Nick and Molly - Chapter 4 - Story by Tinker Kinkers
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Nick didn’t get much work done the rest of the day. Molly stepped out to run a few errands for their upcoming trip that weekend.
He tried. He answered emails, stared at spreadsheets, opened a project document, closed it, opened it again, and spent fifteen minutes reading the same paragraph without absorbing a single word.
His mind kept drifting back to the bedroom.
To the boxes.
To the diaper Molly had unfolded for him, thick and soft and startlingly real in her hands. He could still feel the inside of it beneath his fingertips. Plush. Warm somehow, even though it hadn’t been. The memory bothered him because it wasn’t only embarrassing.
It was appealing.
That was the problem.
He kept imagining Molly holding it again, but not in her work clothes this time. In something softer. Something deliberate. Leaning over him with that calm, wicked smile as she lifted his hips and pulled the diaper beneath him like it belonged there.
Like he belonged there.
He shifted in his office chair and exhaled sharply.
Stop.
The word had no effect.
By the time dinner was over, Nick felt like he had been carrying a live wire under his skin all evening. Molly was casual through the whole meal, almost too casual, chatting about work and laughing at something on her phone. Nick played along. He rinsed dishes. She wiped the counter. They moved around each other in that easy married rhythm, both pretending not to notice the shape of the evening waiting for them down the hall.
At 8:43, Molly yawned.
A fake yawn.
Nick knew it immediately.
“Wow,” she said, stretching her arms over her head. “I’m kind of tired.”
Nick looked at her.
She looked back.
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “Me too, actually.”
“Maybe we should go to bed early.”
“Probably responsible.”
“Very adult.”
“Extremely.”
Neither of them moved for a second.
Then Molly’s mouth twitched.
Nick tried not to smile.
They walked to the bedroom together in a silence so obviously full of anticipation that it felt louder than talking. Nick stood near the dresser, suddenly unsure what to do with his hands, while Molly moved around the room like she had been waiting for this all day.
She changed quickly, not with her usual sleepy indifference, but with a quiet sense of performance. When she turned back around, Nick forgot whatever normal thing he had been about to say.
She was in a white spaghetti-strap top that clung closely to her chest and a black thong that left very little to his imagination.
Nick blinked.
Molly tilted her head. “What?”
“You’re… ready for bed.”
“I am.”
“That’s not what you usually wear to bed.”
“No?” She glanced down at herself, all innocence. “Huh.”
Nick’s pulse kicked.
She crossed to the dresser and picked up the MegaMax she had set aside earlier, holding it loosely in one hand. The diaper looked even thicker now in the warm bedroom light, broad and soft and impossibly intimate.
Molly turned toward him with a smile that made his stomach drop.
“Come here, sweetie.”
Nick swallowed. “You’re enjoying this.”
“So much.”
The honesty of it nearly undid him.
She stepped close, placed one hand on his chest, and pushed him back gently. Nick let himself fall onto the bed, his breath catching as she followed him down just enough to hover over him.
“Pants off,” she said.
He reached for his waistband, but she caught his wrists.
“Uh-uh.”
Nick’s face burned. “Right.”
Molly tugged his joggers down slowly, then his boxer briefs. The moment he was exposed, her eyes flicked down, and her smile changed.
“Oh, our little friend is showing off again huh?” she said softly.
Nick stared at the ceiling. “Hey… I… I mean… Molly…”
“Nicky.”
“Please don’t make it worse.”
“I’m not making it worse.” Her hand slid lightly along his thigh, slow and possessive. “I just like knowing you’ve been thinking about this too.”
The words hit him low and hot.
He wanted to deny it, but his body had already betrayed him completely.
Molly unfolded the diaper beside him with a practiced shake and ran her palm over the inside, fluffing it open. The sound made Nick’s stomach tighten again. Soft plastic. Thick padding. The beginning of something he had spent all day dreading and wanting. He could tell she was embellishing her movements slightly.
“Lift for me.”
Nick did.
She slid the diaper beneath him with careful hands, then took her time smoothing it under his hips. Every movement felt slower than necessary. Maybe it was. Maybe that was the point. Molly’s hair fell over one shoulder as she leaned across him to reach for the rash cream on the nightstand.
Nick’s eyes widened. “Do we need that?”
“Need?” Molly asked, opening the tube. “Maybe not.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
She squeezed a small amount onto her fingers and warmed it between them. “It’s practical.”
“Molly.”
“And fun.”
Before he could answer, her fingers touched him.
Nick’s breath caught.
She wasn’t hurried. She wasn’t pretending this was only practical anymore, either. Her touch was slow and deliberate, still wrapped in the language of care, but charged with something unmistakable. She watched his face as she worked, stroking his shaft, she watched every breath he lost, every failed attempt to stay composed, every little flicker of shame that only seemed to make her softer and more intent.
Nick’s hands clenched in the blanket.
“This is not helping me calm down,” he said.
Molly smiled. “Who said that was the goal?”
His laugh came out shaky.
She took her time, just long enough to make him squirm, just long enough for him to realize she knew exactly what she was doing. Then she reached for the powder.
The scent hit him before she even touched him with it. Clean, soft, unmistakable. It pulled some old memory loose in him, something humiliating and comforting at the same time. Grocery store aisles. Pajama drawers. The feeling of being too old for something and still needing it anyway.
His throat tightened.
Molly dusted the powder lightly across him, then paused when she saw his expression.
“Good memory or bad memory?” she asked.
Nick swallowed. “Both.”
Her face softened. “We can make new ones.”
That should have sounded corny.
It didn’t.
It made him want her so badly he almost couldn’t breathe.
Molly pulled the front of the diaper up between his legs half way and paused. The padding pressed against him, too soft and too thick. She grabbed his cock again with one hand and gently pointed it down into place as she pulled the front of the diaper up with the other. Careful, confident hands.
Nick groaned and covered his eyes.
“Problem?” she asked, amused.
“You know exactly what the problem is.”
“Well,” she said, smoothing the front into position, “if you were any bigger down there, this would be a lot harder.”
Nick froze.
Then he slowly uncovered his eyes.
Molly looked unbearably pleased with herself.
“Did you just—”
“Compliment you?” she asked. “Yes.”
“That was not a compliment.”
“It was affectionate logistics. And you know I love your cock!”
Nick barked out a laugh, mortified. “You are impossible.”
“And yet very good at this.”
She pressed the front into place and fastened the first tape, then the second, pulling the fit snug with deliberate care. The diaper wrapped around him completely, thick and secure and impossible to ignore. Molly smoothed both hands over the front when she was done, admiring her work.
“There,” she whispered. “Much better.”
Nick looked down and felt his face flush all over again.
It was enormous compared to the cheap diaper from the night before. Softly bulky beneath him, rising visibly at his hips, holding him in a way that felt both humiliating and strangely calming. He was much more aware of the plastic, yet it was softer and more pliable between his thighs.
Molly climbed onto the bed and straddled him before he could get lost in his head.
“Hey,” she said.
Nick looked up from ogling her perfect shape.
Her expression had shifted again. Still playful, but warmer now. Wanting.
“Still with me?”
He nodded.
“Very.”
“Good.”
Then she kissed him.
Nick responded immediately, his hands going past her waist and gripping perfect butt as she settled carefully over him. The diaper changed everything. The thickness between them dulled some sensation and heightened the rest, turning every movement into pressure and friction and anticipation. Molly rocked against him once, experimentally, and both of them inhaled at the same time.
“Oh,” she breathed.
Nick’s fingers tightened against her hips.
She did it again, slower.
The kiss deepened. Her hands slid into his hair, and his moved up her back, then down again, learning the shape of her through the thin cotton of her top and the bare warmth of her skin. She was clearly as worked up as he was now, her breath uneven, her teasing confidence turning into something softer and more urgent.
Nick rolled with her slowly, carefully, until she was beneath him.
Molly looked up at him, flushed and smiling, her hair spilled across the pillow.
“Well,” she whispered. “Look at you big boy.”
Nick’s heart pounded.
For a second, the shame rose again. The diaper felt enormous around him, impossible to forget, impossible to hide. He was above his beautiful wife in the thickest diaper he had ever worn, and she was looking at him like she wanted him more because of it.
Not despite it.
Because.
The thought pushed him over some internal edge.
He kissed her again, then moved lower, his mouth finding the warm curve of her neck. Molly sighed and tilted her head back, giving him more room. He kissed slowly along her throat, then down to her collarbone, savoring the way her breath caught when he found the places that made her soften beneath him.
“Nicky,” she whispered.
This time, he loved the way she said it.
His hands slid beneath the hem of her top, lifting it gradually as his mouth followed. Molly helped him, raising her arms just enough for the fabric to move higher, exposing the soft warmth of her stomach. Nick kissed her there too, slower now, more certain, letting himself sink into the simple, overwhelming fact of wanting her. Nick rose up to his knees enough to slip her panties down and off her ankles and resumed his journey south, eventually finding her crotch, glistening, dripping wet. The sight was an invitation to his favorite dessert, and Nick didn’t hesitate.
The diaper pressed heavily against the bed as he moved, and licked, and sucked, its bulk impossible to ignore. Each shift of his hips sent a dull wave of pressure through him, embarrassing and maddening and strangely perfect. He should have felt ridiculous.
He did feel ridiculous and he didn’t care.
But Molly’s fingers were in his hair, and her back arched slightly under his mouth, and every small sound she made pulled him deeper into the moment while her hands pulled him harder into her.
His shame could wait.
His fear could wait.
Molly could not.
When he moved lower, she drew in a sharp breath.
Nick glanced up once, checking her face.
Her answer was in her eyes, in the way her hand tightened gently in his hair, in the way she whispered, “Yes.” While pushing his head back between her legs.
So he stopped thinking.
For a while there was only Molly. Her warmth, her hands, the rise and fall of her breath. The sweet taste of her sex. The way her confidence unraveled into need. The way her teasing turned into broken little sounds she couldn’t quite control. Nick gave himself to it completely, losing track of the diaper, then becoming aware of it again whenever his hips shifted against the bed and the soft bulk answered with pressure.
It was humiliating.
It was intoxicating.
It was theirs.
Molly’s fingers tightened in his hair, pulling his face into her hard as her body tensed beneath him. Her voice broke on his name, soft at first, then less controlled, until the sound of it filled the room and Nick felt her come apart under his hands and mouth in a way that made his own body ache with frustrated want.
When she finally went still, she was breathing hard, one arm thrown over her eyes, a stunned little laugh escaping her.
“Okay,” she said weakly. “Wow.”
Nick crawled back up beside her, face hot, heart racing.
Molly turned toward him immediately, pulling him into a kiss that was messy and grateful and full of all the things neither of them had words for yet.
“Come here,” she whispered. “I didn’t know you were so good at that, you’ve been keeping more than just one secret from me mister.”
He smiled and settled beside her as she tucked herself against him, still catching her breath. Her hand rested over the thick front of his diaper for a moment, not teasing now. Just touching. Claiming, maybe. Reassuring.
Nick stared up at the ceiling, his body still thrumming, his mind quiet in a way that felt almost impossible.
“You okay?” Molly murmured.
He turned his head toward her.
“Yeah,” he said. “I think I’m more than okay.”
She smiled sleepily and kissed his shoulder.
“Good.”
They stayed like that until the heat in the room settled into warmth, until Molly’s breathing slowed and Nick’s heartbeat finally stopped trying to escape his chest. Eventually she reached over and turned off the lamp.
Darkness folded around them.
The diaper was still there. Thick. Secure. Unmistakable.
So was Molly.
Nick felt her curl closer, one leg sliding over his, her arm across his chest like an anchor.
“Goodnight, Nicky,” she whispered.
He closed his eyes.
“Goodnight, Molly.”
And with her tucked against him, soft and satisfied and completely unashamed, Nick let himself fall asleep before the shame could find its way back in.
____
Nick woke slowly, wrapped in warmth.
For a moment, he didn’t know where he ended and Molly began. Her body was curled against his, one leg thrown over his, her face tucked into the side of his neck. The room was still dim, the early morning light barely touching the curtains. Everything felt soft and suspended.
Then Molly’s hand moved.
At first it was absentminded. Sleepy. Her fingers slid down his stomach and came to rest over the front of his diaper, pressing lightly against the thick padding there.
Nick’s eyes opened.
His first thought was fear.
The bed.
He went still, waiting for that cold, sinking awareness from the morning before. The damp sheet. The spreading humiliation. Molly waking up to another mess.
But the sheet beneath him felt dry.
The diaper, though, did not.
It was warm and swollen, heavy between his legs, the padding puffed thickly around him in a way that was impossible to ignore. It had done what it was supposed to do. Contained everything. Held it close. Kept the bed dry.
Kept Molly dry.
A strange, dizzying relief passed through him.
Then Molly’s fingers moved again.
She gave the front of the diaper a gentle, sleepy rub, like she was still half-dreaming. Her palm pressed and released, exploring the warm bulk with a kind of instinctive curiosity. At the same time, she scooched closer, her breath soft against his neck, her body fitting itself more tightly along his side.
Nick swallowed hard.
Oh no.
His body reacted before he could reason with it. The warmth, the pressure, Molly’s hand moving slowly over the thick padding — it all tangled together inside him until embarrassment and arousal were no longer separate things. He felt his cock enlarge as much as the diaper would allow.
Molly made a small, waking sound.
“Mmm,” she murmured, still rubbing. “Morning.”
Nick’s voice came out rough. “Morning.”
Her hand paused.
Then pressed again, more deliberately this time.
Nick’s breath hitched.
Molly lifted her head just enough to look at him. Her eyes were sleepy, her hair a mess, her smile slow and dangerous.
“Well,” she whispered. “Good morning to you too.”
Nick closed his eyes. “Molly.”
“What?” Her fingers traced over the swollen front of the diaper. “I’m just checking.”
“Checking what?”
“That it worked.”
“It worked.”
“Mm-hmm.” She moved closer still, her lips brushing the edge of his jaw. “Feels like it worked very well. You’re soaked.”
Nick’s face burned, but he didn’t pull away.
That was becoming the terrifying part.
He didn’t pull away.
Molly kissed him then, soft and lazy and full of morning warmth. Neither of them cared about morning breath. Not enough to stop. Nick turned into her, one hand finding her waist as the kiss deepened. Her hand stayed where it was, rubbing and pressing, then sliding lower between his legs before traveling back up again with slow, possessive curiosity.
Nick made a sound into her mouth before he could stop himself.
Molly smiled against him.
“There you are, big boy,” she whispered.
He hated how much those words affected him.
Her hand moved again, firmer now, and Nick’s hips answered on instinct, lifting slightly into her touch. The swollen diaper shifted heavily against him, the warmth and bulk transforming every movement into something strange and overwhelming.
Molly noticed immediately.
Of course she did.
“Oh,” she breathed, amused and pleased. “You like that.”
Nick opened his mouth to deny it.
Nothing came out.
Molly’s smile widened. “That’s okay sweetie. I like it too.”
The words loosened something in him.
She kissed him again, and this time there was nothing sleepy about it. The kiss grew hungry, tangled, breathless. Nick’s hands moved over her back, her hips, the soft skin of her thigh where it rested across him. Molly shifted over him with a quiet laugh, climbing carefully until she was straddling his hips.
Nick looked up at her and forgot how to breathe.
She was still bare beneath the sleep shirt from the night before, her panties likely still just off the foot of the bed where he threw them last night. Her thighs felt warm against his sides, her hair falling around her face as she settled herself over the thick, wet diaper. The pressure made both of them inhale at once.
Molly’s eyes fluttered.
“Oh,” she whispered.
Nick’s hands found her waist.
For one suspended second, neither of them moved.
Then Molly sat up, looking down at him with flushed cheeks and a wicked, affectionate smile.
“I think,” she said, her voice low and playful, “it’s your turn to have a little fun, big boy.”
Nick’s grip tightened on her hips.
His shame surged, hot and automatic.
Then Molly moved.
Slowly at first. Testing. Her body rocked against the padded bulk between them, and the sensation hit Nick like a wave. Dull pressure, deep friction, warmth trapped and magnified by the swollen diaper. It was unlike anything he had ever felt, humiliating and intimate, his dick sliding into the warm soft bulk of his wet padding. So intensely charged that his thoughts scattered almost immediately.
Molly’s breath caught.
She did it again.
Nick groaned, unable to stop himself.
“There,” she whispered, her hands sliding up his chest. “That’s it.”
He looked up at her, overwhelmed by the sight of her above him. Confident. Beautiful. Unashamed. Taking what she wanted and somehow giving him permission to want it too.
His hands moved over her body, up her sides, across her back, down to her thighs. Molly arched into his touch, increasing the pressure of her movements little by little. Nick looked down to see her lips slightly spread over the bulge in the front of his diaper. The room filled with the sound of their breathing, the soft shifting of sheets, the faint crinkle beneath her as she found a rhythm that made Nick’s eyes lose focus.
This is insane.
The thought flashed through him, half panic and half wonder.
We are insane.
But Molly moaned his name, and his fear dissolved into heat.
He stopped trying to understand it. Stopped trying to separate what was felt wrong in his mind from what felt right in his body, what was wrong from what was theirs. Molly’s hips bucked over his, faster now, her hands braced on his chest, her head tipping back as pleasure overtook the playful smile she had been wearing.
Nick held her waist and moved with her as much as the diaper allowed. The thick padding pressed firmly between them, turning every thrust of his hips into a frustrating, perfect ache. His body strained against it, trapped and stimulated at once, the helplessness of it sending him closer to the edge with frightening speed. He looked down to see the glistening streak of her moisture on the front of his diaper.
Molly felt him tense beneath her.
Her eyes opened, dark and bright.
“Don’t fight it,” she whispered.
Nick shook his head, breath ragged. “I’m not.”
And he wasn’t.
Not anymore.
Molly’s movements became more urgent, her confidence unraveling into need. She leaned forward, one hand in his hair, the other gripping his shoulder as her rhythm grew less controlled. Nick held her firmly, fingers digging into her waist as the pressure built and built until there was no room left for shame. The inside of his diaper felt tight and warm around his cock, he couldn’t ignore the ecstasy. The shame wasn’t there.
Only Molly.
Only warmth.
Only the impossible, overwhelming fact that this was happening, that she wanted him like this, that he wanted it too.
Her moan broke first, loud and unguarded, her body tightening above him as the moment overtook her. The sound of it pushed Nick over with her. His eyes rolled shut, his whole body going rigid beneath her as release tore through him, deep and visceral and shattering enough that he lost awareness of everything but her weight, her voice, and the thick, warm pressure holding him in place. He felt his cum shooting into the front of his diaper, adding to the slick and warm feeling that was already so strangely intoxicating.
For several seconds, neither of them seemed to breathe.
Then Molly collapsed onto his chest.
Nick wrapped his arms around her immediately, holding her as if he needed proof that she was still there. Her skin was warm and damp against him, her breath coming in little broken laughs near his neck.
“Holy shit,” Nick whispered eventually.
Molly laughed weakly. “Yeah.”
He stared at the ceiling, stunned. “What is this?”
She lifted her head just enough to look at him.
He swallowed, still trying to catch up to himself. “Are we, like… perverts or something?”
Molly’s face softened, then broke into that bright, fearless grin he loved so much.
“Yeah,” she said, kissing his chest. “Probably.”
Nick laughed, breathless and disbelieving.
“But who cares?” she continued, settling back against him. “That was fucking incredible. I don’t remember the last time I came that hard. And last night…”
Nick covered his face with one hand. “Molly.”
“What?” She kissed his shoulder. “I’m being honest.”
“I know. That’s the problem.”
She laughed again, quieter this time, and tucked herself against him.
They lay there for a long while without speaking.
Ten minutes, maybe more. Time lost its shape. Molly’s fingertips traced lazy circles over his chest while Nick stared into the dim morning light, still feeling echoes of what had happened moving through him. The diaper was still wet and heavy around him, but the shame had been pushed somewhere far away, muffled beneath exhaustion and wonder and Molly’s warm body across his.
Eventually, she shifted.
“Okay,” she said softly. “We should probably get you out of this. You’re soaked front to back. I don’t think this thing could hold another drop.”
Nick looked down at her, nodding. “So, back to reality?”
“Just hygiene.” She kissed him once. “Reality can wait.”
That made him smile.
Molly helped him out of the diaper with the same gentle confidence as before, though this time there was a private little smile tugging at her mouth the whole time. Especially as she wiped the remnants of his cum from him. Neither of them said much. They didn’t need to. Every glance seemed to carry too much already.
The soaked diaper was rolled up and tied away. The bed, miraculously, was dry.
“See?” Molly said, nodding toward the sheets. “Told you the good ones would work.”
Nick shook his head with a chuckle. “That is not the headline of what just happened though.”
“No,” she said, grinning. “But it’s a useful footnote.”
They showered together afterward, not rushing, not quite starting anything again, but unable to stop touching each other either. Molly smiled every time she caught his eye. Nick kept looking away, then looking back, both of them silently acknowledging that something had shifted again.
Something bigger this time.
By the time Molly dressed for work, she seemed almost impossibly pleased with herself.
Nick stood in the bedroom doorway, towel-dried hair still messy, wearing clean joggers and a T-shirt, watching her fasten her earrings.
She caught his reflection in the mirror.
“What?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Mmm.” She smiled. “Liar.”
He crossed the room and kissed her before she could say anything else.
It was supposed to be quick. It wasn’t.
When she finally pulled back, her eyes were bright.
“I have to go,” she said.
“I know.”
“Work is very inconvenient.”
“Extremely.”
She kissed him once more, then grabbed her bag and headed for the door. Before she left, she turned back, her smile softer now.
“Have a good day, Love!.”
His stomach warmed at the name.
“You too.”
Then she was gone.
Nick stood alone in the quiet house for a long moment before heading toward his home office.
His laptop was waiting. So were his deadlines, his emails, his ordinary responsibilities.
But as he sat down at his desk, he already knew he was going to spend the day thinking about the bedroom.
About Molly’s hands.
About the warmth and weight of the diaper.
About the way she had looked down at him and told him not to fight it as he came explosively.
And, with a nervous thrill he was no longer entirely trying to resist, about what might happen when she came home.
____
