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[narcissusdotcom]

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[tinklebab]

Wish I had a piddle pad I could just go and do little leaks on thoughout the day. The only toilet in my house is on the other side of the house, downstairs and through the lounge then the kitchen before finally reaching the potty. It's so far.

It would be so much better if whenever I felt a strong urge to piddle I could pull my pants down, squat over my little piddle pad and let out some leaks and spurts until my pee hole stops twitching. Then I could hold the rest in until I want to go downstairs!

But I'd like it so the piddle pad can't hold an entire wee, so I have to make sure I stop. And the more the day goes on, the more leaks I've done into it, the less it can hold but the more desperate im getting from not getting to fully release my bladder.

Finally I'm potty dancing in front of the pad ready to let out some big desperate spurts so I can get back to an important project that I can't take a break from to go to the toilet. I let out one spurt and my pee hole is quivering ready to let out another when I realise - the pad is full - if I let out any more it will overflow.

So I'm forced to walk back to my desk. My bladder - expecting a little bit more relief - screaming at me to go downstairs to the potty but I don't have time. Little leaks and dribbles are soaking into my boxers and I know I don't have long before I start to let go into my chair. The full piddle pad taunting me from the other side of the room

[dontopenfairies]

Up in the tree house Auggie and Ollie were playing by themselves, sitting on the warm wooden floor and acting out a story with Auggie’s plastic model zoo animals.

Auggie set down the hippo and stood up. “I need to go pee. I’m gonna just be a second.” He started to open the trapdoor to the ladder.

“Wait,” said Ollie. “Just go pee in your pants. No one else is here and it’ll dry before Lina finds out.”

Auggie hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah! It’ll be fine. Look, I already went a couple times.” He sat up on his knees and pulled down his shorts a little bit so Auggie could see.

“Yeah, but you have a diaper on. That’s different.”

Ollie shrugged. “So what? Come on and keep playing with me. It’ll be okay. We’re outside so you won’t mess up any furniture or anything. It feels so good anyway…” He sat back down and let himself relax. “I’m going right now and it feels so good…”

Auggiensat back down tentatively. “Are you sure nobody’s going to find out?”

“I don’t think so. Just go pee.” Ollie picked up one of the animals again and made it walk towards the saucer they were using as a water trough.

Auggie sat back down on the warm wood. He tried to just let go but found that he was a little locked up. “I can’t make it come out,” he said.

“Don’t force it,” said Ollie. “Just relax. Just imagine you have a diaper on. You still have to wear them at night, right?”

“Who told you that??”

“Your girlfriend. Haha.”

Auggie picked up the hippo again. Just a few seconds later, he felt warmth spreading across his crotch. “I’m going,” he said quietly.

“See?” said Ollie. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

“Yeah,” said Auggie, starting to shift a little bit against the wood.

“Mmm,” said Ollie, setting down his toy and copying Auggie, wiggling a little bit against the wood.

“Can I…um…can I feel what your diaper’s like?”

“Yeah, of course! Are you curious?”

“Um…kinda. I haven’t worn a big diaper like that since I can remember. I just have to wear a pull-up at night.”

Ollie pushed the toys aside and scooted closer. He undid his fly and eased his shorts down again.

Auggie reached out and rubbed it, just for a second before snatching his hand away. “It’s really warm.”

“You can touch it more than that,” said Ollie. “It’s okay.”

Auggie raised his hand again, looking at the floor. He could feel heat rising in his face. He reached out again and rubbed Ollie’s diaper.

“It feels really good. Do you want me to do you too?”

Auggie didn’t answer but scooted closer, also kneeling up onto his knees. Ollie let his hand down onto Auggie’s wet pants and cupped his bulge. “It always feel better when you’re wet,” he told Auggie.

Auggie agreed but he didn’t want to say it aloud. They kneeled there for a couple more minutes and Auggie felt something building in him; he wanted to push Ollie over and rub on him and on his diaper. Just when he opened his mouth to say something someone knocked on the trapdoor. Both boys snatched their hands away.

“Everything okay, boys? Are you playing nice?” It was Lina’s voice.

“Yeah!!” said Ollie loudly. “Everything’s fine! Go away! No girls allowed!!”

“Yeah!!” said Auggie, too. “No girls!”

The trapdoor opened anyway. “That isn’t very nice. You boys better remember who’s in charge at my house.” She climbed into the treehouse and sat down in front of them. “Who’s in charge? I want both of you to answer.”

“You are, Lina.”

“You, Miss Lina…” Auggie looked away. He couldn’t think of a good way to hide his soaked jeans, much less the wet patch on the floor around him.

“What’s going on? You’re both blushing. Were you doing something naughty?”

Neither of them answered, and Lina stood up, hunching over under the low ceiling, and squatted very close to them.

“How come Auggie’s wet himself?”

“We were just playing,” said Auggie, looking down at the floor.

“Auggie, wetting yourself at your age is a big deal. Aren’t you meant to be 24 or something? I’m going to have to tell Polly.”

“You don’t have to tell her…I can just change in to some of Ollie’s pants and…”

“She’s still going to notice when she picks you up. And what’s going on down here?” She pointed to Auggie’s crotch. “It looks like you were getting pretty excited? Are you *sure* you weren’t playing naughty?”

Auggie still couldn’t take his eyes off the floor.

“You seem veryyyy reluctant to tell me. I think I know what that means.” She reached out and pinched Auggie’s ear, pulling him towards the trap door. “You’re coming down first. And then I’ll get my baby, too.”

Ollie watched as Lina made sure Auggie went down the ladder. Then she snapped her fingers at him and pointed at the trap door. He didn’t need to be told twice and hurried down, too.

Lina marched both of the to the bathroom and told them that if they were going to be naughty they needed to be somewhere appropriate. She left, telling them that she would be back soon.

“What’s she going to do?” asked Auggie. “I’ve never been bad at your house before.”

Ollie shrugged. “Usually she spanks me. Or makes me sit in my room. It probably won’t be so bad for me, though. I’m meant to go in my diapers, anyways. I think the rules are different for you.”

Auggie felt his face frown. This wasn’t fair at all. He couldn’t keep himself from shoving Ollie.

Ollie stumbled and righted himself against the counter. “No pushing! Do you want to get in worse trouble?”

Auggie didn’t really care anymore. He shoved Ollie against the counter and grabbed his wrists, squeezing them hard. He shoved his knee under Ollie’s crotch. And then, he didn’t really mean to do it, but as they struggled, his thigh started to rub against Ollie’s diaper.

Somehow they ended up on the tile, still fighting, but also humping against each other. Auggie started to feel that really warm, tingly feeling that made him want to go faster and faster. His hard-on was straining against his underwear and his fly and…

The door opened. “Boys!! Get up right now!”

They both scrambled to their feet.

“No fighting!” Lina grabbed both of them under their arms, hard. “You guys know that’s not okay!”

She pulled them into the bedroom.

“You know fighting is not okay,” she repeated. “Shame on both of you.” The boys hung their heads. “And I know what else you were doing.” Auggie felt his cheeks burning. He opened his mouth but Lina shushed him before he could say anything. “That is very naughty. You boys know you aren’t meant to do stuff like that if Polly and I aren’t around.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Lina…”

“I don’t want to hear it. You’re going to be sorry after I spank you both. But I’m not going to do anything just yet. I called Polly and she’ll be over here very soon. She told me not to do anything to you until she’s here to watch.” Lina crossed to the dresser and took out a folded plastic sheet. She spread it over the bed. “Both of you sit down right here and think about what you did. If you’re still right here in the same spot, and you’re good during the punishment, we might let you finish what you were doing. But only if we’re keeping an eye on you.”

Lina shut the door and waited for the latch to click. Then she walked back to the kitchen, smiling to herself. She and Polly were going to have a very entertaining afternoon.

Auggie and Ollie sat in silence. Ollie started to apologize but Auggie shot him a look and he shut up quick. A few more minutes passed with no noise spare the clock ticking in the dark room.

Then Auggie spoke. “Ollie…I kind of have to go again.”

“Okay. Just go in the sheet. I don’t think that’s going to make a different about how much trouble we’re in. Are you scared? Do you want me to hold your hand? I don’t think that’s naughty.”

Auggie set his hand down on the sheet between them and Ollie picked it up and squeezed it. It wasn’t long before Auggie felt his jeans getting warm again. He sighed in satisfaction.

“All done?” asked Ollie.

“Yeah. Ollie?”

“Uh-huh?”

“I think this is going to be okay in the end.”

[burpyurpybabes]

Thursday, 7:53am. The morning is starting slow. Your alarm has gone off four or five times, dreading you out of a bleary comfort your pillows and duvet have afforded you. You have to get up, you have to put your feet on the floor and stand. You have thirty minutes to get presentable and leave before you're late for work. You have the same routine every morning, yet somehow you forget to take your meds three times before you finally remember. The aching dread that comes at the end of the week has begun to settle over you; you're less focused, drawn to scrolling on your phone while you bluster through your morning routine hazardously. You stayed up too late last night, you're regretting your decision. You don't want to go to work today, but you can't call in. Typical Thursday.

8:37am You're running a little behind, but if you're lucky and don't hit too much traffic, you should be able to make it to work on time. You managed to make yourself a coffee and microwave breakfast burrito to eat on the way in. Your stomach growls and saliva pools under your tongue. You didn't eat quickly enough after taking your meds, the nausea starts to kick in. You cough a few times, swallow your spit down and pray. You force yourself to take a few large sips of your coffee, hoping that the calories from the creamer will be enough to settle your stomach. You start your car and take a bite of the burrito. It's the end bit, so it's mostly tortilla and a bit of egg. You try not to be disappointed as you back out of your parking spot and begin off to work.

8:58am You're just in time for work. You won't have time to make it to your computer before 9:00, but you're on company property so you can clock in on your phone. You let yourself sit for a second before going inside. You're feeling restless; it's just anxiety about being late, your boss has been in a bad mood lately and you don't want to upset him. Your music on the way in was too loud, but the silence was even worse. Your breakfast burrito didn't actually heat through all the way and turned you off from the idea of eating entirely. Your coffee is too sweet, you poured too much creamer into it this morning, but you'll survive. You feel off, but you convince yourself that's just because you're tired.

12:23pm You're exhausted, and you blame it on the stupid burrito. Your boring office job is exactly that, boring, but spending the day at a computer answering emails and redirecting phone calls was better than physical labor on days like today. Your stomach has been grumbling all day, but you're not really hungry, nothing sounds particularly good. You had a sleeve of graham crackers in your drawer at work, you've had a few this morning. They're good dipped in coffee, but both are rather dehydrating. Your favorite coworker came in with a big gulp full of nugget ice and gave you half. The cold water has been nice, but it's done little to solve how dry your mouth has been. You've made a cup of ramen for lunch, you're hoping that the warm and the salt will help you get through. Cup noodles aren't exactly your ideal lunch, but it's the least amount of effort and the least amount of chewing you can do, so you settle for it. You manage about half before your lunch break is over and you bin the remains.

2:00pm You hate this meeting. You hate this meeting so much. This is the most this could have been an email meeting you've ever attended in your entire life. It's virtual, which is good you suppose because that restlessness from this morning is back. You can look composed on camera, but your feet are tapping and you're not sure what exactly is wrong. You're thankful that you don't have to do much talking in this meeting, but the ramen did little to fix the dry mouth situation. If anything all the sodium bloated you. You've been to the bathroom three times trying to get rid of some of it, but all the liquid remains sloshing around in your stomach. You stifle a burp behind your fist and try to concentrate.

4:45pm Your boss left fifteen minutes ago, so you're going to leave fifteen minutes early. The sloshing in your stomach hasn't gone away, and you're too embarrassed to ask a coworker for antacid. You want to get out of here early, try to get home before the traffic gets too horrible. You just want to go lie down.

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5:20pm You toe your shoes off as you lean against your door because you know that if you bent over right now you might be sick. The last ten minutes of your drive have been stressful, your stomach hasn't been enjoying the stop and go of traffic. You've been trying to keep it settled with breathing and small sips of your cold water, but your burps have been getting wetter and wetter. The three flights of stairs up to your apartment have done little to settle your stomach, and you are so thankful that you've made it home before getting any worse. You make your way to your bedroom and get out of your uncomfortable work clothes in exchange for your largest and most comfortable pajamas. You feel another burp ripple up through your chest, but your hand springs to your mouth when your stomach heaves. The back of your throat is cold, water unsettled from the drive home. You know things aren't going to get better, you make your way to the bathroom.

You settle onto the bathroom floor, a shiver running up your spine as you lift the toilet seat lid up. You run your hand over your bloated stomach and the groan that leaves your mouth is involuntary. You burp once, twice, three times. They're wet, but have no power. Your stomach gurgles under your hand, that shiver returns. You burp again, deeper this time. You're nearly sick, but nothing more than some spit comes out. You wonder how long it will be before your stomach finally gives way. The restlessness has not left you all afternoon, you know you need to stay planted but you're itching to move. Your hands run along your stomach as you hover in front of the toilet bowl, trying your best to relieve your aching stomach of the gas that's been building. It hurts, you moan. You burp once more, wetter, and the liquid in your throat doesn't choke off or leave. You can't cough, so you heave, and a torrent of cold water splashes down into the toilet below you. You try to catch your breath, but a bubble of air has rolled from your belly button and up through your esophagus. You burp, and more liquid erupts and splashes below you as your stomach heaves twice.

You try to catch your breath, but the contents of your stomach have shifted. The pressure in your chest is trying to keep your throat closed. There is a pressure growing in your stomach, your hand along its side can feel the way the liquids don't seen to slosh anymore, but stand ready for expulsion. You gulp down a breath of air, you burp. There is silence where you're waiting for a breath, but the pressure in your stomach has grown and it has won. You heave once, then twice. There's noodles in this one.

You have a moment to catch your breath. You're able to fill your lungs for the price of a belch, but a harmless one. Dry, forceful, and short, you hope they help regain balance in your stomach, but after only two or three belches liquid found their way up. You burp up a mouthful, your tongue dangling with drool. You think you've cured your dry mouth from all this morning before your stomach retches and forces out more than you knew had been inside of it. You struggle to catch your breath and force up a few smaller waves as you try and clear your throat. Your stomach aches, and you try to settle. You haven't eaten much today, there is no way you can have any more in your stomach to vomit up. Still, you're not confident enough to leave your position in the bathroom yet.

You feel weak, hot and cold at the same time, and you know that even though it made no sense, more was to come. You burp, and your stomach retches some more liquid up. You wonder when this was from, how it got here. It's warm and a little bitter, but it doesn't hurt your throat in the way coffee or bile would. You breathe heavy and your stomach gurgles again. You put your hand on your stomach and feel how unsettled it is. You begin to burp, and you can not stop. One after the other, you're choking on them and then another torrent of vomit, followed by a second so powerful your face is halfway down the toilet bowl. You breathe, you heave, you spit into the bowl. You're a little bit dizzy, but as you breathe and steady yourself, you feel as though the worst of it might be over. You spend several more minutes on the floor of your bathroom making sure your stomach was truly finished, and you begin to feel much better. You wonder what had kept it so upset in the first place.

2:36am The ripple that tears its way through your gut is both an auditory warning of what's to come and a pain that sends you curled into yourself. Your body feels heavy, as does your stomach. You took it easy last night, you ate soft foods-mashed potatoes and some pasta. You drank water, you took it slow. You were feeling fine tonight. Throwing up earlier had really helped, but now you're not so certain that assessment was accurate. Your stomach feels hard, and it flinches when you run your fingers along it. Your feet spring to action, you know you don't have much time and you'd rather not get sick in your bed or on your floor. You feel your throat trying to open up, prepare itself for the sick that will be making its way up momentarily. You try not to think about it too much, you settle onto the bathroom floor again.

Things are quiet. For several seconds things are quiet as you hover in the darkness over the bowl of your toilet. Your stomach hangs heavy, though it continues to twitch, trying to heave itself higher. Your mouth hangs open and you let out a little whine. Your stomach contracts, and several waves of sick force themselves out of you. You settle, but only momentarily. Your stomach heaves again, and more sick spews out of you without you having much say in the matter. You hope it will be over soon, you hope it will make you feel better.

You heave two more times. Your stomach hurts. You throw up again, but it's forced, a mouthful of half digested mush forcing its way upwards. A deep burp forces its way up, and with it a thick stream of carb heavy sick. You burp again, you retch some more, you try and catch your breath. Your stomach heaves and forces more spit up. Your brow is sweaty, your legs are weak. You lie down on the floor, you appreciate how cold it is. You think perhaps spending the night here would be a good idea.

[burpyurpybabes]

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[sourtummy]

Part 1 ( had to trim the first recording I got into three parts because I was having a hard time posting it)

I didn't have much of an appetite all day, but I when I came home from work, I thought it would be a good idea to try to get some supper in me. I made a packet of ramen and felt so full after eating it... I knew I made the wrong choice. A little over an hour later it all came back up again. I was so sick, throwing up into a bread bag. And it just kept coming to! By the second and third part I kept trying to move to stop the recording but every little motion started me throwing up again. I think you can tell how exhausted my body was getting towards the end of it.

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[fairiesthesecond]

Fairies, I read this and immediately thought of you

Late Bloomer (7167 words) by iridule

hahah they were inspired by my post that’s awesome. Haven’t read it yet but I will

[fairiesthesecond]

I haven’t finished it yet but my mouth literally fell open like jaw on the floor. Is the author on my blog because bro….

[queasy-kitty]

older video from a couple weeks ago, morning sickness (no im not pregnant lol) anyways this was a super violent wave, I didn’t even notice at the time that it sprayed on my shower curtain but you can see it in the video lol anyways enjoy <3

results

[queasy-kitty]

two quarts of milk later… 🥛😵‍💫 this might be one of my fav videos ive made. ive never thrown up this much haha. i won’t lie, it was hard to get all the milk down, my stomach got really bloated and it hurt super bad. you can tell how sick and nauseous i feel in the video. luckily, once it started to come up, the relief was instant. i barely had to gag myself before it was coming up so so forcefully.

this was so much fun to do and i will for sure be doing it again, maybe seeing how far i can get on a full gallon and throwing up on myself in the shower…. we will see hehe. for now <3 enjoyyy

puke pic n the before haha

[fairiesthesecond]

“Noo…I’m sorry…” He’s wiping his eyes again.

“It’s okay. It was just a little accident. We’re just going to take your pull-up off and get you a new one, okay?”

I make him stand on the pad I’ve pulled out onto the floor while I undo his fly. He’s still trying desperately to wipe his eyes, but the tears are coming too fast now, dripping down his chin and leaving wet marks on the front of his shirt.

“Okay, step out. It’s okay to stop wiping your eyes. It’ll be easier if you put your hands on my shoulders, okay? It’s okay if you cry. We can wash your face later.”

He’s cooperative as I wipe him down and he helps me with his lotion. “I don’t know why I still need this stuff.”

“It’s okay. You’re just a little bit behind. We don’t need to worry about why. Maybe it’s just because you’re just a little bit on the soft and sensitive side.”

I meet his eyes. “That’s not a bad thing. It’s a good thing to be sensitive.”

He helps me with the new pull-up and we get his pants back on. “At least it didn’t leak,” he says quietly.

“That’s right; it was just a small accident. Just remember to try and make it to the bathroom next time, okay? You can tell me if you need help.”

“I don’t know why I can’t do it,” he says, and tears are starting to form in his eyes again.

“It’s okay! I didn’t mean to make it sound like you need to be able to get to the bathroom on time. It’s okay if you have another accident.”

Now we go in the bathroom and he sits on the counter while I wash his face. He squeezes his eyes shut and grimaces as I rub them with the washcloth.

“Let’s go out to the kitchen, okay? We can have a snack.”

He nods and grabs my hand as soon as he’s down from the counter.

We go into the kitchen and he sits down at the table, drawing his knees up to his chest. I open the cupboard and bring down a box of alphabet cookies and two sectioned plates. I get his sippy cup from the clean dish rack and open the fridge.

“Which juice do you want? Do you want the apple mango one? Or the cranberry one you got yesterday?”

“Cranberry,” he says quietly, and I take it out and set it next to the cookies and plates on the counter.

“I can pour it out myself,” he says quietly.

“No, not this time. You spilled yesterday, remember?”

He looks away, fidgeting with the tablecloth. I pour out cookies into both plates and also add some sugar snap peas from the fridge. I set his down in front of him, with his juice.

I sit down next to him and we start eating. He blushes every time I look at him while he’s drinking from his sippy cup.

“Does that feel good?”

“Does what feel good?” he asks, coughing a little at the end of the sentence.

“Drinking from your cup.”

“Uhhh…”

“Are you feeling better? Or do you need me to come over there and sit you on my lap?”

He raises a hand to his mouth, picking at his lip with his thumb.

“Okay.” I stand up and pull out his chair, helping him stand while I sit down. I pull him into my lap and wrap my arms around his waist.

We sit in silence for a few minutes while we both eat off his plate, until he suddenly squirms and tries to stand up, knocking his knee on the bottom of the table.

“Oww!”

“Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“I’m peeing!” he gasps, and I can feel it quickly soaking through his pull-up. Warm pee saturates his pants and quickly soaks through mine, too.

“Don’t try to stand up again,” I tell him, pulling him back down. “These chairs are easy to wipe down. I don’t want you to have to mop up a trail of pee from here to the bathroom today. Just keep going.”

I can’t see his face but I can tell he’s all red again. The hissing slows and stops.

“Are you done?” I feel another trickle immediately, soaking down to my skin again.

He shakes his head, squeezing his legs together as the last few spurts come out.

“Now are you all done?”

He nods and I scoot the chair back, pulling him up under his armpits.

“I’m sorry…” he says again.

“You’re all good. Do you just need your nighttime diaper now? We could try one more pull-up, but it seems like it’s kind of hard for you today. That was two accidents in just about an hour.”

He wipes his eyes again and I pull him closer to me and brush his tears away with my sleeve. “It’s okay. We can do a diaper and PJs. You should take a shower first, okay?” I pull away from him. “Do you need help in the shower? Okay. I thought so.”

He slips his hand into mine again and we find ourselves back in the bathroom. “Let’s get these sticky pants off. I’ll take mine off, too. Oh, you got a little on my shirt. We have some laundry to do.”

He places the wet clothes in a pile on the tile floor and stands on the bath mat, rubbing one foot over the other and looking shy.

“Can you turn the water on and warm it up?”

He nods and turns around, bending over a little while he fiddles with the shower knobs.

“Okay, let’s clean you up first.” I reach for his monkey bath mit.

Once we’re finishing with the shower, I take him to our room and help him lie down on his changing mat, but not before pulling a PJ shirt over his head. “Do you want to go on the tablet while I change you?”

He nods, and I get it down from the shelf, along with a pacifier for him. He doesn’t protest at all when I sneak it into his mouth. I unlock the tablet with the password (that he doesn’t get to know) and pass it to him. He swiped through the apps a couple of times before finding the puzzle game he likes.

He’s a lot calmer as I rub cream along the insides of his thighs and his bottom. I can hear the very faint music and sound effects of his game. The sucking sound he’s making on the pacifier is a little louder.

“There. All done. Let’s get PJ pants on.”

He hands the tablet back to me and I put it back in its place on the shelf.

He makes sure I’m giving him matching PJ pants. He got really upset once when I changed him into a mismatched set when he was half-asleep.

“Are these ones good?”

He nods and takes out his pacifier. “Yeah, these ones are good.”

“Soft, too, huh? Do they feel good on your diaper? Not too tight?”

He shakes his head, pacifier back in his mouth and one hand pressing the shield against his lips.

He takes my hand once again as we walk out to the living room.

“Okay, can you go pick out a book from the shelf?”

He kneels in front of his bookshelf and I sit down on the couch, looking through my phone for soft music to put on the speaker.

He comes back holding the big book about birds and reptiles that he loves. I put my arms around him as he gets situated on my lap and reach my arms under his to take the book from him.

“Can you see the pictures okay?”

He nods, leaning his head back against my shoulder so that I can start reading.

We finish the book as I ask him if he wants another. He nods, taking the book from me and trotting back over to the shelf. He comes back with a storybook and we get comfortable again.

We’re halfway through when he wiggles on my lap and takes his pacifier out.

“All good?”

“I peed.”

“That’s okay; that’s going to happen. Just let me know if you need to go #2, okay? I know it’s been a little bit, and we can change you into a new diaper.”

“Mommyyyy,” he complains.

“Okay, okay, I know it’s embarrassing to talk about that. Where was I? This page?” He points to the next sentence and I start reading again, but he’s still wiggly.

“Are you sure you don’t need to poop?”

He shakes his head.

“Not sure?”

“No, I’m pretty sure I do need to…”

“It’s a good thing you’ve got a diaper on. Do you need me to rub your stomach?”

He nods, pushing on his pacifier again. I set the book down on the couch next to us and gently slip my hand up his shirt. He shivers.

“Cold?”

I start to gently rub and push on his lower belly and he makes a little sound like clearing his throat.

“Don’t force it. It’s going to come out when it needs to.”

He pushes a little again and I can feel something starting to press against my thigh.

“There. Now you’re going.” He reaches one hand down his pajamas and starts rubbing the front of his diaper, like he usually does when he goes #2. At least, I think so. I’m not sure whether or not he masturbates when he goes in the toilet, but I really, really wouldn’t be surprised.

He’s still pushing. “It’s kind of hard,” he says, making that little throat noise again. He grabs my forearm with his other hand, pushing up.

“Almost done?”

He nods.

“Are you going to have another kind of accident in your diaper, too?”

“No!!”

“No? You’re rubbing on your diaper a lot. Do you want to use my thigh instead?”

He shakes his head vigorously.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of embarrassing when I…”

“What? When you hump me through your diaper? It’s fine, dude. You’re already pooping yourself. That’s not too embarrassing. Getting off isn’t embarrassing, either.” He sits up on his knees and turns around, straddling my thigh.

“No, let’s take your PJ pants off first. That’ll help. And you won’t rip the seam again.”

He helps me pull them down.

“You’re going to need to stand up to get them all the way off. I know you’re really eager, but we can’t do it unless you’re just wearing your diaper, okay?“

He stands up, legs trembling, and kicks his pants off. He’s still massaging the front of his diaper as he gets himself sitting over my leg again.

“There we go. It’s okay. The diaper is already dirty, anyway.”

He starts to pant, hands on my shoulders.

“You’ve got it. You’ve got it.”

“I’m going.”

“Good. Just keep grinding through it. It’ll feel good.”

“I-I’m—it’s a lot!”

“That’s okay. I’ve got you.”

He gasps and lets his head drop onto my shoulder.

“Okay, do we need to get you changed one last time before we turn in? We can finish the story in bed.” He slides off me and I stand up, picking up the storybook and his PJ pants up from the floor.

“You don’t need to be carried to the bedroom, do you?”

He shakes his head, finally standing up off the couch. He grabs my hand one last time as we walk back to the bedroom.

[tentativetitlee]

This is sort of a replacement to the bouncer. Tumblr seems to love my first story but I’m having difficulty figuring out where to take it, so no part 2 at least for the time being.

The First Step

Your eyes flutter open to a ceiling spotted with hanging fluorescent lights. As you stretch your extremities, you feel a soft, padded surface blanketing your every movement.

Turning your head to the side, you notice something peculiar. Surrounding you is what appears to be a baby’s playpen with mesh sidings and supports clad in a farmhouse-animal theme.

Underneath you is a toddler’s play-mat split into jigsaw pieces, each one with a letter of the alphabet and a matching animal. The mat isn’t made of the usual rugged foam, but of a fuzzy plush material you can’t help but run your fingers through.

To your left and right sides are a sippy cup filled with what you assume is water, and a small pink pacifier. Strangely, and almost instinctively, you plop the pacifier in between your lips.

You bring yourself to sit up with surprising effort, as if your joints had been frozen and thawed out again. Every movement is unusually labored, even the turning of your head as you get a glimpse at your further surroundings. You yawn deeply as you take everything in, your mind much foggier than you remember.

Your jaw goes a bit slack as you look up. The room is massive, with iron supports running throughout the imposingly high ceiling, kickballs wedged in between many. Looking further, you realize it’s exactly the same as an elementary school gym, only scaled up considerably.

The walls are made of painted white bricks, with hand-made decals of cartoon characters in sports-attire. On either side of the structure stands two basketball hoops at league-standard height. With a deep breath you take in a faint scent of baby powder and urine, typical of a nursery you assume is just down the hallway.

Despite the infantile theming, the whole facility seems hand tailored for someone an adult’s size, down to the size of your meshed-line confines and the court markings now covered almost entirely by hundreds of padded play-gyms the exact same as yours.

Someone sits up in the unit immediately to your right, her brow creased in confusion. From what you can see of her, she’s wearing childish pigtails and a plain pink blouse with ruffles on the shoulder, just barely disclosing a small band-aid also in pink.

Looking down at yourself, you can’t help but panic in confusion. You’re clad in similar attire, a t-shirt with a background of your favorite color, and Disney characters displayed in a repeating pattern all over. On your right arm is that same band-aid, in the same color as your shirt.

You aren’t wearing any bottoms whatsoever. In their stead is an impossibly thick plain, white diaper in smooth cloth-backing. Covering your hands and feet are mittens and booties almost the size of pillows, preventing any practical movement when coupled with the alarming reality that your mental capacities are becoming increasingly fogged over.

Your bandaged arm feels sore. You’ve been doped up with something, and it’s taking your wits with it. With what feels like your last bit of knowhow you take account of the others in the room now pulling themselves up, all clad in similar tops and with the exact same matching bandage.

With that, a wave of exhaustion overtakes your body, eroding your strength and leaving you prone on the floor in the same exact position you started in: writhing on a colorful play-mat like a toddler with no concept of the idea of mobility.

Your racing, panicking mind slows and slows, until forming even a simple sentence would be a grueling task. A spittle of drool forms at your chin as a gentle voice comes to life over loudspeakers lining the gym exterior.

“Hello sweethearts! Welcome to the Back-to-Basics Unlearning Program! By now you’ve noticed the effects of our patented regression formula, and are all cozy and snug for your first training video! Eyes up, little ones! Naptime comes later.”

A projection screen the size of the room itself is slowly unfurled by mechanical arms just underneath the iron supports, completely occupying your range of vision.

The lights around you dim, and a few quieted murmurs and moans can be heard from your new playmates, the only signs of protest to be managed through the effects of the regression serum. You nervously suckle on the pacifier as you stare into the space above.

The gigantic screen springs to life, depicting an elegantly dressed woman wearing a blue pantsuit emblazoned with an emblem on the right of her chest reading, “B2B” in gilded lettering. She’s positioned next to a chalkboard, its rough edges indicating a green screen.

“Hello again! Today marks your first day here at the academy! We don’t want to stress your little heads out too much this morning, but we do need to set some things straight in those mischievous little noggins!”

She pauses for a moment, adjusting her collar and producing a retractable pointer from her pocket. You squirm nervously, unable to conceptualize much but the soft padding around every part of you pillowing your each and every adjustment.

Around you, the groaning of discomfort from the others begins to increase in pace, as if something is further distressing them. You can hear some start to suckle gently on the items placed to their sides as you’d already done.

Bluntly and with enthusiasm, she begins again, “By now, you’ve probably all noticed you need to do something everybody does, go to the potty! Can you say potty?”

A few weary voices respond, their minds still clinging onto reality if only marginally. You realize through the haze that your former cognition is fading, without your full awareness, into a faint memory. It’s not until then do you even take account of an aching sensation deep within your body.

You don’t even really recognize this terrible pressure in your bowels and bladder as anything more than a need to be relieved in some way, in any way. You manage to cross your legs and focus, forgetting your discomfort for a moment as the instructor continues.

“Very good! Now, big kids get to go to the potty in something called the toilet. But look at all of you! You’re not big kids anymore.” Her grin widens as she kneels over with her hands on her knees, looking deep within the camera. “You’re babies now! Can you say baby?”

Less of the group responds this time, with only a few managing out a slight gurgling noise somewhat resembling the word baby. You’re too far gone to even notice the nursery rhymes beginning to blare through tiny speakers imbedded into the walls of your play-gym. There’s no way out now. Your every sense is occupied by something obnoxiously infantile.

The aching sensation grows as the kind lady continues, leaving you a squirming and wriggling mess, allocating every ounce of control left in your body to the simple task of not soiling yourself like an infant. You take a deep breath in for comfort but are only bombarded by the telltale sent of a well-used nursery.

“How adorable! Now, one of your more willing classmates will give a demonstration, and I want you all to try your best to follow!” The chalkboard surface to her right fades, leaving in its place a top-down view of a trainee in particular distress.

That trainee, to your dismay, is yourself. You watch your mirror image squirm as the woman continues, still desperate to relieve the sensation building in your lower regions, the discomfort of which is now on full view to an audience of your new peers.

“From now on, your potty is your pants!” She pauses, and her words are echoed loudly overtop of the nursery rhymes:

“Your potty is your pants! Your potty is your pants!”

She continues again, the camera zooming in closely on your padded private area. The frame of view splits in two, with one displaying your pristinely white Huggies and the other getting a close view of your facial expressions. She switches to a sterner tone of voice:

“Now, our little helper will demonstrate exactly what that means. Go on,” she says, staring deeply into the camera yet again, “it’s time to let go.” The screen begins to swirl into a spiral, pulsating rapidly with all the colors of the rainbow, her final words echoing through your speakers like the ones just before:

Let go! Let go! Let go! Let go!

It’s all too much for your overstimulated self, and try as you might you just can’t help it. Not just your bathroom urges, but your urge to give in. To fall to the serum’s spell, and the woman’s voice. To be a baby.

You don’t even really think about it. You furrow your brow a tiny bit, lift your knees a tad, and void control completely. The screen displays it all in glorious detail, the once-white diaper around your waist staining and swelling, and your soft little expressions of release and contentment to match. This is much to the amusement of the instructor, who applauds as if you’d just learned your first words.

Around you, other classmates follow suit. Audible in their soft moans of contentment and the quiet crinkling of diapers actively being soiled in an otherwise quiet room, they break in the same fashion as yourself.

“Very good! Doesn’t that feel soo much better?” Her voice goes stern again. “Now remember lovelies, you are a baby. Babies wear and use diapers, and only their diapers. You don’t need to know anything else.”

With that, the screen pulses in three white flashes, and your adult mind vanishes completely. You’re nothing but a blank slate now, a canvas for the academy to mold into a proper adult. You bring your legs close together, feeling your soiled diaper slide and squish in between, and giggle softly as the lights blare back to life.

[coolsexhaver]

[have2gopotty]

Hiiiiiiiii just wanted to let you know that I’m obsessed with your summer camp post and really wish there was more like it. Specifically started thinking about a shameless little that tries to piddle on the wooded trail but their pants keep getting pulled back up by a Cg/goody-two-shoes little that’s lingering close behind and it makes them super mad. They get even more mad when they finally wet themselves because they tried to go potty but nobody would let them since it wasn’t the right spot to do it

this is really good... and what if they were wearing a kiddy leash and a paci gag so they couldn't speak up and explain themself... decided to do a little more of a general camping vibe for this one than the summer camp i hope that's okay.

The little is sound asleep all the way from the campsite to the trail, Papa carrying them in the wagon. But once they're at the trail, it's rocky and jolty enough that they get woken up, and boy are they antsy. They pull at their paci a bit, then give up at it like they always do, making little whiny mumbly sounds. They have to go potty, really bad, and they can't tell Papa with the paci in because they're too little to use their words.

Papa takes them along the trail, and to their credit, they do look in awe at all the trees and bugs and wildlife, at least at first. It's really pretty. There's even a lizard on one of the trees! But their protesting bladder pulls them away from it again. They have to lean forward and squeeze to keep all their peepee in. Then, they tap Papa on the back of the leg. They need to get out of the wagon and go potty, now, now now now!

"Oh, goodness. You're fussy today, huh?" He says, leaning down to pinch their cheek. They whine and tug at his hand, then press their other hand between their legs, trying to communicate their point. They have to pee. Papa moves the hand away. "No, no, sweetheart, we don't touch there. That's not for babies."

They whine again and kick their legs, pulling at their seatbelt in the wagon. Papa isn't getting it, or he's being a meanie, and they have to go potty, and they don't want to do it in the wagon

"Oh, you want to get out and walk, too?" Papa asks. "We can do that, but you're wearing the leash."

They nod, enthusiastically. Just being able to shift position would be great right now, and they feel like they're going to burst with the seatbelt of the wagon pressing tightly against their bladder. When Papa unbuckles it, they jump out and go to run over to a bush and go potty, only to be halted by Papa catching their arm right as they were about to unzip so they could get everything out of the way and go.

"Hey, honey. You can't run off, that's why you need your leash. We can't have you getting lost out here."

They squirm and wiggle as he buckles the leash backpack on them. It has a cute tiger on it, with the leash part being the tiger's tail, and normally they like the cute tiger, but right now all positive thoughts are being crowded out by how bad all the piss inside of them wants to come out. They can feel it pressing, pressing, and they keep having to wiggle their hips and lean forward as they force their muscles to keep it in.

When the leash is firmly on, they rush over to the bush. They manage to start fiddling with the button on their pants this time before Papa tugs on the leash, pulling them back. Their bladder, expecting release, dribbles a few spurts of pee into their underwear before they can stop it. "Baby! Were you trying to go potty just then?" He asks, shocked. They nod their head shamefully. They know they're not supposed to go outside, but, they can't hold it, and they don't wanna have an accident.

"You know we make peepee in the potty." Papa reminds them. He doesn't understand, they have to go! But they trudge along by his side, trying to look at the pretty nature. It's just hard to appreciate the pretty nature when they keep having to stop so much peepee from coming out.

When Papa is pausing to look at a tree, they see the opportunity. They run off to the side and shove down their pants and shove down their underwear, and they're just about to get that sweet sweet relief when they feel their pants and underwear being pulled up all at once. They let out a whining sobby sound as they're forced to cut off the flow again, dribbling a little more into their undies. Papa sighs. "Baby. I know the woods are an exciting place. But if you need to potty, you need to do it on the potty. If you really need to go, you can ask Papa, and use your words, and we can find you a place to potty."

It's not fair!! They can't use their words because of the dumb paci! They whine, but continue to follow him along, unable to stop the little dribbles that just continue and continue to get less and less little, until they freeze. No, no, they can't hold it anymore but they haven't had an accident in two weeks and they're trying to make it a month so they can get the big prize on their potty chart!!

They make a last dash for a spot by some rocks, but of course Papa catches the leash before they can even make it over there this time. The shock of being stopped in their tracks by the leash does it, they fall to their knees as all their bladder begins to forcefully evacuate itself, the stream gushing out through the middle of their shorts and dribbling through the sides.

Tears are dripping down their face now, and Papa turns to see them making a big wet soggy puddle in the middle of the path. Some of the pee sinks into the dirt and makes a muddy spot under their shoes, and that's icky, but they can't stop going and they feel frozen to the spot.

"Oh, sweetheart. You must have been too little to tell me you had to go."

They nod tearfully, still going potty. It feels like they're going forever, and the relief is immense, but it's still so embarrassing... they peed their pants right in front of Papa.

"Maybe we need to get you a pullup, to help you make it in between potty trips while you're little like this. Does that make sense to you?"

They nod again, reluctantly this time, because if they had a pullup maybe they could have let enough out to make it back to the potty at camp.

"Now, how about you hop back in the wagon. Papa will take you back to camp and get you changed." He hugs them tight as he helps them back into the wagon, and begins the trek back to the campsite.

[talamabear]

This poor guy ate an undercooked burger and now he’s blowing serious chunks while his friend records him. And just when he thinks he’s done, he’s got juuuust a bit more to burp up. Edi: REUPLOADED

[playingsick]

Oh to rub a man’s back as they throw up like this

[pukelover1993]

The way his back arches up during each heave 😍

[pukelover1993]

[fairiesthesecond]

Ugh. Am I actually awake right now? I roll over to look at the clock. 2:31am. Damnit. Awake in the middle of the night again.

“Hey, did you go pee yet?” I murmur to my boyfriend, rolling back over and slipping my hand down the front of his pajama pants. He grumbles in his sleep. “Feels warm. Are you wet, baby?”

“Mmmph…I’m asleep…” he mumbles crossly.

“You’re wet, aren’t you?” I flip on the lamp on the desk. I can see him rubbing his eyes in the low, warm light. “We’re doing a change.”

“No…I want to go back to sleep. Ugh…”

“You need a new pull-up,” I tell him. “I felt you. You might not have noticed, but you’re soaked.”

“You’re meaaaan!”

I open the drawer under our bedside table and shuffle through it. “You need to stand up, honey.”

He slowly sits up and scoots to the edge of the bed, pushing himself to his feet.

“Oh.” I pull on the fabric of the seat of his PJs, looking at it in the light.

“What?”

“You’ve gotten a little wet spot over here. That’s all.”

He shuffles his feet in discomfort.

“That’s not a potty dance, is it? Do you need to make a bathroom run before we change?”

“No!”

“Okay.” I pull down his pants and he crosses his arms over his belly, hands holding his sides. I pull down his pull-up and he steps out. I throw the pull-up in the pail next to the bookshelf and it hits the bottom with a wet thud.

After a quick wipe we get a new pull-up on him and new pants. “Back to bed,” I say, rubbing his back.

“Finally…”

“That attitude is going to get you punished in the morning,” I tell him, climbing in next to him. “I’m too tired right now.”

“I wish you didn’t have insomnia. Then I could just keep sleeping warm and wet.”

“And the bed would get warm and wet, too, silly. If you really don’t want to be changed in the middle of the night, you’d agree that it’s time for diapers again.”

“Noo!!”

“Oh, come on. You need to be changed almost every night. If not in the morning. Remember when you were crying at five in the morning last weekend because you woke up wet and cold?”

“Almost crying,” he specifies unnecessarily.

“Oh, come on. Sorry, remember last weekend when you woke up almost crying because you were cold and wet?”

There’s nothing he can really say to that, so he just whines again.

“How about this? If you’re wet in the morning, it’s absolutely back to diapers at night. You can still have pull-ups or training pants during the day. If you’re dry, we can keep doing pull-ups, but you’re still getting a spanking for carrying on so much.”

“Okay,” he says quietly. “I can stay dry. No problem.”

“Uh-huh…whatever you say. I’m going to go take something to help me sleep.” I slip out of bed, and when I come back, he’s already out cold and snoring.

.

I wake up first, as usual. 6am. Birds are chirping outside. “Hey baby.” I roll over and admire his sleeping face on the pillow, lit by the sunlight streaming in through the window. He looks so perfect when he sleeps.

I gently pull back the blankets and he whines, hand squeezing the pillow. I roll him onto his back and he raises an arm, shielding the light from his eyes and whining.

I push his legs up and tug his pants over his bottom and up his thighs. I already kind of know just from the faint smell in the air. He’s very wet again. Luckily he hasn’t leaked. I let his legs drop and get up.

I come back a few minutes later with our coffee and set it down on the table.

“You have to get up, sleepy boy.”

No response. He’s lying on his back how I left him, pajama pants still pulled halfway down.

“You’re not going to be difficult this morning, too, are you?”

He slowly pushes himself to sitting and reaches for his coffee.

“Don’t spill, baby, it’s hot.”

I sit down on the chair by the table, lifting up my mug. The coffee is hot and bitter, but I like it that way.

“Did I add enough sugar for you?”

“Uh-huh.”

I kick him gently in the calf.

“Do you need to go again? I’m going to assume that you’ve noticed that you’re wet by now.”

He squirms, pouting at me. I know, I know. I’m soooo mean.

I set my mug back down and watch him. He takes a couple more sips and sets his mug down next to mine. He folds one leg up and sets his head on his knee. “I kinda have to go number two,” he murmurs. “And maybe pee too.”

“Okay. Do you want to just go in what you’re wearing?” I stand up. “Let’s go to the toilet and you can just sit down and go. Those are the pajamas you spilled on last week, they can probably handle it.”

I take his hand and lead him to the bathroom. “Oh, let’s lay out your clothes first.” I leave him in the bathroom and come back with multiple options for shirt, pants, socks, and cotton training pants. He doesn’t really have daytime accidents apart from a couple of “almost made it” leaks. Which is super cute.

When I come back he’s twisting and squirming on the spot.

“Okay, pink striped shirt or orange?”

“I need to go pee. I don’t care.”

“Come on, which one do you want more? You’re usually so picky.”

“Fine. Orange.”

“Pants?”

“Brown.”

“Undies?”

“Those aren’t undies…I’m going to go. Can I just sit down. Please?”

I hum, stacking the clothes on the counter. “Sure, just let me get this in order.”

He lifts the toilet lid and sits, pajama pants still all the way up. I turn around to watch. Pee is starting to soak through his pull-up, spreading across his lap and dripping into the toilet.

He scrunches his face a little bit and I hear him start to go the other way.

“Oh no…” He looks up at me, expression anxious. “It’s really loose.” He spreads his legs a little bit and peeks down. He’s really starting to sag, and brown stains are spreading inside his thighs. “It’s kind of a lot. Oh…oh…” He leans forward, pushing a little more.

“All finished?”

“Almost.” He grunts a little. Well, kind of grunt. It’s not like one of those deep, masculine grunts. It sounds almost like a little cough in the back of his throat.

“Finished now?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, let’s just get in the bathtub and get all of that off you. Then shower, then spanking, and then training panties. After that we can have go out to have special breakfast. Maybe pastries?”

“I wish you’d forgotten about the spanking.”

“Too bad for you, because I didn’t.” I pull him up off the toilet and tug him towards the shower.