Going to bed in a dry diaper and then later waking up completely soaked is the hottest thing about me. 🥵🍼
One Nice Bug Per Day
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@goobldeeboop
Going to bed in a dry diaper and then later waking up completely soaked is the hottest thing about me. 🥵🍼
Rave Baby - Part 1
“I love Raves!” Ashyln, your long-term crush and reason for joining your college’s creative writing club exclaimed. “Have you ever been to one?”
“N-no… but I’ve always wanted to go!” You added hastily, trying your best to match Ashlyn’s enthusiasm.
“They’re awesome,” Ashlyn smiled wistfully, as if remembering her own experiences. “You should really check one out!”
“I’ve thought about it,” you scratched the back of your head, “but I guess I’ve just never had anyone to go with.”
“Really?” Ashlyn sounded genuinely surprised. “Well… I just so happen to have a spare ticket if you want to come to the show with me and my roommates this Saturday?”
“I don’t know,” you eyed the carpet. “Aren’t you supposed to get dressed up for these kinda things? The best I have is a graphic T-shirt…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Ashlyn waved the objection away with a dismissive hand, “I just so happen to have a rave outfit you can wear.”
“Really?” you blinked, “I don’t want to impose…”
“Dude, it’s seriously fine.” She winked, “You can be my rave baby!”
“Rave baby?” You raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“It’s just a term that means I’m paying your way,” she explained. “Not to mention introducing you to the scene and picking your outfit. So what do you say; want to be my rave baby?”
“Sure,” you tried to say casually, but the goofy smile plastered across your lips gave you away; you were elated that Ashlyn seemed to be flirting with you.
“Alright,” Ashyln giggled at you. “We can meet at my place Saturday and Uber to the show together with my roommates.”
You nodded, “Sounds good.”
“But you gotta be cool,” Ashlyn’s tone suddenly turned serious, “I don’t want a judgy prude bringing down the vibe.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” you laughed, “I’m chill with alcohol, weed, mushrooms, whatever.”
“I knew I liked you,” Ashlyn grinned, flashing her teeth.
***
Ashlyn’s house was nice, especially for a college girl’s house; it was made of red brick and had a mahogany front door. The same door that you were now knocking on.
“You made it!” Ashlyn, holding a red solo cup, wrapped you in a hug. She was dressed in what amounted to a bedazzled bikini beneath a transparent cover up that glittered green and blue in the evening sun.
“Of course,” you returned the embrace, “How could I miss this?”
“Ash!” a girl’s voice called from within the house, “Is that the rave baby!?”
“Yes!” Ashlyn’s voice called back, echoing through the house: “The baby’s here!”
You blushed: “Is that nickname gonna stick all night?”
“Probably.” Ashlyn grabbed your hand, “Now come in and meet the girls; then we’ll get you dressed!”
Two women, one with black hair and another with orange-red hair, stood in the living room, talking to each other while taking occasional sips from their respective red solo cups.
“Girls,” Ashlyn gestured to you, “meet the rave baby.”
“Hi honey,” the redhead greeted, “My name’s Mary.”
“And you can call me Nellie,” the other woman’s gaze darted to your feet before crawling back up to your eyes. “Looks like this one has some potential. Good find, Ash!”
“Thanks…” you said skeptically, “I think?”
“You’re welcome,” Nellie nodded.
“Don’t mind her,” Mary chuckled nervously, “Nellie’s just like that sometimes.”
“For real,” Ashlyn agreed. “Do you want a drink?”
“That’d be great, thanks.”
“Sure, I’ll be right back.”
Ashlyn wandered off to the kitchen, leaving you at the conversational mercy of the two other women.
“So, first Rave huh?” Marry asked, “Are you excited?”
“Yeah, totally! I’ve always wanted to go to one, but I’ve never had people to go with.”
“Ahww poor thing!” Marry said sweetly, “Don’t worry, your rave moms will take great care of you tonight!”
“Oh, that’s for certain,” Nellie laughed to herself.
Ashlyn returned from the kitchen before you could ask Nellie what she meant by that. Probably for the best; maybe Nellie’s strangeness would become endearing as the night went on.
“Here you go,” Ashlyn handed you a sippy cup full of an ominous liquid.
You chuckled at the sight of the sippy cup: “So, you guys take the whole ‘rave baby’ bit pretty seriously…”
“We don’t want you to spill.” Ashlyn winked, “The house is a rental after all.”
You shrugged before taking an exploratory drink from the sippy cup. “This tastes pretty good; what’s in it?”
“My own special formula!” Ashlyn exclaimed proudly, “It’s appie juice, vodka, and a few other things.”
“Speaking of, We should probably get him dressed before–” Nellie started, but was interrupted.
“-We have to call the Uber!” Mary finished, cutting Nellie off.
“Right,” Ashlyn grabbed your free hand, “Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll get you ready for the rave.”
“O-okay,” you said, unsure of how you found yourself already going to a private room with Ashlyn. Maybe she liked you even more than you thought…
Or that’s what you thought until you saw where Ashlyn was taking you: The room you found yourself in could only be described as a toddler’s bedroom, complete with a Lightning McQueen race car bed, a play mat, and a whole roster of stuffed animals scattered across the room.
“I thought you and your college roommates were the only ones that lived here…?” you grasped for an explanation.
“We are,” Ashlyn reassured, “but we like to… babysit from time to time.”
“Ah… gotcha.”
“Your clothes are laying out on the bed.”
You shot a glance at the comforter to see the outfit that Ashlyn had laid out for you; you saw psychedelic themed shorts, a matching bucket hat, a shirt that proclaimed ‘I like to be Called a Good Boy’, and –most egregious of all– an adult diaper that was decorated with cartoon characters.
“Ashlyn, the sippy cup joke was one thing, but a diaper… really?”
“I’m just trying to look out for my rave baby!” Ashlyn deflected, “You don’t even know how long the lines for the gross porta-potties get. Trust me, you’ll be better off diapered.”
“Where’s yours then?”
“I’ve developed an iron bladder ‘cuz of all the music festivals I’ve been to. Same goes for Mary and Nellie.”
“And the shirt?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Is it untrue?” Ashlyn chewed at her lower lip, “Would you dislike it if I called you a good boy?”
“Uhhmmm,” you stumbled back, unsure how you got here but enjoying it none the less.
“Answer the question…” she took an assertive step toward you, pinning you against the wall with her warm body, “...baby.”
“Y-yes…” you gulped.
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” her knee slid up along your thigh, eventually finding your private parts and sending a shockwave of pleasure trembling through your body.
“MmMMhh,” you whimpered.
“Ahww, you’re just adorable! Now can you put your arms up to the sky for Mommy?”
“M-mommy?” you mewled.
“That’s right sweetheart. Now put your arms up, so I can get your shirt off.”
You did as you were told, raising your arms above your head.
“Good boy,” Ashylyn said before slipping your shirt off, which was quickly followed by the unbuckling of your pants.
Once you were fully naked, Ashlyn pulled you off the wall. She placed a firm palm on your naked chest, guiding you to the racecar bed before gently shoving you onto it.
“R-really?” you said, “I’m not complaining, but is it really okay to do… it on this bed?”
“Do what, sweetie?” Ashlyn asked with an innocence that contrasted her devilish grin, “I’m only getting my sweet Rave Baby dressed for the show before the Uber gets here.”
“S-seriously?” the pained objection slipped out of your lips.
“Well, maybe if you’re a good boy for Mommy and her friends at the rave…” Ashylyn fluttered her eyelids, “We’ll see about… it when we get back. But first, you have to be good and spread those legs for your diaper!”
Ashlyn and her friends were obviously a lot kinkier than you imagined, but that wasn’t a problem for you; you did say you were good with anything. With that in mind, you decided –maybe a bit tipsy from Ashlyn’s special formula– to play along.
“Y-yes Mommy…” you said shyly, exploring the word on your tongue.
“Good boy!” Ashlyn gushed before powdering your excited parts and wrapping them snuggly in the diaper. She then pulled the rest of the curated ensemble onto you.
“You look great, baby! Now, let’s show you off to mommy’s friends before the Uber gets here.”
“That’s more like it!” Nellie grinned, drinking in your new outfit.
“You’re so adorable that I could just eat you up!” Mary pinched your cheeks.
“That’ll have to wait,” Nellie said, “Because the Uber will be here in five minutes.”
“You know what that means,” Ashlyn held out her red solo cup, “Let’s have a toast to an unforgettable night and down our drinks, girls!”
“That means you too, hon.” Nellie shoved the sippy cup into your grasp.
To your embarrassment, the girls downed their drinks rather quickly with little effort. You, on the other hand, were stuck nursing from the sippy cup, which only allowed for a slow yet constant flow of liquid. Since the girls had already finished their drinks, they focused their attention on you.
“Keep going sweetie,” Mary encouraged, “you can do it!”
Your cheeks burned crimson as the glug glug of your suckling filled the room.
“Atta baby,” Ashlyn purred as you finished off the apple juice cocktail, "Finishing all of your sippy like a good boy! Mommy’s so proud of you!”
“And just in time for the Uber,” Nellie laughed.
As you waddled behind the girls towards the car, you hoped they couldn’t tell just how much you had enjoyed being the object of their attention.
————————————————————————-
As Always, all charachters depicted are 18+
Image credit to me actually; this was the outfit Mommy picked out for me to wear to our last rave… don’t tease me too hard
Donnie stared at Laila silently, frustration boiling deep in his gut. He had begged for this in the past, to have his own puppy that he would take on walks and feed, he even promised Mommy he would clean up after it!
But when Mommy brought in Laila, their new "puppygirl" —which Donnie knew before as one of her coworkers— everything changed for the worse, at least for him.
Don't Wanna Hurt Mommy
I bite my lip and close my eyes as I slide into her. She tenses and squeezes around me, sending waves of pleasure shooting through my being as I fill her up.
"Fuuuuuck," I moan, "You're so fucking… tight!"
She whimpers and groans beneath me, her hands working their way to my waist, where she wraps her hands around my hips, and starts pushing me back.
"Baby," she moans as she presses her palms against my waist, gently forcing me back out of her, "It's too much."
I think butt pats would fix me.
I don’t want to be made into an adult baby, I want a caregiver to turn me into the real deal.
Keep me in the thickest, most waddle inducing diapers possible. Train me to be dependent on them completely. Make it so I hardly even notice wether I’m wet or dry, fresh or leaking. Make it completely natural for me to squat down and make pushies whenever and wherever the need arises.
Keep me in childish clothes 24/7, pick my outfits for me and ensure I’m always going out in the baby-est attire possible. Throw away my t-shirts with my underwear and replace them with onesies, overalls, and my ever-important pampers. Make me look so humiliatingly little that I’m consistently a blushing mess in public.
Feed my mind full with hypnotic suggestions, keeping me happy and docile. Keep me so intoxicated that I internalize them fully, losing my grasp on reality as a whole. After all, there’s no need for me to have any adult thoughts anymore.
Treat me like a docile little tyke at home, constantly focused on learning activities for one far below my real age. Give me none of the agency an adult has, decide every part of my routine down to the second. If I fuss at all, punish me with whatever your heart desires. Strap me in the bouncer for a few hours with a headset blaring my suggestions, or give me a laxative before we go out for a nature walk. Make certain I’m obeying your every whim.
And finally, make it so I have no issues at all with being seen in this state. Make my diapers obvious and my speech slow and infantile. Lead my waddling, pampered butt by hand in every single scenario. Be transparent with others about the state I’m in. Give me no discretion whatsoever.
Don’t just make me feel like a toddler, blur the line between my adulthood and innocence so much that I, in every way that matters, am a toddler.
If you either
1. Call me a "Good boy"
Or
2. Can pick me up and place me on your hip.
I will do literally anything for you. Use me and my body however you please.
littles messily eating.
he used to get so frustrated because whenever he took you to a nice, expensive restaurant you didn't know which pieces of cutlery you were supposed to use for each dish. that's why, he argued, never wanted to take you on fancy dates anymore. because for him a partner who respected etiquette was important.
now, ask him about the precious etiquette he used to preach! his bib is completely filthy with food stains and drool at all times. the handsome face he spends so much time and products shaving every other day for that perfect stubble look is now dirty with random splotches of the ketchup he had alongside his dino nuggies. not to mention the complete mayhem that happens whenever he gets to eat spaghetti, you have learned to only put half a cup on his tray to minimize the clean up; minimize, because that doesn't stop him from grabbing the food with his hands and shoving the noodles on his face. the poor screen of the ipad he bought for work is always crusty with cheeto dust and spit as he only uses it to watch bluey now. it's pathetic and gross.
you never stop him, though. you knew he loved it by the way he let out the cutest embarrassed noises whenever he ate like a toddler, the fact his face got visibly red and he rubbed his thighs together trying to get any kind of friction inside his diaper as he sat on his highchair helped too. you can't help it, he's too precious for you to not kiss the tomato sauce stains and dried drool off his cute little face. ( ◜‿◝ )♡
You finally did it!
You caved to your little's demands, and finally let them be a tad more independent.
"Ok, sweetie, I hope you have your clothes on! We leave in 5!"
You walk into the nursery to find them on the floor in just a diaper in tears as they wrestle futilely with their pants.
"Can't do it!"
They whine, pants in hand, wide eyes pleading for your help.
"Oh no!" You coo, "But, I thought you were my big, strong, independent adult? Adults can dress themselves, you know?"
Tears begin to stream down your little's cheeks as they realize just how far gone they are.
You bend down, taking their pants in your hand, as their thumb drifts smoothly between their lips.
"Let me help," you offer gently, "I've got you."
They smile as you dress them, and you can't help but get a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest as you both realize they will always be your baby.
Today sucks, desperately in need to be babied. Would kill for it in fact.
writing embarrassing things on diapers is underrated imo
just imagine a cute guy coloring a picture book, you grab a sharpie from his crayon bag and write something along the lines of "stupid diaper slut" on the front of his nappy. he looks down at what you wrote and his face immediately turns beet red, he's even furrowing his brows in pure embarrassment but a "thank you, miss!" with a forced smile is the only thing he can muster as he is also pretending he doesn't know how to read yet, so he can't even reprimand you for calling him a dumb stupid whore for diapers ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I'm staring at the ceiling again. I practically have the constellations of the popcorn plaster memorized now after 6 months of this.
“Your mom called while you were down for your nap...” She says as she tears the tapes of the diaper off. One, then the other, and the flap falls open. She barely even blinks, using the front of the diaper to scrape most of the mess down in one big swipe. “She’s still going on about that cruise.”
The package crinkles as she pulls out three wipes in quick succession. “I told her we'd think about it. But honestly, babe, I don’t know if I’m for it. Getting a passport is such a hassle these days, and those ships are gross.” She says as she wipes the shit off my creases with hardly even a wrinkle of her nose. She folds it over once, swipes again, then tosses it down into the open diaper and grabs some more.
With one hand, she grips both of my ankles and hoists my legs up. I feel so vulnerable and ashamed as my dirty crack is on display. But she doesn't hesitate, doesn't comment, just wipes me down front to back in one smooth motion between my cheeks like it's the most normal thing in the world. My sphincter twitches involuntarily at the sudden air and the wet drag. She doesn’t acknowledge it. She never does.
How does she not find it weird that she's wiping her 44-year old husband's ass? I want to disappear, I want the floor to swallow me. Even after all this time, I'm still so embarrassed and humiliated, but she couldn't be anymore non-chalant about it as her fingers dig the wipe over my butthole. She checks the cold fabric for a brown streak, folds it over, and does it again until it's clean.
“She asked how you were doing, of course.” Her voice stays light, conversational. “I told her you’re fine, no big changes. She sounded happy about that.”
My mother doesn't know that my wife keeps me in diapers 24/7. She doesn't know that call I someone else 'Mommy' now.
Ava lets my legs down, checking me over for any missed spots. Finally she takes one more fresh wipe and drapes it over my cage and balls. The wipe comes away sticky, ropes of constant pre-cum clinging to it. But once again she doesn't acknowledge or comment on it. It's just the norm now. Expected.
She drops the final wipe the dirty pile beneath me, and balls it all up inside the soiled diaper. Folding the tabs over to secure it tightly so it's a big round mound.
"I also called a plumber about the downstairs toilet." She continues casually as she sets the dirty diaper down next to us, and unfolds a fresh one, “Just because you don’t use it anymore doesn’t mean it can just sit there all backed up. He said he can probably make it out tomorrow."
A lump forms in my throat at that. A small part of me used the broken toilet as a reason why I had to use the diapers. Without that excuse, I was just left knowing it wasn't from lack of options, diapers were my only option no matter what.
She fluffs up the diaper as big as she can make it, then plants it down flat. "Can you lift up for me, hon?" she asks sweetly. Too sweetly. She slides it under my hips while she continues her one-way conversation. There's no talking while my pacifier's in.
“Taxes are coming up too," she says as she powders the area with cool, white clouds. Smoothing it in with the flat of her palm between my cheeks, over my balls, all with the detached efficiency of someone spreading sunscreen on a little one before the pool. No lingering. No teasing. Just matter-of-fact caretaking. "I’ve got most of the receipts and stuff pulled together already. Shouldn’t take long.”
Ava pulls the front of the diaper up snug. Another fresh little home for me to live in for the next several hours. She smooths it down, adjusts the fit, then grips one of the tapes. "“Oh, and Sandra texted too. She’s coming over Saturday afternoon. I told her we'd just be hanging around, doing the usual."
The implication hangs unspoken: I'll still be in diapers. Still dressed in whatever snap-crotch onesie or shortalls she picks out that morning. To Ava, none of this is taboo anymore. It's just Tuesday. Last time her best friend Sandra was over, Ava had me draped over her lap, latched to her breast, breastfeeding while the women discussed work drama. When Ava felt the warmth spreading between my legs and pressing against her thigh, she didn't even glance down or pause the story. She simply eased me down onto the living room floor, popped the snaps of my onesie open, and changed me right then and there while discussing the latest episode of Real Housewives. She even handed me a rattle afterwards to keep me 'entertained'.
And that’s the worst part.
If she laughed at me, if she smirked while taping me shut, if she yelled when I fussed, if she cooed exaggerated baby talk or spanked me for “being naughty,” if she ever turned vicious or cruel or even just triumphant: I could hate her for it. I could tell myself this is a game, a punishment, a malicious powerplay. I could cling to anger, to resentment, to the thin comfort of seeing her as the villain.
But she doesn’t. She’s gentle. She’s patient. She’s… kind.
It's incredibly disarming.
The last tape of the fresh diaper presses down firm, sealing me in with a final rip of adhesive. She pats the front once, twice, then grips my hands and helps pull me upright.
“They had a new flavor at the store today." She says, pulling out my pacifier, "Pureed Chicken and peas. Would you like to try that one, or stick with the carrot-squash?”
My nose turns upward at both options. "Carrot-squash."
"Good choice." She smiles, kissing me on the forehead, picking up the still-warm dirty diaper and placing it carefully in my hands. "Can you be a big helper and put this in the pail for me? I'm gonna go get your num-nums ready and warm you up a bottle."
She didn’t mock me. She didn’t pity me. She didn’t even acknowledge how absurd it all is.
She just continued the morning.
And somehow that made it worse. Because it means this isn’t temporary. It isn’t punishment.
It’s simply our life now.
usually when men are "daddies" it does nothing for me. but i find it unbelievably, unexplainably hot when men are mommies
Fully agree, except inverse, when women are "daddy" it triggers something in me.
A Thrifty Vacation
“What’s with the fussy face, Pamper-Puff?” Mommy and her friends looked back at you as they prepared to leave the hotel room.
“I… I want to come with you to the pool,” you mumbled, already knowing the hopelessness of your request.
“Ahww, that’s adorable!” Mommy’s friend in the blue lace, Natalia, gushed, “But this pool party is 21 and up only.”
“But I’m older than that!” you whined.
“Maybe physically,” Margo, the woman with the dirty blonde hair, snickered along with Natalia.
“Sorry Hun,” Mommy sighed, “but I don’t think a little boy who still needs his diapers is what the hotel had in mind for their 21+ Happy Hour at the pool.”
“B-but that’s not fair,” you whimpered. “You’re the one making me wear diapers on vacation!”
“No, baby, I’m not.” She adopted a more serious tone, “You’re the one who agreed to be our little diaper boy this trip, remember?”
“I didn’t want to be in diapers on vacation,” you feebly contested.
“Maybe not,” Mommy conceded, “but you did want to cheap out and only pay for one room for the girls and I. This is the price.”
“That still doesn’t make any sense,” you grumble just loud enough for them to hear.
“It makes perfect sense, cutie!” Natalia enthusiastically launched into an explanation: “It would be awkward and kinda weird for us to all stay in one room with our friend’s boyfriend, but now that we’re we’re sharing a room with an adorable little adult toddler, we don’t have to worry about that!”
“Plus,” Margo added with a devious grin, “it’s pretty entertaining watching someone who’s ostensibly an adult man getting manhandled by his mommy.”
“But I want to be a big boy, and I want to go to the pool!” you stomped your foot for emphasis.
Mommy silently raised an authoritative eyebrow as her friends talked amongst themselves:
“Maybe he needs a nap?” Natalia suggested.
“Or a diaper change,” Margo laughed.
*Knock Knock*
“Perfect timing,” Mommy smirked. “Come in!”
“Here’s the crib you requested,” one of the hotel staff wheeled in a crib, while trying —and failing— not to giggle at the sight of you, standing in just a t-shirt and infantile-print diaper.
“Perfect, thank you so much!”
The staffer smiled before making an abrupt exit, probably busy with other tasks.
“What the hell is that?” you glared at the crib.
“It sounds like you’re having some pretty big feelings, so Mommy’s gonna put you down for a nap in your crib while me and the girls are out.” Mommy said gently.
“Screw that and screw you all!” you say, finally snapping. You begin to rip the tabs off your pamper in protest, “I’m done with this!”
Before you can rip off the third tape, Mommy has you by the ear and is dragging you to the bed: “I don’t think so, mister! I refuse to put up with this bratty behavior for any longer on what’s supposed to be a nice, relaxing vacation!”
“Ooooo, someone’s in trouble,” Natalia giggled.
“W-wait!” you cry as she pulls you over her lap.
“Teach the brat a lesson!” Margo cheered excitedly.
“You’re being naughty and disobedient!" Mommy began to harshly pepper your butt as she spoke, “And you’ve embarrassed me in front of my friends!”
The barrage continued through your tears as you desperately apologized: “I-I’m S-sorryyyy!”
Finally, the spanking stopped before Mommy pulled your diaper back up: “I know you’re sorry, honey, and I forgive you. But you still have to apologize to my friends for your little tantrum.”
You turned to Mommy’s friends, red in the face, before saying the words: “I… I’m sorry for throwing a tantrum.”
“Ahww that’s okay cutie,” Natalia met you with a gentleness usually reserved for children, “I know it can be hard for little ones to process their BIG feelings.”
“And I don’t have high expectations for diaper boys anyway,” Margo shrugged.
“Now, how about that pool party?” Natalia clapped her hands together in excitement.
“You guys go ahead,” Mommy waved them off, “I’ll meet you down there. I just want to get my special boy all tucked away for nap time first.”
“Mommy,” you said quietly, careful to avoid any further punishment, “Do I really have to take a nap in that crib?”
“After your little outburst? Absolutely.”
“Well, you have fun with that,” Margo said before her and Natalia left the hotel room.
Soon enough, you found yourself tucked into the crib in a fresh diaper with a teddy bear tucked beneath your arm. Mommy smiled down at you as your pacifier bobbed in your mouth.
“Mommy wants everyone to have a good vacation, including you. But in order for that to happen, you need to be a good boy for Mommy and her friends. Can you do that for me, honey?”
You sighed before nodding.
“Good boy.” Mommy leaned down to kiss you on the forehead, “Mommy loves you very much. Sweet dreams.”
With that, she flicked off the hotel room light switch before leaving to enjoy the adults only pool party, while you napped helplessly in your crib.
As you suckled on your paci, you wondered if the price of cheaping out on one hotel room was really worth it…
————————————————————————
As always, all characters depicted are 18+
I found the image on Reddit, and no credit was given :(
(Also is it silly that I, a diaper fetish blogger, is a little embarrassed about admitting that I went on Reddit?)
Well since that was your reaction to my last one Mads. This time Ollie gets caught trying to remove his diaper!
-Syn
Syn, who gave you the power to chain prompts like this to sneak a longer, two-part story out of me?
I giggle to myself as I look around my room.
How did I get so lucky?
What was Aunt Katie thinking?
It's funny to think just a few months ago, I was so embarrassed by using that stupid little training potty that I risked everything to use the big kid toilet, only to be caught.
Now, well now, just the thought of taking a nice long piss with my knees in my face on that tiny, plastic pot almost makes me hard.
The idea of not having to wear my waste around my hips? It seems so mature!
And, now, for some reason, while babysitting me, Katie, my wife's best friend, got out my training potty and just left it sitting in the middle of my nursery while she left to make dinner!
It's the perfect opportunity to get a little of big boy time while no one is is looking!
In a flash, I'm popping the buttons of my onesie open and delicately shimmying my diaper down to my ankles.
I've never been happier about Katie's shoddy tape jobs than right now.
I smile to myself as, quickly, I drop my butt to the cheap, plastic seat, and delicately point my penis into the bowl.
The sound of pee on plastic makes me close my eyes and smile in satisfaction.
"What do we have here?" Katie's voice rings out self-satisfied from the doorway to the nursery, "A naughty baby acting too big for his britches again?"
Panic feels my stomach.
How is this happening again?
As I am finishing peeing, Katie is crossing the room.
She grabs me by the ear and pulls me up from my childish throne.
A hard smack to my bottom is an uncomfortably familiar feeling.
"Naughty boy! That was a test and you failed!"
In a moment I am dragged to the corner, my diaper tugged back up around my waist.
I whimper into my binky at being so stupid as to walk right into Katie's sadistic little trap.
"Your potty doesn't go anywhere but your cute little didi's!" She says as I feel the waistband of my diaper pulled back, and the contents of the training potty unceremoniously poured onto my butt.
"And to think, your Mommy was going to let you restart potty training tomorrow!"
I let out an involuntary whimper at that.
I fucking hate Aunt Katie.
This is not something I was aware I wanted until now 🤭
How did it know? 🍼🚼🍼
filling their sippy cup with water in front of them but spitting a thick glob of saliva inside before shutting the lid
🥵🥵🥵 Oh no, anything but that!