James' heart pounded in his chest as he heard the doorbell ring. He glanced at his wife, Jessica, who wore a mischievous grin. "Remember, behave like a good little baby," she whispered, her voice dripping with seductive intent.
Jessica opened the door to reveal Jennifer, the 21-year-old babysitter they had hired for the night. She was a petite brunette with an innocent face, but her eyes held a glint of mischief that matched Jessica's.
"Hello, Jennifer," Jessica said, her voice taking on a motherly tone. "Thank you for coming on such short notice. Unfortunately little James here can’t be trusted to stay home alone."
Jennifer nodded, her eyes flicking to James, who was dressed in nothing but a diaper. His face burned with embarrassment, but his manhood stirred beneath the soft fabric.
"I understand," Jennifer said, her voice barely hiding a smirk. "I'll take good care of him."
Jessica leaned in, her lips brushing against Jennifer's ear. "He likes to be teased," she whispered, her voice low and sultry. "And he has a bit of a... wetting problem."
Jennifer's eyes widened, but she nodded, understanding the game. Jessica gave her a knowing smile before turning to James. "Be good for Jennifer, baby," she said, her voice dripping with mock concern.
As Jessica left, James felt a shiver of excitement run down his spine. He was alone with Jennifer, at her mercy. He could already feel the wetness spreading in his diaper, the humiliation and arousal mixing into a potent cocktail.
Jennifer led him to the nursery, her hand firm on his arm. "I could tell when I arrived you already need a fresh diaper, don’t you baby?” She pushed him onto the changing table, expertly unfastening the tapes of his soaking wet diaper and exposing his erect member.
“Someone's excited," Jennifer teased, her fingers brushing against his hard length. James moaned, his face burning with embarrassment. Jennifer chuckled, her fingers tracing lazy circles around his tip.
She cleaned him up, her touch gentle yet firm. Grabbing a fresh diaper from the drawer, she places it under his bum, liberally applying baby powder and securely fastening the tapes.
Jennifer admired her work and couldn’t help but notice how cute James looked in his babyish garment, it even said ‘Pampers’ along the front, just like a real baby diaper!
“Now, does baby want his bottle?" she asked, her voice dripping with fake innocence. James nodded, his face flushed with desire.
Jennifer prepared a bottle, her movements slow and deliberate. She sat down on the rocking chair, pulling James onto her lap. He took the bottle, his mouth closing around the nipple.
Jennifer's hand snaked into his diaper, her fingers wrapping around his hard length. James moaned, his body tensing as she began to stroke him. The sensation of her hand inside his diaper, the humiliation of being treated like a baby, it was all too much.
He came with a muffled groan, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm. Jennifer chuckled, her hand slowing to a stop. "Good baby," she cooed, her voice filled with satisfaction.
James lay in her arms, his body spent. He could feel his diaper growing heavy, the wetness spreading. He blushed, his heart pounding in his chest.
Jennifer stood up, carrying him to the crib. She laid him down, her fingers tucking him in. "Sleep tight, baby," she whispered, her voice filled with warmth.
As James drifted off to sleep, he could hear Jessica returning. He could hear their whispers, their laughter. He knew they were talking about him, about his little... accident.
He blushed, his body tensing at the thought. He was embarrassed, yes, but he was also excited. He couldn't wait for the next time.
Jessica entered the nursery, her eyes softening as she looked at James. She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. "You were a good baby tonight," she whispered, her voice filled with pride.
James blushed, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he had pleased her, and that was all that mattered. He closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep with a smile on his face.
The next morning, James woke up to find Jennifer gone and Jessica standing over him. She was dressed in a silk robe, her hair tousled from sleep. "Did you have a good night, baby?" she asked, her voice filled with amusement.
James blushed, his body tensing at the memory. He nodded, his face burning with embarrassment. Jessica chuckled, her hand reaching out to stroke his cheek. "Good," she said, her voice filled with satisfaction. "Because we're doing it again next weekend."
James' heart pounded in his chest, his body already tensing with anticipation. He knew he was in for another night of humiliation and pleasure. And he couldn't wait.
“Oh, and Jennifer mentioned she might even bring a friend this time”
Boys are messy creatures.
From their sticky fingers to their questionable aim in the bathroom, boys have never been good at keeping things clean. A diaper just simplifies the whole process—no more "oops, I missed" or "it was just an accident!"
Moms and girlfriends are already cleaning up after them.
Ever noticed how boys conveniently “forget” how to do laundry, dishes, or pick up their own socks? They already expect someone else to handle their messes—diapers just make it official!
They think farting is funny. So let’s see how they like a full diaper.
Boys love to giggle about their own gas, but let’s see how funny it is when there’s more than just air in their diaper. Oh, what's that? Suddenly it's "not so funny"? Thought so!
They have the attention span of a goldfish.
Oh, look! A ball! A car! A flashing light! Boys get so distracted by the simplest things—who has time to actually remember to use the potty when there are way more important things to focus on? Best to keep them safely diapered so they don’t make a mess when they inevitably forget.
They have NO shame.
Boys will scratch, burp, and do all sorts of gross things in public without a second thought. If they have no problem acting like babies in front of everyone, why not dress them like one too?
They never know when to stop playing.
Boys will run around, roughhouse, and completely ignore their obvious potty signals until—oopsie! Too late! Rather than trusting them with big boy underwear (as if!), it’s just safer to keep them padded so they can go whenever they inevitably lose track of time.
They’re so lazy.
Let’s be honest, even if a boy could make it to the potty, would he really want to? Getting up, stopping what he's doing, actually aiming—so much effort! It's just easier to let him go in his diaper like the helpless little thing he is.
They still act like babies, so they might as well wear what babies wear.
Boys whine when they don’t get their way, throw tantrums over the smallest things, and sulk when they lose. If they’re going to act like fussy little toddlers, they should be dressed like one too—diapers included!
They hate being told what to do. Which makes it even more fun!
The best part? They’ll huff and puff, but there’s nothing they can do about it. They can squirm all they want—at the end of the day, they’ll still be right where they belong: safely diapered.
Deep down, they know they belong in diapers.
At the end of the day, all their silly protests and puffed-up bravado don’t change the truth—boys just aren’t meant for potty training. They’re much better off being padded, protected, and properly taken care of. And while that will never change, their diapers certainly will—again and again and again
Please reblog I you agree, that all boys should be in diapers 24/7!
Thank you @all4thedips for your suggestions and help.
I looked over at her, my eyes went wide when I saw the wooden chair with a thick, hard dildo attached to it. “M…Mistress,” I swallowed, “please.”
“That wasn’t a question, slave,” she said.
I glanced over at my wife who was kneeling on the bed, naked. Her eyes were wide, she was clearly fascinated to see what I would do.
“It…it’s dry,” I moaned.
“Do something about it,” she said.
I looked back at my wife, Mistress laughed. “She’s going to be busy with my cock, slave, you can take care of this yourself.”
My wife gasped, not in horror, but in obvious pleasure at the thought of seeing her husband sucking a cock.
Mistress chuckled. “Here that, slave, that’s your wife getting wet at the thought of seeing you suck cock. You think that’s exciting, pet,” she looked at my wife, “imagine how you’ll feel when you see him do it for real.”
You didn’t think they’d notice did you? You just decided to wear once to go see your your friend, and everything was going well till she pointed out the band of your diaper peaking out from under your shirt.
“Is that, is that a diaper?” She says it with slight confusion and you scramble to pull your shirt back down, thinking of how to explain it to her but she smiles. “You’re such a baby, it’s okay, I’m not judging, we all have our little secrets. Can I, can I see how they look?”
You hesitate but then shrug, why not? You trust her and this isn’t outside so you pull your trousers down and she stares at the material and the slight sog building up at the back of it.
She moves forward and looks up at you for a silent invitation to touch it and you nod, she pokes at it with an unsure finger and then she grasps the front of your diaper and you let out a silent moan.
“Does that feel good? You let out a moan so I suppose it does.” She continues to rub the front until you’re gasping and she smiles.
“This isn’t how I thought today would go but, you look so cute right now, I don’t wanna stop” “ then don’t” you think and she seems to read your mind as she goes faster till you shudder and release into your diapers and she smiles opening her arms for you to fall into as she rubs down your back.
“I hope I was able to help, and don’t be embarrassed friends do this sometimes right?”
If you want a sweet, mean mommy with big boobies who loves to have them sucked and take care of you but has no interest in having sex because, let's be honest, it's so much easier and funnier to make you cum in your Pampers 💞
First, let’s get cleaned, packed, and diapered up; then we can head to the store, open up, and do all my tasks for the day! 🩵
Once it’s closing time and I’m headed home, I’m absolutely desperate to get off in this diaper before going to bed - I’ve been wearing it all day and it’s perfectly soaked! Maybe even a little leaky, too 🥵
Every week on my JFF I post a full length clip for free! This week’s clip is an extra long 25min vlog of my day working at ABdlr! I really hope you love it, I had sm fun sharing my lil diapered workday with you 🩵
Disclaimer: All content is fictional, consensual, and intended only for mature audiences. All characters depicted are adults aged 18+
_
I want to slowly unpotty train you. I’d start by having you wear pull-ups at night beneath your jammies. You’d be so comfy, snuggled up beneath the covers with Daddy’s arms wrapped around you. I’d give you soft pats on your padded bottom and make you feel so at ease. I’d gently encourage you to wet them. That's what they're for, after all. And before too long you’d be wetting then every night.
I’d convince you to wear them during long car rides, just in case you fall asleep or can’t hold it quite long enough to make it to the potty on time. But then I’d make sure not to stop until after you’d had an accident. Then I’d gradually have you start wearing them more and more often during the day, like when we’re out shopping. I’d make sure to keep us busy so there’s no time for bathroom breaks. Besides, you don’t really want to use those nasty public bathrooms, do you? Using the protection under your pants is a much better option.
You’d be wearing pull-ups almost all the time. And most mornings, you’d wake up unsure whether or not you had wet during your sleep. Until over time, more and more often you’d wake up with a leaky pull-up and soaking wet sheets beneath your bottom. I’d put you back in thick, crinkly diapers, because the pull-ups just aren’t enough to hold your accidents anymore.
You’d be in diapers every night and pull-ups during the day, until I pointed out how much you love your diapers. How safe and swaddled they make you feel. I’d tell you Daddy loves you in diapers too, and I’d start putting you in then during the day as well. You’d let little leaks out here and there until you barely noticed when you were wetting anymore.
Soon enough, you wouldn’t have any control left at all. You’d helplessly fill your diapers wherever we are, even in public and in front of friends, family, and strangers. And you’d just grow more and more embarrassed, and more and more dependent on Daddy’s kindness and care. You’d grow to love your diapers until you were nothing more than the helpless, thumb-sucking little diaper baby you’d always secretly wanted to be.
_
You watch as she takes an endless stream of selfies, giggling as she sends them to someone. Probably her boyfriend. Not like she told you.
And now this ditsy, bratty girl is your authority figure.
The reason shouldn’t be surprising to you. You are, after all, standing in a poopy diaper hoping she’ll finally put down the phone and change you.
She giggles again as her phone rings. “Whaaat,” she says in a whiny, playful voice, “I am! She’s right here!”
A smile grows as she’s talking to whoever’s on the line.
“But she pooped! Like her diaper is brown! It’s disgusting! You didn’t say she poops herself! Isn’t she older than me?”
Her smile fades for a split second before it’s replaced by a more deviant grin. She bites her lip.
“Or what? You’re going to spank me? Make me go down on you? Oh no! I’m soooo scared!”
Whatever the response was, it got her attention. Her eyes grow wide.
“Fineeeee, whatever. I’m going! Hmpff.”
She puts down the phone, turning her attention to you.
“Ugh, why are you even in diapers? You’re so pathetic. And you, like, poop in them, too? Just…gross.”
You stand there, feeling your face grow red, deciding what to say. Every part of you wants to argue with this little brat who thinks she’s so special.
But you remember what Daddy said before he left. What would happen if you misbehaved.
It’s not worth it.
“Just change me,” you demand, more forceful than you expected. To soften the blow, you add, “Please?”
“Don’t act a brat, sweetie. You’re in a poopy diaper. It’s literally right there, drooping down like a baby. You should be thanking me.”
“I guess you would know. You sounded like a brat on the phone!”
It came out before you could stop it. She deserved it, though!
“Honey, that was my boyfriend. I can be a brat because it’s our thing, you know? Well, probably not. Judging by that diaper I doubt you’ve ever had sex and I’m not gonna waste my time explaining adult fun to you, poopy diaper girl.”
Her comment hits you like a ton of bricks. You fight to control your temper.
“I’ve had sex before!” you splutter. You wince at how pathetic you sounded.
She laughs. A full-body laugh that would make a comedian proud to receive.
You’ve never felt smaller in your life.
“I doubt it, sweetie. You spend your life in diapers. You sleep in a crib. You have a changing table for fucks sake! Not even the most desperate, horny dude would look at you right now and want to fuck you!”
Tears well in your eyes. Deep down, you know she’s right—you haven’t had sex since the first night you asked your boyfriend to diaper you.
“Onesies aren’t sexy, honey. This is!” she laughs pointing to her outfit, “I can be a brat to my boyfriend because it drives him wild. It’s fun to be ‘punished.’ And always ends with us fucking like animals.”
She pats your diaper.
“What do diaper changes end with? Raspberries on your tummy? The lingering smell of baby powder? All I know is it’s not an orgasm.”
“I..I..” you whimper.
“Awww, don’t cry! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, little one. I’m sure warm, soggy diapers feel just as good as sex! If you even remember. I guess I got confused because you’re adult sized. But you’re really just a big baby!”
She laughs again, grabbing the paci dangling from your onesie and puts it in your mouth.
“There, kiddo. You just sucky suck on your paci. It’s all you’ll ever get. Poor girl. Sad about her poopy diaper. Jealous her babysitter gets to be a big girl while you…do whatever you do in your nursery. I don’t really care.”
All you can do is stand there, tears rolling down your cheeks, accepting everything she said is true.
Because it is.
“Don’t worry, your Daddy will be here first thing tomorrow morning. He was so excited about his date! And he deserves it. It must be annoying changing your diapers all the time!”
She laughs again. “Speaking of, let’s get this over with. Hop up changing table, kiddo. And try not to squish your poopoo. I’m not gonna spend all night wiping some big baby’s tushie.”
NOTE: All characters in this story are 18+. Readers should also be 18+
“Habby birfday to Twav, habby birfday to Twav, habby birfday to Twav!” Trav mumble-sang. He spat a mouthful of minty toothpaste in the sink and turned around.
Miss Melodie sat behind him on the tall chair, tablet in her lap, watching him and the other diaperboys brush their teeth. All around him, his fellow students were brushing and spitting in the long row of sinks. Some of them were doing what they were supposed to, like him.
Some--like Billy--clearly hadn’t listened. Billy hadn’t asked questions like Trav did in Hygiene Class. He played with his silly dump truck, running it up and down his bare leg and making quiet vroom vroom sounds, and he picked his nose and stuck the boogers on the bottom of his desk, and he stared at the ceiling and counted--basically everything except pay attention to the lesson. That’s why he didn’t remember you were supposed to put the toothpaste on your toothbrush. He was just brushing with water.
A couple of sinks down, Austin wiped his mouth.
Right! He’d almost forgotten that step. Trav wiped the foamy bubbles off his mouth with a paper towel, not the back of his hand like last time, and smiled up at Miss Melodie.
Miss Melodie looked at him, then tapped her screen. He hoped that was a good tap. Or maybe she was just playing Teach Your Monster to Read. That was one of his favorite tabbie games, and he thought he’d seen her playing it once. Though it might have been something else.
One more thing to do. Trav walked down the row of sinks to the single grownup potty in the room. White and hard and cold-looking. A much comfier training potty with a cushioned seat and red and green dino stickers all over it sat next to the big potty, but he ignored it. He was supposed to use the big potty. He stood in front of it and tried to let go like they told him about in Potty Training class, but he still wasn’t sure exactly what they meant by ‘holding it’ so there wasn’t anything to let go.
He turned away from the potty, then the front of his wet diaper warmed a little--one of his favorite feelings, though he didn’t tell anyone that--and he was even happier. Maybe he was figuring out this whole holding it for the potty thing! He’d miss his diapers if he started using the potty full-time, but that was part of the deal if Miss Chelsea was gonna be his girlfriend on the outside. She hadn’t said as much, but she didn’t need to: he just knew. She was always extra nice when she changed him. She didn’t rush like some of carers, or talk down to him, or make disgusted faces when he was poopy. But diaper changes were a job for carers, not girlfriends.
Trav waddled back to Miss Melodie. He’d brushed his hair, washed his face, brushed his teeth--he’d even peed in the potty. Well, in front of it, at least. But to actually pee in it, he’d have to take his diaper off, which was very much against the rules. He’d have to ask Miss Priscilla to explain the ‘holding your tinkles’ thing again after class. Maybe it’d make sense this time.
“I wet the potty,” he said to Miss Melodie.
She smiled. Miss Melodie was always so nice. “When you pee in a potty, you say, ‘I peed in the toilet.’ Not ‘I wet the potty.’ The potty is already wet, remember, silly goose?”
“Oh, right.” That was a goof. Hopefully, she wouldn’t take off points for it. He didn’t want to go through the test again. You needed to pass this one three times in a row without any goofs to be done with it. He’d passed twice now and was ready to put it behind him. “Did I pass?” Trav asked.
“You know you need to wait for everyone to finish,” Miss Melodie said. She pointed. Most of them had wrapped up and were standing around. But Sawyer stood in front of the sink, gripping the edge of the counter. His face was beet red.
Trav sighed.
“Now, Trav,” Miss Melodie said, “remember that not everyone can hold their stinkies. You’re lucky you can hold them a little.”
“Not a little! I can hold them all the time! I haven’t gone in two days.”
Miss Melodie raised her eyebrows. “Is that because you’re holding it or because you’re constipated?”
“Holding it!” He thought he might be a bit constipated, but he’d never admit it because then he’d get an enema.
“Well, I seem to remember a certain young man making stinky britches at lunch three days ago,” Miss Melodie said.
Trav blushed. She was sorta right. Sometimes, he probably could’ve held it if he just remembered. But he’d get busy doing his homework and building towers with Austin and Mark or any number of other things, and before he knew it he’d have a stinky mess in his diaper.
“Let Sawyer finish making his stinkies, and then we can move on, okay?” Miss Melodie said.
“But he’s not gonna pass. He didn’t even brush his teeth. He just swished water around in his mouth and then splashed it on Tom. And he squirted soap all over the sink. He never listens in his class. He doesn’t pay attention, and he doesn’t ask questions. He--”
Miss Melodie held up her finger. “Sush now. Unless you need your pacie?”
He loved his pacifier--the little lion-shaped guy clipped to his onesie--when it was night-night time or when he was nervous about a test. But when a lady put it in your mouth, it told everyone you weren’t allowed to talk. Trav shook his head.
“Alright, then,” Miss Melodie said.
Sawyer grunted, farted, and then the back of his diaper suddenly bulged out. He stood up straight and smiled a dopey smile. The only kind of smile he had, really.
“All done, Sawyer?” Miss Melodie asked.
He nodded and waddled over, lining up with the other boys. Even with the fans going in the room, it smelled really bad.
“Peeyeeeww,” someone said. “Sawyer stinks.”
“Sush now,” Miss Melodie said. “Everyone did such a great job. I saw how hard you all tried. Tom, excellent job with that face-washin’ today. A real improvement from last time. And Trav, I saw you remember to clean your mouth--that’s excellent.”
Trav beamed. He was definitely gonna pass this time.
“Now, does anyone remember why we have to do this? Why is it important to practice good hygiene?”
“Because then we can graduate to Grownup Land,” Manny said.
“It’s not called Grownup Land, nummy,” Tom said. “Just ‘the outside.’”
“No, it’s called ‘the world,’” someone else shouted.
Manny shrugged. “I’m not a nummy. And I’m gonna call it Grownup Land.”
“Remember to be kind, boys,” Miss Melodie said. “But yes, you do need to pass your hygiene tests if you want to graduate from Little Launchpad. But why do you think we make you do that, hmmm? Why is hygiene important?”
Trav’s hand shot up. He knew this one.
Several other boys raised their hands, too. Miss Melodie pointed at Manny. “Uh, because then we know the happy birthday song to sing to our friends?”
Trav tried not to roll his eyes. Poor Manny was never gonna graduate. He still ate Playdough, and he spilled his juice every time he tried drinking with a sippy cup instead of a bottle. He just didn’t seem to understand anything, and he never tried to find out. The mean carers called him a ‘drooler.’
“Not exactly, Manny,” Miss Melodie said. “But that was a good try. We sing the happy birthday song so we know that we have been brushing our toofers long enough.” She pointed at Trav. “What do you think, Trav? Why is it important that you know how to brush your own teeth and comb your own hair?”
“Because after I graduate, no one will do those things for me. And I don’t want to be stinky. Miss Chelsea won’t like that.” He slapped his hand over his mouth. He couldn’t believe he’d said that last part out loud.
Miss Melodie smiled. “That’s right. In the world outside of Little Launchpad, what some of you call ‘Grownup Land,’ you need to take care of yourselves and be good citizens of the world. That means trying not to be stinky.”
“Alright, boys, that’s enough. I’ve changed all of your smelly diapers many times. Even yours, Kyle. Now you can all run along to your next class. Which is colors and shapes for some of you and reading for others. Look at your badge if you’re not sure. Manny, I see you looking at me like that. You’re in the ducklings group, so that means colors and shapes for you. Sawyer, report to Miss Heather’s office for a diapie change unless someone else grabs you before then. I will update all of your scorecards this evening.”
Several boys in the group groaned. Sometimes, the teachers told them if they passed right then. But usually not with this big of a class. Everyone started shuffling out of the room.
“Austin and Trav, if you could please wait a minute,” Miss Melodie said.
Austin and Trav looked at each other. Being pulled aside usually meant you goofed.
Miss Melodie crooked her finger, motioning for the two closer. “I have some exciting news for you boys.”
“We passed?” Trav asked.
“Yes, but don’t tell any of the others yet. It wouldn’t be fair for you to know ahead of the group.”
Trav grinned. He’d thought he’d probably passed, but he wasn’t sure. You never knew when you forgot something important. Or sometimes the teacher was having a grumpy day and didn’t pass anyone.
“But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you boys about. You have both been taking Miss Chelsea and Miss Natalie’s Dating and Relationships class, right?”
Trav’s heart fluttered. He’d been in Miss Chelsea’s class for a long time. Not that he minded. He could listen to her all day long. And all night long. He nodded.
“Yup,” Austin said. “It’s tricky.”
“I know it’s a tough one, isn’t it? So many important things to keep track of.”
Trav stood up taller at that. He knew it was hard. That’s why so few students were in the class. Manny would never be in the class. Or Sawyer.
“You two have an opportunity to take another test today,” Miss Chelsea said. “How does that sound?”
“Great!” Trav shouted. “I’ve been getting really good with division. And I have all my multiplication tables down. Well, most of them.”
Austin gave him a weird look for some reason. Miss Melodie shook her head. “Not math, Trav. How would you like to go on a date?”
“Really?!” Trav burst out.
Miss Melodie chuckled. “Really. That’s why I asked about your Dating and Relationships class, silly. Miss Chelsea said you’ve been doing a great job listening and asking clever questions in class. She thinks you might be ready for the big test.”
Miss Chelsea said he’d done a good job? That made him almost as happy as getting to do the dating test.
“What do you say? You think you are ready?” Miss Melodie asked. “Before you answer, remember that you can only take this test once a year. And if you fail, you need to start the class over again from the beginning.”
A year was a long time. He desperately wanted to graduate and move out of Little Launchpad. His twin brother, Cal, who didn’t have the syndrome, invited him on vacation with him and his wife if he could graduate before Christmas. They were going to Jamaica. It looked so warm, and he’d always wanted to play in the ocean. Little Launchpad had gone on field trips to Saro Lake and once to a water park, but never the ocean. Cal said there were lots of single, pretty women in bikinis too, but Trav didn’t care about that. He just wanted to go to the beach. He’d invite Miss Chelsea. She’d said she loved the ocean. It’d be a special first date for the two of them.
“I wanna do it,” Trav said. “I’m ready.”
Austin nodded. “Me too.”
Miss Melodie smiled. “Alrighty, then.”
Curious to see how this turns out for Trav? Check out my Ream, where you'll find the rest of this story and tons of others for the price of a couple of coffees!
Here’s chapter fourteen of the ongoing, collaborative story written by my friend, BoysRBabies, and me. We are writing alternating chapters—she wrote this one. For links to the previous chapters, see the bottom of the post.
They went to look at the giraffes after lunch, then the zebras and the antelopes and the camels, but Tyler stared at all the animals with glazed eyes. He kept repeating the words in his head, over and over. She said he’d be with you. He looked around the group for the tenth time, as if expecting to suddenly see Connor standing there with the rest of them. Did this mean his note had been intercepted? Or was it some kind of trick? But what reason would Celine have to lie to him? He'd thought about nothing else all through mealtime, and that, he was sure, was the only reason he’d kept missing his mouth with his spoon and got tomato sauce all over his face and bib.
A peal of laughter brought him suddenly back to reality, and his face reddened when he saw a group of schoolgirls pointing and giggling at his exposed diaper. He tried to tug his shirt lower, but it was too short to even reach his diaper’s waistband, let alone provide him any privacy. The red corduroy shortalls had been childish enough, but with nothing on but his ABC t-shirt and thick white diaper, he looked positively infantile.
And there was something else to worry about too. He reached down to give the front of his diaper a squeeze. Definitely damp. He could feel it, cold and clammy and squishy against his crotch, and he had to resist the urge to let out a whine of disgust. Had he really pissed himself, even a little, without noticing? He racked his brains, trying to think when it could have happened, but there was no moment that jumped out to him. How had Rosie spotted it before him? Why hadn’t he felt it? His diaper wasn’t soaked, but he’d done more than just a tiny dribble in it. He must have peed for at least a few solid seconds. Or had he just been letting out little, undetectable spurts all that morning?
“Are you doing a tinkle, Ty-Ty?”
He whipped his hand away and saw Rosie watching him with a smile. “No,” he snapped.
“You must need to go by now,” she said, her eyes flitting down to his diaper. “You drank a whole bottle at lunchtime! There’s no point holding it in, you know. This is how you’ll be going potty for the rest of your life, so you may as well get used to it. If you need to pee, pee. If you need to poop, poop. Boys don’t need to hold it.”
“We do need to hold it, because we don’t belong in diapers,” said Tyler flatly, “and I’ll be using a toilet for the rest of my life, just like any other man.”
“Really?” asked Rosie, still smiling.
“Yes.”
“Are you quite sure about that?” Her smile was getting wider.
“Yes.”
“Then why,” she asked, grinning, “do you look like you’re about to have an accident?”
It was only then that Tyler realized he did need to pee. In fact, he needed to pee so badly that he couldn’t understand how he hadn’t noticed it before. His bladder was aching fit to burst, and he’d been unconsciously shifting his weight from one foot to the other while he stood there staring blankly at the stupid camels.
His other hand flew to his crotch and he pressed down, suddenly desperate to relieve himself. For a moment he imagined he was four years old again, still in potty training, and his mother was standing above him. You can do it, Tyger!
“I need my potty!” he blurted out.
Someone laughed, and he felt his face burning red. It was Miss Rosie standing there, watching with a smirk, not his mother. What was wrong with him?!
“You’re wearing your potty, remember honey?” she said with another laugh. It was startling how such a sweet-sounding titter could make him so angry.
“No… I’m... Not!” he shouted, stamping his foot angrily on the ground. “I am not wearing my potty!” People around them turned to look. Ricky was watching, glassy-eyed, one finger in his mouth. Miss Elanor was looking too, her eyebrows raised. Several strangers that hadn’t yet noticed the small crowd of diapered men in their midst now gaped openly at him. A teenage girl clapped a hand to her mouth to suppress her laughter. Tyler’s cheeks got even hotter, but he couldn’t stop. His emotions felt out of control. He thought, distantly, that he could hear music. Some kind of bombastic children’s song. Or was that only in his head?
“I’m a grown-up!” he insisted furiously, stamping his foot again and glaring at Miss Rosie. “I’m potty trained, and you’re not my Mommy!” It felt important to let her know that. He’d only been confused for a second. “You’re just a girl!” he sneered. Girls were just things. Like Mon. Like his hot secretary. “You got… big boobs! What are you laughing at?!”
It wasn’t just Miss Rosie. Miss Elanor was laughing too, and the teenage girl was in hysterics. Some of the ABC boys were laughing too, but it didn’t look like they understood why. They were just copying the women. Rosie nodded down at his waist and he followed her gaze.
His diaper was sagging heavily. It had turned faintly yellow, and he only now realized how warm it was. Warm and wet. He shifted from foot to foot and it swung between his legs… He didn’t need to pee anymore.
“I think someone needs a trip to the ladies’ room!” Rosie announced, to more laughter. “Come on, soggy-butt.” She took him by the hand and started to lead him away. He felt too stunned to resist. He waddled along meekly at her side, feeling the soaked inside of his diaper squish against his skin, and the swollen exterior brush against his thighs with every step.
“I wet myself,” he said.
“Yep.”
“I had an accident.”
“Uh-hu.”
“You did something to me.”
Rosie sighed. “Always blaming somebody else. Typical boy. You’re the one who threw a big tantrum instead of concentrating on not having an accident.”
“That wasn’t normal!” said Tyler. His cheeks burned with shame. How had he let himself act that way? God, he’d even stomped his feet! “You’ve messed with my head like you did with Robbie! You made me act like a… like a…”
“Like a grumpy little toddler? Because that’s what you looked like. But are you trying to tell me you’ve never thrown a tantrum before, Ty-Ty? You’ve never lost your temper? Because we’ve spoken to a few people who say otherwise. Your old intern for one. She had plenty of stories to tell us about your short fuse. And your former secretary too. They told us you’re one of those men who likes to feel big by taking out his frustrations on others.”
Tyler scowled. “I wouldn’t have to yell at them if they didn’t screw up.”
“That’s not the way they told it.”
“Well they were lying.”
“They told us you were more concerned with what they wore to work than with anything related to their performance.”
Tyler didn’t say anything. So what if he liked to have some eye-candy around the office? That’s what sexy secretaries and cute little interns were for! It wasn’t his fault if they forgot that sometimes.
They reached the slightly run-down on-site toilets, where there was a men’s room and a women’s and baby changing room. Rosie took him inside the latter. It was empty apart from a plump woman around her late fifties who was washing her hands. She looked up as they entered and her mouth opened. Tyler saw her eyes travel up and down his body, lingering on his wet, drooping diaper. Then, obviously deciding he must be mentally challenged, she beamed at him. “Hi honey! Aren’t you handsome!”
He looked down at his feet. He hated the thought of being mistaken for some drooling simpleton, but if she knew there was nothing wrong with his brain yet was still being escorted to the women’s bathroom for a diaper change anyway, that would be even worse.
“Oh yes,” said Rosie. “His wife is his Mommy now.”
The older woman beamed again. “How lovely!”
“Isn’t it?” said Rosie. She lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “To tell the truth, I think a lot of women would be happier if they were Mommies to their husbands. Tyler here was quite the sexist, and losing his adulthood is teaching him a few important lessons about respect for women!”
The older woman chuckled. “You naughty little thing, Tyler!” she scolded good-naturedly, bopping him on the nose. “You had me feeling sorry for you when you walked in, but it sounds to me like those diapers are exactly what you deserve!”
Tyler didn’t know if he wanted to slap her or run away, and settled for staring down at his shoes. How dare this bitch talk to him this way!
“I’d better get mister soggy-pants changed before he leaks and makes a puddle on the floor,” said Rosie, unfolding a large changing table from the wall and pulling supplies out of the cream-coloured diaper bag she carried over her shoulder. “Hop on up, Ty-Ty. Be a good little boy.”
Tyler clambered up onto the changing table obediently, wrinkling his nose as he sat down in his soaked diaper and felt it squish against his bottom. He just wanted it all to be over with as quickly as possible.
Rosie pushed him down onto his back and started ripping off the tapes of his diaper. She was bent over him, giving him a perfect view of her cleavage, and with each tug her breasts jostled temptingly in her low-cut dress. Tyler felt his penis twitch, and he forced himself to look away.
The stupid lady was still standing there, watching. She seemed to hesitate for a second, then said, “Would you mind, and I completely understand if the answer is no, but would you mind if I helped? It’s been so long since I’ve changed a diaper, and oddly enough I find myself missing it.”
“Of course!” Rosie said, looking delighted as she stood back to let the older woman take over. “Be my guest! I wouldn’t mind a break. Keeping Tyler in dry diapers is a full-time job.”
The woman bent over changing table in Rosie’s place. “Don’t worry, Ty-Ty,” she said in the most sickly sweet baby-voice he’d ever heard, “I’ll soon have you out of this soggy-woggy diapee-wipee!” She ripped open the last of the tapes and pulled down the front of his soaked Pampers. “My goodness, hims did such a big tinkle! Yes hims did! What a widdle fountain baby Ty-Ty must be!”
Tyler clenched his eyes shut. His cheeks felt even hotter than they had when he’d pissed himself in front of the crowd. Then things got worse.
“A wovewy wipee will get your icky tushy and tinkle all cweaned up,” the lady was cooing, and as she passed a moist baby wipe over his cock, Tyler felt himself getting hard. He couldn’t believe he was getting turned on by the attentions of some dumpy old woman, but it had been so long since he’d last gotten off that his penis stiffened and rose against his will at her touch. He covered his face with his hands.
“Oh my!” the woman said, her voice rich with amusement.
“I think someone has a crush on you!” he heard Rosie giggle.
The woman chuckled. “Well I’m flattered, but I think he’s a bit young for me!”
“He’s not even out of diapers after all!” said Rosie, and the two women laughed.
Tyler felt dizzy, as if he might just pass out from embarrassment. He lay there with his eyes shut, trying to settle his erection while a stranger wiped and powdered his no-longer-private parts. She slipped a fresh diaper under his bottom, taped it closed over his cock, and Tyler was helped back to his feet.
“Thank you so much,” said Rosie. “I’m sorry that Ty-Ty popped that little surprise on you. He’s been warned about that before, but it looks like I’ll have to take matters into my own hands to put a stop to those naughty boners. Honestly, boys are such babies!”
“They are indeed,” the woman agreed as they left the bathroom. “But thank you for letting me change him all the same. It was quite a new experience changing a grown man’s diaper, but I have to say I rather enjoyed it! Sometimes I wish I could have my two baby boys back, but they’re out in the world now, pretending they’re grown-ups.”
“Well…” said Rosie slowly, and leaned close and started whispering in the lady’s ear. Tyler couldn’t hear exactly what was said, but afterward, the two of them exchanged contact information. When they were done, the woman thanked Rosie again, looking very pleased about something, and departed, looking over her shoulder to wave at them as she walked away.
“Bye-bye, Tyler!” she called. “You be good for your sitter now! And your Mommy! And who knows, I might even have you round for a playdate someday soon!”
Rosie led Tyler away, and they met up with the rest of the group at the car park, where the ladies were shepherding the boys onto the ABC bus, ready to head back to the center.
Want to read some more stories?
I publish stories of naughty boys being put back in diapers by their wives and girlfriends on Ream.
BoysRBabies posts fantastic captions of forced regression here on Tumblr.
