ATTENTION ANYONE WHO WEARS DIAPERS‼️ (Diaper fluffing tutorial)
It seems like a lot of people in the abdl community don’t know about diaper fluffing, so I thought I’d make a quick tutorial! If you’re not sure what diaper fluffing is, it’s basically breaking up the fibers in your diaper to let air in, and make them thicker and more comfortable! Diapers are packed SUUUPER tight to make shipping cheaper, so your diapers won’t come out of the package as fluffy as they should be! Here’s how you do it
Step 1: Unfold your diaper all the way (pretty easy)
Step 2: Fold your diaper in half hotdog style, then gently pull your hands in opposite directions up and down the fold you made. You should feel the material giving a little as you do this. BE CAREFUL AND DON’T RIP THE DIAPER
Step 3: Unfold your diaper, and do the same thing to the inside, gently pulling your hands apart
Step 4: Voilà! Fluffed and ready to go!
Here’s a picture of the diaper I fluffed next to one right out of the package
The difference is really amazing! Hope this helps you guys! Stay dry 💖
Edit: Send me a message if you had a problem or something. I tried to make the directions as clear as possible but I’m always here to help!
What? Your diaper is all wet and squishy and you'd like to cum in it? Sweetheart, of course you can't do that. I love feeling your pee-pee getting hard and leaky during diaper changes. I'm sorry! The only thing you are allowed to do is keep whimpering and begging 🤭
Many partners new to Diaper Discipline struggle to increase their involvement, the below list is designed to provide ideas and inspiration for you to implement in daily life.
You don't need to do all of these every day but try incorporating 2-4 elements a day and work up in terms of frequency and progressing from Beginner items to Intermediate & Advanced.
Beginner
Make an effort to talk about their diapers. Casually ask things like:
“How’s your diaper holding up?”
“Your waistband is showing baby”
“Do you need to change?”
“Those jeans hide your diaper well”
“These diapers look cute on you”
“Do you need to order more diapers soon?”
Let them know you expect them to use their diaper, by saying things like:
- “This diaper should hold all of your wee’s and poops” when changing them into a fresh diaper
- “Remember you’re not allowed to use the toilet today”
- “Did you wet your diaper like a good boy/girl?”
- “Good boy/girl for messing your diaper.“
- “Did you poop today or do you need something to help tonight?”
Make an effort to interact with their diaper. Squeeze it, pat/smack their bottom when padded, rub the front of it to get them excited, and when hugging place a hand on their diapered bum, etc.
Implement simple Baby elements:
- Call them your baby boy/girl, etc
- Dress them in baby-style (AB) clothes at night
- Give them a bedtime drink in a sippy cup or baby bottle
- Have them use a adult pacifier at night
Each morning check their diaper, this can be done in bed by just squeezing the front of it.
It will likely be wet so comment on that by saying something like “I’m glad you had a diaper on or you’d have wet the bed” or “You really are turning into a bedwetter aren’t you”
After their morning shower either change them into a fresh diaper if you’re up, or if you're still in bed, get them to come over and drop their trousers / lift skirt so you can check they're wearing one.
Each evening lay out a thick diaper and ABDL bedtime clothing and tell them to go get ready for bed. This should be a few hours before you actually go to bed.
Before leaving the house make them drop their trousers / lift skirt so you can check they're wearing a diaper. For day trips, also ask them if they've got their diaper bag packed.
Once or twice a week force them to mess themselves by giving them either 2x Ducolax tablets or a suppository which they must take/insert.
When not wearing diapers, make them wear pull-ups, training pants, girly underwear (if male), or childish patterned pants.
When at home and not working dress them in embarrassing clothing, good options include:
- No bottoms / exposed diapers
- ABDL onesie / romper
- A skirt (male or female)
- ABDL shortalls or dress
- Childish 2-piece PJs
- Footed sleeper
Experiment with light bondage:
- Add a locking diaper cover over their diapers
- Restrain them to a bed for 2 hours after making them insert a suppository
- Chain them to their desk using locking ankle cuffs or diaper cover
- Use other locking clothing to prevent diaper access (e.g. rear zipping footed sleepers)
Intermediate
In public, ask them about their diaper or do a subtle diaper check (squeeze front/back) when nobody will hear or see.
Add more elements of babying:
- Feed them a bottle of milk each night
- Make them sleep with a teddy
- Talk to them like a baby during diaper checks and changes
- Make them use a pacifier in the daytime
Encourage them to mess in their diaper for convenience. For example, if heading out for the day ask them to fill their diaper before leaving so they won’t mess in public.
If you notice their wet diaper is starting to smell take them by the hand, lay them down, and change their diaper. Don’t ask if they need one or make it a choice.
Surprise them by buying new ABDL items (clothing, diapers, pacifiers, etc)
Punish any bad behavior by making their diaper experience less pleasant:
- Smack them until crying before changing them into a new diaper
- Add elements of forced regression such as locking mittens, pacifier gag, restraints
- Make them stay in messy diapers for extended periods
- Feed them a blended or cut-up version of their meal. Use a bib and mittens to force them to let you feed them.
- Treat him as a sissy/girl with pink diapers and female clothing or baby girl AB items.
Twice a week, force them to mess themselves. Insert a suppository into their bum (wear disposal gloves) or use a fleet-enema (no gloves required) during a change.
Make them ask you for permission to get changed and use the opportunity to inspect their diaper. If it doesn’t look full, make them wait 1-2 hours longer.
Get them ready for bed each evening by changing them into thick diapers and dressing them in ABDL clothes.
At home only allow thick or ABDL diapers to be worn.
Take them shopping while diapered to buy new medical diapers, pull-ups, feminine/childish underwear/clothing, and other baby supplies (powder, baby food, etc)
Make their diapered / baby status obvious around your home when visitors aren’t present:
- Have a dedicated changing area with diapers stacked up clearly
- Keep a pacifier next to their bed
- Have a few ready-made bottles in the fridge
- Hang up their ABDL clothes so they’re easily accessible
Make them wear a swim diaper on vacation (at the beach/pool)
If they're male, experiment with treating him as a sissy/girl some days:
- Use locking mittens at night
- Restrain them to a bed overnight after giving them 2x ducolax tablets
- Add ankle and chest restraints to their office chair to prevent movement while working from home
- Use a pacifier gag regularly
Advanced
Change their diaper while out in public.
Look for a changing places toilet (Europe) or a standard accessible restroom can be used by bringing a disposal changing mat for the floor. You can also change them laying down over the back seats of your vehicle if in a secluded area.
Increase Babying:
- Create a baby bed for them, ideally a single bed with childish sheets, teddies, and restraints to simulate being locked in a crib. This can be used for naps or overnight punishments.
- Regularly feed them a blended or cut-up version of their meal. Use a bib and mittens to force them to let you feed them.
- Make them wear mittens to bed each night
- Force them to crawl by using training booties (small spikes prevent standing)
- Pacifier must be attached to them at all times while at home
- Setup a playpen which they must stay in for extended periods (even if still doing more adult activities like being on a phone or gaming)
Force them to mess themselves in front of you.
Administer a suppository or fleet enema but make them stay laying or sitting next to you. Encourage and then tease them for messing themselves like a baby.
Occasionally change them out of their messy diapers. Disposal gloves and adult wipes are recommended.
Force them to mess themselves while out of the house:
- Hand them a suppository to go and insert after finishing a meal at a restaurant. They'll have to try to hold until you’ve got the bill and left.
- On long drives make them insert a suppository when you’re still 1-2 hours away from your home/destination
- Administer a suppository or fleet enema before sending them to go shopping or other out-of-home chores.
Incorporate bondage into their forced babying by:
- Use locking diaper covers, plastic pants, or onesies to prevent self-changing
- Attach hands and feet to restraints during changes
- Restrain them overnight
- Use a straightjacket
Take them shopping to buy supplies from an ABDL shop
If male, treat him as a sissy most or all of the time at home:
Dress them as a baby most or all of the time at home:
- Exposed diapers & babyish t-shirts
- Baby-themed onesies (not plain)
- Baby dresses/rompers
- Baby-style socks & tights
- No adult clothes (if working from home, adult clothes can be worn on top but the lower half should still be babyish)
Force them to lose control by adding laxatives without their knowledge to some meals and drinks (have prior consent to do this).
Restrict their diaper changes to certain times ensuring they’ll sometimes have to wait a few hours to change out of well-used diapers.
Switch to thick or ABDL diapers exclusively, making them less discrete in public.
Increase use of bondage:
- Use locking mittens & clothing most nights
- Use a straight jacket some weekends and evenings, feeding them and changing them during these times.
- Use Segufix restraints to completely secure them to a bed/crib
This wasn’t completely unexpected. Outside of the part of the city that held my apartment, the office, and my school, I knew next-to-nothing about the greater area. I didn’t grow up around here. I don’t have a car. I have no reason to be outside of my little bubble.
And so here, in the driveway that leads to the McMansion that Mommy called home, I’m unsure if we’re in the city, the suburbs, or if we’re in another state. All I knew is that I was here, and here was where Mommy promised to change my absolutely obliterated diaper.
“We’re home,” she sang.
I’m tempted to over-analyze the fact that she didn’t just call it her home. ‘We’re home,’ almost implies…it’s our home?
I’m pretty sure that I’m overthinking it and I allow the thought to slip away. It’s not hard–the stench of my loaded diaper is so thick in the car that it’s hard to think about much else. Not even opening the windows seems to have helped all that much.
The garage door lifted as we approached it, and after the SUV entered, the door closed–seemingly by itself, as I didn’t see her press any buttons within the car.
“Is…your car going to smell like this for a while?” I asked as she unbuckled her seatbelt before reaching over and unbuckling mine for me–as if it was something I wasn’t capable of handling on my own.
She nodded. “Probably.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she said, smiling. “Such is life with a child. I have a friend–Rachael–and her daughter has been out of diapers for two years. I swear, her car still smells like a dirty diaper.”
“Maybe Rachael is pooping her pants too,” I awkwardly joked.
“That’s a good point. Maybe I’ll ask her next time I see her.”
“I…I wasn’t being serious…”
She shrugged, “Better yet, I could have you ask her if she’s pooping her pants. Preferably while I have you on your back and your own dirty diaper is getting changed.”
I felt like I should’ve seen how easily she could’ve turned that joke around on me. But now, my caged cock was pulsating as I thought about that scenario–getting my diaper changed in front of her friends while they pointed and laughed at me.
I hated that I wanted that so badly.
“Seriously though,” she said. “Sweetheart, you need to get out of the car. You smell horrible.”
“Oh, right,” I said, shaking my head as I was pulled out of my daydream.
She laughed to herself as she walked around to my side of the SUV, helping me out of the vehicle like I was an actual toddler. I didn’t stop her–in fact, I actually found myself using her body to support me like I needed the help.
“Did you like that little scenario?” she asked. “Getting your diaper changed in front of my friends?”
“Uhm…” I was tempted to just not answer, but I needed to know: “How did you know?”
“I can read you like a book, Clarky. Mind you, it’s not a very complex book. Lots of pictures. But just say the word and I’ll give Rachael a call. Maybe Josephine or Alanah. Hell, I could probably get Neve down here too if I asked.”
I had no idea if she was bluffing or not. I hoped that she was–I couldn’t imagine her friends being ecstatic about watching a grown man get his poo cleaned out from his bottom. Though, with Mommy, one could never really tell.
I figured it’d be best if I played it safe: “No, Mommy. I don’t think so.”
“Aww, a shame,” she cooed. “Maybe next time. Alright then, come along, Stinky. Let’s get you cleaned up.
While the car had been in motion, I had convinced myself that I was doing everything I could to minimize the spread of my mess in my diaper–doing my best to stay on the side of my ass so I wasn’t just sitting directly on my load. But as I waddled around in the garage, it seemed like my efforts hadn’t done all that much. The padding felt plastered to my skin now by a thick and sticky layer of my own mess. It felt disgusting, but it also felt deliciously naughty.
I took a moment to look around the garage. I could see this being the theme for the night–scanning everything thoroughly in an attempt to learn more about who Mommy was outside of work and when she was by herself.
For one–it was immaculately clean. I thought about most of the garages I had ever been in my life–the garages of friends and family members, mostly. Maybe never ‘grungy,’ but there was always this worn-in quality to them–spaces where work was happening. Things got fixed and built in garages. The things that got stored in garages were the things you didn’t bring into the house. It was a place for tools and muddy boots.
But Mommy’s garage almost felt entirely unused. There were things here–plastic storage bins neatly arranged on a shelf, a bicycle hanging from hooks on the wall, and there was a plastic kayak leaning up in the corner. Either she didn’t use the garage much, or she was just extremely fastidious about its appearance.
“Come, Baby. Let’s take care of your bottom before you start to overflow.”
I waddled to her side and she opened the door that led into her house. At once, there was just so much to see and take in. Coupled with the sensation of being towed behind Mommy by the hand while my diapers smelled and sagged, I was feeling overwhelmed to the point where I just couldn’t focus on much.
“It’s so big,” I said. The most basic observation possible, but I felt like I had to say something.
“Too big, probably,” she replied. “When you get power and money, you start thinking that you need the biggest and best version of everything. But I only use, like, three or four rooms in the house. I feel like there’s rooms I only step into once or twice a year.”
“Seems like a, uhm, good problem to have.”
She shrugged. “Perhaps. And, you know, there’s rooms that have purposes–I just haven’t had reasons to use those purposes yet.”
I was curious. “Oh?”
“I’ll show you. Soon. First things first, let’s get you out of these silly adult clothes. There’s no reason to pretend you’re a big boy now.”
“Even my…”
“Anything that’s not your diaper should be removed,” she said. “Would you like some help?”
I nodded, though I didn’t want help–I needed it.
She was already pulling at my clothes before I finished nodding–clearly already aware that I couldn’t handle this on my own. My button down and tee were the first to go, pulled up and over my head before being set aside. Next, she lowered herself to my feet and began untying my shoes. Looking up, and seeing that her head was level with my caged cock, she giggled to herself.
“Is this hard to watch, Baby? Mommy being so close to your dicklette, and yet you’re all locked up and rendered useless?”
“Y-yes, Mommy.”
“Well, even if you weren’t locked up, I doubt I’d be putting my mouth on that thing now. It smells even worse down here than you think it does.”
“Oh…”
“Are you a smelly little baby?” she cooed to me in a tone that was equal parts condescending and sugary-sweet.
“Uhm…”
“Go on,” she said. “Tell Mommy that you are. I want to hear you say it.”
“I’m a smelly baby,” I said to her in a hushed tone, cheeks bright red.
“Oh, come now. I know you can do better than that, Clarky.”
I had been on the verge of slipping into that infantile headspace since I loaded my diaper in her car. And as each bit of clothing had been stripped of my body, I found myself getting closer and closer to just succumbing to it altogether.
“I…made poopies in my diaper, Mommy.” It came from my mouth much easier than I had expected it to. Even the tone felt perfectly juvenile.
“Aww, you sure did, Baby. Let’s get these pants off so we can have a closer look, huh?”
I nodded as she unbuckled my belt and pulled my trousers down my legs. I stepped out of them once they reached my ankles–leaving me in only my abused diaper.
She was on her feet then, orbiting me so that she could pull open the back and take a look in. But just the act of pulling the diaper away from my waist seemed to indicate the extent of the disaster contained within. It took a good tug to actually pull it open, and I could actually hear the sound of it peeling off my ass.
“Wow,” she said. “Another for the record books. Actually, I’d like to take a few pictures of this.”
“W-wait..”
Snap. Snap. Snap. I could hear the sound of her phone’s camera as she held open the back of the diaper.
“Don’t worry yourself,” she said. “These are for Mommy to look at later.”
I wanted to believe her–I think I did believe her. But now these pictures existed, and they existed in a place that I couldn’t control them. It made me nervous…but it also made me a little excited.
“On your hands and knees, Baby,” she said. “Before we do anything else, we need to get you cleaned up. Follow me.”
I was on the ground in an instant. Crawling behind her, in this entirely new-to-me place, made me feel infinitely small. From this angle, everything looked enormous and alien. I didn’t know where I was, or where I was going. All I really had was Mommy as an anchor point. I just had to follow her slender legs.
“We’re going to go up the steps,” she said, pointing up a large flight of hardwood steps. “If you need to, you can hold Mommy’s hand.”
I immediately reached up and grabbed her hand. Step by step, she slowly led me towards the next floor. By the time we reached the top, my balance was a little out of whack and I tumbled backwards onto my ass with a sticky-sounding SPLORP. Mommy just laughed and shook her head.
“You’re just a helpless little thing, aren’t you?”
“Y-yes, Mommy.”
“Come along,” she said, pulling me by the hand up and off of my ass. “Just a little further, baby.”
Were it another time, and if I was here under a different context, maybe she’d be giving me a tour of our house as we traversed it. She’d point to each door that we passed and describe the purpose of the room. Maybe she’d have little anecdotes about furniture, or how a room ‘came together.’ But those discussions would be for adults. Not babies like me. Nobody talked to toddlers about the feng shui of a room.
It wasn’t until I noticed that the polished hardwood floors of the hall gave way to colder stone tiles that I realized I had followed Mommy into a new room. A bathroom, and a rather spacious one at that. A glass walled shower stood in one corner, while a large tub sat in the opposite. No amount of infantile headspace could keep down the excitement of my inner-apartment-dweller, who couldn’t believe that someone would have both a shower and a bathtub instead of an all-in-one unit shoved into a cramped bathroom.
“On your back, little one,” she cooed.
“But…” The tiles were already cold on my hand. I couldn’t imagine how they’d feel on my back.
“If you can withstand the discomfort of a full diaper, I think you’ll survive my chilly floor.” She was turning the bath water on as she spoke, and I could already see wisps of steam rising from the tub. “Besides, you’ll be warm soon enough.”
I rolled over onto my back, automatically assuming the ‘diaper-change’ position–legs splayed and slightly lifted off the ground, as to give Mommy all the access she needed to my diaper. The floor was every bit as cold as I expected it to be, and I felt myself twisting and contorting as I tried to acclimate.
“I’ve seen a number of your dirty diapers by now,” she said, kneeling down between my legs. “But this might be the first that I’m a little nervous about.”
Were I of a more ‘adult’ headspace, I’d have likely agreed. As it was, I just kicked my feet playfully, needing her to touch my diaper. Needing her to touch me.
She methodically pulled each tape back with a RRRRIP that echoed through the bathroom.
“Let’s see what we got here, hmm?”
She opened the sides before carefully grabbing the front of the diaper, slowly pulling it towards her. I couldn’t stand to look–I had to close my eyes.
“Oh my,” she said. “This isn’t just a disaster. This is…art. This is a masterpiece.”
I was proud of that.
Snap. Snap. Snap. The sound of more pictures being taken. I couldn’t help but get excited by that sound once more. The sound of more moments taken from me that I would no longer be able to have any control over. It felt like such an honor to have pictures of my filthy ass and open diaper taking a small bit of storage in Mommy’s phone.
“As tempting as it is to just dunk you into the tub, I think you’d just be a stinky tea bag in there–you’d cloud that water up immediately. We’ll have to clean as much of this up as we can before I toss you in the tub.”
Sure, whatever. I was just along for the ride. She could do anything she wanted to.
For the next few minutes, I just laid back and let it all happen. I could feel the swipes of the moist baby wipes as she cleared my skin, one small area at a time. Eventually, I realized that my thumb was in my mouth and I had been suckling on it. This realization didn’t stop me–if anything, it caused the suckling to intensify.
I was consumed with want. Need, maybe–though I could no longer find the line that separated the two. I simply…desired. It was a burning throughout my body. It was an ache in my crotch. A hunger in my tight asshole. I didn’t care what it was–she just had to give it to me.
“Hngg,” I moaned as her fingers stroked my backdoor.
“Mommy hasn’t forgotten what you like. Does baby need some attention down there?”
“Yeth,” I muttered, pathetically through my thumb. “Yeeetttttthhh.”
She giggled again, letting the next stroke her fingers slip in a tiny bit deeper. It sent tremors through my body.
“Now, now. I shouldn't overstimulate you. You just got here, and we have a whole night ahead of us. Can’t have you dripping out of your cage now, can we?”
Honestly, I was surprised I hadn’t yet exploded. These days I was worried that a gentle breeze could get me to spurt in my diaper.
“Oh, well, you are dribbling a little,” she said, wiping off the tip of my cage. “But just a few droplets.”
“Uhhm,” was my only response–a meaningless moan that served only to try and release a little bit of the pent up sexual steam I had collecting inside of me.
“That should do it,” she cooed. “Come, Clarky. Give me your hand. Let’s get you into the tub.”
She helped me up and escorted me to the enormous white tub, which not only looked to be filled with hot water, but with a thick layer of bubbles sitting atop it.
“What baby doesn’t like a bubble bath?” she said, likely catching the delight on my face.
While I was sure that I had experienced a bubble bath in my life before, I simply had no memory of it actually happening. I had no idea how badly I wanted to splash about in the big foamy bubbles until now.
“In you go,” she said, playfully slapping my bottom. “One leg at a time.”
The hot water would’ve likely surprised me no matter what. But after crawling around in only a diaper–any after my time spent on the cold tile floor–it felt like dipping my legs into molten lava. I watched the water carefully, curious to see if it’d turn red with blood as my legs dissolved into nothing. They didn’t, thankfully. And by the time my feet were at the bottom of the tub, I was finding immense comfort in the hot water.
“That’s it,” she encouraged. “Now go ahead and just sit down.”
The bathtub was even bigger than I had realized. The deeper I sank, the more room I realized I had. There was more than enough room for Mommy in the water as well. Hell, there was probably enough room for Mommy and her friend Rachael. Or Neve. Or Lyndie. Or Ava. Or Megan. Or…
That sense of desire was just so overwhelming. I could barely think straight.
“Oh I wish I could join you,” she said. She had to have been reading my mind. “But I just don’t think I want to sit in baby’s dirty water. Maybe another time.”
“Mmmmf.” A disappointed grunt.
“But don’t you worry. I’m still here to wash you up,” she said.
In this world that we had created, everything was a tease. Every move we made, everything we said–it was all to get a rise out of someone. Sometimes ourselves. And I suppose that’s why this bath felt so different. I was just a little boy in a tub of foamy water, and she was simply taking a washcloth and gently running it over my skin, one area at a time. I supposed that there was some inherent element of sexual tension to it–just given the roles we had adopted–but the moment didn’t actually feel all that sexual. It just felt nice. A mother giving her child a bath.
“I’ve been wondering if I owe you an apology,” she said, squeezing the wash cloth above my back so that hot water trickled down my exposed skin.
This seemed to coax me out of my little headspace a bit. “How so?”
She sighed. “Someday, you’ll be paying far too much money to a therapist to try and understand this part of your life.”
“Therapy is good for you,” I offered. “And maybe I’ll be working for a company with good benefits and my co-pay isn’t too bad.”
She laughed, rubbing my back with the palm of her hand. “You’re in the prime of your life, Clarky. And I’m keeping you in diapers for it.”
“I’m happy,” I said, nodding. “Stressed some days. But happy.”
“Hrm,” she hummed to herself.
“Mommy, are you happy?”
“Sometimes,” she said. The answer came so quick that it felt a little more honest than she had intended. She laughed to herself, as if she realized that she might as well elaborate now. “I would say I’m happy most of the time. But happiness isn’t really something you should measure with quantity. The quality of that happiness is important.”
“Do I…not make you happy enough?”
She leaned forward and kissed me on the head. “You make me plenty happy, Clarky. You’re too good for me, if anything.”
“What would make you happier?”
“Oh, it's probably not too hard to see. Just look around my big empty house. Look at my empty ring finger. The lack of framed pictures of spouses and children here or in my office.”
It felt like a silly question, but one I wanted to ask anyway: “Do you want those things?”
“I’m honestly not even sure anymore,” she said. “That’s the worst part. I can daydream about finding the perfect husband and having the perfect kids. But the reality is that most men aren’t all that great. And children? That feels exhausting.”
“How about me?” I asked, hoping my tone sounded as playful as I wanted it to be. “Aren’t I a good man? And a good baby?”
“You’re certainly the exception,” she said, nodding. “But that’s only because I’ve been raising you right.”
“Maybe you just haven’t met the right guy yet,” I suggested.
“We’re running out of time for him to show his face,” she said.
Then, she stood up and began to peel off her top. I opened my mouth, ready to ask what she was doing–but decided to just wait and watch. Just as she had stripped me of my clothes not that long before, she methodically removed all of her clothing, revealing more and more of herself until she was completely nude.
I could never get enough of that view. She looked resplendent. A goddess.
“Fuck it,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”
She spun on her heel and left the bathroom. It was a pleasure to watch her move while in the nude like this. Her limbs just seemed to glide effortlessly, like a well-oiled machine. A minute or two passed once she left, and then she was back, with a few items in her hand that I couldn’t make out. She placed them on the far edge of the bathtub before stepping into the water herself.
“Room for one more?”
I slid back in the tub, though there was already more than enough room for her. One leg at a time, she eased herself into the water before sitting down at the bottom, the water consuming her body before resting just below her voluptuous breasts.
“Let’s have some fun tonight,” she said, grasping the items from the edge of the tub. She held them out towards me in her hands. “But you don’t have to make a choice tonight. We can enjoy both of these things.”
“What are these?” I said, pointing to the small red objects that looked like candy.
“Edibles,” Mommy said. “Though if you’re not a fan of cannabis…”
“No,” I said, nodding. “That sounds good.”
And the other object in her hands–well, I knew what that was.
It was the key to my chastity cage.
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After watching for a couple of years as his wife’s accomplishments eclipsed his own in terms of income, opportunity, and the respect and admiration of her peers, Tyler decided it was time to go back to school and pursue a career change. He was excited by the prospect at first, thinking that eventually it would rehabilitate his own opinion of himself, as well as hers.
Tyler did not anticipate that being surrounded by a bunch of 20 year olds, with all their natural energy and effortless self-confidence, would actually awaken a whole new set of insecurities in him. Tyler did a poor job of hiding how uncomfortable he felt in their presence, especially among the attractive young women who seemed only too happy to exploit and amplify his insecurity.
Within weeks of starting classes, Tyler had become the target of a core group of bullies, and soon he was reliving a nightmare he thought he had put behind him years ago. Except now he was experiencing it as a failed adult, and somehow felt even weaker in the presence of teasing from the “younger kids”, compared to how he’d felt being picked on by his peers in middle and high school, and even his first run-through of college.
His situation was made even worse by the fact that his bullies’ ringleader, Kaylee, actually lived in his neighborhood. At his wife’s insistence, Tyler and Kaylee took turns driving each other to and from campus, which afforded the 20-year-old a lot of additional opportunities to make fun of him to his face, and refine the material that would send her friends into hysterical fits of laughter later on.
The more this continued, the more there was for her to work with. Tyler’s confidence had already been scraping the bottom of the barrel when he’d enrolled, but eventually it reached an all-time low, causing him to slump way down in his chair most days, dreading the thought of a professor calling upon him and putting him on display in front of his tormentors, as well as everyone else.
When he was forced to speak anyway, Kaylee and her friends would make a point of filing past him after class was over, just to make fun of the way he’d stammered through his answers.
“Buh-buh-buh-bye, T-T-T-Tyler!”
“Suh-suh-suh-suh-suh-see you tomorrow!”
Not only did Tyler absorb the abuse without defending himself, but on most days he ended up reinforcing his own powerlessness by waiting around to take Kaylee home after the last of her classes. He always briefly considered leaving her behind, but always worried that his wife would be furious when she found out about it, especially since she and Kaylee had been developing an unlikely friendship.
More and more often, Amy would invite Kaylee in for a drink or a light meal and discuss the classes that she and Tyler had in common. Amy would ask how Tyler seemed to be doing with the curriculum and Tyler would feel fantastically emasculated by the sense that his wife was checking up on him like a mother and getting real-time progress reports from his younger fellow student.
Even that would have been tolerable if the conversations had remained focused on academics. But more and more often, Tyler found that Kaylee was bringing her bullying right into his home, telling his wife all about his displays of nervousness, accusing him of getting distracted by all the pretty girls who sat near him, and even estimating the number of times he had walked out of the classroom in the middle of the lecture to go to the bathroom.
Amy shot her husband a knowing look in response to that latter tidbit, and Tyler looked away in an effort to prevent himself from blushing. Considering how candidly Amy and Kaylee talked to each other, he half-expected his wife to launch right into an explanation of why she wasn’t surprised to hear about mid-lecture bathroom breaks. He could imagine how hard Kaylee would laugh, how eagerly she would share the news with her friends, if Amy told her that when Tyler started feeling really threatened by his wife, the stress made him start wetting the bed, and even caused more than a few close calls during the day.
Ironically, the fear of having that secret exposed almost caused Tyler to reveal it himself. An anxious twinge in his bladder forced him to plunge his hand into his crotch and squeeze himself under the table where he sat with his wife and his classmate, listening to them talk about him almost as if he wasn’t there. In that moment, he was grateful for their dismissiveness, because it allowed him to remain relatively unnoticed while he bit his lip and concentrated on staving off his sudden desperation.
Tyler had to keep concentrating in much the same way during the days that followed. Now knowing that Kaylee was essentially keeping a tally of his bathroom visits, he was determined to hold it throughthe lectures unless it was a true emergency. He was even wary of letting her see him rush to the men’s room after class, and soon made a habit of simply holding it until he could go at home.
It was a self-defeating solution, because it sometimes resulted in him squirming in the driver’s seat of his car, or worse, in the passenger seat of hers, prompting him to ask why he had ants in his pants.
He was lucky – or so he thought – that when his habit of holding it started to catch up with him, it was one of those rare days when he drove home alone. Tyler realized too late that he should have given into his sense of urgency on campus, and so he drove the last couple of miles home with his hand clutching and kneading his penis like he was a kindergartner, not an adult newly returned to college.
Arriving home that day, Tyler rushed to the front door and was surprised to find it locked. He proceeded to hobble around to the back, where he abruptly took his hand away from his groin and tried to assume a more natural posture, upon realizing that his wife was there on the patio, and that for some reason, Kaylee was there with her.
The two women reclined on the couch together, and Tyler was struck by the intimate way in which the younger woman was leaning upon his wife’s lap, and the way Amy’s arms were wrapped around Kaylee. He suspected it had something to do with the empty bottle of wine that stood nearby.
As much as he wanted to know what they’d been up to, nothing was more important than relieving his bladder, so he tried to walk past them and enter the house, only for Amy to call out and make it clear that she wanted to have a talk right away, and right in front of their guest.
Tyler groaned and stood before them, feeling unusually exposed while Amy explained: “I’ve decided that Kaylee is going to stay in the bedroom with me tonight. And if it goes well, this might become a regular thing.”
Tyler squeezed his legs together and remained dumbstruck while she went on: “I know this might be a little unexpected. But you and I married awfully young, and I never really got a chance to explore my attraction to women. With you back in school, and with the things Kaylee has been telling me, I feel like there’s never been a better time. You might actually enjoy your studies more if you don’t have to keep pretending to be a grown man when you get home.”
“Wuh... What do you mean ‘pretending’?” Tyler croaked out, only for Amy to ignore him.
“So we’ll come up with different sleeping arrangements for you, for now. I think it’ll be best for everyone. I mean, let’s be honest… The bedwetting really hasn’t gotten any better over the past few months.”
Tyler wanted to speak up and defend himself, to insist that his wife couldn’t exclude him from their marital bed, much less replace him with some bitchy 20-year-old girl who seemed to have it out for him. But as he looked down at Kaylee and saw her giggling with a hand loosely held over her mouth, he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t just make her laugh harder.
A moment later, he felt a flood of warmth in his groin and realized that he didn’t need to say anything at all to elicit more laughter from his college bully, or from his wife. As he stood there helplessly peeing his pants, he also knew there was nothing he could do now to delay his ouster from his own bedroom. He could only wonder how long it would be before he could go back.
I pulled the Range Rover up to the roundabout behind the line of cars. I put the car in park and pulled out my phone while I waited. It was 3:10, they wouldn’t let out for another 5 minutes.
I already had a text from Trevor: That was fun. You wear me OUT, girl! I’ve never met someone that could squirt like that!
I smiled and typed back: I never knew I could do that! Never had a dick as big as yours! You know how to push alll my buttons :)
I checked my hair in the rearview mirror. It was still disheveled. I pulled it into a tighter bun and wiped off my smudged lipstick.
Same time tomorrow? He sent back.
Hmmm…maybe. I smiled facetiously. If I can find a place to watch my husband ;)
His ‘lol’ let me know he got my joke. For the last two months we’d been doing nothing but making love all day. I was so infatuated with him, I couldn’t get enough of him and his cock. He worked the night shift, so it was hard to find time for us at first. Until my friend Erica told me about this special little place…
You couldn’t see anything through the windows of the building. It was all decorated with cartoon bears and balloons and other cutesy stuff. The D.R.E.A.M.S Daycare sign was so bright it could be seen day or night. I can’t remember what it stands for, something like Diaper Rehabilitation Enrichment (Enhancement? Entertainment?) And Male Supervision or something. Whatever it is, it’s worth every penny.
At 3:15 sharp, the doors parted and a smokin’ hot girl in her early 20’s dressed in scrubs strutted out carrying a walkie talkie. She came to the first car in line and poked her head through the rolled down window. After speaking with the driver she muttered into her radio. Seconds later, the doors opened again and out came another hot young lady walking with a very large, pot-bellied man in a white romper with pink fringe.
Even with my windows up, I could hear his large adult diaper crinkling with every step. He shuffled his feet a bit, as if he were afraid to reach the car waiting for him. His wife looked properly annoyed as she got out of the car and came around. Her expression turned cheerful as she spoke to the lady in scrubs for a couple seconds, then back to stern as she grabbed her husband's ear, twisted, and dragged him to the car kicking and whining. She opened the door and spent several minutes strapping him into his oversized carseat. I could see her berating him through the rear window as she did. When she finally had him secured, she slammed the door, smiled apologetically to those in line behind her, got in on her side, and drove off so the line could move up.
The second one that came out was walking funny in his little pink tutu. Like he had something very large stuck up his butt. But he did have these things over his hands that seemed to restrict his fingers from grasping anything. Like little pink mittens. They even seemed to lock! I thought it would be great for my little one. In no time at all I was able to find them on Amazon and order them for myself before the sissy was loaded into the car. The wonderful thing about women turning more and more men into Adult Babies these days is that all of these sleek new devices are easy to find, purchase, and receive on short notice.
The third one got picked up by a man instead of a woman. He got out and threw his arm around the petrified looking sissy walking out in a short little mini-skirt that did nothing to hide her diaper. The man’s smack on her bottom and the hungry look in his eye told me the sissy would probably be walking funny tomorrow too…
The next one wasn’t even wearing any pink! He came out in a blue onesie with dinosaurs on it! What kind of Mommy would let their husband go out like that?! The absolute gall of some people…
At least the next boy was dressed appropriately. He had on a sundress with a flowery skirt and an adorable matching bow under his stuffed cleavage. He must have been in his early twenties, and it had to be his actual Mother buckling him into the car. A college dropout, no doubt.
Finally, it was my turn. I pulled into the pick-up spot and rolled down the window.
“Hi, who are you here for?” the girl with the radio asked cheerfully.
“Hi! I’m here for Palmer” I told her, and her face immediately dropped.
“As in…Peter Palmer?” she clarified.
“Yes, that’s right. Is everything okay?”
She spoke into the radio, then back to me, “Can you just pull up here to the side for a second Mrs. Palmer? We’ll have your husband right out!”
I felt a little pit rise in my stomach as I put the Range Rover in drive and idled up to the curb. A thousand thoughts were going through my head as to what could be wrong. I checked the door frame of the daycare several times. Nothing.
Well, except for the other diapered adults coming out to get picked up.
After 3 or 4 cars went by behind me, Peter finally stepped out of the double doors. He was wearing a different outfit than the one I put him in this morning. When I dropped him off, he had a cute little pink crop top and white mini-skirt that showed off those ridiculously expensive diapers he had to wear. Now, he was wearing a little sailor outfit. Thankfully, it was still pink, just like his cheeks as he walked out, trailed by Mrs. Olsen, the head Supervisor of the daycare.
“Mrs. Palmer! How are you doing today?” Mrs. Olsen asked when we closed the distance.
“I’m fine,” I said uneasily, “Is everything all right with Peter?”
Peter’s face was flushed, his eyes were on the ground and his hands behind his back as he shifted back and forth guiltily.
“Well...we had a couple issues today.” Mrs. Olsen said with a sideways glance and awkward smile. She let the silence hang for a bit before continuing. “So…he did eat all of his lunch today! Both of the used condoms you sent were added to his peas and bottle.”
She was starting me off with a complement, trying to ease me in. I waited for the inevitable “but…”
“But…” Mrs. Olsen continued, “I guess he was still hungry? So he had a bit of a tantrum, throwing his empty bowl, making a mess, trying to steal from the other AB’s…that sort of thing.”
“Oh my god!” I exclaimed in the exaggerated, motherly way when they are embarrassed by their children misbehaving, “I’m soo sorry!! I will–”
“And then…” Mrs. Olsen continued, “he was kind of getting…handsy…with another sissy baby named Alex.”
I didn’t feign surprise this time, it was all genuine. My eyes went wide as I looked over at Peter, who was avoiding eye contact and shifting back and forth in shame. Like someone that just got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
“What were they doing exactly?” I asked, concerned.
“Just rubbing the fronts of each others’ diapers. It happens when they get pent up and frustrated. Obviously both of them are caged, so there were no sticky accidents. But we must discourage touching unless they are expressly told to. That being said, we did have to remove Peter’s cage today…”
Now I was furious, what were they doing allowing my husband to have stimulation?? There was a reason I kept that little baby dick of his locked up. If I could keep him from cumming for the rest of my life, I would! I spent too damn long pretending to enjoy his pathetic penis in me, only to find out he was putting it in some other floozy on the side! That cheating bastard got what was coming to him, and an orgasm won’t be ‘cumming’ to him for a VERY long time.
“Don’t worry, he didn’t cum. Well…other than the normal leakage,” Mrs. Olsen explained, “He just had a very messy diaper today, so bad he was leaking into his clothes. That’s why we had to change his outfit! Anyway, we had to remove his cage to give him a proper cleaning.He put up quite the fuss when the cage had to go back on, made quite the scene, but nothing a little restraints and penis paci couldn’t fix.”
I sighed, “That’s a relief! Well…not for him I'm guessing! Haha!” We laughed together, which eased the tension a bit. “Was there anything else?”
Mrs. Olsen’s expression changed again, “Well..during toy time, we caught Peter using…” she searched for the words, “You know those ring stacking toys?”
“Yea…?”
“The ones with the big plastic rings?”
“Yes…”
“Well they have this big yellow rod that the rings go around…”
I waited for her to elaborate, not sure where she was going with this.
“We caught him…well he was…putting that where the…sun doesn't shine.”
Peter had to turn around to avoid my expression. I thought he was going to start crying right then and there from humiliation. I turned him around, making him face me. Still trying to avoid my fierce gaze. But I wanted him to admit it. I wanted him to voice what he did.
“Petey…where did you put it, dear? Where did you put the big yellow stick?”
He cringed and winced at the thought of having to say it out loud. He looked back and forth from me to Mrs. Olsen, knowing there was no way out of it, he would just dig himself a further hole by denying it.
“I…I put it in my b-bum bum Mommy…” His voice sounded so small. So fucking patthetic. I can’t believe I ever married him.
“Again, he was probably frustrated from so little sexual stimulation.” Mrs. Olsen spoke up, almost defending him. Like it was normal for a grown man to shove stuff up his ass when he got too sexually frustrated.
“He did use some big boy words today though!” Mrs. Olsen announced.
Usually any mother would be happy that their toddler was expanding their vocabulary. But this daycare was all about regression and programming them to be more infantile. So big boy words were a big no no.
“The usual,” Mrs. Olsen explained, “Fuck, Bitch, Pussy, Toilet, etc. So he did get a mouth soaping, spankings, and corner time for his behavior.”
Peter wiped his mouth, drooling more than usual, I guess he still had the residual soap taste on his tongue.
I’ve never been more embarrassed or ashamed of my own husband. “Well, I’m really sorry about his behavior today, Mrs. Olsen. I will certainly have a talk with him and he will absolutely be punished when he gets home!”
Mrs. Olsen nodded, “It happens. Men his age tend to be very reluctant about their proper place in this world. It’s going to take a lot of discipline on both sides to weed those silly thoughts out of him. If you don’t mind my asking, does he have a…father figure at home?”
I smirked at that as Peter shrivelled up on himself. “Not…at home. I actually just came from his house. He and Peter haven’t really met yet.”
Mrs. Olsen smiled knowingly, “I understand. But if I may make a suggestion: perhaps it’s time the two of them met? Most of our AB’s in the daycare are quite resistant to our methods at first. But it’s not until a proper Alpha is brought into their life that they truly begin to understand their place. I don’t mean to rush you, it’s just something to keep in mind.”
I laughed at Peter’s reaction to this suggestion and to the thought of how he would behave in front of a real man like Trevor. Wriggling around in his diapers and lisping like the little pansy he is. “Thank you, Mrs. Olsen! Again, I’m very sorry about Peter’s behavior! It won’t happen again. Will it, Petey?”
Peter shook his head, whimpering. “No ma’am. Sowwy Missus Olsen!”
Mrs. Olsen laughed, patting Peter on the diapered bum like he was just a child that couldn’t possibly know any better. “Don’t forget! We have our Field Trip this Friday! We’re going to the State Penitentiary so that the AB’s can…entertain…the inmates!”
“He’ll be there!” I grinned, “Petey’s been practicing his oral skills on my strapon! Haven’t you Petey??”
Peter winced again, probably embarrassed at how enthusiastic he tends to get (he’s still dumb enough to think that if he does a good job I’ll let him cum).
“And he practiced his anal skills today! So he should be our top performer!” Mrs. Olsen chuckled.
After we said our goodbyes, I grabbed Peter by the ear, yanking him all the way to the car. I didn’t want him to think that just because I was laughing with Mrs. Olsen that I’d forgotten about his poor report.
“I-i’m sowwy, Mommy!!” Peter sniffled as I pushed him into the carseat and started strapping him up, “I can expwain!!”
“SHUT IT!” I barked, cutting him off and making him cower in fear. “Do you have any idea how much you just embarrassed me today? Have I not been strict enough to you? Have I not paddled you enough each day? Have I not deprived you of cumming for long enough??”
“No!! It’s not that!! I–”
“QUIET!” I smacked him across his tear-stained cheek, pulling out a penis paci from my purse and jamming it between his blubbering lips.
“As soon as we get home, you are going to put in the biggest buttplug we have and I am going to paddle your ass until you can’t fucking sit anymore. And to think you were going to get to cum this week!” He wasn’t, but it’s nice to make him think that. Apparently it worked, because he really started bawling at that point. I pulled the strap of the carseat between his legs and cinched it tight. Pressing the hard metal cage tight against his pelvic bone until he whimpered. “Maybe I’m not spanking you hard enough. Maybe I just don’t have enough of a dominating presence…” I mused, watching Peter’s eyes get wide around his paci. Like he knew where this was going.
“Maybe it’s time you met your new Daddy!” I exclaimed, and listened to him cry the whole way home.
To Be Continued...
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I wrote this one a while back but have recently decided to revisit it. I just released Chapter 3 on my Patreon, so head on over if you'd like to see what happens next, maybe even get a glimpse of what's inside the daycare?
Tyler quickly looked up at the ceiling before she pulled down the front of his diaper. He didn’t want to see what he’d done in his pants, but he couldn’t block out Miss Rosie’s voice. “Pee-YEW!” she exclaimed, pinching her nose and waving her hand in front of her face. “What a stinky baby! You’ve made such a big messy, Ty-Ty!”
He couldn’t ignore the sudden increase in the potty smell either, or the sensation of the baby wipes passing over his skin. “Someone’s got a very poopy diaper, doesn’t hims?” Miss Rosie cooed as she wiped his crotch. “Yes hims does! And we haven’t even got started on your messy bottom yet!” Suddenly, Tyler felt a moistness wrapped around his cock. Rosie’s hands, pressing through the damp baby wipe, stroked up and down, and he felt himself getting hard. Then he gasped in pain as Miss Rosie’s hands pulled away and she gave his penis a sharp smack. “Bad baby, Tyler!” she scolded. “You shouldn’t be getting aroused by a dirty diaper change! That’s disgusting, little boy!”
Here's chapter ten of the ongoing, collaborative story written by me and my friend, BoysRBabies. We are writing alternating chapters—she wrote this one. For links to the previous chapters, see the bottom of the post.
18+ Only!
Chapter 10
“Who’s weady for a diapee change?” Rosie asked in a sing-song voice, bending over him with her hands on her thighs. “Is it you, Tyger? Is baby Ty-Ty weady for hims to get a nice, clean diapee-wiapee on hims bum-bum?”
Tyler didn’t trust himself not to glower at her, so he kept his eyes fixed on his shoes. “Yes please,” he said quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Derek watching him from his spot on the playroom floor, but he didn’t care. At this point he’d be willing to beg if it meant being allowed out of his dirty diaper. He’d already soiled himself and stewed in it for the best part of an afternoon. Being polite now was hardly going to make things any more degrading than they already were.
Rosie giggled. “I’m not surprised, sweetie! That diaper stinks! But we have a little routine we like to do here at ABC. When a boy needs his poopy diaper changed, he has to do the diapee dance first!”
“The… the what?”
“The diapee dance, Ty-Ty. You have to do a silly little song and dance for me before I change you.”
Tyler felt his cheeks burning. “I’m not doing that,” he said flatly.
Rosie cocked her head at him and smiled. “You will if you want a diaper change before you’re put to bed tonight, Tyler.”
Tyler swallowed. He couldn’t spend all night with this foul thing wrapped around his ass. “I don’t know any songs,” he croaked. “I can’t do it.”
Rosie tittered. “Of course you do, silly baby! You’ve heard plenty of songs since you arrived! But if you want a new one to dance along to, that’s just fine.”
“Please, Ro- Miss Rosie,” he begged. She was a woman, after all. Surely he could appeal to her sense of pity. “Can’t you just get me out of this thing? Haven’t I been punished enough?”
“It’s not about punishment, Tyger,” Rosie said gently. “Well, not just about punishment. It’s about breaking down that silly male ego of yours, for your own good. You’re here to be turned into the kind of boy who does silly little toddler dances at a woman’s request. Yes, it will be embarrassing, but you’ll be a much better boy for it. Now are you going to behave or do I have to call Miss Catherine in to spank your naughty bottom through that stinky diapee?”
Tyler took a deep breath. He just had to make it through the rest of today and tomorrow, and then he’d be home free, with Connor’s help. “I’ll behave,” he mumbled.
“Good boy! Then let’s get started. I know just the song for you, Ty-Ty!” Rosie took her phone out of a pocket and busied herself with it for a moment. “You’ll probably recognise the tune, but the lyrics are a bit special. This is a song about your Mommy coming to pick you up!”
“What do I have to do?” Tyler asked sourly.
“Since it’s a new song, you don’t have to worry about singing too much,” said Rosie, “but I do expect you to join in with the chorus after you’ve heard it the first time. It’s not hard to pick up, even for a boy. As for dancing, for the first verse, I want you to stomp your feet and wiggle about. For the second, you’re going to suck your thumb and swing your hips. And for the third and final verse, you can shake your diapered butt for me! Doesn’t that sound fun?” Tyler said nothing, but Rosie didn’t seem to expect a response. She was tapping away on her phone. “Ready, Tyger? Here we go!”
The song started and Tyler recognised the tune to She’ll Be Coming Round The Mountain, but as promised, the lyrics were very different.
He’ll be playing in the nursery when she comes! After a moment of hesitation and a warning look from Rosie, Tyler started to dance. He kept his gaze on the carpet as he stomped his feet and wiggled his body, dancing like a stupid uncoordinated toddler. He’ll be playing in the nursery when she comes! He’ll be playing in the nursery, playing in the nursery, playing in the nursery when she comes! Then the chorus came.
Tyler gritted his teeth in anger. That’s what Rosie expected him to sing? The second verse started after that and, seething on the inside, Tyler shoved his thumb between his lips and began to suck.
He’ll be sucking on his thumbie when she comes! He’ll be sucking on his thumbie when she comes! He’ll be sucking on his thumbie, sucking on his thumbie, sucking on his thumbie when she comes!
“Going goo-goo-gaga bah-bah-bah!” Tyler sang once the chorus began again, pulling his wet thumb out of his mouth with a look of revulsion. “Going goo-goo-gaga bah-bah-bah! Going goo-goo-gaga! Goo-goo-gaga! Goo-goo-gaga bah-bah-bah!” He’d never forgive them for this, Tyler promised himself. Not Monica, not Rosie, not Catherine or Holly or Elanor or any of them. The third verse started. Almost over…
He’ll be wearing dirty diapers when she comes! “Come on Tyger!” Miss Rosie urged. “Shake that padded booty!” He’ll be wearing dirty diapers when she comes! His face scarlet with humiliation, Tyler started to shake his rear from side to side. His loaded diaper swung heavily between his legs, and he could hear laughter around him, snickers from the women and babyish giggles from the regressed men. He’ll be wearing dirty diapers, wearing dirty diapers, wearing dirty diapers when she comes!
“Going goo-goo-gaga bah-bah-bah!” he sang, tears stinging his eyes. “Going goo-goo-gaga bah-bah-bah! Going goo-goo-gaga! Goo-goo-gaga! Goo-goo-gaga bah-bah-bah!”
The song ended, and Rosie hugged him tightly. “Good boy, Ty-Ty!” she cooed. Her breath tickled his ear. “Good baby!” He could feel her warm breasts pressing against him through the thin fabric of her dress and, despite his shame, his cock stirred inside its padded prison. He clenched his eyes shut to stop the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks, and buried his face in her shoulder. Even though he had a few inches of height on her and she had a slender frame, he felt so small in her arms in that moment. He barely paid attention to what she was saying as she stroked his back. He just wanted to get out of that room, away from all the watching, mocking eyes. But most of all, he wanted to get out of the awful diaper hanging from his waist.
He felt dazed again. Was it the music, or was it just the public embarrassment? He was barely conscious of the short walk over to the changing tables that lined one wall of the room. He wished he could at least have had the privacy of that room where he’d been changed into his first diaper earlier that morning. Had he really spent less than a day in this asylum? So much had happened, and the nap in the middle of the afternoon had distorted his sense of time.
“Hop up, Tyger,” Miss Rosie instructed, patting the changing table and smiling at him. Tyler did as he was told, laying down on the table and doing his best not to squish the mess in his pants against himself any more than it already was. Miss Rosie was gathering supplies; baby wipes, powder, and a fresh diaper.
“I can take it off myself,” Tyler protested, once she reached for the tapes at his hips.
“Babies don’t change their own diapees, sweetie,” chided Miss Rosie, ripping the tapes off one by one.
Tyler quickly looked up at the ceiling before she pulled down the front of his diaper. He didn’t want to see what he’d done in his pants, but he couldn’t block out Miss Rosie’s voice. “Pee-YEW!” she exclaimed, pinching her nose and waving her hand in front of her face. “What a stinky baby! You’ve made such a big messy, Ty-Ty!” He couldn’t ignore the sudden increase in the potty smell either, or the sensation of the baby wipes passing over his skin. “Someone’s got a very poopy diaper, doesn’t hims?” Miss Rosie cooed as she wiped his crotch. “Yes hims does! And we haven’t even got started on your messy bottom yet!” Suddenly, Tyler felt a moistness wrapped around his cock. Rosie’s hands, pressing through the damp baby wipe, stroked up and down, and he felt himself getting hard. Then he gasped in pain as Miss Rosie’s hands pulled away and she gave his penis a sharp smack. “Bad baby, Tyler!” she scolded. “You shouldn’t be getting aroused by a dirty diaper change! That’s disgusting, little boy!”
“I’m not…! That’s not what…!”
“Honestly, boys can be so gross,” said Miss Rosie, ignoring his feeble splutters. She gave his manhood another smack, and his erection wilted. “If that happens again, Tyler, I’m going to lock up your itty bitty wee-wee in the tightest chastity cage I can find!”
A chastity cage? Itty bitty?
“Having trouble over here?” came another woman’s voice, and Miss Elanor appeared in his field of view, smirking down at him.
“Tyler here just popped a little stiffie, that’s all,” said Miss Rosie.
“During his diaper change? Eww!”
“I know. I might need to make a note of it in his file. Is dat what I need to do, widdle guy? Does Miss Rosie need to wight down that baby Ty-Ty has a diapee fetish?”
“No!” Tyler said in disgust.
“Then there’d better not be any more naughty boners from you, little boy!” With that, she grabbed his ankles and lifted his legs into the air.
“Oh my, what a big mess!” said Miss Elanor, stifling a laugh behind her hand.
“Tell me about it,” said Miss Rosie, pulling the thoroughly used diaper out from underneath him and depositing it in the diaper pail with a heavy thud. “This is one of the yuckiest diapers I’ve ever had to change! Tyler’s quite the little cutie, but I don’t envy his Mommy!”
“It’ll probably get better once he’s on a more appropriate diet,” said Miss Elanor. “Does his Mommy want to breastfeed him?”
“Oh yes,” said Miss Rosie, as she got to work cleaning his mucky bottom. “She specifically asked if it would be possible to nurse him. She’ll be taking the necessary supplements to induce lactation over the next couple of weeks, so when Tyler’s all done here, he should be able to go home with a Mommy who can give him a full belly of breastmilk at least twice a day!”
“Breastmilk?!” Tyler repeated.
“That’s right, sweetie,” Miss Rosie said brightly. “Yummy breastmilk straight from Mommy’s boobies is the best thing for baby boys!”
“You’d think someone getting his stinky diaper changed wouldn’t be so grossed out by something as innocuous as breastmilk,” said Miss Elanor. “But that’s boys for you.” She looked at him with something almost like pity. “Don’t worry Ty-Ty, I bet you’ll learn to love breastfeeding! Most of our boys do. After all, suckling from a pair of big, full breasts will be the closest you’ll get to doing grown-up things with a woman ever again!”Tyler was about to snarl a response, but when he opened his mouth he let out a gasp instead. Miss Rosie had just slipped a wipe-covered finger up his bottom. “Let’s get you all nice and clean,” she cooed. “I bet you’re the type who never used to wipe properly, so this is probably a new experience for you, isn’t it Tyler? I can just tell you’re the sort of boy who was always leaving wet spots, or worse, in his undies, so it’s a good thing all your undies are going to be extra absorbent from now on!” She picked up a bottle of baby powder and started dusting his bare bottom. “There we go!” she said. “Now you’ll smell a bit better!” She patted the powder in firmly, then lowered his legs and repeated the procedure around his crotch. This time he was able to stay soft. “Perfect!” she declared. “Now there’s only one thing left!” She held up a large disposable diaper that looked even thicker than the previous ones. “This is your night-time diapee, Tyger,” she said. “It’ll be coming off for your bath in just a few minutes, of course, but we can’t trust you not to piddle on the carpet in the meantime, can we Ty-Ty?” She slipped the huge diaper under him, pulled the padding up between his legs, and sealed him into it. “There.” Miss Rosie patted his crotch, looking satisfied. “Diaper change complete. Now it’s time for a bath, a bottle feed, and then it’s beddy-byes for big babies!”
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
Chapter 9
Want to read some more stories?
I publish stories of diapers and domination on Smashwords, including the story of a guy who goes on vacation with his girlfriend's family and ends up in diapers.
BoysRBabies posts fantastic captions of forced regression here on Tumblr.
The dirty diaper stink nearly knocked me on my ass.
One moment it was all freshly cut grass and the faint aroma of barbecued chicken, and the next, the stench of an open sewer pipe choked the air. I paused on the walkway to the front door, searching for the source of the odor and wondering how anything in this idyllic suburban neighborhood could smell so foul.
Then I saw it: trash cans. Two of them. Tucked around the side of the home, almost out of sight. Maybe the homeowners had scraped some nasty old broccoli or a fetid half-pound of ground beef out of their fridge and left it to simmer in a trash bag. The late-July sun would turn anything rotten. But that didn’t seem quite right. This had the distinct odor of shit.
Five lumpy, football-shaped trash bundles were lined up next to one of the dumpsters. It took me a moment to realize what they were: diapers. Massive diapers. The kid who wore those must be a real bruiser. They were all wadded up and folded in on themselves. Blazingly white, with thick blue tapes that bound them together and concealed whatever unholy mess was contained inside. Even then, they couldn’t hide everything—a massive brown splotch on the side of one made me throw up in my mouth a little.
I recovered my composure and jerked my thumb at the nasty ensemble. “The grass can’t be more than two and a half inches, but dirty diapers next to the front door are a-okay?”
It was a joke…but also not a joke.
Janet, the mid-thirties, resolutely chipper listing agent for Aranvalle Community homes, smiled. “Our hosts today are new to the community. They own a diaper pail, of course, but as you know, those don’t eliminate all odors.” She shrugged. “And we don’t discourage this. Helps everyone get over any initial embarrassment or insecurity and really embrace their unique place in the community, you know?”
That made no sense. I’d already told her we didn’t have kids. Not that that would explain the ‘embrace their unique place in the community’ comment, anyway. Something told me little Donny Diapers didn’t care that his loaded pants were displayed outside. He probably wasn’t up at 3:00 AM, staring at the ceiling and wondering what his diaper lineup said about his role in society.
Maggie and I shared a look. Her poker face was better than mine, but not good enough to conceal her confusion. Weirdness aside, this didn’t really matter. As long as the place we were looking at buying wasn’t downwind of this house, who cared where these people put their dirty diapers? Aranvalle was still the nicest neighborhood we’d looked at in our grueling, year-and-a-half search for a home. And it was the only one that we could purchase a home in without making the kind of financial decisions that give accountants heart palpitations. So I shrugged it off.
Janet knocked on the front door. A moment later, a tall woman in a blue and white sundress opened the door. She would have looked at home in a 1950s ad for some home care product, with her neatly coiffed chestnut bouffant. Attractive, neatly put-together, but motherly in a way I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
“Afternoon, Heather,” Janet said. “These are the folks I told you about. Maggie and Kelton Holmes. Is this still a good time to look at your house?”
The woman held the screen door open wide. “Absolutely! Welcome to our little neighborhood.”
We exchanged pleasantries and stepped into her home. The whole situation still seemed weird to me—why look at someone else’s home, similar though it might be, when the one we actually wanted to buy sat empty a few streets over? But Janet insisted that meeting the people and getting to know the community was vital. So here we were.
“Sorry for the mess,” Heather said, gesturing to the immaculate kitchen. “I’m not sure if Janet told you, but we just moved in a few weeks ago. Finally unpacked the last box yesterday. Some musty old baseball cards. I swear, if you haven’t used something in five years, you should just get rid of it. But you know boys and their toys.”
So they must have more than one kid. One in diapers and another old enough for a baseball card collection. Not that that was surprising: these houses were big enough for a family of four, at least.
“It’s great to see you’re settling in,” Janet said. “Mel said she’s enjoyed having you on the planning board. Lots of fresh ideas. Your background in architecture will be so helpful if we decide to expand the community center next year.”
“My pleasure,” Heather said. “We’ve really been loving it here. There have been some adjustments, of course. Mostly for Mark.”
Janet chuckled. “There always are.”
Heather turned back towards Maggie and me. “Anyway, this is the kitchen. Quite spacious, as you can see. And lots of counter space. Do you cook much?”
Maggie nodded.
The kitchen was modern: dark granite countertops, burnished steel furnishings, and charcoal-colored cabinets. And in the middle of it all, on the island countertop, a brightly colored LEGO castle stood at least two and a half feet tall.
I pointed at the impressive construction. “That’s quite a fortress. Your little guy must have picked up some of mom’s architectural talent, huh?”
Heather laughed and wagged her finger at me. “I like you. You’re going to fit in nicely around here.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
I think?
“He loves his blocks,” she continued. “This is supposed to be some Bavarian castle? I’m not sure. The LEGO blocks were a compromise. I wasn’t too keen on the big ol’ Duploos that so many of the boys here have. But it was clear that the video games he actually wanted weren’t doing his attitude any favors. Lots of late nights and unproductive mornings.”
Janet turned to Maggie. “Aranvalle has certain community standards, as you know. But we also encourage our members to find what works best for them. It’s about empowerment and the betterment of everyone, not fitting in a narrow box, wouldn’t you agree?”
Maggie smiled, no doubt wanting to be polite, but having no idea how to respond to such a bizarre statement.
Empowerment via enforced grass-length guidelines? Stipulations regarding what paint colors were acceptable and where grills could be placed? ‘Empowerment’ wasn’t the word I’d use, and how that related to someone’s choice of children’s plastic blocks was, to say the least, unclear. But whatever. At these prices…
“Ready for a quick tour?” Heather asked. “I’m sure Janet has told you, but all of the models have a similar layout. You’re looking at the one on Mulberry? At the very end?”
Maggie nodded. “That’s right. Fourteen.”
“Oh, lovely. You’d be just a few houses down from Kerri and her boy. They’re loads of fun.” She gestured at the living room. “We really like the open design. Very airy.”
“Do you know a lot of people in Aranvalle?” Maggie asked as we followed her into the living room.
“We do. I was worried moving to the suburbs we’d lose the sense of community we had in the city, but nothing could be further from the truth. There are a bunch of social groups for various hobbies, backyard cookouts, and just so many opportunities to make friends. Of course, it helps that we all have at least one thing in common.”
“Right,” I said. “Sounds nice.”
Did living in the same location count as something in common? I suppose it did, but it didn’t differentiate Aranvalle from any other neighborhood, including our current one. I sure as hell wasn’t hanging out with our apartment-complex neighbors, and we were only separated from them by a few inches of sheetrock.
Maggie looked like she wanted to ask a follow-up question, but didn’t. So we all just stood there as Maggie and I pretended to care about the carpet or whatever.
“The lawn looks great,” I said, finally. That was the truth, even if I said it just to fill the conversational void. The backyard was huge. A thick carpet of immaculate grass ringed in a patio with a grill and some lawn furniture. A massive swing set sat against the back fence—a white picket fence. Because of course it was.
Heather beamed. “Mark does a wonderful job keeping it up. At our last place, I had to remind him every Saturday. Not anymore.”
“I’ve wondered how Kelton will do with a big lawn to maintain,” Maggie said. “We’ve always lived in apartments.” She glanced in my direction as if she worried she’d offended me.
“That’s what fourteen-year-old neighborhood kids are for, right?” I joked, not at all offended. “Throw ‘em a few bucks, and I’ll sit on the porch and sip a cold one.”
“I’m sure he’ll do splendidly,” Heather said to Maggie, ignoring my comment entirely. Ignoring me entirely. Which did, in fact, offend me. She followed it up with the most condescending smile I’d ever seen. As if there was any doubt that I could cut some friggin’ grass. As if any of this was her business in the first place. This was supposed to be a tour of the house, not a discussion of my honey-do list.
“That’s a common misunderstanding,” Janet said to Maggie. “That here in Aranvalle, it’s all toys and bottles and diaper changes. That we treat our boys as if they’re helpless. We still expect things from them. In fact, we expect more than most women do.”
Maggie and I shared another look. Their boys? I was torn between asking for clarification and deciding I didn’t care. What mattered was the house and the price tag, and if it meant humoring these people a little longer, I’d suck it up and smile. Or at least try to.
Maggie broke the silence. “And from girls, too, right? You also have high standards for girls in the community?”
Janet and Heather shared a perplexed look. “You don’t need to worry about female empowerment here,” Janet said. “But of course, if you have any concerns, we’d be happy to go over them with you.” She glanced at me. “In private, if you’d prefer.”
“In private?” I asked.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Maggie said. “I was just asking.”
Janet smiled. “Wonderful. Shall we go upstairs now?”
As we were leaving the living room, I spotted a white wicker basket in the corner stuffed with adult-sized diapers, baby powder, and wipes. I nudged Maggie and pointed. She stopped in her tracks, opened her mouth, then snapped it closed again.
“Maybe they have a disabled kid,” she whispered to me. “An older one.”
Heather noticed what we were looking at and rolled her eyes. “Oh, the diaper caddy. I know, I know. Sometimes it's just easier to take care of things here on the living room floor than bringing him up to the changing table. You know how it is.”
Maggie coughed awkwardly. “Oh. Well, I’m not sure I…”
Janet glanced at me, then at Maggie. “Do you two need a quick break to take care of things?”
Maggie and I looked at each other. “No,” I finally said, “I think we’re good.”
Janet just seemed to ignore me. Like I hadn’t said anything at all. Her gaze remained fixed on Maggie.
“Thank you,” Maggie said. “We’d like to continue the tour, if you don’t mind.”
Janet smiled. “Fantastic. Let’s head upstairs, then.”
I ground my teeth. Whatever else happened here, I’d be filing a complaint about Janet with the HOA. They’d want to know about this blatant sexism.
Janet paused at the top of the steps. “Everyone is always excited to see the nursery first. Well, the wives are, anyway. So we can start there.”
“Like we said earlier,” I interjected, “we don’t have any children. And don’t plan to have them anytime soon. I’d like to see the master bedroom.”
Heather smirked. “That’s what they all say, right?”
Maggie smiled hesitantly.
“Nursery, then?” Janet asked.
“Sure, let’s see the nursery,” Maggie said. She shot me an apologetic look.
I started composing the formal complaint in my head, selecting choice phrases: rude, condescending, extremely unprofessional…
“All of the homes are built with a nursery in mind,” Janet said. “It’s attached to the master bedroom for easy access during the night. You know, for diaper changes and such.”
Heather led us down the hallway. “I have to admit, I was skeptical at first. A nursery seemed like a waste of a bedroom. What was wrong with us sharing a room and a bed like we always had? But now, I don’t know how we lived without it.” She stopped in front of a doorway. “I can stay up past his bedtime in the master bedroom, reading or watching a show. He really needs a full eight hours, plus naps. No idea how we used to manage without a nap, either.”
Janet peeked around the corner into the room. “Speaking of which…we can come back later, once he’s awake.”
Heather shrugged. “It’s about time for him to get up anyway. He’d sleep the day away if I let him.”
I had no idea what to expect, going into the room. A toddler? A disabled teenager? A portal to whatever alien planet Maggie and Janet came from?
At first, the room seemed smaller than I expected, based on the other two bedrooms we’d passed. But that impression lasted for just a moment: it wasn’t that the room was small, but everything in it was huge. Changing table, horse rocker, crib—it was all easily twice the size of anything I’d seen in a nursery before.
"What is…oh. Oh, my," Maggie said. She stared at the crib, hand over her mouth.
Heather rolled her eyes. "I know. I figured since it was his room, he should get some say in how we decorate it. I had a tasteful, black and white theme in mind, but we ended up with this primary color silliness." She gestured at the walls. “And the He-Man stickers on the crib headboard, well, you can guess whose ideas those were.”
"Of course, everyone can decorate their nurseries however they want to, but we have retail partners for furniture if you're interested,” Janet said. “They offer discounts for community members, too."
Heather nodded. "The crib was twenty percent off what they list on the site, even after we had his name etched on the headboard. Which left some additional funds to get the top-of-the-line changing table. And let me tell you: no regrets.”
My eyes—and Maggie’s—were transfixed on the crib and the man sleeping inside of it. If you could call a man in a huge diaper, with a pacifier dangling from the corner of his mouth, a man at all. He shifted, groaning in his sleep.
Janet chuckled. "Looks like the little guy is finally stirring."
"Little guy?" I muttered. My mind raced with the implications. Suddenly, all of the puzzle pieces—all of the conversational oddities—slotted into place. But as they did, the picture they displayed was far more perplexing, and unsettling, than the questions had been.
Heather lowered the side of the crib.
"Do you, um, want us to leave?" Maggie asked.
"Leave?" Heather wrinkled up her nose. "No need. He's used to this. " She squeezed the manbaby's arm, and his eyes opened a bit more. “Mark, sweetie, we have guests.” She turned back toward Maggie and me. "It was odd for us at first, too. We'd been active in the larger Matriarchalist community for two years before we moved here, but..." She shrugged.
Janet cleared her throat. "I don't want to speak on Heather's behalf, but again, if you two need some privacy—" she glanced at me and spoke to Heather and spoke slowly as if we were both dense in the head "—to change his diaper."
"I don't wear diapers," I said. Never a phrase I thought I'd have to utter. Never a phrase I'd even considered before. The arrangement of words felt foreign in my mouth.
Now Janet and Heather both frowned. "We have expansive views here—more than many would expect. It's important women feel able to lead their households in the way they see fit. But the paperwork I provided makes it clear all men in the community are in diapers at all times. That's non-negotiable."
"This is a joke, right?" Maggie asked. “Some Youtuber is hiding in the closet, filming our reactions?”
Janet pulled a stack of neatly-stapled papers from her clipboard and handed them to Heather. "This is what I provided your husband a month ago. Naturally, I assumed..."
Now Maggie turned her questioning gaze on me.
"I mean, I skimmed it."
"You skimmed it?"
"Mostly the financial stuff." And the info about the workout center and pool. But that didn’t seem helpful to bring up now.
Maggie ran her finger down the first page. Flipped to the second and did the same. With each passing moment, her frown deepened.
"Typical boy," Janet said. She actually, literally, clucked her tongue at me. "No attention to detail."
Heather and Mark looked embarrassed on our behalf. Which was a fucking riot, because he was wearing a swollen diaper and lying in a crib. He slid his legs over the edge of the mattress and dropped down onto the carpet. Heather led him over to the changing table.
Maggie slowly lowered the sheaf of papers and stared at me. She looked annoyed. No, she looked pissed. But was it directed at me or at this circus? Either way, we could hash it out in the car, miles away from here.
"As you can see, Aranvalle is a planned community," Janet said. "The first of its kind, founded by the Matriarchalists."
"I should've known this was too good to be true," I muttered.
"Excuse me?" Janet said, her tone icy.
I pasted on the best fake smile I could. "Thank you for your time today, but I think we're going to pass. Good luck with...whatever it is you have going on here."
Maggie stood rooted in place.
"Hon, it's time to go," I said. I cocked my head toward the changing table, where Heather was untaping the oversized, obviously soaked diaper. Mad at me or not, I was certain neither of us wanted to be around for that show.
"We've looked at, what, eleven different places now?" Maggie asked.
"Yes," I said, struggling to keep my tone calm. "But this isn't going to work for us. At all."
"We keep the pricing attractive so that anyone who wants to be part of the community can join," Janet said. "Also, we've found many women prefer to maintain a single-salary household. With a lower cost of living, many boys can stay home to take care of the house and yard."
I snorted. "Right. Did you consider just, you know, keeping prices low and letting people live normal lives?" I glanced meaningfully at the diaper change happening a few feet away.
Maggie frowned. "Since we got here, you've been telling me how idyllic this place is."
"I'm not sure I said—"
"That's the exact word you used. 'Idyllic.'"
I sighed. "So what?"
She waved the sheaf of papers. "Maybe it's because of these community values, not in spite of them."
"Maggie. Sweetie. You can’t be serious."
Her frown deepened into a scowl. "Don't 'sweetie' me."
"There's a paddle and bench in the corner if you need it," Heather said. I glanced at the corner. A dark wooden paddle hung from the wall next to a calendar. Below that, a stool. I couldn’t tell if she was serious, but I suspected so.
I turned my ire toward Janet, for leading us down this path. "So what? I'm just supposed to do the dishes and scrub the floors? Maybe you want me to wear a maid's outfit while I do it?"
"Like men have expected women to do for thousands of years?" Janet asked. She shook her head. "We're a bit more enlightened than that here. Men have a variety of roles in Aranvalle. But at the end of the day, women lead the household and the community."
Heather giggled and bent over her husband. "Though I think we know who’s leading in the diapie-fillin’ department, huh?"
Mark blushed—as he should have—but he also smiled. They must be putting something in the water. Some big, CIA-led mindcontrol experiment.
"I'm not sure I want to spend all of my time taking care of, you know, diapers and all of that," Maggie said.
“Exactly!” I said.
"Come on over here," Heather said.
I shook my head, but Maggie walked over. This was close enough for me. Too close, in fact.
"Diaper changes are a chance for us to connect as a couple,” Heather said. “A few minutes a day, just the two of us. Besides, a bit of extra work—wiping a bum here and there—is a small price to pay for having a devoted, obedient boy."
Maggie opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again.
Heather chuckled. "I bet you smelled them, too, huh?"
Maggie winced.
"It's okay." Heather sighed. "I'll admit, changing stinky britches isn't my favorite part of the job, but you should see the adorable look he gets on his face when he squats down and starts grunting."
As if on cue, Mark's face turned a deep shade of red. Heather laughed. "Kinda like that. And let me tell you—" she looked at me "—when he's coming to you with a load in his pants, needing your help? It'll awaken something inside of you. At least it did for me. A side of me I never would’ve guessed was there."
Maggie nodded, her expression pensive. I didn't like that. Didn't like it one bit.
Heather patted Mark's bare chest. He swung his legs over the edge of the table and dropped to the carpeted floor, his diaper crinkling loudly.
"You don't have to figure it all out at once," Heather said. “Every day is a new step on the journey. Right, crinklybritches?”
Mark nodded. The guy didn’t say much, but what could you expect from a man who’d let his wife put him in diapers?
"And you won't be doing it alone," Janet added. "You'll find a whole community of like-minded women to support you and your lifestyle. We even have weekly classes led by some of our more experienced members.”
"Maggie," I interjected. "It's time to go. Really."
Maggie nodded.
Thank god.
"I've learned so much," Heather said. "And bonding with other women? Not competing and backbiting? It's been fantastic." She swatted her husband's butt, eliciting a dull thud. "Mark has developed some great friendships, too. You should see them all running around the park in their diapers."
"Maggie," I said, a note of warning in my voice.
Maggie glanced at the crib. "And he sleeps in here? Don't you ever want to, you know..." She shook her head and stared at the floor. “Sorry.”
She shouldn't be asking questions. She should be walking out the door with me. It wasn’t as if there was a satisfactory answer to the questions. No magical explanation that would help it all make sense.
Heather grinned, and Mark blushed again. "I invite him into my bed when I want him in there. Sometimes to breastfeed. Sometimes for other things." She shrugged. "Why don't you come with me and let the boys talk for a minute?"
Maggie glanced at me. I shook my head.
"Sure," Maggie said. "I'll be right back." Janet, Heather, and Maggie left through the open door into the master bedroom. I was left standing with the big manbaby.
Why the hell was she entertaining this nonsense? She’d always been too polite, but this was over the line.
Mark looked like he wanted to say something. I beat him to it. "Do you want to, uh, get dressed?"
He shrugged. "I mostly just wear a diaper around in the summer. Cooler that way. And mommy prefers it."
Right. Of course, she did. And, of course, he called her ‘mommy.’
"What if someone sees you?" As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I realized how stupid they sounded. In any other context, that would have been the logical question. Here? Not so much.
Mark shrugged. "All the other guys are in the same boat. And…” He hesitated.
“What?”
“The ladies like being able to see who needs a change when we’re out and about.”
“So other women…change you?”
He stared down at the floor.
I ran my hand through my hair. “Dude, come on. You can’t tell me you’re okay with all of this. You know this is fucking bizarre, right? The crib and the diapers and…all of it?”
When he looked up again, I was taken aback: the embarrassment was gone. “Adjusting was tough. I’m not gonna lie. But life’s actually been pretty good. Like, really good. Heather and I have been in a great place. They cut my hours in half at work, and I’m remote now, so I can pick up a lot of the stuff around the house.”
“You know you can have a great relationship and work part-time and not do all of…this.” I gestured at the ridiculous diaper he wore.
He shrugged. “You should try one.”
“What?” I laughed. “Uh, no. Thanks but no thanks.”
“They’re actually pretty comfortable. And you don’t have to worry about making it to the bathroom. Ever.”
“I wasn’t worried.”
“Diaper changes really are nice, like she said. Well, most of the time. Messy ones…not so much.” His face brightened. “You haven’t lived until you’ve gotten a wet-wipe handjob. It’s—”
I put up my hand. “Okay, I get it.” The day I’d be excited for a diaper-change handjob…well, it would never come. I almost felt bad for the guy. Almost. He let her do this to him, after all.
The women walked back into the nursery, chatting quietly among themselves. Maggie’s face was alight with excitement.
“I’ll bring the car around,” I muttered, hoping she’d take me up on that but knowing she would not.
Maggie drew herself up, as if preparing to deliver some bad news. “I’d like to see the rest of the house, first.”
“But Mags, I—”
“And then I want to visit the community center.”
I saw Janet smiling out of the corner of my eye.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said.
“I do,” Maggie said. There was no anger in her voice. Just resolve. “We’ve been looking for what, eighteen months now? This is the first place we could afford. I don’t want to live in an apartment forever.”
“But, I—”
She raised a finger. “Let me finish, please. This is also the first place I’ve felt like we could have a community. Neighbors. A life. Not just a box we hide in when we’re not at work.”
“We can get that other places,” I said weakly. “We don’t need all of this crap.”
Maggie shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I’m going to look over some of the details with Janet at the community center. While I’m doing that, Mark can show you around and introduce you to some of the other boys.”
“There’s a ball pit,” Mark said with a grin. “And NERF guns.”
I didn’t want to go to the community center. I didn’t want to get to know Mark or meet any of the other ‘boys.’ But when Maggie got that look in her eye, rare as those moments were, there was no convincing her otherwise.
“Okay,” I conceded. “Just for half an hour. Then we’ll go home. Right?”
“Of course. Then we’ll go back to the apartment.”
The ‘apartment.’ She chose that word carefully, deliberately. “Half an hour.”
She smiled. They all smiled.
-----------------
I hope you enjoyed this story! I have another, longer work set in this world coming soon. In the meantime, you can check out some of my other stories of diapers and domination on Smashwords.
Another installment of The Regression Center is coming soon, too!
Just a few ideas of teases, jokes, taunts, and exciting promises to your little one to make them as blushy, little, and regressive as possible.
"I love you, too... but I still think you need to stay little a bit longer. Don't worry, I'll take care of you, little one!"
"Aww, you LOVE being mine, don't you? Come on, you can tell me."
"Who's my good little baby, huh? Is it you? Who's my blushing baby, hmm?" (Extra points if you peel their hands back when they cover their face)
"Well, I think my little angel might need a diaper bag, hmm? Are you big enough to hold it, or should i?"
"That's ok baby, I know you can't handle all those big adult things. That's why I made you my little baby again, isn't it, huh?"
"I love you, but I don't think you're ready to be big quite yet.. maybe if you're very, very good I can give you a shot at pullups... but not quite yet!"
"Does somebody need a trip over my lap? Somebody just needs a spanking to know how to be good for me?"
"Awww, you don't like being babied? But you seem VERY excited down here..."
"Hey hey hey, hands off unless you need mittens! Maybe you need those hands protected..."
"What, do you get EMBARRASSED thinking people can see you be my cute baby? Huh? Well... good. I love when my sweetie is nice and blushy!"
"I just love how cute you look when you're feeling nice and snuggly"
"We should get dinner somewhere nice. Do you need extra layers, or do you think you can hold your potty like a big girl/ big boy?"
"Now honey: I know you want to be big, but I'm just not sure yet. Don't you just love your stuffies, and being a good little one? Hmm? Exactly! No more of that silly 'big boy/girl' talk"
"Awww, i just love seeing you so cute and baby brained!"
"Well SOMEBODY needs an early bedtime... and I don't think it's the (big girl/big boy), or the (mommy/daddy), do you?"
"I just love how SWEET you are when you're all little and needy for me. I might have to keep you this way..."
"I just love it when you get all cute and blushy for me baby. Come on... show me those cute blushy cheeks! There they are!!"
"Awww, you LOVE it when I talk all cute and condescending, don't you little cutie?"
"Please, now, come along or do I need to show all these nice people what it looks like when you get a spanking, huh?"
"Good baby: I love finding you already nice and little for me!"
"Awww, is somebody blushing? Come on, you don't need to hide from me!"
"Oh silly, nobody cares that you're a crinkle pants, and I'm sure nobody will notice anyhow!"
"Don't you want to be my good baby? Hmm? Or do you need a STRICTER caregiver, huh?"
"Are you wet again already? Really? Did somebody go potty in their diapee, huh?"
"Well who could have known: a Wet diapee? I guess I was right to keep you nicely padded, wasn't I sweetheart?"
"Nobody will care, baby: you just let me worry about that, no reason for babies to worry!"
"Seems like SOMEONE really enjoys being my helpless little crinklebutt, huh?"
"Aww, don't hide that face! I need to see you being all flustered and cute!"
"Nope nope nope! We can't possibly leave until you've used the potty, and shown me your nicely wanted hands, little one!"
I'll add more as they jump to mind, but feel free to add your own and your favorites!
And as always, stay happy, stay healthy, and stay kinky!!
romaincrisis
tangentwithtanner
theartofmadeline
origamiaround
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
areudirty
stormborns
izzy806
dailybridgerton
