He’d exhausted himself to the point of sleep. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of ‘adverse side effects’ when he chose to take the new experimental drug.
It had advertised a fully immersive, 16-20 hour AB/DL experience. He’d been so excited he failed to read the fine print with details such as ‘penile size reduction’, ‘potentially permeant’ and ‘incontinence’.
His girlfriend had been, rightfully so, skeptical of the drug. Not to mention she’d be the one left to look after him for an entire day while he indulged a kink she wasn’t even fond of.
She’d found it comical when he’d exited the bathroom naked the day after, donning his usual over-confident strut. He chose not to over-think her sudden chuckle upon peering at his limp appendage.
He’d found his pants suddenly growing dark a few days later concerning. Her laugh and wrinkled nose a week later cause for panic.
His involuntary return to diapers, at her demand & out of necessity, was terrifying. Realizing his above average penis was reduced to a tiny nub during a diaper change was emasculating.
But his girlfriend reading him the ‘potentially’ adverse side-effects were cause for tears.
The formerly confident & successful womanizer now could only cling to the memories of his past.
His girlfriend turned caretaker found his unwitting permeant regression humorous. He pleaded to see a doctor; she just laughed.
“You LITERALLY wanted this!” she’d said while changing his freshly messed diaper on a public park bench.
“Not forever! Not like this!” he defensively replied as the front of his diaper was lowered; tears dripping from his eyes.
Her friends, notably beautiful of course, looked on with unbridled mirth as she plucked his paci back in his mouth.
She’d decided, not long after the onset of his adverse side effects, coupled with a tantrum he’d thrown after yet another accident, that he would indeed get what he wanted.
She’d dress him appropriately, hire a babysitter, feed him… she’d even throw a baby shower to stock up on diapers - an added benefit of his new stature necessitating actual baby diapers.
He got what he wanted alright. That and so much more that he hadn’t.
His most recent tantrum - the result of yet another poopy diaper being discovered - had taken everything out of him. He eventually relented, surrendering his heavy eyes to sleep.
His girlfriend also slept. However, her slumber was the result of many satisfying late night fuckings with Brad, his former employee. After all, even his average appendage was enormous comparatively.
Soon enough, she’d wake and tend to little guy’s dirty diaper. Put him down for his nap, hit up the babysitter, then call up Brad.
All you could do was frown and pout. This was meant to be a pretty special weekend.
It was the 1 year anniversary of your relationship with your baddie girlfriend Freya. It had started like a dream, you were both madly in love. Young, wild, and always up to mischief. But the last few months had taken a soggy turn for the worse. College ramped up, and so did the stress and in your life, stress leads to a wet bed and soaked sheets. That meant back to diapers, the older you got, the diapers only got thicker and more heavy duty, it seemed.
You promised Freya you'd kick this embarrassing thing. You did try, but the more it happened, the more stress came. It was a vicious pant soaking cycle. These bedwetting accidents started to become daytime accidents. This led to your mom being forced to use those overnight diapers into daytime ones. You whined, complained, and cried about it. Not doing yourself any favours.
You thought it couldn't get worse, but here you were getting your diaper changed on your bed like a toddler, but you were 23 years old. Avoiding eye contact with your mom while she wiped and powdered your tush making occasional comments and tuts. Naturally, Freya found the whole diapering thing a big turn-off and rather embarrassing. She couldn't have sex with the guy who had to go home early to make curfew so his mom could change him.
As your 1 year anniversary approached, you promised you were going do her right. A romantic getaway to a fancy pricy Airbnb, the place had a pool you could do skme lounging by, you bought her a skimpy new bikini she could show off in, go to a 5 star restaurant, and top it off with a night of mind-blowing sex that would leave her breathless.
But that wasn't going be possible, the night before you leaked through your pj's soaking the bed. Mom freaked out, and you tried defending yourself. Rasing your voice, demanding that you were an adult and she can't treat you like this. Well, all that whining got you was a sore red tush, corner time, and grounded for the weekend. Grounded on the anniversary weekend. You knew we're in a serious dilemma. What were you going do?
A text from your girlfriend. "So excited about this weekend babe! Really need to distress and let loose a little 🤪😉". You replied back and told her what went down. She didn't reply, she was obviously let down or angry. A few hours passed. With no communication from her you only got more and more nervous.
Into the late Friday evening, you begged your mom that you had to go. This was totally going ruin things with you and Freya. She smiled. "Oh honey, don't worry, I know Freya deserved that little trip, so she's still going. Your Uncle Matt volunteered to take her, so nice of him, right?!" You froze, Uncle Matt sometimes babysat you. He was always a bully, teasing you, but worst of all, always passing comments on inappropriate comments of Freya. Commenting on her looks, about how she was with a dork like you. It drove you crazy but Freya used to just giggle and tell you to relax. "He's just joking... jeez" she would say. Almost like she was agreeing with him, enjoying his compliments.
Still no communication from your girlfriend and it was getting later in the day and finally your phone buzzed. But it wasn't a text from your girlfriend. It was from your uncle.
This caption was inspired by, and features @crinklecutie, hope you enjoy it!
I love when a situation humiliates her all on its own, without me needing to say a single word.
Kelsey has been looking forward to the party for weeks. We kept our relationship private for a while, but we couldn’t wait any longer. It was time for her to meet my friends. And, more important, time to make our relationship public.
But, as the party drew nearer, Kelsey began to worry. Unlike most girls, Kelsey wasn’t worried about my friends liking her. No, Kelsey was worried about how they’d react to her…well, status.
Most girls don’t need diapers to stay dry. Or need Daddy to change them. Kelsey wasn’t like most girls.
She’d been determined to prove she’s a “big girl” this last week. Loudly wondering why I—and everyone else in her life—treat her like a baby, not an adult. Without a trace of irony, she’ll argue that she’s a “big girl” as she’s dutifully lying on the changing table as I wipe her messy butt clean.
She can’t help it.
I let her ramble on for her sake; it’s crucial for Littles to use their imagination. I nod along haphazardly when she pauses, letting her feel good about herself as I tape up her diaper. She’ll toddle off distracted looking for her favorite stuffy once I finish anyway.
I afford her these flights of fancy because it makes days like these much more satisfying.
Kelsey isn’t a big girl. We both know that, despite her whining. She’s right where she belongs. Meeting my friends will throw the disparity of adulthood between me, my friends, and her into sharp relief. We’re all adults with jobs and responsibilities.
The closest thing Kelsey had to a job is filling her diapers.
I dressed Kelsey in her favorite outfit. I wanted her to feel confident, even if it was far too cute to be considered “adult” attire. And, of course, it failed spectacularly to cover her diaper.
The diaper she needs, whether she’ll admit it or not.
Just before we left the house, she threw her biggest tantrum yet. Yelling and that she was an “adult” and “not a baby,” choosing to ignore the diaper poking out from under her skirt. She wouldn’t let it go.
As if she had any adult clothes to choose from.
Her tantrum spilled into the car as I buckled her into her car seat. Kelsey was so cute, going on and on about why she isn’t a baby. Arms and legs flailing, diaper poofing out of her car seat.
“Ifth nawt fawr! Awl yo fwiends will fink I’m justh a baby! An’ I don’ need ma diapees, Daddy!” Kelsey whined through her paci, “you mayk me wear ‘em cus you big meanie!”
“Is that what you think, ladybug? You think you wear diapers because I’m mean? Not because you need them to keep your skirt clean?”
“Uh huh! I no nee ‘em!”
“You really are precious, peanut! But we’ll see about that! I’ll tell you what. If you can go the whole party without using your diapers, I bet all my friends will believe you’re a big girl!”
“W-weally, Daddy?”
“Of course, kiddo! They’re all lawyers like me! They love some good evidence! And what better evidence is there than a clean diaper?”
“Ima be a big girl, yo—mmmphff.”
This never gets old. If I wasn’t positive she already lost all control, I’d swear she chose the most embarrassing times to fill her diaper for maximum effect. But she didn’t choose this moment. And knowing her body betrayed her at the absolute perfect moment—ugh, it’s better than the first sip of a cold beer after a long day.
“Uh oh, is someone making stinkies?”
Her attempt at a glare is deliciously interrupted by a grunt.
“Awww, peanut! Just relax and let all the ickies out into your diapee! That’s what it’s for!”
The scene unfolding in my rearview mirror is a sensory delight. I can see her red face contorted in effort—and the diaper bulging and browning as she squirms in her car seat. I can hear her little grunts and toots as she pushes, along with the crinkling of her diaper as it expands to accommodate her mess. I can smell the baby powder mixing with her growing mess—that wonderful, infantile smell of a nursery.
“All done, ladybug?” I prod, knowing I’m fueling the inevitable tantrum.
The look of humiliation, shame, and embarrassment plastered on her face says more than words ever could. So does the silence.
I let the silence linger, daring her to break it, watching her squirm. Nothing is more enjoyable than this. She loves this. She hates this. Humiliation is funny like that.
“D-daddyyyy!” she whines, fidgeting more than ever, “ickkkyyyy!”
“Sorry, peanut, you’ll just have to wait until we get to the party for changies!”
Cue the tantrum.
I let her rage until she ran out of steam, fighting against her restraints, screaming about this and that. The longer she goes the more incoherent and infantile she becomes.
A tempest in a teacup.
When she finally quiets down, I offer her the one thing that never fails to put a smile on her face: a Happy Meal. It’s a win-win for me. She’ll forget all about her messy diaper and I’ll get to watch her waddle into the party, Happy Meal in hand, looking even more adorable than I ever could’ve imagined.
My friends are going to melt when they see her.
By the time we pull into to the drive-through, she’s singing along to the music. She switches from dramatic tantrums to blissfully singing along to music so fast it’s hard to believe she’s actually an adult—not an overgrown toddler.
The girl working the window was positively unprepared for what she saw in the backseat of my car. She never expected to see a girl her age strapped into a car seat, a soggy, brown diaper bulging out of her skirt, cheerfully singling along to the music, not a care in the world.
She stares at Kelsey in utter disbelief, completely forgetting about the Happy Meal resting on the counter. Not that I blame her. She composed herself quickly, a cheeky smile replacing the look of shock.
Kelsey remarkably remained blissfully unaware her infantile performance now has a captive audience. I instinctively reach for my phone, wanting to record this moment.
But, as if a struck by a sudden spark of inspiration, the worker grabs the Happy Meal from the counter, disappearing for a few seconds. She returns with a devious smile. “Here’s your Happy Meal, sir,” she smirks, “your little girl is sooo cute singing along like that, I thought she deserved another toy!”
The singing stops mid-note. Kelsey’s eyes grew so wide I worried they might never stop expanding. Horror struck, she slowly turns to look out the window, only to find the worker smiling down at her.
Kelsey desperately squirms in her car seat in a futile effort to cover her diaper with her skirt. Her face so red it made her pink paci look white in comparison. It’s one thing when I humiliate her, it’s another thing entirely when a girl her age catches her in this position.
There is no escaping the truth in this position. Kelsey isn’t an adult—she isn’t even a big girl. Girls her age aren’t her equals. She’d have to toddle into a preschool to find her equals. She’s nothing more than a toddler who needs her Daddy, or any other available adult, to care for her.
I take the Happy Meal from the giggling employee. “Thank you very much, ma’am!” I emphasize, adding to the discrepancy between my little and the worker, “now, peanut, can you thank the nice lady for your extra toy? It was very nice of her to do that!”
Abandoning her attempt to cover her diaper, she instead covers her face with her hands, no doubt hoping to disappear.
The worker laughs. “Awww, she’s a shy little thing! It’s okay! I’m sure you’ll enjoy your toys once you’re in a clean diaper, sweetie!”
“She’s always fussy when she needs a diaper change, don’t take it personally,” I say starting to drive off, “thanks again!”
I can’t help but smile as Kelsey grumpily sucks on her paci, arms folded, trying to hang on to whatever scraps of dignity she has left.
Of course, Littles should never worry about things as abstract as dignity. Not when they have Daddy there to make everything better.
“Are you excited for the party, peanut?” I ask, not expecting an answer.
This caption is part of a four-part series I'm writing with the wonderful @destinedfordiapers! You can find part one here.
"Uh-oh!" I said in a playful, sing-song voice. "Do I smell something stinky?"
My boyfriend straightened up and turned around slowly. His face was scarlet with embarrassment and frozen in an expression of horrified disbelief. He'd just finished doing his first poopy in his pants as an adult.
I'd been waiting for this to happen for days, and it had been hard not to start cheering when I'd seen that look appear on his face, the look that said I'm not going to make it this time. We'd been sitting in the living room watching TV when he'd suddenly jumped to his feet and rushed out of the room, and I'd followed behind him, urging him on like a proud parent. "You can do it, baby! Show me how a big boy uses the potty!"
He hadn't even made it halfway to the downstairs bathroom.
His bladder control had become practically non-existent thanks to the drugs I'd been slipping into his food and drink, but his bowel control had proved to be a little more stubborn. It had definitely been getting weaker over the past couple of weeks, but by watching his diet and being careful not to stray too far from a toilet, he'd managed to avoid having any messy accidents. Now, however, he'd finally had a number two potty emergency in his pants.
It was all I could do not to rush forwards and pull him into a big hug and cover his blushing face with kisses. He looked adorable standing there in the hallway, like a guilty toddler who'd run off to try and hide his dirty diaper from his Mommy! His Mommy. That's who I was, even if he didn't know it yet. I was his Mommy, sometimes strict, sometimes loving, and always in charge.
"Pants down, baby," I told him. "Time for a diapie check!"
He didn't move. He was probably still paralyzed with shame, the poor little guy, and in any case it was too early to start introducing punishments for disobedience. That could come later.
I slipped my fingers into the waistband of his jeans and pulled them down, with some difficulty, over his thick disposable. Again, it was a struggle to stop myself squealing with delight. His diaper was drooping between his legs lower than I'd ever seen it droop before, not just soaked with tinkle, but thoroughly weighed down by the big whoopsie he'd done in it.
It was so cute! It was so sexy! Seeing a grown man reduced to this gave me a thrill like nothing else. I could feel my panties getting damp, a very different kind of dampness from the sort that my boyfriend had now gotten used to waddling around in.
I patted the sagging seat of his diaper and gave him a pitying, condescending smile that I had to fight to keep from becoming a smirk of satisfaction. "Oopsie," I said. "I guess you couldn't make it after all."
My boyfriend found his voice at last. "Please, just let me go and take care of this," he said. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. "I can handle it myself."
I shook my head. "That's not how it works, baby. I've told you before, I don't want you isolating yourself over this. I'm going to be involved with your diapers. Changing them is my job."
"But this time is different! Please babe, this is just a one-off! I must be sick or something!"
"Sweetheart, we both know you've been struggling with your bowel control lately," I said. "I understand how embarrassing it must for you to admit that you're a pants-pooper now too, but even if you turn into a big toddler who’d fit right in at nursery school, I promise I’ll still be here for you.”
His face turned as red as a tomato. “I’m not going to turn into a big toddler who’d fit in at nursery school!” he shouted.
“I didn’t say you would, honey,” I crooned to him, stroking his hair soothingly. He was a little taller than me so I had to reach up, but I was sure he didn't feel bigger in that moment. “I was just saying that if that happens, I’ll still love you just as much as I do now. I'm trying to be supportive, baby. Do you understand that?"
He nodded mutely.
“Then I don’t think raising your voice just now was a very nice thing to do, was it?" I asked.
“No..." he mumbled. "I’m sorry.”
"Good boy."
I knew he was biting back his retort. I knew he must want to tell me that I was being infantilizing, that I was only making him feel more embarrassed, that it would be better if I just ignored his diapers and let him deal with his problem with as much privacy as possible, but despite all my assurances, he was still worried I'd ditch him, and he didn't want to get into a fight and risk pushing me away.
After all, wasn't I being the perfect girlfriend? How many other women would be so understanding if their boyfriend suddenly started peeing and pooping himself like a baby? How many other women would still be willing to get intimate with him, even if that intimacy increasingly didn't go past a handjob on the changing table?
I did feel a little bit guilty at times for all the humiliation I was causing him, but seeing him on his back with his legs in the air and a wet diaper spread out beneath him always made it all worth it, and changing messy diapers was going to feel even more empowering. I couldn't wait!
"Let's get these off then, sweetums," I said, helping him take his jeans fully off his legs, leaving him in nothing but his loaded diaper below the waist. Then I took his hand and started leading him upstairs to the changing table in our bedroom, relishing every adorable crinkle made by his babyish underwear on the way. “Don't worry, baby," I said cooingly, "I'll have you out of that yucky diapie and into a nice clean one in no time!"
Poor Kyle. Back in our high school days we’d make bets on how many numbers we’d get at a party. He’d, frustratingly, always won.
How the mighty have fallen.
“You alright?” Anna asked, presumably sensing my empathy & equal distaste. While the scene before us had become routine for her, it hadn’t for me. Nor did I expect that it ever would.
“Geez Spencer, take a picture. It’ll last longer.” Anna’s best friend, Sadie, remarked to my prolonged non-responsiveness.
“I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just so… crazy.”
“Ohh get over it. It’s just a diaper change. Not the first, not the last.” She’d said after performing her patented eye-roll.
“Almost done, sweetie. Then it’s nap time! Aren’t you excited for your nap-nap time?” Kyle’s mom cooed. His cheeks wore a constant shade of pink nowadays. His eyes suddenly averted the onlookers in the room. Despite our good intentions, it felt like we were doing more harm than good.
The prospect of ending up like this haunted all of us. There were, supposedly, subtle indicators during youth and adolescence that suggested it might happen. Prolonged or delayed potty training, poor performance in school, and for males, a sudden octave increase.
By the time you find yourself with wet pants, it’s already started.
There was a solution. Well, two technically. Neither were great options, however.
If it’s determined at a young age that it’s very likely, if not probable, that you’ll eventually contract the regressive disease, they could completely stop the aging process. Thus, continuing through life at the physical age you’re at, limiting the ability for the disease to age you backwards.
Watching Kyle now, I wonder if that would’ve been better than… whatever you call ‘this’?
Would it be better to have lived the high life—dated, fucked, partied—then suddenly have decades taken off your age to avoid certain death? Watching all your friends and flings continue on their adulthood journey while you futilely battle soiling yourself?
Or to have never lived that life at all, remaining, at least physically, a child. Fully self aware, watching everyone continue to grow up. The one, perhaps only, benefit being the retention of your potty training.
Despite her former nonchalance, Sadie wrinkled her nose. Even Anna, his sister, grimaced.
I couldn’t imagine the utter shame Kyle must be experiencing. We’d all been the closest friends growing up. Anna and I eventually crossed the ‘friend’ threshold and started dating while Kyle and Sadie had remained besties. Although he got every girl's number, he was never able, nor did it appear he ever would now, do the same with Sadie.
As Sadie stood up, her shapely rear reminded me that, I too, had pined for her and failed. We’d fooled around once, before Anna and I had started dating, full-on at least. I’d wondered how my performance might’ve compared to her boyfriend. Her lack of texts or calls afterwards made me fear that perhaps I wasn’t as macho as I thought I was.
“Why are they so… babyish?” I asked, suddenly snapped out of my trance upon seeing the Luvs diaper that Kyle’s mom was taping him up in.
“Supposed ta help slow it down’s what they said. Make’ em feel like they’re really a baby.” His mother replied matter-of-factly.
Interesting. I figured shitting yourself would be enough.
“Alrighty, time for beddie byes, baby. Tell your friends bye.”
Kyle reluctantly waved as his mother picked him up; the baby blue pacifier he was nursing precluding him from forming coherent words.
I continued to watch him as they departed for his former bedroom, now nursery, until they disappeared.
Guess I’d have to live it up for the both of us.
Over the next two weeks, I hooked up, fucked, partied and masturbated enough for the both of us. Part of me felt bad that we hadn’t gone to see him lately. I wondered one night while fucking Anna if he were laying in his crib, wondering if we’d abandoned him.
I shrugged it off. What did we have in common now? How was I supposed to be a friend to someone who can’t even keep from shitting themselves?
Worst of all, I don’t even think Sadie had visited. That was the last time we’d all been in the same room.
I did feel a pang of regret. What must it be like, knowing your friends are out there moving on, imagining them doing all the things you now wished you could do, only to realize suddenly that you smell like a naughty toddler.
—————————————————————————
Three Weeks Later
“Anna, I was drunk. Simple as that. Besides, if it were going to happen, it already would have.”
Just like Anna, overreact to nothing. At least I hope.
“Babe, you were in special ed until 10th grade, your mom says you weren’t out of diapers until you were 6, and you’ve been drunk plenty of times and not pissed yourself. Don’t you think it would probably be a good idea to go see the doctor?”
Well that word lashing hurt. She did make a good point. Or three.
“Fine! I’ll go see a doctor. Happy now?”
Anna just stared at me with an unsatisfied look.
“C’mon, forget about all that. I’m fine.” I closed our distance, taking her shoulder and pulling her closer, eventually into a hug.
“Nobody’s home, right?” I asked with a mischievous grin, pulling her chin up to meet my lips.
Her eyes met mine, her beautiful smile slowing appearing on her lips.
“You boys… always worried about what’s in your pants.”
And at that very moment, coincidentally or perhaps a cruel joke by the universe, a loud fart erupted from said pants.
Anna’s visible shock combined with the deafening sound of me filling up my boxers suddenly made me very worried about what’s in my pants.
I loathed Wednesday’s. Our daycare teachers always insisted we dance to these childish toons. If not for Kyle’s insistence I join, I’d be in the back playing with my dinosaurs. It was kind of fun compared to everything else we did. Kind of a “fake-it til you make-it” mindset these days.
They’d changed it up a bit at Kyle and my pleadings for something more competitive.
Now they’d abruptly stop the song and we’d have to freeze.
However, I’d yet to win, nor would I during this outting. My bowlegged stance doing me no favors, I again felt my diaper expand without having any notice beforehand.
“Uh oh! Looks like Hunty is out!” The daycare teacher exclaimed, drawing attention to the now obvious state of my diaper.
“Nuh Uh I didn’t move!” I yelled out, suddenly realizing how pathetic I must’ve sounded.
“Hunter…?”
It’d been almost 7 months since I’d last seen Sadie. Gorgeous as ever. Maybe even more gorgeous than before, although nowadays we didn’t get to fraternize with the ladies.
“What’er you doing here?” I turned to confirm the voice, yanking the loose paci out of my mouth and pulling my frustratingly short shirt down to cover the ever growing diaper around my waist.
How’d it come to this?
“I’m here to pick up Kyle, silly. I didn’t know you…”
She didn’t even have to finish that sentence. My naughty secret becoming ever present to her cute nose.
Behind her, I saw a couple, discreetly looking on from the lobby.
“Is that…?”
Before I could finish, I was irritatingly swept off my feet.
“Sadie! How’re you doin, sweetie? You just look stunning!”
I’d do anything to be anywhere else right now. Incapacitated by a daycare worker, soiled diaper noticeably sagging all the while in the presence of Sadie with Anna and some guy peering on from a distance.
Who the fuck is she with?
I tuned out as they discussed adult things, as I often did these days. That was now a world I was incapable of understanding, nor participating in.
I squinted slightly in Anna’s direction. Was she holding that guy's hand?
“Oh honey, that’s so great that you two are gettin' on so well! Tell’em I said hi for me, okay? I’d better get Mr. Hunter here changed before he gets a rash.”
My cheeks burned with rage and shame. Before I could say anything, I was whisked away to the changing table.
Staring at Anna & Sadie as we retreated, I wondered if the look on my face resembled Kyle’s that day. That look of being stripped of adulthood, manhood, dignity and independence. The look of knowing they’d likely be getting fucked tonight while I’d be in a crib, diapered, and almost certainly wet, if not worse. The jealous gaze of knowing they have an independence, a free-will to do whatever they’d like.
I blankly stared at the ceiling as Kyle’s mother began changing me. My former manhood, turned nub, joining me in my absent gaze. I could feel Anna and Sadie’s eyes still lingering as they left.
Anna went on to start her own successful company, working with movie stars and various musical artist. Sadie, unsurprisingly, became a model.
Me? I’m still here, diapered; no closer to being potty trained than a newborn. Diaper on, diaper dirty, diaper change. Nothing forward, nothing backwards. Just left behind.
He pulled up his big boy pants— metaphorically speaking, since he didn't actually have pants—and marched over to the pack of cackling hyenas.
They appeared shocked and delighted that he'd approached. "Are there any rules against feeding them?" a guy with a shaved head asked. "I could go get some stale bread."
One of the others, a lanky guy with a too-large Ed Hardy shirt sneered. "Should have brought a baby bottle for the loser. Want some milk, lil fella?"
The one in denim ground his crotch against the chainlink. "I got something for him to suck on right here."
Here's chapter nine of the ongoing, collaborative story written by me and my friend, BoysRBabies. We are writing alternating chapters—I wrote this one. For links to the previous chapters, see the bottom of the post.
18+ Only!
Chapter 9
"Thank you. Thank you."
Tyler mumbled his appreciation to Holly and the nanny who'd helped him out of the walker over and over again, repeating the words like a prayer or mantra that would ward against ever going back into the hated contraption.
Holly smiled condescendingly, and the large nanny chuckled, arms crossed. The rest of the students just watched, mostly slack-jawed. Derek had been released too, but Tyler ignored him, unsure of what to say to him after the whole incident.
That he'd just thanked his captors for letting him climb from the seventh circle of hell to the sixth wasn’t lost on Tyler. At that moment, he felt a warm glow of genuine appreciation. Sure, he was still trapped in this baby prison. And a loaded diaper was still strapped to his waist. But at least he wasn't sitting in the pile of hot mush now.
"Very good minding your manners, Tyger," Holly said. "See, class, even troublemakers like our little Tyger can learn how to behave like good boys."
Tyler blushed.
"Now run along and play," Holly said. "You all have a free hour before tubby time."
The class ambled and toddled out, laughing and babbling. He followed after them, unsure of where to go but certain he didn't want to hang around for a conversation with Holly. An hour of free time would've sounded amazing after the constant stream of activities and harassment had it not meant that he'd spend all of it in a reeking, filthy diaper. He couldn't sit down--wouldn't sit down. And he had enough self-respect and awareness not to get too close to the others in his odorous state. Not that half of them seemed to notice or care, but he cared.
A bath, on the other hand, would feel amazing. No caveats or reservations there. Sure, it would be another humiliating production intended to debase him. But that was just the expectation for every activity around here. He imagined it would be like all of those old western movies where the cowboy settles into a steaming tub of water, washing away months of dust and grime from the trail. Throw in an icy Heineken and some tunes and he might actually forget his problems for a few moments. Just stripping out of this filthy diaper, and—
Wait.
Stripping down for a bath meant taking everything off. Including his shoes. No way he would be able to keep the note hidden then. They'd make an example of him. Again. Goosebumps ran up his neck. What would that even look like? They loved to escalate things. Would they put him back in the messy diaper? That was the absolute worst thing he could imagine--settling back into the cold mush. And if that was the worst he could imagine, they’d probably come up with something even worse.
Which meant he had an hour to get the letter to Connor mailed. A knot of anxiety twisted in his stomach. An hour wasn't much time. Not when this place was locked down like a penitentiary. He barely had a minute here or there when he wasn’t being directly observed by a staff member.
The processing room seemed like the best bet. Though there was also Holly's office, which seemed to have a lot of the typical office supplies. Both were almost certainly locked. But he'd sweet-talked his way into—and out of—more challenging situations. Still, if he had to try his charisma on someone, Holly would be at the bottom of the list. For all her sweet smiles, she'd made it clear she had an eye on him.
Tyler made his way through the rooms and hallways to the front processing area. The processing room had a long glass window and counter on each side, with a number of desks and office equipment in between. One of those glass walls looked out on a waiting room and, beyond that, the free world. Even now, a young man stood in front of that window in the waiting room, staring at his feet while an angry, middle-aged woman next to him spoke to a Regression Center employee. Poor bastard had no idea what he was in for.
The other glass wall looked out on the interior of the center, with its bright primary colors and collection of baby-inmates. That boring patch of office in between, with its gray carpets and its water cooler and its computers, looked like the most inviting place Tyler had ever seen. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine walking back into his own office, employees telling him 'good morning,' asking how his weekend was, joking about his golf game. Then his secretary would bring in his coffee, prepared just the way he liked it, with—
"Excuse me? Young man?"
Tyler snapped out of his daydream.
One of the office employees stood in front of the glass window. A middle-aged woman with retro-style glasses and a hairstyle that belonged in the 60s. She tapped the glass with a long, painted fingernail.
"Oh, hi."
"Do you need something?" she asked.
"Yes, I…" he hesitated. He hadn't really thought this part through. He glanced down at her name tag. "How are you doing today, Deborah? That’s a lovely name, by the way."
She frowned. "I'm calling security." She reached for a phone that sat on the counter.
"No! No. Please?"
She left her hand resting on the phone. He had nothing to offer her--nothing on him, at least. And he couldn't exactly threaten her, either, which left the truth. Or at least something in the neighborhood of it.
"I made a weewy nice card for my mommy," he grinned like a dope, choking down the bile. “She weewy wikes dinosauws so I colored her a dinosauws.”
The woman's expression shifted from one of suspicion to one of annoyance. "That's nice, sweetie. Why don't you run along now and let the grownups get back to work."
"Well, my mommy isn't here. But I cans maiw it to her and she wiw get it and be sooo happy!" He clapped his hands like a clown and smiled his biggest, dopiest smile.
"So you want me to mail it for you?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.
"I'll maiw it. I just needs an envewope and a stamp."
She frowned.
"And some gwitter too! She wikes gwitter."
She picked up the phone. "Can I have security to the reception area, please? We have a potential 408."
Tyler put his hand against the glass. "No no! Don't do that. Sorry. I'll leave you alone."
She continued to stare at Tyler as she spoke into the phone. "The boy is belligerent." She sniffed the air and her frown deepened. "And he has a full diaper, too."
Tyler turned and booked it down the hallway, not waiting for the hulking nannies to show up and escort him off to…god knows what. Every room seemed full of guys: playing with blocks, watching childish videos, sitting in class. There were nearly as many staff members too, lecturing and correcting and watching.
There! A sign for the playground over a door. Tyler pushed through the door and burst into the outside world. He closed his eyes against the impossibly bright sunlight and sucked in a lungful of freedom. No baby powder or stale urine, just fresh air with a tinge of car fumes. Even his own stink was a bit muted in the wide open space.
He slowly opened his eyes again. The playground was unremarkable: the usual swings, slides, monkey bars, and ride-on bouncy toys you’d see at any park. A handful of guys played on the playground equipment. Two held hands and swung on the swings, or at least attempted to. They kept slamming into each other, giggling like a couple of school girls. One guy was hanging from the monkey bars, his crop-top shirt riding up and exposing half of his stomach and his bulbous diaper. Two other guys sat in a massive sandbox, pushing the sand around with yellow Tonka trucks, making puttering and grunting noises with their mouths.
And nowhere in sight was a staff member, which was shocking, but only until his view expanded to take in the larger scene. A tall chainlink fence surrounded the area just beyond the playground equipment. And on the other side of that fence were a concrete walkway and three park benches, evenly space. Like a zoo, more than anything. Instead of some monkeys or a zebra, Tyler and his fellow prisoners were the animals, rooting around in filth for others' amusement.
Of course, a few people were watching the weirdos. Who wouldn't turn down an opportunity to see a modern-day freakshow? Nothing made a person feel better about their dead-end job and loveless marriage than a bunch of weirdos running around with their pisspants on display. You might have been passed over for that promotion and have a mountain of credit card debt weighing you down, but hey, at least you weren't like these baby freaks, right?
A young woman sat on a bench, sipping an iced coffee and taking it all in. A couple stood shoulder-to-shoulder on the concrete pathway. Middle-aged, they whispered back and forth and seemed confused and disgusted, as if they were unsure whether they should call the police or a priest. And, of course, there was a group of young men—always a reliable demographic when humiliation was on the offer. Late teens or early twenties, they were pressed right up against the chain link fence, pointing and laughing.
Tyler could only hear snippets of their conversation.
"...can you imagine…"
"...looks like he likes it…"
"...twenty bucks says the chubby one shit himself…"
Tyler startled at that last bit, then saw that they were pointing to the guy on the monkey bars. Then one of the three, a guy in a denim jacket covered in band patches, pointed at Tyler. "Hey, looks like we got a new one."
Tyler turned away and they broke into laughter.
He started to go back inside, then paused, his hand on the doorknob. He didn't have much time left before the bath. And even fewer opportunities. He could throw the note away and buckle down for an extended stay. After all, he could and would rain legal hellfire down after he got out, regardless of when that was. They might have some leverage while he was here, but the moment he walked through those doors, it was over.
But if he could expedite that process? Wake up to a bevy of lawyers with subpoenas beating down the doors like a SWAT team in Tom Ford suits? Oh, how delicious that would be. He'd already dreamed up a few special provisions for the lawyers to include in the lawsuit. They’d balk, of course—attorneys always wanted to go for a simple, straightforward cash settlement. But Tyler craved something more personally fulfilling than a fat check: he needed to see the women who worked here put through everything he'd gone through. Everything.
Which left him with one option, distasteful as it was. He pulled up his big boy pants— metaphorically speaking, since he didn't actually have pants—and marched over to the pack of cackling hyenas.
They appeared shocked and delighted that he'd approached. "Are there any rules against feeding them?" a guy with a shaved head asked. "I could go get some stale bread."
One of the others, a lanky guy with a too-large Ed Hardy shirt sneered. "Should have brought a baby bottle for the loser. Want some milk, lil fella?"
The one in denim ground his crotch against the chainlink. "I got something for him to suck on right here."
The dolts all laughed as if it was the height of comedy.
"I'll pass on the stale bread, thanks," Tyler said, trying to keep his temper in check.
They all looked at each other, ooohhing and ahhhhing at this twist. Tyler wondered how often they stood out here, laughing and mocking, and concluded it must be a regular thing. The must-see TV of the real world. He’d remember their faces when he got out, maybe have someone pay them a special visit. But for now, he needed them. He stepped closer to the fence.
"But there is something I want."
The tall one covered his nose with his hand. "Oh, shit. That smell. Man, is that you?" They all made a big show of putting their hands and shirts over their noses, gagging and laughing.
Tyler felt a rush of heat in his face. He smashed his palm against the chain link, rattling it. "Hey! I get it, okay? I smell worse than an open sewer in July. Like a bag of dog shit that burned just a bit too long on someone's front porch. Anything you can think or say, I've already thought worse. Let's move the fuck on."
This had the desired effect: they were paying attention now and were temporarily surprised that someone with their full mental faculties was actually addressing them and taking control of the situation.
"So look, I need a small favor. Despite what my clothes might lead you to believe, I'm not an idiot like Baby Huey over there.” He jerked his thumb at the guy on the monkey bars. “I don't expect you to help me because of our shared humanity or some nonsense like that. I'm willing to pay for your help. Cash."
"Bro, ten thousand dollars and I wouldn't change your rank ass," shaved-head said.
Tyler put his hands up in a show of agreement. "I don't blame you. Fortunately for you, the lovely ladies who work here take care of that. What you’re gonna do is deliver a note to a friend of mine. If you do that, he'll give you $500 bucks. Just tell him it's from Tyler and that I'll pay him back when I’m out."
"And why should we believe a guy with a load of shit in his pants?" denim asked.
"Because if I'm telling the truth, you make an easy five hundred bucks. And if I'm lying, you still have a great story for the bar. 'Remember the time some ugh-oh gross-oh in a diaper asked us for help?' Should get lots of laughs."
They all looked at each like they were considering it. Or maybe they were already trying to figure out how they'd divide five hundred dollars three ways. Tyler suppressed a smile—everyone liked easy money.
Denim, who acted like the self-appointed leader of the gang of delinquents, spoke up. "Alright. But you gotta do something for us first."
"Five hundred bucks is plenty," Tyler snapped.
Denim shrugged. "Okay, then find someone else to do your chores, diaperboy." The others snickered at that.
"Fine," Tyler ground out. "What is it?"
"Show us what a baby you are," denim said.
"What?"
"You heard me. Convince me you're a real, pathetic wittle baby and maybe I'll deliver the note for your sorry ass self."
Tyler hesitated for just a second. Time was running out and he'd already wasted too much of it. He didn't know these assholes and they didn't know him. What did a little more debasement among strangers matter at this point?
He dropped onto his hands and knees, wincing at the wood chips biting into his flesh, and began to crawl around in front of them. He glanced up and saw they were enjoying this but nowhere near satisfied yet. His stomach turned.
"Call for your mommy," one of them demanded.
“No, your daddy,” another said. "But stick that pacifier in your mouth first."
Tyler stuck the pacifier in his mouth, working the fat, rubber bulb as far into his cheek as he could. Still, his cries for 'daddy' were only semi-intelligible, slobbery calls for help.
"Aww, someone needs their diaper changed, huh?"
"Look at his hanging between his legs. Thing probably weighs a hundred pounds."
"Sit down in your mess, diaperboy."
Tyler hesitated for a moment, swaying in place. They pounced on his reluctance.
"Do it! Sit in it, diaperboy!"
This developed into a chant, each 'it' punctuated with a shake of the fence. "Sit in it! Sit in it! Sit in it!"
Tyler dropped back onto his butt, cringing at the mess squishing around in his diaper.
"Fucking pathetic," the lanky one said. "What do you wanna bet his old lady is taking a big cock right now?"
"She's never gonna want his nasty ass again," denim said. "Probably went hunting for cock the moment she dropped him here." He pantomimed giving a blowjob.
Tyler surged forward and smashed his hand against the fence. "Shut your mouth about my wife you little bitch."
They all recoiled. Denim looked pissed, then his anger turned into a smile. He shrugged. "Sure, bro. Whatever you say. You guys ready to roll?"
"Hey. No. We had a deal."
Denim scoffed. "You can't make a deal with a baby. That'd be like making a deal with a dog." He stopped, a pensive look on his face. "Oh, wait. Dogs actually shit where they're supposed to, don't they?"
"Listen man, I'll make it a thousand bucks," Tyler said, hearing the desperation in his own voice.
Denim just stared, but the other two looked like they were considering the offer.
"Easiest money you'll ever make it," Tyler said.
Denim dropped down to his hands and knees, pressed his face right up to the fence, then waved his phone around. "Oh yeah? I caught the entirety of your show on video. This shit is gonna blow up. I mean, it's gonna fuckin' destroy on Youtube."
"That wasn't our deal."
"That wasn't our deal," denim said in a mocking, sing-songy voice. He stood up again. "Have a nice life, freak." He walked off, middle finger raised over his shoulder. The other two hesitated for a second, looking at each other and then him.
Tyler shook the fence. "Screw him. A thousand, each, guys. Just gotta deliver a note. That's all."
The lanky one looked at denim, then shook his head. "Sorry bro. Good luck with your whole—" he waved his hands, face distorted in disgust "— situation."
They both walked off after denim.
Tyler dropped his head into his hands. This had to be the bottom, right? If not, he wasn't sure he could handle another drop.
"Excuse me," a woman's voice said.
The young woman from the bench stood near the fence. Her expression was hard to read, but he didn't think it was obviously cruel. But then again, best to expect the worst.
"Come to laugh at the freak? Get in line."
"I heard what you said. A thousand dollars?"
Tyler looked up, suddenly hopeful. "Yes. Cash. No questions asked."
“What's the address?"
Check out the previous installments of Tyler's adventures in the Regression Center here:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Want to read some more stories?
I publish stories of diapers and domination on Smashwords, including the story of a diaper boy who desperately wants to use the potty again.
BoysRBabies posts fantastic captions of forced regression here on Tumblr.
The heat in the packed space was getting intense. I glanced at Tim, hoping for some level of support, but he just stared straight ahead.
“Here’s what I think,” Kayleigh said, her breath warm on my shoulder. “I think you’d be the one eating cake all night. Sitting there in your mom jeans, rubbing your crinkly diapie and thinking about mommy taking you over her knee and smacking that cute little bum of yours until it turned red as an autumn apple. Isn’t that right, baby boy?”
“No. I mean. I don’t.”
“You know, I bet if you had a strict mommy she’d make you mess that wittle diaper of yours.” She made a grunting sound and then patted the seat of my diaper. “Fill your pants up nice and full for her. Make you mommy’s wittle stinky bwitches.”
The elevator doors opened and I rushed into the packed lobby. Kayleigh marched by a second later, shooting me a playful wink. The group that had been in there with us were silent as they walked past, then burst out laughing once they were a few steps away.
Check out my new, 13,000 word story on Smashwords!
As always, a hefty sample is available to read for free :)
“No! No! No! Noooooo!”
I stamped my feet and chewed furiously around the invasive pacifier bulb filling my mouth. My cheeks burned, fully aware of the spectacle I was making as my wife and her friends looked on in surprised amusement, and perhaps a bit of second-hand embarrassment. But I didn’t care. This had gone far enough!
She could take away my video games, dress me in this ridiculous outfit, drag me through humiliation after degrading humiliation, but a bed time?? This was the last straw! Over the last year Mommy (wait, no I mean Sara!) had managed to strip every past identifier of my old life and the man I used to be, and with each privilege and cherished article gone I found myself becoming the person… the baby she wanted me to be. But dammit I was still a fan! And it’s the World Series! I’ve been waiting for this moment all year, my whole life even! She can’t make me go to bed now.
“You said… You said I could stay up! And watch with your friends! I want to watch!” I cried. I had even agreed to join them in the living room wearing the ridiculous new onesie she got me, the words “Mommy’s Lil Slugger” emblazoned over a cartoon ball and bat across my chest, all with the expectation that I could watch my team take the field on the greatest stage. Just to feel normal again, for even one night.
I could feel the hot tears rolling down my cheeks now. Sliding under the plastic guard of the pacifier, already slick with my spit, collecting with the drool running down my chin. The leg gatherings of my embarrassingly thick diaper rustled with each frustrated stomp. It was a full on tantrum now. She did it, she finally broke me. Months of restraints, supplements, spankings, all to force me into submission. But this finally broke me.
“I want! I want! I want!” I wailed, shook my mittened fists, and stomped my feet, the soft booties making only the dullest of thuds on the carpet. What was I doing?? I’ve never thrown a fit like this! Not since I was an actual baby. Not with Mommy watching. Not with her friends watching!! But I couldn’t help it, I was fully in it now, singularly focused on this final act of resistance.
And that’s when I felt it. The tummy gurgle. Suddenly ripped from my infantile tunnel vision, I felt myself brought soberingly back to a few short hours ago, before the guests arrived, confined tightly in the kitchen highchair, struggling in vain against the pastel leather straps as Mommy shoveled spoonful after spoonful of orange mush past my quivering lips. I suddenly remembered watching helplessly as the occasional dollop of slop splattered pathetically against the white plastic tray, and thinking that something was off. I wasn’t able to focus on it then, having to quickly steel myself for the next disgusting mouthful, much of which destined to end up smeared across my face anyway, but I was right. It wasn’t a trick of the eye, I had seen the unmistakable white powder carelessly mixed in with baby food. Laxatives! But why? Why Mommy? I was good today! I was good!
*Gurgle*
Another violent churn of my bowels brought me back to the moment. Frantically I looked around the room. To Lauren and Michael watching fixated from the couch. Alyssa sitting on Brad’s lap on the armchair. All looking on in a mixture of amazement and horror as the diapered boy before them doubled over, now clutching his stomach. I took one last look at Mommy and caught the slightest smirk firming on her gorgeous lips. And then it happened. Rivers of thick, gooey mush forced their way out of my backside, filling every crevice of space in my previously pristine white diaper. I bit down on my paci, grunted, and cried softly to myself as the back of my already thick diapers crinkled loudly, bulging further outwards. The adorable felt catcher’s mitt sewn onto the butt expanded to hold the softball sized lump growing in the seat of my pants. I moaned pathetically as my bladder surrendered as well, urine flowing endlessly through the opening of my baby blue cage, pooling and mixing with the shameful mess below. Finally finished with the humiliating ordeal and drained from my screaming fit, I felt my bowed legs suddenly give out beneath me and before I could stop myself, I was falling. Though only a couple feet, it felt an eternity before SPLAT, my bottom collided with the carpeted floor, smearing my mess deeper into the confines of my plastic prison. I could feel it threatening to creep up my back past the waistband, straining against the leg guards, and coating my naughty bits. Parts that even I didn’t get to touch.
And so I sobbed. I sobbed for myself, the poor, miserable position I found myself in, and the person, the baby, I had become. But honestly? I mostly sobbed as a scared little boy, who needed his Mommy and who needed a change. I felt her delicate hands cup my chin as she raised my puffy red face to meet her maternal gaze.
“All I said was to go brush your lil teefies and get ready for bed. I didn’t say that it was your bed time…”
My cheeks burned even redder than before, I tried to look away but she had my chin firmly now. I chewed my pacifier nervously.
“But after this? You clearly aren’t old enough to stay up with us big kids. Maybe it is somebody’s bed time. Sorry everyone, someone gets a bit cranky this late at night. Let me go tuck this lil stinker in and I’ll be back to watch the game in a few minutes. There’s beers in the fridge!”
She turned back to me. “Come, baby.”
She began to walk past the foyer and up the landing to ascend the stairs, pausing only to look back and give me that look that said “you had better come right now if you know what’s good for you.”
Feeling more humiliated than ever before but terrified of what Mommy might do if I didn’t comply, I rolled over, feeling the soppy squish of my loaded diaper as I came to a kneel, and began the long crawl up the stairs, thankful the buttons holding my onesie, strained though they were, hadn’t popped. As I climbed, I tried to ignore the hushed whispers and excited gasps from below, opting to stare intently at each wooden step and hope I could turn invisible. Still, I couldn’t help but look up to glance at Mommy’s pert figure. Her luscious curves moving with each swaying step. Her skirt flared and I caught the slightest glimpse of her delicate lace panties and I felt my member begin to harden in my baby print prison before the plastic of the cage uncomfortably reminded me of my unenviable situation. As if the squelching stew in the seat of my pants couldn’t do that enough.
Finally, we found ourselves at the door to my dreaded nursery. Despite the pastel walls, colorful block lettered mat, and general softness radiating from every conceivable angle, I couldn’t help but shudder to think of every painful memory to take place here over the last year, each one robbing me just a bit more of my old self. I couldn’t reminisce for long, though, as I heard mommy’s syrupy sweet words of encouragement. “Come on baby!” I began to crawl towards the changing table, towering above me in the opposite corner of the room, its shelves stacked high with row upon row of fluffy, white, cartoon imprinted diapers, bottles of baby powder, tubs of wipes, and many more exotic implements meant to regress and humiliate me ever further.
“Ah, ah, ah! This time Mommy did say bed time. And Mommy meant it.“
Stunned, I looked back at her to see if she might be kidding. Or if my pleading gaze might change her mind. But I saw no such remorse in her eyes, or in the mischievous grin curling up her lips.
“Crib. Now.”
Defeated, I crawled over to the adorable, oversized baby bed that had become my nightly prison, slumped over the lowered side and lifted one leg after the other as I clambered gingerly inside, my full diaper squishing and churning with each awkward movement. Mommy stepped over, raised the bars and I heard the telltale click locking them in place. I sighed deeply, resigning myself to an early night and what was sure to be an uncomfortable morning highlighted by a diaper rash I knew I wouldn’t soon forget. Mommy leaned over the railing, handed me a bottle of warm milk and kissed me on the forehead, her butter-soft breasts swaying gently underneath her loosely buttoned baseball jersey.
“Night night sweetie, I’ll check on you in the morning. Behave yourself!”
She turned and strutted out of the room, turning out the light as she went, leaving me in almost total darkness, the shapes of the changing table, my play pen, toy box and the dreaded punishment corner barely illuminated by the soft orange glow of my Winnie The Pooh night light. The smell from my mess permeated the nursery and mixed with the ever-present aroma of powder, ointment and stale urine. I wish I could say it bothered me, but truthfully I had grown used to it. Delicately, I rolled over onto my back, trying to avoid disturbing the toxic sludge below, the constant reminder of my infantile state, and spat out my pacifier. Reluctantly, I began to suck on my baba as I strained to listen to the sounds of the game below, wishing desperately that someone would suggest turning up the volume, as the sounds of the night air outside began to swell with the chorus of summertime, punctuated only by the occasional cheer from the living room, or from the neighbors next door. “Must be a good game,” I thought to myself as my eyelids began to droop. My head hit the pillow, and soon I was born swiftly off to dreams of hitting a home run and rounding the plates, blissfully unaware of whatever new adventures, and newer lows, the morning would surely bring.
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When it’s quiet, you can hear them pissing themselves.
Before that, they fidget and shift. Wriggling around. Crossing their legs. Trying anything they think might help them hold it until they can make it to some quiet corner. But that never works, of course. Eventually, they go still and tense up. Shoulders hunched. Eyes staring off into space. That’s when you hear it. Barely audible at first, then growing louder as they really let loose. It’s a hissing sound more than anything. Like a punctured tire bleeding air. Or your thumb over a garden hose.
“Crinkle crinkle crinkle. Hisssssssssss!”
That’s what Grant told us all a few days ago, complete with dramatized sound effects. Then he’d burst out laughing. I’d called bullshit, but since then I’d been paying attention. Watching. Listening.
More than anything, it gave me something to do in dull moments like this. All but the slowest test-takers had finished the final and set their pencils down. So I sat and waited, watching the dust motes drift through early-summer sunbeams.
Kevin sat three rows ahead. A fat, white roll of diaper spilled out of the top of his khakis. He’d obviously tried cinching it down and out of sight with a belt and a long shirt, but the shirt had ridden up and the pants down, exposing the diaper for everyone to see. He’d attempted to be as covert as possible when we all returned from Thanksgiving break. He’d put the pin on his backpack strap instead of his chest, which was technically a violation, but no one had called him on it yet. And he’d switched out his indie band shirts for long-sleeve flannels that were at least one size too large. They obscured some of the bulge but did nothing to hide the distinctive crinkling sound he made every time he moved.
Kevin shifted in his chair, lifting one cheek up like he was trying to let out a silent fart. And maybe he was. Or maybe he was letting out something worse than that. They said once you had the pin, you were in the things 24/7. Everyone had to shit at some point, right?
Grant elbowed me, a grin on his face, and jerked his head towards Kevin.
“I see him,” I whispered.
Grant put his teeth together and made a barely audible hissing sound.
Kevin froze up, sitting up so straight he looked like someone shoved a cattle prod up his ass and flipped the switch.
I leaned forward.
A chime rang through the classroom and suddenly, everyone was dropping pencils and shuffling papers. “Okay, folks, that’s it,” Professor Carlin said. “Pencils down. Leave your papers on my desk. I’ll have the grades up by the end of next week.”
“Shit!” Grant said.
I grinned at him. “Not a peep, man. I’ll take my $20 now.”
“Bullshit,” he said. “Kevin. Hey, Kevin!”
Kevin turned around. His eyes narrowed in distrust.
“You gonna piss yourself or what?”
Kevin blushed a deep shade of red. “Wha, what?”
“Bro, come on. We can all see it hanging out of your pants. Show my guy here what it sounds like when you piss your pampers.”
He turned around and started shoving stuff in his book bag.
“Ah, that’s no way to be,” Grant said. “Make the snake sound for us. Hiiiiiissssssssss.”
“What’s your problem?” A girl two rows over from us snapped. She was cute. Straight blonde hair, big glasses, and a spray of freckles across her cheeks. I’d thought of asking her out for a beer the first week of class, but then I’d noticed the College Matriarchalists patch on her book bag and thought better of it.
Grant put his hands up. “Woah. Easy there. Just a fact-finding mission. My guy here thinks you can piss a diaper without making a sound.” He twirled his finger beside his head.
She directed her withering gaze at me.
“Nah, it’s not that. It’s just…”
She turned around and shook her head.
Grant rolled his eyes. “Way to roll over.”
“I wasn’t rolling over. You see that patch on her bag?”
“So? More reason not to roll over. Wouldn’t be where we are if more guys stood up for themselves.”
“I just don’t—”
“Panty patrol!” someone shouted in the hallway.
Everyone in the room froze. Grant and I exchanged a glance.
“You think they’d do that on the last day of the semester?” I asked.
“This fucking place? Of course. They’re in bed with the Matties.”
“Shit.”
He shrugged. “Who cares, dude? You really upset about it come down to the quad.” He leaned close and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Ollie, Trevor, and a few of the guys from Skelling are gonna egg that new campaign office the Matties put up by the cafeteria. Show the administration we’re not all a bunch of little bitches.”
I nodded, but my thoughts were on the Panty Patrol. I’d been up late gaming last night, so I’d slept through my alarm clock and had to skip my usual shower. I was certain I’d put on a new shirt and socks, beyond that…
“Come on, man,” Grant said. Everyone else had left the classroom, though I could see most of them lined up just outside the door.
I grabbed my bag and followed him into the hallway. I’d suffered through two inspections before: once on orientation day and again before Christmas break. They were awkward at best, and humiliating at worst, but I’d ‘passed’ both times so I didn’t think about it all that much. I’d heard rumors that the guys who lived in the dorms had it way worse, with all kinds of spot-inspections and hoops to jump through.
They called themselves SHINE. Social Hygiene Improvement…something or other. But we all called them the Panty Patrol. Nevermind that they were exclusively targeted at men—’ Panty Patrol’ was easier to remember than SHINE or whatever. They were basically just a Mattie excuse to further humiliate men under the guise of preventing the spread of illness and social good and some other vague Mattie nonsense. They’d set up their table near one end of the hallway. The end with the stairs and elevators, of course, so no one could get around them. Two women sat behind the table, while two flanked either side. They were young—not much older than us—and each wore one of those ugly green sashes. They liked to pull their recruits right from the graduating classes, I’d heard.
The girls in the class were lined up along the wall, watching and whispering and pointing, while we guys lined up.
“Such a crock of shit,” Grant said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe the college agrees to this. With what we’re paying to be here? They outta send these chicks around to clean the dorms or something if they’re so worried about shit being clean.”
The guy ahead of us turned around and leaned in. “Some rich Mattie made a huge endowment with all these strings attached. They couldn’t agree quickly enough.” He shrugged. “Least that’s what I heard.”
“Disgusting,” Grant said.
“You agreed to it on the admission paperwork,” a woman standing against the wall said. “Every one of you had to sign your name.”
“Was I talking to you?” Grant snapped.
She glared back at him but didn’t say anything.
There was some commotion at the front of the line. A moment later, a guy walked past. I recognized him from a couple of my classes—Neil or Nate or something like that. He was holding his unbuttoned jeans in one hand, trying to keep them from falling down, while one of the Panty Patrol girls gripped his wrist firmly. She held a thick diaper in her other hand.
The girls along the walls started clapping as he walked past.
“Got another one!”
“Enjoy your diapies!”
“No more toilet for you!”
“Come find me when you need a change!”
I couldn’t see Neil’s face, but I didn’t need to. She led him into the women’s room and the women lined up along the walls finally stopped jeering, though the glee persisted. They said that diaper-changing tables had been added to the women’s rooms along with all the other new policies the Matties pushed for. An obvious lie. Or at least an exaggeration.
“Who do you think is next?” a girl with thick glasses and an impish grin asked. She’d sat at the front of my Quant class all semester, answering every question and just generally being an annoying try-hard.
“Hhhhhmmm.” The girl next to her pointed to a guy with a patchy beard a few places ahead of me in line. “That one. He looks like he needs help wiping. Lots of help.”
The girl in glasses snort-laughed. “I mean, they all do. I think it’ll be that one.” She gestured at a guy I’d never noticed in any of my classes before. He looked a lot more put-together than patchy-beard, with trendy clothes and trendier haircut.
“Him? Sure it’s not just because you want to diaper that tight ass?”
Girl-in-glasses shrugged, and they both started giggling.
“Why don’t you leave us alone?” The words were out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying. Stupid. Fucking stupid.
They both turned their attention to me. “And what about him?” the girl in glasses asked her friend. “This one with the bratty attitude.”
Her friend gave me the elevator eyes. “Clothes look pretty clean. Hair is kind of a mess, though. Like he uses a bar of soap on it or something. And he looks like a boxer-briefs kinda guy.”
“Ugh,” her friend chimed in. “They’re the worst. My brother used to wear boxer briefs. He’d leave them balled up on the bathroom floor for days. Before he got his pin, of course.”
I felt the heat rush up my neck and into my cheeks. I didn’t dare say anything further. At least Grant was distracted from talking to someone else. The guy never saw a fight he didn’t want a part of - especially with the Matties.
“He looks nervous.”
“He looks like he jerks it into a gym sock.”
They both giggled. The line moved forward, putting them behind me.
“Well, we’ll find out soon. Looks like they finally added a blacklight.”
I turned around. “What?”
They burst out laughing.
I shook my head. “I, uh, wasn’t talking to you.”
The girl with glasses was red in the face with barely-restrained mirth. She dabbed a tear from under one eye. “Sure, sweetie. Come find me once you have your pin, okay? I bet you’re gonna be adorable in diapers.”
I faced forward again. I wanted to step out of line to see if they really had a black light. I poked Grant, who was staring down at his phone. “Did you hear anything about a black light?”
“Who cares? Long as they don’t blacklight Stacy’s pussy I should be good.” He winked and went back to looking at his phone.
That he’d avoided the Matties ire this long was a miracle. But not one I really cared about at that moment. Last night I’d had trouble getting to sleep when I finally quit gaming. Too much caffeine and too many close matches. So I’d done the one thing that always helped me drift off. The question was, in my rush to get out the door, had I changed underwear?
The line moved ahead a couple of places rapidly, as two guys were allowed to pass almost immediately upon reaching the table. I couldn’t see their pins from behind, but I didn’t need to: their pants bulged out in the back. They didn’t bother inspecting anyone who’d already been pinned—there was a whole set of other policies in place for those poor bastards.
Poor bastards like Kevin. Kevin, who had a pin. On his bag strap.
Kevin was only a few places ahead of me in line, but one guy still cussed me out for cutting in front of him. Luckily, it didn’t go any further than that. None of the girls along the wall seemed to notice what I’d done and the SHINE crew had missed it too.
I tapped Kevin on the shoulder and he turned, frowning as he did so. “Hey, I wanted to apologize for my friend. He can be a bit of an asshole.”
He nodded.
“It’s just. You know…this stuff just all came out of left field. We’re all just kind of curious about it.”
He snorted. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“Dude, they aren’t gonna rest until every guy is pinned.”
“It’s the end of the semester. I’ve made it this far.”
He chuckled. “You’re a junior next year?”
“Sophomore.”
“You think they are gonna let up on any of this? They’ll double down every year. Every semester.” He pointed to the table. “Look. They’ve added a black light to the mix. Rumor is they’re just getting started with that now because they’re bringing chastity devices in next semester. Every time they get an inch, they take a mile.”
“What’s a chas—” I shook my head. “Whatever. I just think they have to pull back on this at some point. The pendulum has gotta swing back in the other direction.”
Kevin leaned closer. “My father is an analyst on Wall St. Works for a major firm. He says adult diaper sales are through the roof. Way higher than what the handful of schools in bed with the Matriarchalists explains. It’s gone beyond the universities now. Way beyond.”
“No way.”
“If I were you, I’d get ahead of the curve.”
“Huh?”
He gestured at his waist. “You’re gonna end up in one of these. Period. But they’re a lot nicer about it if you take the pin voluntarily.”
“You gotta be kidding. No way am I putting one of those things on. Fucking gross.” I laughed. “No offense, man.”
“If you say so.” He shrugged and turned forward again, his bag swinging around in front of me.
The guy in front of me pulled his pants back up and proceeded down the hallway. My turn. The woman behind the counter looked up from her tablet, an expression of bored disgust on her face. She glanced at the pin I’d stuck to my shirt thirty seconds earlier.
“Name?”
“Alex Parks.”
She frowned at her tablet.
“Is there a problem?”
“Our records don’t show you as pinned.”
“Huh.” My heart was pounding so loudly in my chest that I thought she might hear it. “I just got it a couple of days ago. Maybe the system isn’t updated yet?”
She stared at my waist, then glanced at the woman next to her.
I held my breath.
She nodded. “Go ahead.”
I smiled. “Thanks. Have a great day.”
Then I was around the table and walking down the hallway as quickly as I could without drawing attention. I stepped into the empty elevator, my ears tuned for any commotion back in the line. It would take them at least a minute to figure out what had happened. That’s what I was banking on anyway.
The elevator doors started to close and I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
A hand shot through and kept it from closing. The blonde girl from class stepped into the elevator, her eyes firmly locked on mine.
“I saw what you did.”
It felt as if the elevator cable had snapped and sent me plummeting to the ground.
“You did?” I choked out.
She nodded. “Apologizing to Kevin like that? You’re not a jerk like your friend.”
“Oh. Thanks.” My heart rate edged out of heart attack territory. But only just barely.
“You shouldn’t hang out with him. Guys like that drag everyone down. They try to make the people around them as miserable as they are.”
“He’s uh, not that bad.”
“Hhhhmmm.”
Except for a faint audio track coming out of a tinny speaker, the elevator was quiet. I glanced over at her.
“I’m Lily, by the way.”
“Alex.”
The elevator stopped, and a couple of girls got on board. Lily moved closer to me. Close enough I could smell her perfume. Close enough her arm brushed against mine.
“How long have you been pinned?” she asked.
One of the girls in front of us snickered.
Lily cleared her throat. “Nothing wrong with it, you know. Some day, I’m sure all boys will be.”
Over my dead body.
“Um, since…”
She glanced up at me, and I froze. Then she smiled and rolled her eyes. “Come on. You don’t remember? I thought every boy remembered. The way my guy friends talk about it, you’d think it was the moon landing or something.”
“Oh yeah. Since, uh, Thanksgiving.”
She smiled and nodded. “A bunch of boys got pinned then.”
The elevator stopped. The two girls in front of us got out. I glanced down at my phone. This was taking too long.
“And how is it so far?” she asked. “I’ve heard that it really reduces anxiety. Boys get better grades. Less conflict with their parents. More—”
“Fine,” I snapped. “It’s fine.”
She frowned. “If there are problems--if you’re uncomfortable—I know who to talk to about it. We can make sure you’re wearing the right size.” Her eyes subtly dropped to my waist.
My heart raced back into cardiac arrest territory. Finally, the elevator stopped and the doors opened on the ground floor. The room was mostly empty, and there were no SHINE wackos to be seen.
“Well, it was nice talking to you, Alex,” Lily said.
“Yeah. You too.” My eyes were locked on the doors and the world beyond. I started walking, resisting the urge to run.
“Oh hey, Alex?” Lily called.
Shit.
I turned back around. “Yeah?”
She glanced down, then back up again. “Would you, uh, like to go to the College Matriarchalists meeting with me? It’s at 5:30, in Abbot.”
“Uh…”
“I mean, if not, that’s fine. But we’re always looking for allies and you seem sweet. I thought maybe afterward, if you don’t have plans—”
“Hey!” A woman’s voice called out from the stairwell. A second later, two women in sashes appeared, Kevin behind them. He pointed at me. “He’s the one that took it!”
I only had a split second to see the confused look on Lily’s face, and then I was rushing headlong toward the door. If I could make it outside, they’d never catch me. I’d get off campus. By next semester, it’d all have blown over. At least, that’s what I told myself as I sprinted toward freedom.
Two girls in green sashes appeared out of nowhere and blocked the door.
Fuck!
I turned and scanned the room. There was another exit, but no way I could get there quickly enough. Kevin and the girls from the stairs were closing in, their shoes slapping against the tile.
The bathroom. It was on an outside wall. Which meant there was a window. Or at least it made sense for there to be a window. Whether it would be big enough for me to climb through, who knows. I bolted into the bathroom, the heavy door impacting the wall with a crack as loud as a gunshot.
I’d never been so happy to see a pane of glass. The window was small and high up on the wall, but it was there. And it was open. Fresh summer breeze—the smell of freedom—floated through. I grinned. I couldn’t help it. I’d just climb up on the shelf beneath it and shimmy through the window.
No, not a shelf. A table. On one end of that table was a cube of baby wipes. Next to that, powder. And three stacks of diapers in different sizes.
“Oh, fuck.”
A stall door flew open and a wide-eyed woman stood there. “What are you doing in here unescorted?”
“I, uh…”
“Show me your pin,” she demanded. Her eyes narrowed. “Now.”
I fumbled at my chest. “It must have fallen off.”
I looked up at the window. If I stood on the table and launched myself upward, I could make it.
So that’s what I did.
***
They sat on the steps in front of Murphy Hall. Grant, Ollie, Trevor, and a couple of guys I didn’t know.
I hesitated for a moment, then called out. “Hey guys.”
Grant whipped around and grinned. “Dude! Where you been? We thought you fucking bailed on us.”
“Nah, just got a bit held up.”
Grant shrugged. “Alright. So you’re game, right? Trevor got like six dozen eggs.”
“And a bottle of Jack,” Trevor added with a grin.
Ollie nudged Grant and raised his eyebrows. Grant frowned and stepped closer. “Is that a…bro, you got pinned?”
“They cornered me,” I said. “I tried to get out. I snagged Kevin’s pin. But they cornered me. I…”
Trevor poked at my chest. “What’s this? Two pins?”
“That one looks like a lock. What is it?”
I felt the flush of heat in my cheeks grow.
Grant shook his head. “Never thought you’d join the dark side.”
“I didn’t have a choice. What was I supposed to do?”
“Come on, let’s go,” Ollie said.
Grant gave me one last look, not even trying to disguise his contempt, then they all walked off toward the quad. Halfway down the steps, someone made a loud “hiiissssssss,” and they all burst out laughing. Grant turned and looked at me, then shook his head.
I dropped onto the granite step—or onto the thick wad of padding taped to my ass anyway—and watched the sun slowly drift lower. This wasn’t how I planned to end my semester. In a fucking diaper. Friendless.
“The meeting starts in five minutes.”
I twisted around. Lily stood behind me. The look of rage she’d worn on her face when she burst into the women’s room was gone, replaced with an expression I couldn’t read. Smug satisfaction? Condescension?
She settled onto the step next to me. “We’ll still be on time if we go now.”
“Are you fucking serious?”
She raised an eyebrow, reminding me of the pins I wore now. Of the absolute mountain of shit I’d be digging myself out of for a long, long time.
“Sorry, but that’s the last place I want to be.”
“So what, you’re just going to sit here and mope?”
“I’m not moping.”
She stood up. “They aren’t coming back, Alex. But they’ll be joining us soon enough. Until then, why don’t you make some new friends?” She extended her hand, a big smile dimpling her cheeks.
Grant was an asshole. Always had been. Probably always would be.
I stood up and took her hand in mine. “Sure. Why not.”
There's more where that came from! Check out my other diaper tales on Smashwords!
And if you liked this short and want to see more stories set in this world, let me know in the comments :)
When it’s quiet, you can hear them pissing themselves.
Before that, they fidget and shift. Wriggling around. Crossing their legs. Trying anything they think might help them hold it until they can make it to some quiet corner. But that never works, of course. Eventually, they go still and tense up. Shoulders hunched. Eyes staring off into space. That’s when you hear it. Barely audible at first, then growing louder as they really let loose. It’s a hissing sound more than anything. Like a punctured tire bleeding air. Or your thumb over a garden hose.
“Crinkle crinkle crinkle. Hisssssssssss!”
That’s what Grant told us all a few days ago, complete with dramatized sound effects. Then he’d burst out laughing. I’d called bullshit, but since then I’d been paying attention. Watching. Listening.
More than anything, it gave me something to do in dull moments like this. All but the slowest test-takers had finished the final and set their pencils down. So I sat and waited, watching the dust motes drift through early-summer sunbeams.
Kevin sat three rows ahead. A fat, white roll of diaper spilled out of the top of his khakis. He’d obviously tried cinching it down and out of sight with a belt and a long shirt, but the shirt had ridden up and the pants down, exposing the diaper for everyone to see. He’d attempted to be as covert as possible when we all returned from Thanksgiving break. He’d put the pin on his backpack strap instead of his chest, which was technically a violation, but no one had called him on it yet. And he’d switched out his indie band shirts for long-sleeve flannels that were at least one size too large. They obscured some of the bulge but did nothing to hide the distinctive crinkling sound he made every time he moved.
Kevin shifted in his chair, lifting one cheek up like he was trying to let out a silent fart. And maybe he was. Or maybe he was letting out something worse than that. They said once you had the pin, you were in the things 24/7. Everyone had to shit at some point, right?
Grant elbowed me, a grin on his face, and jerked his head towards Kevin.
“I see him,” I whispered.
Grant put his teeth together and made a barely audible hissing sound.
Kevin froze up, sitting up so straight he looked like someone shoved a cattle prod up his ass and flipped the switch.
I leaned forward.
A chime rang through the classroom and suddenly, everyone was dropping pencils and shuffling papers. “Okay, folks, that’s it,” Professor Carlin said. “Pencils down. Leave your papers on my desk. I’ll have the grades up by the end of next week.”
“Shit!” Grant said.
I grinned at him. “Not a peep, man. I’ll take my $20 now.”
“Bullshit,” he said. “Kevin. Hey, Kevin!”
Kevin turned around. His eyes narrowed in distrust.
“You gonna piss yourself or what?”
Kevin blushed a deep shade of red. “Wha, what?”
“Bro, come on. We can all see it hanging out of your pants. Show my guy here what it sounds like when you piss your pampers.”
He turned around and started shoving stuff in his book bag.
“Ah, that’s no way to be,” Grant said. “Make the snake sound for us. Hiiiiiissssssssss.”
“What’s your problem?” A girl two rows over from us snapped. She was cute. Straight blonde hair, big glasses, and a spray of freckles across her cheeks. I’d thought of asking her out for a beer the first week of class, but then I’d noticed the College Matriarchalists patch on her book bag and thought better of it.
Grant put his hands up. “Woah. Easy there. Just a fact-finding mission. My guy here thinks you can piss a diaper without making a sound.” He twirled his finger beside his head.
She directed her withering gaze at me.
“Nah, it’s not that. It’s just…”
She turned around and shook her head.
Grant rolled his eyes. “Way to roll over.”
“I wasn’t rolling over. You see that patch on her bag?”
“So? More reason not to roll over. Wouldn’t be where we are if more guys stood up for themselves.”
“I just don’t—”
“Panty patrol!” someone shouted in the hallway.
Everyone in the room froze. Grant and I exchanged a glance.
“You think they’d do that on the last day of the semester?” I asked.
“This fucking place? Of course. They’re in bed with the Matties.”
“Shit.”
He shrugged. “Who cares, dude? You really upset about it come down to the quad.” He leaned close and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Ollie, Trevor, and a few of the guys from Skelling are gonna egg that new campaign office the Matties put up by the cafeteria. Show the administration we’re not all a bunch of little bitches.”
I nodded, but my thoughts were on the Panty Patrol. I’d been up late gaming last night, so I’d slept through my alarm clock and had to skip my usual shower. I was certain I’d put on a new shirt and socks, beyond that…
“Come on, man,” Grant said. Everyone else had left the classroom, though I could see most of them lined up just outside the door.
I grabbed my bag and followed him into the hallway. I’d suffered through two inspections before: once on orientation day and again before Christmas break. They were awkward at best, and humiliating at worst, but I’d ‘passed’ both times so I didn’t think about it all that much. I’d heard rumors that the guys who lived in the dorms had it way worse, with all kinds of spot-inspections and hoops to jump through.
They called themselves SHINE. Social Hygiene Improvement…something or other. But we all called them the Panty Patrol. Nevermind that they were exclusively targeted at men—’ Panty Patrol’ was easier to remember than SHINE or whatever. They were basically just a Mattie excuse to further humiliate men under the guise of preventing the spread of illness and social good and some other vague Mattie nonsense. They’d set up their table near one end of the hallway. The end with the stairs and elevators, of course, so no one could get around them. Two women sat behind the table, while two flanked either side. They were young—not much older than us—and each wore one of those ugly green sashes. They liked to pull their recruits right from the graduating classes, I’d heard.
The girls in the class were lined up along the wall, watching and whispering and pointing, while we guys lined up.
“Such a crock of shit,” Grant said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe the college agrees to this. With what we’re paying to be here? They outta send these chicks around to clean the dorms or something if they’re so worried about shit being clean.”
The guy ahead of us turned around and leaned in. “Some rich Mattie made a huge endowment with all these strings attached. They couldn’t agree quickly enough.” He shrugged. “Least that’s what I heard.”
“Disgusting,” Grant said.
“You agreed to it on the admission paperwork,” a woman standing against the wall said. “Every one of you had to sign your name.”
“Was I talking to you?” Grant snapped.
She glared back at him but didn’t say anything.
There was some commotion at the front of the line. A moment later, a guy walked past. I recognized him from a couple of my classes—Neil or Nate or something like that. He was holding his unbuttoned jeans in one hand, trying to keep them from falling down, while one of the Panty Patrol girls gripped his wrist firmly. She held a thick diaper in her other hand.
The girls along the walls started clapping as he walked past.
“Got another one!”
“Enjoy your diapies!”
“No more toilet for you!”
“Come find me when you need a change!”
I couldn’t see Neil’s face, but I didn’t need to. She led him into the women’s room and the women lined up along the walls finally stopped jeering, though the glee persisted. They said that diaper-changing tables had been added to the women’s rooms along with all the other new policies the Matties pushed for. An obvious lie. Or at least an exaggeration.
“Who do you think is next?” a girl with thick glasses and an impish grin asked. She’d sat at the front of my Quant class all semester, answering every question and just generally being an annoying try-hard.
“Hhhhhmmm.” The girl next to her pointed to a guy with a patchy beard a few places ahead of me in line. “That one. He looks like he needs help wiping. Lots of help.”
The girl in glasses snort-laughed. “I mean, they all do. I think it’ll be that one.” She gestured at a guy I’d never noticed in any of my classes before. He looked a lot more put-together than patchy-beard, with trendy clothes and trendier haircut.
“Him? Sure it’s not just because you want to diaper that tight ass?”
Girl-in-glasses shrugged, and they both started giggling.
“Why don’t you leave us alone?” The words were out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying. Stupid. Fucking stupid.
They both turned their attention to me. “And what about him?” the girl in glasses asked her friend. “This one with the bratty attitude.”
Her friend gave me the elevator eyes. “Clothes look pretty clean. Hair is kind of a mess, though. Like he uses a bar of soap on it or something. And he looks like a boxer-briefs kinda guy.”
“Ugh,” her friend chimed in. “They’re the worst. My brother used to wear boxer briefs. He’d leave them balled up on the bathroom floor for days. Before he got his pin, of course.”
I felt the heat rush up my neck and into my cheeks. I didn’t dare say anything further. At least Grant was distracted from talking to someone else. The guy never saw a fight he didn’t want a part of - especially with the Matties.
“He looks nervous.”
“He looks like he jerks it into a gym sock.”
They both giggled. The line moved forward, putting them behind me.
“Well, we’ll find out soon. Looks like they finally added a blacklight.”
I turned around. “What?”
They burst out laughing.
I shook my head. “I, uh, wasn’t talking to you.”
The girl with glasses was red in the face with barely-restrained mirth. She dabbed a tear from under one eye. “Sure, sweetie. Come find me once you have your pin, okay? I bet you’re gonna be adorable in diapers.”
I faced forward again. I wanted to step out of line to see if they really had a black light. I poked Grant, who was staring down at his phone. “Did you hear anything about a black light?”
“Who cares? Long as they don’t blacklight Stacy’s pussy I should be good.” He winked and went back to looking at his phone.
That he’d avoided the Matties ire this long was a miracle. But not one I really cared about at that moment. Last night I’d had trouble getting to sleep when I finally quit gaming. Too much caffeine and too many close matches. So I’d done the one thing that always helped me drift off. The question was, in my rush to get out the door, had I changed underwear?
The line moved ahead a couple of places rapidly, as two guys were allowed to pass almost immediately upon reaching the table. I couldn’t see their pins from behind, but I didn’t need to: their pants bulged out in the back. They didn’t bother inspecting anyone who’d already been pinned—there was a whole set of other policies in place for those poor bastards.
Poor bastards like Kevin. Kevin, who had a pin. On his bag strap.
Kevin was only a few places ahead of me in line, but one guy still cussed me out for cutting in front of him. Luckily, it didn’t go any further than that. None of the girls along the wall seemed to notice what I’d done and the SHINE crew had missed it too.
I tapped Kevin on the shoulder and he turned, frowning as he did so. “Hey, I wanted to apologize for my friend. He can be a bit of an asshole.”
He nodded.
“It’s just. You know…this stuff just all came out of left field. We’re all just kind of curious about it.”
He snorted. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“Dude, they aren’t gonna rest until every guy is pinned.”
“It’s the end of the semester. I’ve made it this far.”
He chuckled. “You’re a junior next year?”
“Sophomore.”
“You think they are gonna let up on any of this? They’ll double down every year. Every semester.” He pointed to the table. “Look. They’ve added a black light to the mix. Rumor is they’re just getting started with that now because they’re bringing chastity devices in next semester. Every time they get an inch, they take a mile.”
“What’s a chas—” I shook my head. “Whatever. I just think they have to pull back on this at some point. The pendulum has gotta swing back in the other direction.”
Kevin leaned closer. “My father is an analyst on Wall St. Works for a major firm. He says adult diaper sales are through the roof. Way higher than what the handful of schools in bed with the Matriarchalists explains. It’s gone beyond the universities now. Way beyond.”
“No way.”
“If I were you, I’d get ahead of the curve.”
“Huh?”
He gestured at his waist. “You’re gonna end up in one of these. Period. But they’re a lot nicer about it if you take the pin voluntarily.”
“You gotta be kidding. No way am I putting one of those things on. Fucking gross.” I laughed. “No offense, man.”
“If you say so.” He shrugged and turned forward again, his bag swinging around in front of me.
The guy in front of me pulled his pants back up and proceeded down the hallway. My turn. The woman behind the counter looked up from her tablet, an expression of bored disgust on her face. She glanced at the pin I’d stuck to my shirt thirty seconds earlier.
“Name?”
“Alex Parks.”
She frowned at her tablet.
“Is there a problem?”
“Our records don’t show you as pinned.”
“Huh.” My heart was pounding so loudly in my chest that I thought she might hear it. “I just got it a couple of days ago. Maybe the system isn’t updated yet?”
She stared at my waist, then glanced at the woman next to her.
I held my breath.
She nodded. “Go ahead.”
I smiled. “Thanks. Have a great day.”
Then I was around the table and walking down the hallway as quickly as I could without drawing attention. I stepped into the empty elevator, my ears tuned for any commotion back in the line. It would take them at least a minute to figure out what had happened. That’s what I was banking on anyway.
The elevator doors started to close and I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
A hand shot through and kept it from closing. The blonde girl from class stepped into the elevator, her eyes firmly locked on mine.
“I saw what you did.”
It felt as if the elevator cable had snapped and sent me plummeting to the ground.
“You did?” I choked out.
She nodded. “Apologizing to Kevin like that? You’re not a jerk like your friend.”
“Oh. Thanks.” My heart rate edged out of heart attack territory. But only just barely.
“You shouldn’t hang out with him. Guys like that drag everyone down. They try to make the people around them as miserable as they are.”
“He’s uh, not that bad.”
“Hhhhmmm.”
Except for a faint audio track coming out of a tinny speaker, the elevator was quiet. I glanced over at her.
“I’m Lily, by the way.”
“Alex.”
The elevator stopped, and a couple of girls got on board. Lily moved closer to me. Close enough I could smell her perfume. Close enough her arm brushed against mine.
“How long have you been pinned?” she asked.
One of the girls in front of us snickered.
Lily cleared her throat. “Nothing wrong with it, you know. Some day, I’m sure all boys will be.”
Over my dead body.
“Um, since…”
She glanced up at me, and I froze. Then she smiled and rolled her eyes. “Come on. You don’t remember? I thought every boy remembered. The way my guy friends talk about it, you’d think it was the moon landing or something.”
“Oh yeah. Since, uh, Thanksgiving.”
She smiled and nodded. “A bunch of boys got pinned then.”
The elevator stopped. The two girls in front of us got out. I glanced down at my phone. This was taking too long.
“And how is it so far?” she asked. “I’ve heard that it really reduces anxiety. Boys get better grades. Less conflict with their parents. More—”
“Fine,” I snapped. “It’s fine.”
She frowned. “If there are problems--if you’re uncomfortable—I know who to talk to about it. We can make sure you’re wearing the right size.” Her eyes subtly dropped to my waist.
My heart raced back into cardiac arrest territory. Finally, the elevator stopped and the doors opened on the ground floor. The room was mostly empty, and there were no SHINE wackos to be seen.
“Well, it was nice talking to you, Alex,” Lily said.
“Yeah. You too.” My eyes were locked on the doors and the world beyond. I started walking, resisting the urge to run.
“Oh hey, Alex?” Lily called.
Shit.
I turned back around. “Yeah?”
She glanced down, then back up again. “Would you, uh, like to go to the College Matriarchalists meeting with me? It’s at 5:30, in Abbot.”
“Uh…”
“I mean, if not, that’s fine. But we’re always looking for allies and you seem sweet. I thought maybe afterward, if you don’t have plans—”
“Hey!” A woman’s voice called out from the stairwell. A second later, two women in sashes appeared, Kevin behind them. He pointed at me. “He’s the one that took it!”
I only had a split second to see the confused look on Lily’s face, and then I was rushing headlong toward the door. If I could make it outside, they’d never catch me. I’d get off campus. By next semester, it’d all have blown over. At least, that’s what I told myself as I sprinted toward freedom.
Two girls in green sashes appeared out of nowhere and blocked the door.
Fuck!
I turned and scanned the room. There was another exit, but no way I could get there quickly enough. Kevin and the girls from the stairs were closing in, their shoes slapping against the tile.
The bathroom. It was on an outside wall. Which meant there was a window. Or at least it made sense for there to be a window. Whether it would be big enough for me to climb through, who knows. I bolted into the bathroom, the heavy door impacting the wall with a crack as loud as a gunshot.
I’d never been so happy to see a pane of glass. The window was small and high up on the wall, but it was there. And it was open. Fresh summer breeze—the smell of freedom—floated through. I grinned. I couldn’t help it. I’d just climb up on the shelf beneath it and shimmy through the window.
No, not a shelf. A table. On one end of that table was a cube of baby wipes. Next to that, powder. And three stacks of diapers in different sizes.
“Oh, fuck.”
A stall door flew open and a wide-eyed woman stood there. “What are you doing in here unescorted?”
“I, uh…”
“Show me your pin,” she demanded. Her eyes narrowed. “Now.”
I fumbled at my chest. “It must have fallen off.”
I looked up at the window. If I stood on the table and launched myself upward, I could make it.
So that’s what I did.
***
They sat on the steps in front of Murphy Hall. Grant, Ollie, Trevor, and a couple of guys I didn’t know.
I hesitated for a moment, then called out. “Hey guys.”
Grant whipped around and grinned. “Dude! Where you been? We thought you fucking bailed on us.”
“Nah, just got a bit held up.”
Grant shrugged. “Alright. So you’re game, right? Trevor got like six dozen eggs.”
“And a bottle of Jack,” Trevor added with a grin.
Ollie nudged Grant and raised his eyebrows. Grant frowned and stepped closer. “Is that a…bro, you got pinned?”
“They cornered me,” I said. “I tried to get out. I snagged Kevin’s pin. But they cornered me. I…”
Trevor poked at my chest. “What’s this? Two pins?”
“That one looks like a lock. What is it?”
I felt the flush of heat in my cheeks grow.
Grant shook his head. “Never thought you’d join the dark side.”
“I didn’t have a choice. What was I supposed to do?”
“Come on, let’s go,” Ollie said.
Grant gave me one last look, not even trying to disguise his contempt, then they all walked off toward the quad. Halfway down the steps, someone made a loud “hiiissssssss,” and they all burst out laughing. Grant turned and looked at me, then shook his head.
I dropped onto the granite step—or onto the thick wad of padding taped to my ass anyway—and watched the sun slowly drift lower. This wasn’t how I planned to end my semester. In a fucking diaper. Friendless.
“The meeting starts in five minutes.”
I twisted around. Lily stood behind me. The look of rage she’d worn on her face when she burst into the women’s room was gone, replaced with an expression I couldn’t read. Smug satisfaction? Condescension?
She settled onto the step next to me. “We’ll still be on time if we go now.”
“Are you fucking serious?”
She raised an eyebrow, reminding me of the pins I wore now. Of the absolute mountain of shit I’d be digging myself out of for a long, long time.
“Sorry, but that’s the last place I want to be.”
“So what, you’re just going to sit here and mope?”
“I’m not moping.”
She stood up. “They aren’t coming back, Alex. But they’ll be joining us soon enough. Until then, why don’t you make some new friends?” She extended her hand, a big smile dimpling her cheeks.
Grant was an asshole. Always had been. Probably always would be.
I stood up and took her hand in mine. “Sure. Why not.”
There's more where that came from! Check out my other diaper tales on Smashwords!
And if you liked this short and want to see more stories set in this world, let me know in the comments :)
“Still, Mrs. Dean? But I’m 19 now,” Brian asked, frustration evident in his voice. He already knew the answer, but he had to ask.
“How long have you boys been friends now? I think you know by now that Tim’s situation isn’t going to be changing.” She fluffed out a large white diaper and laid it on the bed. “And neither are the rules.”
The diapers had grown larger over the years that Brian and Tim had been friends, but little else had changed, including the rule that both boys would be diapered for sleepovers. It had started as a way to make Tim feel better at their very first sleepover. Unfortunately for Brian, it had worked.
“Hi, welcome to Nursery Space. I’m Jenny. How can I help you?” the petite blonde behind the desk asked with a big smile.
“Hello, Jenny. This is our first time at Nursery Space. I’m going out of town this weekend on a business trip and my husband Jim needs a place to stay. He’s not very good at looking out for himself and tends to get into trouble. Don’t you Jim?” She gave the man, who appeared to be in his late twenties, a patronizing look.
“Wonderful! You’ve come to the right place. We specialize in just that sort of thing. We’ve made it really easy too. Just fill out this form and sign at the bottom.”
Jim caught a glimpse of the sheet over his wife’s shoulder. It was three columns, with little check boxes next to each item.
“What do you mean we are going out?” Jim asked, in a panic.
“What do you think it means, potty pants? We wouldn’t be very good caretakers if we didn’t take our wards out and about once in awhile.”
“But what if someone sees me?”
“Someone like who, Jim? A coworker? Friend? Or maybe you are thinking of that woman your wife told me about?” Jenny brought over a pair of large denim shortalls. They had a big Osh Kosh logo on the chest. “These should fit you nicely, I think. And here’s a shirt to go underneath.” She laid a white shirt with a retro Mickey Mouse design down on the changing table. “Or would you prefer Winnie the Pooh?”
“Wait, what did you say? About the woman?” Jim asked. Lisa would be working at the bank today, thank god, so there was no chance of just running into her at the mall. But he still didn’t appreciate the insinuation.
Jim turned slowly. He didn’t need to turn to know who it was, though – that voice was quite familiar. “Uh hey. Yeah. It’s me.”
The same vivid green eyes that had first drawn him across the bar months ago – sharp and coy - were now blown wide open in shock. “What’s going on here? And what did you do to the floor?”
“I. I…it was an accident. I’ve been–”
Jim was saved from further stammering when Jenny exited her fitting room and threw a hand over her mouth in surprise. “Jimmy! What happened here? Did you do this?” She shot him a quick wink and then turned to address the woman. “I’m so sorry. We’ll get this cleaned right up, Ms…?”
“Crawford. Lisa Crawford. What the hell is going on here? Jim, you said you’d stay away from me. And did you really just piss your pants in my store?” Her tone was shifting from pure shock to anger. Jim hadn’t even noticed she had a name tag until now – she worked here.
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