be almost as good at their job as Ethan was, but he certainly wasn’t as well liked around the office.
Speak of the devil, Ethan thought, as he turned a corner and saw Brad standing outside of his office door. Getting closer, he realized that their boss, Mr. Monroe, was also there.
“Good morning,” Ethan said, as he got close enough for them to notice him. “Is everything alright?”
“Good morning, Ethan,” said Mr. Monroe; Brad merely smirked.
“Everything’s fine, Ethan,” Mr. Monroe continued, “and I’m sure you’re ready to get on with things, but I was talking to Brad on Friday after you went home, and he had an idea that I want to run by you. I’ll preface this by saying that the choice is entirely yours, and we will go with whichever plan you pick.
Ethan shifted uneasily. “Okay,” he said.
Something about the situation felt off. Brad was looking confident and comfortable, which annoyed Ethan to no end. He knew that he was smarter and more prepared than Brad, that his pitch would easily blow Brad’s out of the water once they got the ball rolling today, but Brad didn’t seem at all concerned that he was about to lose out on the promotion that they were both going up for.
Though, Ethan had to admit, Brad almost always looked unconcerned and confident. It was one of the things that most annoyed him about the other man.
“Alright then,” Mr. Monroe said, “Brad suggested, and I don’t think it’s a bad idea, that you two go discuss your presentations together before getting in front of everyone. It could be good for company morale to see our two top employees coming to an agreement without having to duke it out. You all can try and decide amongst yourselves which proposal is better and which we should run with.”
Ethan was speechless. He couldn’t believe that Brad had the audacity to pitch that idea to Mr. Monroe in the first place, and he was even more shocked that Mr. Monroe bought it. Before he could protest and say that he would much prefer to proceed with their competition as planned, he felt Brad’s large, warm hand descending on his shoulder.
“Listen, Ethan,” Brad said. “It just seems like it’ll be better for both of us, and the company, if we settle things between us.”
Brad applied pressure and squeezed Ethan’s shoulder, and Ethan’s body tingled. He did his best to stay as far away from Brad as possible, and he knew they had never touched before. Having Brad this close made him uncomfortable, but not, he realized, necessarily because he disliked him. Something about Brad’ closeness, his presence, made Ethan feel uncertain in a way that he hardly ever felt at work. It felt like his confidence was being drained out of him while Brad seemed to be going full-speed ahead.
Brad squeezed again before saying: “what do you think about that, bud? Let’s go settle this like men.”
Ethan’s mind went blank and before he realized it he had squeaked out a “yes sir.”
Mr. Monroe gave him a strange look, but nodded his head in consent. All the while Ethan was inwardly punching himself in the face. He didn’t have a clue what had just happened, or why he hadn’t stood his ground. All he knew was that he was finding it difficult to think with Brad this close to him.
“I’m glad you see it my way, bud,” Brad said as Mr. Monroe shuffled away. “The boss said we can get out of here to talk, so how about I drop by your place later this afternoon.
Brad clapped Ethan on the shoulder and walked away before Ethan had a chance to respond, leaving him speechless in the hallway.
Back at home, Ethan was furious with himself for not standing up to Brad at the office. His competition would be here in about an hour, and he was planning all of the different ways he was going to tell him off.
He was so intent on picking the right phrasing that he failed to notice himself getting hard. The shame of letting Brad push him around and the humiliation of calling him sir in front of Mr. Monroe rushed through him, but it only made his cock harder.
Ethan knew that he liked being submissive in the bedroom from time to time, but he was not used to feeling this intense arousal from being totally shown up by someone. Especially not when that someone was Brad.
He was just beginning to rub himself through his pants when there was a knock at the door. Shit, he thought and was glad that his boner went down quickly.
Ethan rushed to the door and pulled it open to find Brad standing in front of him with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
“Hey there, little buddy,” Brad said, moving into the small entryway of the apartment and brushing past Ethan.
Ethan jerked out of the way, noticing that Brad looked surprisingly good in the t-shirt and jeans that he had changed into.
“This is a cute place you’ve got,” Brad said, looking around,” but it doesn’t really look kid friendly.
Ethan followed Brad into the living room, hating the feeling of being a guest in his own home. Brad just seemed to take up space, like he owned the place.
“Good thing I don’t have any kids,” Ethan said, trying to regain his footing by being snarky.
“Watch the tone there, little buddy,” Brad said. “You’re starting to look pretty grumpy.”
“What the hell, Brad? Are we going to deal with this mess of a situation you put us in or not!” Ethan yelled.
Ethan flinched as he saw an angry look pass through Brad’s eyes, but the other man just turned away and started unzipping his bag, which Brad had placed on his coffee table.
Ethan moved further into the living room, trying to see what was in the bag, but Brad’s body blocked the view.
Suddenly, Brad whirled around and grabbed Ethan by the upper arms, holding him in place.
Ethan tried to struggle out of his grip, but Brad brought his leg around behind Ethan’s and knocked him off balance. Before he knew what was happening, Ethan was on his back on the floor with Brad standing over him.
“What the fuck, Brad!” Ethan yelled. He struggled to get up, but Brad had placed his foot on his chest and was easily holding him down.
“Awww it’s okay, little guy,” Brad teased. “You don’t need to fuss because I know exactly what you need. You like to pretend you’re a big shot around the office, but I could always tell that you just needed a firm hand to put you in your place.”
Ethan gasped as Brad’s foot pushed down harder.
“Isn’t that right, Ethan?” Brad asked.
“Fuck you!” Ethan yelled, trying to wrench Brad’s foot off of his chest to no avail.
Brad slowly and casually reached for the bag on the coffee table, making sure to keep Ethan pinned.
Ethan watched as Brad dumped the bag out next to him with deliberate slowness. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
Out of the bag came baby toys, pacifiers, what looked like a giant onesie, and several thick, white objects that could only be diapers. He noticed that some of them had cartoon animal prints and blocks on them as well.
It was then that Ethan also noticed the erection that was straining in his pants. The contents of the bag confused the hell out of him, but the way that Brad was treating him had become a major turn on. He couldn’t believe how horny it made him to be put in his place like this. The rock-star business man in him hated it, but the submissive side that he had always somewhat repressed was practically howling.
Ethan didn’t even notice that Brad had removed his foot until he saw the other man move to kneel down between his legs. Clearly, Brad noticed the erection too because he clasped a hand around it, sending a wave of pleasure through Ethan that made him moan out loud.
“There’s my answer right there,” Brad said, grinning. “But I want to hear you tell me. Tell me that you’re not as big of a man as people seem to think you are. Tell me that you know I’m better than you. Tell me that you want me to be in charge.”
Ethan’s cock pulsed, but he knew he wouldn’t say those things. It wasn’t true. He didn’t want any of that, and he was the one that deserved to be in charge.
But Brad was in between his legs and up in his face, and he had to admit that Brad was kind of sexy. And that he did, in a twisted sort of way, like being talked down to like this. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to let it stop him from getting the promotion that he knew he deserved.
Ethan saw the white object coming out of the corner of his eye and flinched, but he only felt a light tap as Brad smacked his face with a diaper.
Ethan moaned again as Brad began to gently massage his cock. “You can’t tell me that you don’t love this,” Brad said. “And don’t think I didn’t catch that you called me sir earlier.” Brad looked down at him sternly.
“Now, boy,” Brad said, “ask me nicely to put this diaper on you. As a matter of fact, I want you to beg me.”
Brad kept massaging, and Ethan was afraid that he was going to cum in his pants right then and there. All thoughts of resistance slipped from his mind, and all he could think of was the feel of Brad’s hand and the bulk of the man leaning over him.
But then Brad stopped.
“You want to cum, don’t you boy?”
“Yes, sir,” Ethan whined as Brad broke into a huge grin.
“Good boy,” he crooned, but he moved his hand away from Ethan’s crotch. “Tell me what I want to hear and the hand will come back.”
Ethan felt out of his mind with lust. He had never experienced anything like this, never been so turned on before in his life. He felt like he would do anything that Ethan asked.
The shame washed back over him, making him feel small and humiliated as he looked up at Brad.
“I’m not such a big man, Brad,” Ethan said, practically whispering.
The look in Brad’s eyes let Ethan know that it was all over, he had crossed to a place that there was no turning back from.
“Keep going,” Brad said, “but speak louder. And call me daddy.”
Ethan’s cock strained in his pants, and he arched up, trying to come into contact with Brad.
“Please,” Ethan said, “I admit it. You’re better than me. You’re a real man, and I’m just a little boy. You deserve to be in charge.”
Ethan could tell that Brad wasn’t surprised; he looked as smug and self-assured as ever, like he had known all along how easily Ethan would cave.
“And?” Brad said, cocking his eyebrow.
“And,” Ethan said, loudly this time, letting the feelings of humiliation rush over him in a wave of pleasure and embarrassment. “And I will back out of the competition. I won’t go against you for the proposal. I want you to be in charge,” he paused, “daddy.”
“Just like I thought,” Brad said, “pathetic.” He avoided Ethan’s eyes as he quickly stripped Ethan of his pants and underwear.
Ethan didn’t care what happened as long as he could feel Brad’s hand on his cock, but he realized that he had gone soft with his admission that he would back out of the race. It felt right to just lay there passively as Brad tucked his flaccid dick down, covered it with a diaper, and taped Ethan up like a little baby.
Brad stood, and dusted baby powder of his hands. “I expect to see you at work in an hour to tell Mr. Monroe that you think I am the one who deserves the promotion,” he said. “And then I want you to report to my office for a diaper check.”
Ethan nodded his head meekly as his hands slowly explored the soft padding around his crotch.
“And,” Brad continued, “you should know that I’ll be moving in with you and taking over things here. If you protest or put up a fight, I’ll make sure to have Mr. Monroe assign you as my new secretary.”
With that, Brad turned and headed out of the house, leaving Ethan lying on the floor feeling a mixture of helplessness, humiliation, and intense arousal.
It was an otherwise perfect day. The sun shined in the sky, no clouds in sight. Not too hot, not too cold. A light breeze trickled through the trees.
A perfect day for a picnic with friends.
You look around at your friends, all cheerfully lost in conversation and the impressive charcuterie spread your girlfriend put together. You’d be jealous of their carefree enjoyment—if you weren’t battling a more pressing problem.
A terrible, unavoidable problem. Dread consumed your mind. There was no escape. Your girlfriend would never allow you to run off and fill your diaper.
You were going to fill your diaper right here, surrounded by your friends. Your humiliating secret—and the soul-crushing diapers necessary to contain your accidents—was about to become common knowledge.
It was a fool’s hope to believe you could hold it long enough to avoid messing your diapers, you knew, but you were determined to try. The alternative of filling your diaper like some toddler as your friends watched, horrorstruck by your actions, was unthinkable.
You wouldn’t let it happen.
Wave after wave of cramps assaulted you. You squirmed and fidgeted but managed to resist. With each successful round of repelling your body’s attempt to humiliate you, your confidence grew. Even better, nobody had noticed your silent struggle.
At least, you thought they hadn’t. Your girlfriend knew exactly what your subtle movements and facial expressions meant, though she had no intention of tipping her hand, perfectly content to watch your futile battle.
“Hey, Chris, can you pass me another seltzer? Anything but grapefruit,” your friend Megan asked.
“Sure thing,” you replied, fighting off another wave of cramps. As you leaned forward to reach the cooler, the pressure in your stomach suddenly disappeared. For a split second, you thought you managed to resist again.
At least until you felt the unmistakable mass in your diaper. You froze in abject terror, realizing what had happened.
The good news, you determined, was that you hadn’t fully messed yourself. Only a tiny accident. The bad news was you still messed yourself.
“Uh, Chris?” Megan asked, “The seltzer?”
Megan’s request startled you back to the present. Summoning every effort to keep your face casual, you grabbed a seltzer and tossed it to Megan.
You sat back down. To your relief, you barely felt any mess spread around. With any luck—and some assistance from a brisk breeze—nobody would know what just happened.
Your girlfriend gave you an innocent smile before returning to her conversation. “Nobody knows,” you assured yourself.
Just as you relaxed, an overwhelming urge violently seized your body. Your feeble attempts to stop it were laughably insufficient.
Your body reflexively leaned forward to accommodate the freight train of humiliation barreling into your diaper. Crashing against it, spreading into every nook and cranny as the onslaught continued.
There was no hiding this.
Fortunately, your mess was as quick as it was enormous—nobody seemed to have caught you in the act. But as the dreadful, tell-tale scent of your mess mixed with baby powder reached your nose, you knew you were on borrowed time.
Time seemed to stand still as you sat there, your bulging mess an uncomfortable reminder of your new place in life. It was only a matter of time until you were discovered.
Until your friends realized you not only pooped yourself but pooped your diaper. That you were nothing more than a pitiful diaper boy, doomed to a pathetic fate.
If you hadn’t been too ashamed to look up at your girlfriend, you’d have seen the satisfied smirk on her face. She could barely contain herself.
Your heart collapsed into itself like a dying start as soon as you heard it. “W-what’s that smell? Did someone just shit themselves?”
“Seriously, it’s rank! Was it a dog?” Megan asked, looking around. “I don’t see one.”
Your friends, John and Amanda, who were sitting on either side of you, both dramatically sniffed you.
“What the hell, Chris?” John snorted, “Did you seriously just shit yourself?”
“It’s definitely Chris,” Amanda confirmed to the group.
It was over. There was no coming back from what came next.
“Chris, sweetie,” your girlfriend cooed softly, “Did you make stinkies in your diapee?”
Your face snapped up at her. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Why is she talking to you like some toddler?
“Wait…diaper?” Amanda gasped.
An explosion of laughter echoed around the group. “No way!” John visibly cringed.
Your girlfriend was standing over you in a flash. “Stand up, baby, I need to check that diaper of yours.”
For reasons you couldn’t comprehend, you meekly stood up, allowing your girlfriend to unbuckle your belt and fly, pulling your shorts to your knees, exposing your bulging, discolored diaper to your friends.
“Yep, he pooped!” your girlfriend said with an inauthentic tone of surprise as she peered into the seat of your diaper, “I think someone needs a change before he stinks up the whole park!”
The unnatural, accusatory silence that hung over the group destroyed your last shred of dignity. Tears flooded your eyes, overwhelming you.
For the first time in years, you were sobbing. Uncontrollable, gut-wrenching tears streamed down your face.
“Aww, don’t cry, little one,” your girlfriend consoled you, rubbing your back, “It’s just a diaper change! Nothing to be ashamed of. You couldn’t hold it! But your diaper did! Just like it’s supposed to!”
Your girlfriend grabbed your diaper bag, unfolded your changing mat, and placed it under you. “Lay down for me, honey. I’ll get you into a clean, fresh diaper in no time.”
You didn’t resist her as she guided you down, still sobbing uncontrollably.
“What is going on, Courtney?” Megan asked your girlfriend, “Why is Chris in diapers?”
“He’s been having a little trouble controlling himself,” your girlfriend said casually as if the scene unfolding before the group was completely normal, “So, I’ve decided to diaper him until he remembers how to use the potty. Poor thing has been really struggling to adjust to diapers.”
“Okay…but why are you changing him? He’s a grown-ass man!” John snickered.
“Does he look like a grown man, John?” your girlfriend chuckled, “Would you trust him to change his own diapers? Look at him, he’s sobbing on a changing mat in a stinky diaper! He needs his Mommy to help him with changies, don’t you, baby?”
Your sobs only intensify. You never expected your girlfriend to act like this.
“Wait, is this some kink thing, Courtney? I mean…Mommy? That’s…I don’t know…” Amanda asked.
“Kink? No, absolutely not. But what else would you call someone responsible for changing his diapers, acts as his authority figure, and has absolutely no sexual attraction to that person?”
“No sex…did you break up or something?” John asked, puzzled.
“Break up? No, nothing like that! But do you really think I want to have sex with him anymore? I mean, look at him!” your girlfriend declared, pointing down at you, sobbing harder than ever, pathetically laying on the changing mat waiting for your girlfriend to change your messy diaper.
“So he actually can’t control himself anymore?” Amanda questioned, “like he just poops and pees like a baby?”
“Seems that way!” your girlfriend laughs, “I think it’s adorable, though! Better to find out now he’s a diaper-dependent man-child than later! Could you imagine if I was married to him?”
“He certainly is adorable!” Megan adds, “But yeah…I don’t think some diapered crybaby is marriage material!”
“Exactly!” your girlfriend agrees, grabbing a spare diaper, wipes, and baby powder from the bag. She kneels down in front of you, spreading your legs.
You continue to cover your burning face, drowning in the humiliation. Not only were your diapers revealed to your friends, but now your new place in your girlfriend’s life—something you also learned for the first time.
Your girlfriend rolled up your shirt, providing even greater access to your overworked diaper. She loudly rips the first tape, your friends’ laughter echoing in your ears.
“Stop squirming, silly,” your girlfriend commanded, pressing a hand on your soggy diaper.
Three more tabs rip off like gunfire. Thick, heavy silence hangs over you as she prepares to open your diaper and fully expose your shame to the group.
It was only then that you realized nobody thought you should be changed in a more private place. The weight of the implication crushes you as if an elephant sat on your chest.
They don’t see you as a man—or even an adult. Adults don’t get their diaper changed so openly, so casually, like it’s perfectly normal—but you do. In the time it took for you to load your diaper, you lost your dignity and respect.
Adults have girlfriends. You have a Mommy. A Mommy to care for you, control you, and change your stinky diapers. And Mommies have…no, you won’t even think it. The thought is too painful.
Cold air rushes onto you, and your girlfriend opens up your diaper. Each giggle caused a stabbing pain. Cold wipes probe you sending shivers down your spine.
“What did I say about squirming, little one?” your girlfriend says dictatorially.
The wiping stops. For a moment, you think your humiliation is ending.
The thought didn’t last. “John, can you lift up Chris’s legs for me?”
“Sure thing, Courtney!” John cackled, “Up you go, Chris!”
Two strong hands grip your legs as your legs are thrust into the air. “Thank you, John!” your girlfriend says, wiping the rest of you down.
The unmistakable sounds of a diaper being fluffed haunt your ears. “Oh, thank you, Megan!”
“No problem, I wanted to join in too! I never would have thought Chris could be this adorable!”
“I didn’t, either!” your girlfriend laughs, “Okay, let's get his new diaper under him! There! You can lower his legs, John.”
John slowly lowered you onto the fresh, thirsty diaper under you. Your girlfriend sprinkled the baby powder, diligently rubbing it in, prolonging your humiliation.
Finally, mercifully, the new diaper is raised up and taped on. “There, all fresh and clean, little Chris!” your girlfriend says proudly. She gently slaps your diaper. A small puff of powder adorably poofs out of your diaper to the delight of Amanda and Megan.
“Stand up so I can get your shorts on, honey,” your girlfriend prodded. When you didn’t react, despite your desperate desire to cover your diapers, she added, “Unless you prefer to keep your precious pampers uncovered…”
For the first time you filled your diaper, you found your voice. “No! I-I want my shorts!”
“You want your shorts what, sweetie?”
“May I have my shorts, please!”
“Baby, you’re still missing something. And I want you to look at me. No more hiding.”
You slowly—anxiously—lower your hands. You locked your eyes on hers, too terrified of what you’ll see on your friends’ faces. You wordlessly try to convey your desperation, begging her for mercy.
She merely smiled back at you. “Thank you for looking at me, little one. But you’re still forgetting one thing if you want your shorts. You know what it is, you’re a smart boy.”
Your knees trembled. Surely she doesn’t actually expect you to call her Mommy, right? Not when you’re standing in front of your friends with your freshly changed diaper exposed for all to see.
“Say it, Chris. Now.”
Pee trickled into your diaper.
“Please may I have my shorts…Mommy,” you squeaked.
“Awww, that was so cute!” Megan gushed.
“Thank you, honey! Yes, let’s put your shorts on you,” your Mommy coos, grabbing your shorts and putting them on you like you were too helpless to do it on your own.
“What do you say to everyone who helped change your diaper, Chris?” Mommy asked sternly.
“T-thank you,” you whisper.
“No, no, no, that won’t do. You have to look at them, silly! And you have to say what you’re thanking them for.” Mommy demanded.
With a Herculean effort, you made eye contact with your friends. They smiled at you expectantly, like you were a child about to utter their first word. “Thank you for helping change my diaper…”
“No problem, cutie!” Amanda says, “Happy to help!”
Megan echoed Amanda, “You’re very welcome, baby Chris!”
John smiled, “Glad I could help, squirt!”
“That wasn’t so hard, was it, baby?” Mommy chirped, “Now be a good boy and throw this icky diaper in the trash! But don’t wander off, I need to keep an eye on you!”
You grab the stinky, heavy diaper from your Mommy. As you’re walking toward the trash can, a chorus of laughter erupts from your friends.
“OMG can I please babysit him sometime? He’s so cute! I was actually jealous you got to date him, Courtney! But now look at him!” Amanda jeered.
“Absolutely! He deserves all the humiliation coming to him. Serves him right for destroying our relationship. I thought I was going to marry him! I thought he was special. Turns out he’s nothing more than a pathetic pamper packer…”
four of our newest pledges… after taking this pic we locked their khaki pants onto them and sent them out to class. they knew they wouldn’t be let back into the house until all of them had wet their diapers. what they didn’t know was that one of them had holes poked into their diaper and when they eventually lost control their accident wouldn’t be kept as secret as they thought.
“Pull your shorts completely off now, you obviously need to be changed again. I don’t want to hear any complaining I wasn’t the one that started having these issues I’m just the one that put you back in diapers where you belong,” Chase said with a stern voice.
“No, it’s not my fault I didn’t even feel it was happening” Luke Cried pleading to his roommate and Best friend.
“that’s why you’re back in diapers, because you’ve been wetting the bed and wetting yourself for the last two weeks like some little toddler,” Chase said pulling blue shorts down completely. “See how wet you are, go lay on your bed it’s time for your diaper change little boy.”
Luke slowly walked into his bedroom and lay down on his back at the edge of his bed. He knew he had no choice his accidents were unpredictable and Chase was the one that was taking care of him now in regards to his incontinence. It seemed like he was being treated more and more like his best friends little boy.
“I don’t want you to be fussy anymore about your diaper changes and from now on when we’re at home you’re not going to cover your diaper with shorts or anything. Also I think it’s time for you to throw out your underwear you’re obviously not going to be wearing them anymore” Chase said in a stern tone.
Luke looked at Chase in shock. “You can’t do that! I’m not some kind of baby! I’m not your little boy! I’m not your little boy,” he protested weakly, feeling his cheeks redden.
“Don’t make me spank your bottom, Luke,” Chase warned, his voice firm but not unkind. He pulled out a thick, white diaper from the plastic package on the bedside table. The crinkling sound filled the room as he unfolded it. “You’re acting like a baby, so I’m treating you like one until you start acting like an adult about this.”
“Please Chase, I’m not your child,” Luke whimpered, his voice trembling as he stared at the diaper in his friend’s hands. The plastic smell of it filled his nostrils, a scent that was all too familiar now.
Ignoring his protests, Chase began to wipe Luke clean with a baby wipe, the coldness making him flinch. “You’re wetting the bed like one, so this is what you get. Now, hold still,” he ordered, his voice softening slightly.
With trembling hands, Luke complied as Chase pulled the clean, dry diaper under him, aligning it with his legs. The feeling of the soft material against his bare skin sent a strange mix of embarrassment and comfort through him. He watched as Chase secured the diaper in place with strong, efficient movements, the tapes sticking with a finality that made his stomach churn.
“Now are you going to obey me or do you need a punishment?” Chase asked, raising an eyebrow as he tucked the front of the diaper into the crotch.
“I-I’ll be good,” Luke stuttered, feeling the cushion between his legs and the humiliation wash over him.
“Good boy,” Chase said, patting the diaper. “Now, remember, no hiding it from me anymore. If you have an accident, tell me right away, okay?”
Luke nodded, his face burning with embarrassment. The reality of his situation was setting in, and he knew that he had to accept it. He was now living in a world where his best friend saw him as someone who needed to be treated like a child.
Chase smiled at Luke, seeing his submission and acceptance. It was like Luke was his child now, and he felt a strange sense of satisfaction in caring for him in such an intimate way. He knew it was for the best, but couldn’t help the thrill of power it gave him.
“You know I’m always here for you Luke,” Chase said gently, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and dominance. “But you need to understand that this is for your own good. I’ll take care of you, just like a daddy would.”
The word “daddy” echoed in Luke’s mind, sending a shiver down his spine. He hadn’t realized how much he’d come to rely on Chase’s care, how much he needed the structure and discipline that came with it. Despite the humiliation, there was something comforting about being taken care of in such a way.
“Yes… Daddy,” Luke murmured, the words slipping out almost unconsciously. He felt a strange mix of fear and comfort at the new dynamic that had developed between them. Thing were going to be quite different for the former womanizer now that he was under his best friends care.
“That also means no more women since I don’t think you want them to see you in your diapers,” Chase added, watching as Luke’s eyes widened in horror.
“What? No, I can’t give that up,” Luke protested, his voice rising in panic.
“Do you think a woman is going to want a man who helplessly wets the bed?” Chase questioned, his tone firm. He knew that the mention of Luke’s love life was a sensitive topic, but it was one that needed to be addressed. “You’re going to have to focus on getting better before you can think about that, and I’ll be the one helping you with that.”
Chase began to run the front of Luke’s diaper through his hands, feeling the softness and thickness of the material that now contained Luke’s manhood. “I’ll be the one to decide when you’re ready for that again,” he said, a hint of smugness in his voice. “Unless you want Daddy to take care of you instead?”
Luke’s face flushed even deeper as he processed the implication. “I… I don’t know what you mean,” he stuttered, trying to ignore the sudden heat between his legs.
Chase rubbed Luke’s diapered crotch gently, watching his friend’s reaction closely. “You know, I could help you with that, too,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “If you’re a good boy and follow all the rules, maybe Daddy can give you the attention you crave. You needed to end your womanizing ways anyway, don’t you think?”
“No stop…this isn’t right,” Luke managed to say, his voice shaky, but his protests were feeble as he felt Chase’s hand move in a way that was definitely not for changing purposes. The warmth of his friend’s touch against his sensitive skin was confusing him, making his thoughts swirl.
“Your becoming an adult baby, I mean it’s quite obvious with your bedwetting and now day wetting. How long will it be before you poop in your diaper too?” Chase smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he poked Luke’s diapered stomach playfully.
Luke gasped, his eyes wide with shock and arousal. He hadn’t even considered that possibility, and the thought of being so completely dependent on Chase was both terrifying and oddly exciting. “I-I won’t, I promise,” he stammered, trying to push the thought away.
“But why shouldn’t you? A baby needs diapers and your already wearing one. Doesn’t it make sense just to poop in it too?” Chase said with a wink, his hand still lingering on Luke’s crotch.
“I-I don’t know,” Luke whispered, feeling a strange mix of fear and excitement. He had never considered the possibility of losing complete control over his bowel movements, but the idea of being fully dependent on Chase was strangely tempting.
“You have to poop right now don’t you, baby boy?” Chase said with a knowing smirk, watching the panic flit across Luke’s face. “It’s okay, Daddy’s here to help.”
Before Luke could respond, he felt a warm, firm pressure on his stomach as Chase began to rub in gentle circles. “Just relax and let it out,” he coaxed. “You know it’s what babies do in their diapers.”
The room grew quiet, except for the sound of their breathing, and Luke’s heart pounded in his chest. He couldn’t believe he was considering this, but the thought of pooping in the diaper was becoming less repulsive and more… natural. He took a deep breath and felt his body begin to obey Chase’s instructions. His cheeks grew warm with the effort, and he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping it would be over quickly.
Luke grunted as he pushed, feeling his muscles tense and release, and before he knew it, his body had complied with the humiliating demand. A warm, thick sensation filled the back of the diaper, and he couldn’t help but whimper at the sheer mortification. His face was a deep shade of crimson as he looked up at Chase, who was watching him with a mix of amusement and authority.
“Good boy,” Chase praised, his voice filled with satisfaction. “Now you’re truly my little baby. No more girls or sex like a big boy, only diapers and Daddy’s care.”
The words sent a jolt through Luke, the reality of his new life sinking in. His body felt heavy with the weight of the soiled diaper and his cheeks burned with shame. Yet, there was a part of him that felt a strange comfort in the degradation, a part that had always craved this kind of dominance and care.
Chase masturbated Luke through the diaper, the thick material providing a barrier that somehow made the act feel even more depraved. Luke’s body responded against his will, his hips bucking slightly at the unfamiliar sensation of being treated so intimately by another man. The diaper grew even warmer as he came, the feeling of his release trapped against his skin. He couldn’t believe what had just happened, and the thought of it made him feel even more pathetic.
“You only get to cum when you have a poopy diaper and only when I say you can, understand baby Luke?” Chase said with a firm nod, his hand still wrapped around Luke’s diapered crotch.
Luke’s eyes watered with a mix of embarrassment and pleasure as he nodded. “Yes… Daddy,” he murmured, the title slipping out almost instinctively now.
Chase leaned in, his breath hot on Luke’s face. “Good boy,” he whispered, giving the diapered bulge a firm squeeze. “You’re learning so fast.”
"Stand there and face the corner, I want you to think about what a bad boy you were for Daddy" 43 year old Chris said in a stern voice to his Son 21 year old Cody.
Cody stood there facing the corner in just his shirt, his pants pulled down to his ankles and his wet adult diaper on display for his Daddy to see. They had been out with his father's work friends and Cody was being stubborn. Then he began to get rude with everyone at the restaurant. Chris had warned him, he'd be punished, but Cody just wouldn't listen. Now, he was paying the price.
"Daddy I'm sorry please, at least change my diaper. I'm really wet and it's cold." Cody whined, unable to help himself. He wished he could take back what he had said and done. His father had always been so good to him, and he had never meant to disappoint him like this.
"It can wait Cody, you will stand in this corner for 30 minutes and think about how bad you were. I will come and get you and we can talk then, but for now you'll just have to deal with it." Chris sternly said as he walked away, leaving Cody there to think about his actions.
Cody sobbed, he had always had a very unique relationship with his father. When he was 18 he admitted to his father, that he was A-sexual and his inner desire to be treated like a 'little' boy again came out. They had discussed it and Chris had agreed to let him be treated as such, as long as he understood the rules that would put in place. Cody has never been more grateful to his father than he was right now.
Cody knew he needed a strong hand as he was prone to getting in trouble and being a brat. He enjoyed his diapers even if it was humiliating when other adults saw him in them. But it was a part of their life together and he loved his Daddy. As he stood there, tears streaming down his face, he couldn't help but think about how he had acted. He knew he could be better and he promised himself that he would be.
Chris walked into the room, carrying a warm washcloth to clean his son up. "Alright, Cody. You've had your time to think. It's time to talk." He sat down on the sofa and waited for his son to sit down next to him. "I know you're sorry, and you know you made a mistake. But I also want you to know that I believe in you. You're a good boy, and I know you can do better."
Cody sniffled as his father used the cloth to clean his tear stained face. "I will, Daddy. I promise. I love you and I don't ever want to disappoint you again. I'm sorry I was a bad 'little' for you tonight. I'll be better, I promise." He said with a small, apologetic smile.
Chris smiled back at his son, his eyes filled with love and pride. "I know you will, Cody. I believe in you. You're a good boy, and you make me proud.” He reached out to gently pat his son's knee.
Despite his son's behavior, he still loved him, he never thought treating his 21 year old son as a 'little' boy was strange or wrong. It was a part of who they were, a part of their special bond. Cody loved it, he had always been an affectionate boy, even when he was a brat.
Chris hugged his son close to him, holding him tightly, his chest against Cody's back. "I love you, little one. I'm proud of you, and I know you can do better. You're stronger than you think you are." He whispered, kissing the top of Cody's head.
"I promise Daddy, and I'll apologize to your co-workers too. I know they already think it's weird that you treat your adult son like a toddler. But I know they try to be nice to me because they know you're my Daddy and you love me." Cody said softly. He snuggled closer into his father's embrace, feeling the warmth and comfort of his chest against his back. "I just want you to be proud of me. I don't want you to regret treating me like this and make me go back to being treated like an adult."
Chris sighed softly, rubbing his cheek against the top of Cody's head. "I could never regret treating you like this, sweetheart. You're my little boy, no matter what age you are. And I will always be proud of you, no matter what. You make me happy, and you make me feel complete. I wouldn't trade our life together for anything in the world. A couple of my coworkers do think it's odd, but the majority of them are supportive and understanding. They know that we have a special bond, and they respect that. They see how much you love being my little boy, and how much I love taking care of you."
"Now let's get your diaper changed and then I'll help you get your pajamas on, okay? You can pick out which one you want to wear tonight," Chris said, standing up and holding out a hand to help his son up. Cody took it and rose to his feet, still sniffling a little but looking much more composed than he had before.
As they walked down the hall to Cody's room, Chris couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. He was proud of his son for apologizing and promising to do better, but he also felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of having to discipline him in the first place. It was a delicate balance, being a parent and a caretaker, but Chris was determined to do what was best for his adult little boy.
When they reached Cody's room, it looked nothing like what most people would expect a 21 year old man's room to look like. It was decorated with cute cartoon characters, stuffed animals, and a colorful quilt on the bed. The bookshelf was filled with children's books and toys were scattered around the room. Even the bed was a twin-sized bed, not the full-sized bed that would be more appropriate for someone his age.
"Which pajamas do you want to wear tonight?" Chris asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Cody walked over to his dresser, his movements still a little hesitant. His clothing, mainly what he wore at home, were all specially designed to resemble Toddler style clothes that fit his short adult body. He rifled through the drawers, finally pulling out a pair of light blue pajamas with cartoon animals printed on them.
"Can I wear these, Daddy?" he asked, holding them up for his father to see. Chris smiled and nodded. "Of course, sweetheart. They look really nice on you. Now, let's get your diaper changed, and I'll get you dressed in them." He led Cody back to the changing table, sitting him down carefully before unfolding a fresh diaper and spreading it out.
As Chris cleaned up his son, he couldn't help but marvel at how much he loved him. Even after all these years, it still amazed him how easily he could slip back into the role of being a parent to Cody. He knew that there would be times when he would have to discipline him, but he also knew that there would be so many more moments of love and affection. He couldn't imagine his life without his little boy.
Once Cody was clean and dry, Chris helped him into his pajamas, making sure the top was buttoned up snugly and the bottoms were secure. He brushed Cody's hair one last time, tucking it behind his ears before sitting down on the bed next to him.
"How about you go pick out a movie and we cuddle, I'll make some hot cocoa. I'll make sure to put it in your favorite sippy cup for you," Chris suggested, wanting to make the rest of their night a little more special and special for his son. He didn't want Cody to feel too badly about their earlier conversation, and he wanted to reassure him that their love and bond were still as strong as ever.
Cody smiled shyly at his father and nodded. "Okay, Daddy. Can we watch 'Frozen' tonight?" he asked, already starting to scramble off the bed to find his favorite movie.
"Whatever you want, sweetheart," Chris said, smiling warmly. He watched as Cody cutely waddled out to the living room, happy as any real toddler would be at the prospect of watching their favorite movie. As he scurried past, he glanced back at his father with a shy, loving expression that brought tears to Chris' eyes.
His adult son was so special to him, to see how happy he was to be treated like a Toddler. To be free of adult responsibilities, he knew before all of this he wanted Cody to grow up to be a strong adult man, but now he was glad knowing Cody was truly happy being his 'little' boy and probably always would be.
Cody picked out his favorite movie 'Frozen' and settled in on the couch, curling up against his father's side as they cuddled under a soft blanket. Chris handed him his favorite sippy cup and together they watched the movie, occasionally laughing and giggling at the funny parts.
During a particularly sweet moment between the two sisters in the movie, Cody leaned his head against Chris' chest, feeling the strong and steady heartbeat beneath. It was a comforting sensation, and he couldn't help but feel safe and loved in his father's arms. He didn't want this moment to end, but he knew that eventually they would have to say goodnight and go to sleep.
As the credits began to roll, Chris gently brushed his fingers through Cody's hair, watching him intently. "Cody, I just want you to know that no matter what, you'll always be my little boy and if you ever want to be treated like an adult man, I'll support you. But I also want you to know that I'm proud of you, no matter what you choose to be."
Cody looked up at his father, his big blue eyes shining with unshed tears. "I love you, Daddy," he whispered, and then leaned in to hug him tightly. The scent of his hair, the warmth of his body, it all felt so familiar and comforting. "I'm happy Daddy, I love being your little boy, I know I'm 21 but being an adult is something I never wanted. You gave me a bedroom that looked like it did when I was really 3 years old. I get to wear and use diapers. I don't have any real responsibilities and you don't ever make me feel ashamed for any of it. You're the best Daddy ever."
Chris held his son close, feeling his warmth and the steady rhythm of his breathing. He couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over him, knowing that despite everything, Cody was truly happy. He didn't want his son to ever feel like he had to choose between being an adult and being his little boy, and it seemed like Cody didn't want that either.
"Let's get you to bed little man, it's past your bedtime." Cody yawned, his eyelids growing heavy. "Okay, Daddy," he murmured, snuggling even closer to his father. With one final kiss to his forehead, Chris gently lifted him from the couch and carried him to his room, making sure to tuck him into his diaper and into his soft, warm bed. Before he turned off the light and made sure the nightlight was on, casting a soft, comforting glow over the room.
"I love you, Daddy," Cody whispered as he snuggled under his favorite blanket. "I love you too, buddy," Chris replied, his voice soft and reassuring. "Now get some sleep, and sweet dreams." He leaned down and kissed Cody's forehead before turning off the light, leaving his son to drift off to sleep.
As he listened to the gentle rhythm of Cody's breathing, Chris couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him. He knew that no matter how old Cody got, he would always be his little boy in his heart. It was a unique and special relationship, and one that they both cherished.
“you have to play this game bro, it’s seriously addicting.”
ryan downloaded the game immediately, and he couldn’t stop playing it. there was an almost… hypnotic quality to the game that drew him in, made him forget about all his responsibilities and worries.
no one knew about the subliminal messages hidden in the levels.
level 1 secretly encouraged players to wear a pull-up while playing… you didn’t want to have to pause the game to use the bathroom, right?
level 2 caused their mouth to dry up… maybe they should drink some more water?
level 3 told them it was okay to let their aching bladder relax… that’s what the pull-ups are for after all!
level 4 would make their eyelids heavy… maybe it was time to think about going to bed? better change into a new goodnite.
after one more level, level 5, which would ensure they woke up soaked.
and in the morning, when they played level 6, it would make these changes permanent.
soon there’d be hundreds, even thousands, of new diaper boys and bedwetters across the country.
Diaper Boy Dannyl @diaperboydannyl - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
