The red and blue lights flashed in Cami’s rearview mirror, a jarring contrast to the late afternoon sun. She groaned, gripping the steering wheel tighter. Of all the damn days. She hadn’t done anything wrong, she never did, but that didn’t matter. Not anymore. Not since the world had decided that women like her, women who still tried to be adults, were the odd ones out.
She pulled over, the car rolling to a stop with a quiet hum. Before she could even reach for her license, the officer was already at her window, his silhouette looming in the glass. She rolled it down, forcing a polite smile.
“Afternoon, officer,” she said, voice steady despite the irritation bubbling beneath.
The officer didn’t return the smile. His eyes flicked over her, her white t-shirt, the way her legs were pressed against the leather seat, the faint outline of her pull-ups beneath her skirt. His expression shifted, just slightly, into something amused. Condescending.
“License and registration, miss,” he said, but his tone was already dripping with that infuriating, knowing edge.
Cami exhaled sharply through her nose. She reached for her glove compartment, but before she could open it, the officer’s hand shot out, stopping her. “Hold on there. Let’s make sure you’re properly taken care of first.”
Her stomach twisted. She hated this. Hated the way the world had turned, hated the way men like him looked at her now, like she was some kind of curiosity, a relic from a time that no longer existed. Most women her age had long since given up driving, given up thinking, content to let their daddies or the state handle everything for them. But not Cami. She still had her license. Still had her pride.
“Officer, I’m fine,” she snapped, but her voice wavered just a little. She could feel his gaze lingering on her legs, on the way her skirt rode up just enough to hint at the thick fabric beneath.
“Mmm. That’s not for you to decide, is it?” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into that mocking, daddy-like tone that made her skin crawl. “Lift your skirt. Let’s see for ourselves.”
Her face burned. She wanted to refuse, wanted to scream that this was ridiculous, that she was a grown woman, damn it. But the law was the law. And the law said that any woman could be inspected at any time, for her own safety, of course.
With a sharp, resentful motion, she hiked up her skirt, exposing the snug pull-ups hugging her hips. They were dry. Of course they were. She wasn’t some helpless little girl who couldn’t control her bladder.
The officer let out a low chuckle. “Well, well. Look at you. Still potty trained, huh?” His fingers twitched, and before she could protest, his hand was on her thigh, sliding upward. She stiffened, but his grip was firm, his touch deliberate as he pressed his palm against the front of her pull-ups, checking for wetness.
“Officer...!” she hissed, but he just smirked.
“Relax. Just doing my job.” His fingers curled slightly, the fabric crinkling under his grip. “Though I do wonder…” His voice was a purr now, the kind that made her stomach clench. “How long do you think you can keep this up? Driving around, pretending you’re still in charge?”
She swallowed hard, her pulse hammering in her throat. She wanted to slap his hand away, to tell him to go to hell. But the truth was, she was outnumbered. Outmatched. The world had moved on without her.
Then, without warning, he pulled something from his belt, a small, sleek canister. Before she could react, he held the nozzle towards her face and sprayed.
The fine mist hit Cami’s face like a cool, invisible hand. She blinked, her vision swimming for a moment as the scent, sweet, almost cloying, filled her nose. Her thoughts, sharp and defiant just seconds ago, began to blur at the edges, like a radio tuning out of a station. The officer’s voice, once grating, now sounded… nice. Warm.
“That’s a good girl,” he murmured, his tone shifting into something softer, more daddy-like. “Just let it work, sweetheart.”
Cami’s lips parted, but the words she wanted to say, the protests, the anger, wouldn’t come. Instead, a slow, heavy warmth spread through her, pooling low in her belly. She shifted in her seat, her thighs pressing together as a strange, tingling pressure built between her legs. She whimpered, her fingers twisting in the hem of her skirt.
The officer chuckled, watching her with amusement. “There we go. That’s my good little driver.”
And then, oh. A rush of warmth flooded her, sudden and undeniable. Her pull-ups darkened instantly, the fabric swelling against her as she wet herself without a single thought to stop it. The sensation was delicious, warm, comforting, like sinking into a bath. She let out a soft, embarrassed giggle, her face flushing as she realized what she’d done. But the shame was distant, muffled, like it belonged to someone else.
“Uh-oh,” the officer teased, his grin widening. “Looks like someone needed that change after all.” He reached for her seatbelt, clicking it open with a sharp snick. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”
Cami didn’t resist as he helped her out of the car. The world felt soft around the edges, her movements slow and unsteady. The officer, Daddy, a little voice in her head corrected, wrapped an arm around her waist, steadying her. She leaned into him, her giggles bubbling up as she took small, wobbly steps toward his patrol car.
“D-Daddy?” she slurred, the word tasting strange and right on her tongue.
“That’s me, baby girl,” he said, opening the back door. He guided her inside, then reached for the seatbelt, buckling her in with practiced ease. The leather seat was cool against her damp pull-ups, but she barely noticed. All she could focus on was the way Daddy was looking at her, like she was something precious. Something his.
“W-where we goin’?” she asked, her voice small and sing-song.
Daddy shut the door and leaned in through the open window, his voice gentle. “Home, sweetheart. To your new nursery. I’ve got a nice, thick diaper waiting for you there. And maybe a bottle, if you’re a good girl.”
Cami’s giggles filled the car, high and breathless. She kicked her feet, the wet crinkle of her pull-ups loud in the quiet. The old Cami, the one who’d been angry, defiant was gone. All that was left was this: a sweet little girl.
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I was curled up on the couch, legs tucked beneath me, lazily scrolling through my phone while cheerful songs drifted from the television in the background. The living room was bright with afternoon sunlight pouring through the big windows, warm and peaceful.
A faint rustling caught my ear. I glanced up at the trees outside, their leaves dancing gently in the breeze. Probably just the wind. I thought, and went back to scrolling through my phone.
Another rustle. A little closer this time.
I looked over at the corner where our golden retriever was curled up in his bed, snoring softly, one paw twitching in a dream. Not him.
The sound came again. Soft, rhythmic, unmistakable now that I was really listening. It was accompanied by the quiet crinkle of plastic. I finally lowered my phone and looked down at the floor.
There he was, my husband, lying on his tummy on the thick play mat, wearing nothing but his puffy diaper, and a cute little t-shirt too small to cover it. His pacifier bobbed between his lips as he...bobbed. Secret little wriggles, hips shifting in tiny, guilty movements he clearly hoped I wouldn’t notice.
“Honey?” I said softly.
He jumped a little, eyes wide, freezing like a deer in headlights, cheeks already flushing pink behind the shield have the pacifier. Then he quickly looked down at the mat like he could hide from me.
“You sure are doing a lot of wriggling over there, sweetheart...”
He didn’t say a word. Just suckled his paci, obviously scrambling for some excuse.
I leaned forward, tucking my hair behind my ears so I could see him better. “Are you… trying to make humpies?”
His blush deepened instantly, spreading all the way to his ears. He couldn’t meet my eyes. As if by avoiding my gaze he could make this whole situation go away.
“Awww! It’s okay, hunny!! No need to be embarwassed! You’re not in trouble!”
He peeked up at me then, eyes wide with surprise behind the pacifier still working anxiously in his mouth. His chin was already a little shiny with drool.
I smiled warmly. “It’s okay. Honest! You put up such a fuss about your diapers for so long! Mommy’s happy that you’re coming to accept them and… enjoy them.” I sat back on the couch once more. “So go on… have your fun!”
He hesitated, searching my face, clearly unsure if this was some kind of test. But after a long moment of nothing else being said, his hips began to move again. Slowly at first, testing the waters. Then gradually picking up pace with growing need.
I pretended to go back to my phone, thumb scrolling through videos I wasn’t really seeing, wanting to give him the illusion of a little privacy while he “did his business.” But my eyes kept drifting back to him. I couldn’t help it.
There he was: a grown man, my husband, someone who used to stand in boardrooms and run high-stakes projects, now reduced to this on our living room floor. Humping his own thick diaper like a desperate, clumsy little pup who couldn’t help himself. It was so ridiculous. So pitiful. And yet...it filled me with the deepest, warmest sense of satisfaction I’d ever felt in our marriage.
He used to fight this so hard when we first started the restructuring. When the diapers went from the occasional “punishment” to an everyday reality.
He would throw full tantrums. Tears, yelling, begging, swearing that he hated them. That he could never, ever enjoy them. He’d safeword out of scenes, withdraw for days, insist it was “too much,” “too humiliating,” “not who he was.” I had to be firm and consistent, even when it was difficult. It was a long, painful, arduous process.
And now look at him.
His hips ground into the floor in short, awkward little ruts at first, the thick padding between his legs forcing them apart and making every movement clumsy and limited. The diaper was already plump and swollen from his morning wetting, the front puffy and slightly yellowed, the tapes stretched tight around his waist. I could tell his poor little penis wasn’t angled quite right inside the pamper. He kept shifting, frustrated, his hands twitching as if fighting the urge to reach down and adjust himself. But he knew the rule: no touching. Ever.
The crinkling was loud and constant, almost comical, each thrust producing a wet-sounding crinkle beneath the cartoon’s distant singing.
Every now and then he’d turn his head just enough to glance back at me, checking if the coast was clear, like a naughty little tottler trying to sneak something forbidden. Each time he saw me “absorbed” in my phone, he’d look away again and resume those pitiful little movements. I could see the shame burning in his face: the way his ears stayed red, the way he kept his eyes fixed on the mat as if staring hard enough might make him invisible. And yet it wasn’t enough to stop him. That only made it sweeter.
Part of me wondered if I should have changed his diaper first. The padding was heavily yellowed and plump, making an almost fat lump flat on the floor, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. If anything, the extra warmth and squish seemed to excite him more. His movements grew bolder, hips pressing down harder against the mat, grinding the bulky, cushiony front against his sensitive parts. His whole body looked so helpless like this. Legs slightly kicked out, feet sliding on the mat, back arched just a little in that pathetic attempt to get more friction. A successful, intelligent man reduced to rutting against his own soaked diaper. The sight made my heart flutter with affection and something deeper, something possessive. This was the proof. All those months of pushing him, of holding the line when he cried and protested, had led to this exact moment. He wasn’t enduring the diapers anymore. He was using them. Willingly. Right in front of me.
He didn’t make eye contact with me. He didn’t look my way at all after those quick checks. As if staring off into the distance would make him look more non-chalant, despite him straining his little face. Faint, humiliated whimpers and grunts slipped out every few thrusts—soft, breathy sounds he probably thought were quiet. I wondered if he even knew how loud he was being, even while trying so hard to stay inconspicuous. Drool was dripping steadily now from the corner of his mouth onto the mat, forming a small shiny puddle beneath his chin. I made a quiet mental note to myself: we’d definitely need bibs or burp cloths during tummy time from now on if this was going to become a regular thing. The pacifier shield bobbed wildly as he sucked harder, trying to soothe himself while his body chased that building pleasure.
His movements grew a little more frantic, hips jerking in pitiful, uncoordinated bursts. The thick diaper squished audibly with every desperate hump, the swollen padding compressing and shifting between his spread thighs. His legs gave tiny, helpless kicks, toes curling inside his socks. He looked so ridiculous. So completely lost in the act that it made my chest tighten with love. This was what I had wanted all along. Not just control, but this deep, total acceptance. He had fought it with everything he had, and now here he was, grinding away like he couldn’t stop even if the world was watching.
His pace quickened. If he was trying to be quiet, he was failing miserably. His whole body began to tremble. His nose whistled with each quick breath. The grunts turned into longer, needier whimpers. Then, he tensed. Hard. Back arching, legs straightening, hands clutching at the edge of the blankie as he came in his diaper with a long, muffled whine around the pacifier. His hips gave a few final, twitching thrusts before he collapsed flat against the mat, breathing hard, clearly overwhelmed.
I let the moment stretch for several seconds, letting him have his little humpie high. Then I asked as sweet as possible, keeping my tone light and non-judgmental:
“All done?”
He gave the tiniest, most ashamed little nod, face still hidden. I could practically feel the post-nut clarity crashing over him. The sticky warmth spreading inside the already wet padding, the sudden wave of humiliation at what he’d just done while I sat there watching. I didn't say anything else. I didn't need to. He probably had enough internal dialogue going on already.
I thought again about changing his diaper. It was visibly swollen and discolored now, sagging heavily between his legs. But I pushed the thought aside. No. I wanted him to sit in that diaper. To really feel it. Every warm, sticky reminder of what he’d done in his pamper. So I simply went back to scrolling on my phone and let the quiet settle over the room. Giving him time. Letting it all soak in.
The cartoon kept singing cheerfully in the background, bright and innocent. A few peaceful minutes drifted by. The only sounds were the occasional soft, squishy crinkles as he shifted restlessly on the mat, the heavy, used diaper compressing and rustling beneath his weight. Then, quietly at first, I heard the rustling start again.
Wait... Again??
My thumb froze on the phone screen for a second as genuine surprise washed over me. Already? After barely a few minutes? After that intense first orgasm and all the shame that should have followed? I hadn’t expected this. Not this quickly. A warm rush of shock, delight, and deep satisfaction bloomed in my chest.
Look at him go!
My sweet, stubborn husband, the man who used to fight every single diaper with tears and tantrums, was already going back for sloppy seconds in his own messy, cum-soaked pamper like he couldn’t help himself.
I didn’t say a word. I didn’t want to embarrass him further. I mean, it was embarrassing: a grown man desperately humping his own wet, sticky diaper right there on the living room floor. But this… this was so good for him. Learning to enjoy what his body craved without fighting it anymore.
His hips were moving once more. Slower this time, almost exploratory, like he was savoring the slick, sticky mess he’d already made inside. The used diaper made everything sloppier, the crinkles wetter and more obscene. He ground down harder, rolling in deeper circles, clearly chasing that second release with renewed, almost frantic need. Those faint little grunts and whimpers returned, even softer this time, as if he were trying harder to stay quiet. Every so often he’d sneak another glance back at me, checking if I was still “not watching,” before turning away and resuming his pitiful humping. The shame was written all over him, but it clearly wasn’t enough to stop the desperate little ruts.
His movements grew more intense. Hips rolling in deeper circles, then quick little thrusts that made the heavy pamper squish between his legs. The front was visibly swollen, the padding compressed from his efforts. I wondered how it felt for him. That warm, cushiony embrace hugging his sensitive skin, the evidence of his first orgasm helping slick the way for his second.
I watched openly from the couch, warmth blooming low in my belly at the sight. There had been so many nights early on when I’d felt genuinely guilty enforcing this. The sound of his choked sobs while I spanked him over my knee, the way his voice would crack as he begged me not to make him use his diaper. There were evenings I’d had to turn the baby monitor off completely because I couldn’t bear to listen to him crying himself to sleep in the crib, tugging on his little restraints, trapped in a heavily soiled diaper with no way to escape the mess. I’d told myself it was necessary. That he needed to break. That the only way he’d ever truly accept this was if I held the line even when it hurt to do so.
And now here he was. All that resistance had melted into this eager, desperate acceptance. It was everything I’d worked for.
His second orgasm came even faster than the first. Usually the second was more stubborn. But apparently he was getting better at it. His breathing turned into quick pants. His body twitched harder. Then he tensed again, a long muffled whine escaping around the pacifier as he came in his already sticky diaper, hips jerking through the aftershocks before he went limp once more.
I waited until his breathing had mostly calmed, then spoke casually without looking up from my phone, voice still as sweet as could be. “Would you like a bottle, baby?” I asked, trying to sound breezy and aloof, "Perhaps you worked up a thirst?"
He shook his head quickly, flushing in embarrassment. Surely he didn't think he was being discreet?
I smiled softly to myself and let it go. I really did need to change him at this point. The front of his diaper was visibly damp and defiled now, sagging heavily between his legs from the two loads he’d pumped into it.
But then I glanced at the clock on the wall. 1:37. He usually had his afternoon poop right around 2:00. No sense in changing him just so he could dirty up a fresh one soon after. He could wait a little longer.
I stayed right where I was on the couch, scrolling.
Not long after, I heard his tell-tale grunts. Not the humpy kind of grunts. The other kind. When he was handling his...other type of business.
Unnh…unh…eh…unh…
Oh? I thought. He's a little early today...
I kept my eyes glued to my phone, pretending to be completely absorbed, watching everything from the corner of my vision so he could keep that tiny illusion of privacy and dignity. Even if it was only pretend.
Even on his tummy, I could see the subtle changes in his posture: the way his back tensed, his shoulders drew up slightly, the slow, concentrated push of his padded hips against the mat.
The back of his diaper began to crinkle and slowly balloon outward as he filled it. The seat expanded gradually, sagging heavily downward, the thick padding stretching and bulging under the weight. It was a thorough one. The warm, earthy smell drifted up toward the couch a few moments later, unmistakable and strong. I pretended not to notice, keeping my face perfectly neutral, thumb still scrolling at the same lazy pace.
He used to fight pooping his diapers with everything he had. Full-on meltdowns that could last an hour. Screaming, kicking, refusing, bargaining, tears streaming down his face. He could barely manage it even when I made him drop into a squat like a little tot, face bright red with humiliation and effort. So much time and energy spent resisting the most basic, babyish act. And now here he was, doing it face-down on his tummy on the play mat without a single word of protest, like it was the most natural thing in the world. The restructuring had worked so completely it almost took my breath away.
But oof… it was a stinky one. The smell was thick enough to make my nose wrinkle for a second before I schooled my expression again. Still, I didn’t comment. I didn’t even acknowledge it.
But oof… it was a stinky one. The smell was thick enough to make my nose wrinkle for a second before I schooled my expression again. Still, I didn’t comment. I didn’t even acknowledge it.
When he finally finished, he stayed very still for a long moment, clearly processing the heavy, warm mess now packed against him. Then he turned his head just enough to glance back at me, eyes wide and hopeful, clearly desperate and grossed out, silently begging for a change. The shame was written all over his flushed face—the way his pacifier worked anxiously between his lips, the way his hands clenched and unclenched against the mat. He looked so small. So pitiful. A grown man sitting in his own heavy, stinky diaper, hoping Mommy would take pity on him.
But I kept my eyes on my phone, calm and unbothered, as if nothing at all was happening. He knew better than to ask. He knew the rules by now.
Besides, I wanted to conduct a little experiment.
I wanted to see what would happen if I left him like this for a while, trapped in that heavy, warm, messy diaper on his tummy, no relief in sight, the evidence of everything he’d done today squishing and shifting with even the smallest movement. So I stayed quiet, scrolling, my heart beating a little faster with quiet anticipation and satisfaction. All those early struggles, all the guilt I’d sometimes felt enforcing his new reality… it had led to this. Total surrender.
Sure enough, after a few quiet minutes of nothing but the soft sounds of the cartoon and the occasional creak of the play mat, I heard the faint, rhythmic rustling start again…
awwww don't give me a grouchy face lil one, i just wanna record my babygirl's first messy pullup and therefore her first step towards diapers!
And put your pacifier in, mommy doesn't wanna hear you whining about the enema or the fisting she gave you. You're a lil 30 year old baby and you should be failing potty training without my help, but what are mommies for?
There we go~ big stinky for mommy! good baby girl!
There we go, pull-ups around your ankles and bottom on the seat! You look so grown-up! Now show Mommy what a big boy you are and go pee-pee on the potty. You wanted out of icky diapers, right? It’s tinkle-in-the-toilet-time for my great big toddler husband! You can do it, sweetie!
Awww, what’s the matter? Is this not what you had in mind when you begged for your potty privileges back? Too bad. You asked to be allowed to use the toilet again and I agreed. I never said you’d be using it like an adult. You’ll be getting close supervision and lots of cooing encouragement, just like any little boy. You’ve got this, honey! Go wee-wee! Mommy believes in you!
Still too shy, hmm? The grown-up toilet is pretty scary, I guess. Don’t worry, I’ve already ordered the cutest little plastic potty for you to use instead. We can put it in the living room and Mommy can invite some guests over! You always liked showing off in front of my girlfriends, didn't you? I bet you can’t wait to show them what a big-shot you are at potty training!
Thats it sweetie keep pushing get all of that icky mess out of your sissy tushy and into that diapy. Wow and just think you actually like this. You asked me to be your mommy and make sure your kept in chastity and diapers and plenty of pink. Jokes on you because I really enjoy this. I think im enjoying it more than you and guess what that means? Your fucked sissy girl. Mommy owns your ass. BBBBBBLLLLLLLRRRRRRRTT. Oh my what a big toot that was. Im sure your diapy is getting nice and full. Keep pushing get it all out sissy. Now if your a good girl and dont fuss for your baba and your nap maybe just maybe mommy will change your diaper before dinner. Don't forget sissy diaper changes are a privilege not a right. Mommy will let you rot in that filthy pamper. Now be a good girl for mommy and make a nice big pushy.
Alex shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat, the crinkle of his thick diaper barely masked by the radio playing softly. They'd just finished a long afternoon at Walmart—picking up groceries, a few new onesies "just in case," and way too many juice boxes that Mommy insisted were "essential baby supplies."
The drive home was only about twenty minutes, but twenty minutes felt like forever when your tummy was gurgling like an angry volcano.
Mommy glanced over with a knowing smile as she pulled into the far corner of the massive Walmart parking lot, away from most of the other cars. "You okay over there, sweetie? You've been squirming since we left the checkout."
Alex's face burned. He pressed his thighs together, trying to hold it. "I... I can make it home. Promise. Just... drive fast?"
Mommy parked, killed the engine, and turned to face him fully. "Baby, you're doing that little potty dance again. And I can smell it already. No way we're letting you sit in a messy diaper all the way home. Mommy's taking care of it right now."
Alex's eyes widened. "Here? In the parking lot? Mommy—people could see!"
Mommy chuckled, already unbuckling him. "That's why we're in the back, silly. Hatch open, tailgate down, and you'll be lying nice and flat in seconds. No one’s close enough to really notice... unless you make a big fuss."
Before he could protest more, Mommy hopped out, circled to the rear, and popped the trunk of their red SUV. The late afternoon sun spilled in, warm on his skin as she guided him to climb over the folded seats into the makeshift changing area she'd already prepared: a waterproof mat, wipes, powder, and a fresh, extra-thick diaper waiting.
Alex lay back, knees to his chest, socks still on, his pink polka-dot skirt hiked up. The open tailgate framed the parking lot behind Mommy —distant shoppers pushing carts, cars pulling in and out—but no one seemed to pay attention to the little scene unfolding.
Mommy tugged the tapes open with practiced ease. The used diaper sagged heavily; he'd clearly lost the battle somewhere between the toy aisle and the car. "Ohhh, big mess for such a big boy," she teased gently, wiping him clean with cool, soothing strokes. "Good thing Mommy packed extras."
"Please," Alex whimpered, voice small, glancing nervously toward the lot. "Can't we please wait until we get home? Someone's gonna walk by and—"
"Shhh." Mommy sprinkled powder, the sweet baby scent filling the trunk. "No one's looking, baby. And even if they did... they'd just see a Mommy taking good care of her little one. Nothing wrong with that."
She slid the fresh diaper under him—thick, crinkly, with cute cartoon animals printed across the front. She pulled it up snug, taped it securely, and patted the padded front. "There. All clean and safe again."
Alex's cheeks were scarlet, but the relief was immediate. No more desperate clenching. No more risk of leaks on the seats.
Mommy helped him sit up, fixed his skirt, and gave his padded bottom a playful swat. "Better?"
He nodded, still embarrassed but secretly... cozy. "Yeah. Thanks, Mommy."
She leaned in and kissed his forehead. "Anytime, sweetheart. Now let's get you buckled back in. You've earned a bottle and cuddles when we get home."
As she closed the tailgate and started the car again, Alex settled into his seat, the fresh diaper crinkling softly with every shift. He glanced at the Walmart sign fading in the rearview mirror and couldn't help but smile a tiny, sheepish smile.
Sometimes the wait wasn't worth it after all.
(End)
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This caption features the wonderful @babyeeveesstuff, who was kind enough to model for this caption! Oh, and it was also loosely inspired by @akinkycouple’s request for soft MDLB, because I realized I don’t have many soft MDLB captions!
Eevee barely stirred despite the hand prodding at his diaper. By now, waking up to diaper checks was so commonplace that they no longer startled him.
A smile curled behind his binky as he shifted on his back, kicking the rest of his blankets off and stretching his sleepy body.
His eyes remained closed, still groggy from his midday nap. As always when it came to naps, he was naked except for his diaper and socks.
Not that he cared. Mommy loved how adorable he was sleeping in nothing but a diaper. And that was all that mattered.
He giggled at the fingers tickling his tummy, his diaper crinkling merrily along as he kicked his legs.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was dimly aware of the cold, uncomfortable mess in the back of his diaper—though it was of little consequence.
The state of his diaper was not his concern. All he cared about was getting more attention from Mommy.
“Such a happy baby boy you are! Did you have a nice nappypoo?”
Eevee froze in terror. That was not Mommy’s voice.
He opened his eyes to find his Mommy’s best friend, Amy, smiling down at him. Sensing his unease, Amy runs her fingers through his hair.
“Shhh shh shhh…you’re okay, little one. No need to be upset! It’s just a poopy diapie, nothing Auntie Amy can’t handle.”
His pacifier bobbed erratically, reflecting his anxiety as he tried to decide what to say. Or what to do. He instinctively reaches for the blanket to cover his diaper.
“No need to be shy, hun,” Amy cooed, patting his diaper. “Auntie Amy knows all about your diapies, binkies, and nappyppos. Now, how about we get you out of that icky diapie, hmmm?”
Eevee could barely process what was happening. Sure, he was used to being Mommy’s little baby, but he always assumed his newfound status as her little was private.
Especially because Mommy made sure nobody would notice the diapers under his clothes when they went out in public. And always handled public diaper checks and changes as discreetly as possible.
Plus there was something about the way Amy was speaking to him—like it was perfectly normal and routine to find him in a poopy diaper—that only added to his confusion.
Amy lowered the bars of his crib and held out a hand for him to grab, still smiling that same sweet smile. She squealed in utter delight when he stood up and his overworked diaper drooped ominously between his legs.
“Ahhh! You’re so stinking cute, mister! I can’t believe your Mommy made us wait so long to see you!”
All Eevee could do is stand there in a comically sagging diaper, blushing furiously.
“Not that I blame her! I’d keep something this adorable all to myself too!”
It was one thing to be treated so casually little by Mommy. But having Amy treat him so authentically infantile was far more overwhelming.
Eevee never felt more little in the six months since his wife became Mommy. Not because Mommy never succeeded in making him feel itty bitty, of course.
No, Mommy was a master at making him feel like the little he always wanted to be.
But this was different. Amy was a friend. Someone who was supposed to see him as an adult.
Yet here she was, acting like he was just some silly baby in need of a diaper change. Without even a hint of derision or mockery in her voice or smile.
Amy playfully spanked his diaper. “C’mon, stinker. You know the drill. Waddle that tushie on over to the changing table.”
Still too embarrassed to talk, Eevee soothed himself with his binky as he marched to his changing table.
He noticed Amy admiring the stacks of diapers and changing supplies so brazenly out in the open. His diapers, diaper pail, and crib leaving no doubt of his status as a permanent pamper packer.
There was no pretending an adult lived in this room.
“Up,” Amy says, patting the changing table.
Eevee crawled on the table, careful not to smush his mess any more than necessary.
“Good boy!” Amy coos, pinching his cheek, “Time to clean the poopy baby!”
Eevee could hardly fathom how confident and naturally Amy handled the situation. She moved like there was absolutely nothing unusual about changing her best friend’s husband’s poopy diaper.
Like Eevee was an actual baby.
She walked to his feet, tickling them for a split second before reaching for diaper and grabbing a tab.
Rip.
Rip.
Rip.
Rip.
Without hesitation, she pulled open his diaper to reveal the full extent of his mess.
“My, someone had an awfully busy nap filling his diapie with poopoo, didn’t hims?!”
As before, there was no trace of malice in her voice. Not even the slightest hint of mockery.
She grabbed a handful of wipes and got to work wiping him clean.
“Your Mommy warned me about your habit of destroying your diapies during your naps. As if that would stop me from finally getting to meet the real Eevee.”
Amy laughed, as if not meeting baby Eevee was an utterly ridiculous notion.
“We’ve been hearing all about your transition to babyhood, eagerly awaiting the moment your Mommy finally let us meet you. Up!”
Eevee lifted his legs while Amy used the front of the old diaper to scoop the bulk of the mess from his bum.
“She wanted to make sure you were ready, of course. And I’d never rush a Mommy—she knows her baby best. But it was so hard pretending not to notice the obvious diaper bulges and acting like your sudden ‘disappearances’ with her weren’t so she could change your diaper.”
Amy balled the old diaper and tossed it into the diaper pail.
“The hardest part, though, was pretending you were still a big boy, when I knew you were actually just an itty bitty baby.”
Amy wiped Eevee’s special parts without even the slightest acknowledgment of its adult purpose—as if his private parts were no different from his tummy or shoulders.
As if he were a baby.
Eevee whimpered, realizing he truly got everything he wanted. To his Mommy—and now Amy—he was unmistakably a little. He was no longer an adult whose private parts commanded dignity and privacy. No, they were simply something to be cleaned during changes, nothing more.
This was his new life—there was no going back.
“Uh oh! I’m sorry, honey!” Amy apologized, mistaking the cause of Eevee’s whimpering, “How could I forget to warm up the wipes?”
Determined to make the baby more comfortable, Amy diligently warmed the last few wipes needed to clean him.
“There, no more stinkies!”
She glanced down under the changing table at the seemingly unlimited selections of diapers. Each more adorable than the last.
“Hmm, so many choices, kiddo! You’re spoiled, you know that? Oh! This one is perfect! It looks just like real Pampers!”
Eevee watched as she methodically folded and fluffed the diaper, still completely naked.
“Lift that tushie, sweetie,” Amy cooed, sliding the diaper under him.
The moment Amy grabbed the baby oil, Eevee blushed more than ever before, knowing what was about to happen. Amy just smiled and tickled his tummy.
In any other context, having a woman rub his privates so thoroughly would be unmistakably sexual.
There was nothing sexual about this.
It was simply part of the diaper change. Eevee needed baby oil to prevent diaper rash, and Amy was changing his diaper. Why would Amy treat it as anything different?
Eevee was a baby—not an adult. This was perfectly natural.
“All done!” Amy announced, wiping the oil from her hand with a wipe. “Thank you for being a patient little cutie all change! Once I get you powdered you can go see Mommy!”
As Amy grabbed the baby powder, Eevee felt an all-too-familiar shudder in his bladder. He tried to hold it, but he had been in diapers too long. There was nothing he could do.
“Ut oh! Tinkle explosion!” Amy giggled, quickly pulling up his diaper to contain his pee, “Disaster avoided.”
Amy wiped a few droplets of tinkle from his belly.
“Well, mostly. Awww, don’t be embarrassed, little one! Babies can’t help it! Why do you think I’m putting you in this diaper, hmm?”
Without waiting for a response, Amy opened up the now-damp diaper and sprinkled baby powder over his privates. When she was satisfied, she lifted his legs to powder his bum.
Finally, she lowered Eevee back down and expertly taped his diaper into place.
“Woah, hold your horses, mister!” Amy scolded Eevee as he tried to slide off the changing table, “I gotta make sure those leak guards aren’t bent or your Mommy will think I can’t handle diaper changes!”
For some reason, Eevee blushed even more when Amy’s finger slid up and down the inside of his diaper to adjust the leak guards. There was something overly infantile about it.
“There, all clean and ready to go!” Amy announced proudly.
A cloud of powder poofed from Eevee’s diaper when she patted it.
“F-fank ‘ou, A-auntie Amy,” Eevee lisped through his paci, finally finding his voice.
Amy immediately pulled him into a hug. “Awww, you’re welcome, cutie pie! Thank you for using your manners, too!”
“M..mhm!” Eevee responded.
“Oh, silly Auntie! You can’t go out in just a diapie, can you? Your Mommy left out this shirt for you. Lift up your hands!”
Amy slid the light-blue diaper shirt over each arm and lowered it.
“Oh my gosh, you look just like Tommy Pickles! Ahh, are little Rugrat!”
Eevee wasn’t sure if he was proud or wildly embarrassed.
“C’mon, mister, lets go show Mommy and Auntie Lily and Uncle Phil how adorable you are.”
Eevee stopped short at hearing who was at the house—especially knowing Phil was there.
“Don’t worry, buddy! Everyone already knows! You have nothing to be ashamed of, got it? We’re all so excited to meet the real you! Now, can you be a brave boy and take my hand so we can show everyone how adorable you are?”
As much as Eevee wanted to run and hide because apparently everyone knows he’s just a little, Auntie Amy’s smile buoyed his confidence.
Besides, why should he be ashamed?
This is who he is. This is where he belongs. This is what he’s always wanted.
Eevee takes a deep breath, grabs Amy’s hand, and follows her out the door.
The cute little diaper boy in the picture is the always adorable, perpetually pampered @crinklyalex!
Timmy was smack dab in the middle of a no-good, dirty, rotten day.
Intense, sterile incandescent light flooded the waiting room, highlighting his puffy eyes and flushed cheeks—remnants of his tantrum on the way here.
The receptionist’s smile was warm and welcoming, though Timmy couldn’t bear to meet her friendly gaze.
Not when his diaper crinkled merrily with every step, unmistakable against the silence of the room.
Not when Mommy held his hand, practically dragging him forward to the receptionist’s desk.
But what really bothered Timmy wasn’t even that the pediatrician’s waiting room was an abomination of pastel paint, filled with infantile toys and magazines, and the lingering smell of used diapers.
No, what flustered Timmy the most was how much it looked like he belonged there.
So much so that the receptionist did not even bother to address him—ostensibly an adult—when they got to the desk. As if he were just another baby who needed an actual adult to speak for him.
“Why don’t you go play with some of the toys, honey?” Mommy said absentmindedly as she filled out a form.
Timmy didn’t think highly of Mommy’s suggestion but decided to keep his disagreement to himself—his bum still burned ever so slightly from the spankings he received in the parking lot.
The only saving grace for Timmy was that they were the only ones in the waiting room.
“Do you like to color?” the receptionist asked Timmy, “We have crayons and coloring books on that table there.”
“T-thank you,” Timmy muttered, knowing Mommy expected him to use his best manners.
Timmy glanced around the room, looking for something—anything—that would be appropriate for a 24-year-old. There was little hope of succeeding.
His options were bad and worse. He certainly wasn’t going to sit on the carpet in the middle of the room to play with the oversized building blocks. Nor did he fancy playing with the dollhouse.
“And how can we help little Tim here?” the receptionist asked Mommy.
“I’m worried about his tummy. He’s been having runny messes for about two weeks. He used to be so regular, but now I’m changing dirty diapers two or three times a day.”
After seeing the receptionist’s sympathetic nod, Timmy took it as his cue to find something to entertain himself. Even playing with toys would be less humiliating than having Mommy talk about him like he was an actual baby.
His diaper was soggier than he remembered, forcing him to waddle slightly on the way to the toddler-sized table. The only thing worse than sitting at the child-sized table was the sickening squelch his diaper made as he sat on the tiny chair.
As demeaning as it was, at least the table offered some privacy, tucked away in a corner. Plus, he knew choosing any of the adult chairs would only draw Mommy’s ire.
Once she finished checking Timmy in, Mommy found an adult chair and pulled out her phone.
Timmy watched jealously, wishing he could sit in a regular chair. Wishing he still had a phone.
Wishing he still had any of the adult privileges he lost.
Sighing, he opened a Lion King coloring book. The first ten pages were an explosion of color crayon in a way only a bored child could create. Though he grinned when he found a picture of Timon and Pumba that had been spared by the onslaught.
Despite his prior embarrassment—and the pitiful selection of colors—Timmy was beginning to enjoy himself. Pumba looked almost perfect, though he would have to be creative with Timon without any light brown crayons.
As he was formulating his plan, he felt a finger reach into his diaper and tug at his diaper.
“Any uh ohs, sweetie? You were making some faces,” Mommy asked entirely too loud.
Timmy meekly shook his head.
“That’s a relief. I really didn’t want to change a messy diaper here. Stand up so I can see how soggy you are, baby.”
He huffed, feeling the receptionist’s gaze, but obeyed. He stared at the ground as Mommy squeezed and prodded at his diaper in the middle of the waiting room.
“Hmm, a bit soggier than I hoped. I’ll check you again soon. Oh! Look at Pumba, did you color that yourself? My what a special little pampered Picasso you are!”
Timmy beamed with pride at the compliment. No matter how mortifying it was having lost his adulthood and dignity, he always loved when Mommy praised him.
Once Mommy sat back down, Timmy got back to work, more determined forever to color a masterpiece for Mommy.
Had he not been so focused on staying in the lines, he might have noticed the gurgling in his tummy.
But he didn’t.
A door swung open. A pretty nurse his age walked out with a clipboard. “Timmy?”
“He’s right over there,” Mommy answered, “C’mon Timmy, you can finish your picture after the doctor checks your tummy, okay?”
“The receptionist ”I’ll make sure nobody touches your drawing, kiddo,” the receptionist added.
The nurse smiled sweetly at Timmy as he crinkled over to her, his face rapidly flushing with embarrassment.
“Right in here, honey.” The nurse guided Timmy inside, her hand on his shoulder. “I hear you have an icky tummy. Don’t worry, we’re gonna it make it all better!”
“Oh my gosh, these rooms so cute!” Mommy squealed as she saw the exam room.
Cute is hardly the word Timmy would have chosen.
They were immediately greeted Elmo’s face painted on the wall surrounded by clouds. The exam bed was not only covered in plastic to prevent leaks, but also the regular paper film. But that wasn’t the worst part.
The bed itself had a colorful cartoon car frame with cutouts holding baby powder, wipes, and disposal bags.
“Okay, cutie,” the nurse said with a knowing grin that made Timmy flustered, “Can you come sit right here?”
Mommy followed Timmy over, but only Timmy sat on the bed, creating an explosion of crinkling.
“Can you take this medicine like a big boy?” the nurse asked, handing him a pill and a small glass of water.
Timmy swallowed the pill. The nurse shot Mommy a quick smile.
“I’m gonna check a few things real quick before Dr. Susan comes in okay?” Her hand gently pushes Timmy’s chest until he’s lying down flat.
Timmy closed his eyes when she pulls up his shirt to expose his belly, knowing she can see at least a few inches of his diaper.
“Take a deep breath for me, kiddo,” she cooed, placing a stethoscope against his chest. “Good job!”
After a few more breaths and different placements, the nurse seemed satisfied.
“Everything sounds normal! Now, can you tell me his symptoms?” the nurse asked Mommy.
“He’s had runny messes for the last two weeks, nothing I try seems to help.”
“Poor thing.” The nurse’s gloved hand probed Timmy’s tummy, “Any changes in diet or activity levels?”
Timmy whimpered when his tummy cramped.
“No, he’s been feeding normally, in the morning, after his nap, and before bed. Along with mushed solids in between.”
Not even a grumbly, ominous toot distracted the nurse. “No fevers or any flu symptoms?”
“None,” Mommy said.
“Hmm.” The nurse grabbed a thermometer and slides it in Timmy’s mouth. “Shhh, it’s okay little one, if you have an accident, you have an accident. It’s perfectly normal.”
Timmy knew the nurse wasn’t being condescending—which only made it worse. She acted as if there was nothing strange or unnatural about Timmy’s whimpering and fussing.
“You’re right, no fever,” the nurse said over a grunt. “There you go, good boy. Let it all out into your diaper.”
“I’ll change him when he’s done,” Mommy offered.
“Oh, no. Changing diapers comes with the territory when you work with little ones, even when they’re bigger.”
“Mghhfg,” Timmy grunted again, wishing he was anywhere but here. The nurse’s sympathetic smile as she watched him fill his diaper felt like the final nail in his lost adulthood.
Timmy felt the nurse unbuckling his shorts, carefully sliding them past his still-expanding diaper.
“These are so cute!”
“Right? I decided if I’m going to be changing his diapers, they should be something cute and enjoyable for me!”
Completely unbothered by the smell and continued grunting, the nurse checks to make sure Timmy’s diaper isn’t leaking.
“All done?”
“Mghff.”
“Oop, well, I’ll let you finish. Have you given any supplements or medications?”
“Only some pesto bismol, but it didn’t help at all.”
“I see.”
After what seemed like an eternity for Timmy, the nurse was satisfied he was finished. “Do you mind giving me a new diaper? I don’t think these will fit him.”
Mommy laughs at the stack of Pampers she pointed to. “Here you go.”
“Alright, little guy, let’s get you out of that icky diapie, hmm?”
Timmy didn’t have time to be embarrassed before the nurse was ripping at his tabs. “He’s 24, right?”
“Yeah, he turns 25 in July.”
“Ahhh, you’re three years older than me!” she cooed, pulling back the front of his diaper. “It’s definitely loose stool, but the color isn’t concerning.”
The door suddenly opens.
“Oh, didn’t mean to interrupt!” Dr. Susan said.
Timmy immediately recognized the doctor, all the blood draining from his face.
“Suze!” Mommy greeted the doctor, grinning ear to ear, “Or should I say Dr. Lambert!”
“Stop squirming, mister!” the nurse commanded as Timmy tried to disappear.
All eyes turned to Timmy.
“Well, hello, Timmy. Imagine my surprise when your Mommy called me up asking about her sick ‘little one’ and needed to see a doctor. Of course I offered to help when I heard it was you!”
Words utterly failed Timmy—though he knew there were none that could help. Not when he’s lying on a cartoon car getting his poopy diaper changed.
“It’s not every day an ex waddles through my door! But we can catch up later, I promise. Duty calls. I hear someone has an icky tummy.”
Susan towered over Timmy as the nurse balled his old diaper and slid the new one under him.
“You said it’s been about two weeks?” Susan asked Mommy.
“That’s right,” Mommy answered, the trace of a smile on her face.
“Good, that means it’s working as intended. And you mentioned he’s been dribbling pee when you change him? That’s great. And his erections?”
The nurse expertly rubs in barrier cream and sprinkles baby powder on Timmy.
“None in the last two weeks.”
“Great, that’s great. Let’s schedule a follow up for him in another two weeks. By then we should know if the treatment was successful.”
Timmy stared at Susan in utter confusion. Susan met his look with a satisfied grin.
“Don’t you worry, little one! Nurse Joy is almost done with your diapie, and then you can have a lolly!”
Nurse Joy slid up Timmy’s pants and buttoned him up. “All clean.”
Nobody seemed interested in explaining what they meant by “successful treatment” to Timmy.
“Still on for this weekend?” Mommy winked at Suze.
“Wouldn’t miss it! Let me know if the babysitter falls through, I’m sure I can find a replacement.”
“I’d be happy to babysit whenever,” Nurse Joy added, “I could use the extra money for Spring Break, Cabo isn’t cheap.”
Mommy laughed. “Aww, the good old days! I’ll get your number from Suze!”
Timmy found himself leaving the office more confused than ever before.
Before he could ask any questions, Mommy strapped him into his seat. “I’m proud of you, baby! You’re doing such a good job! Why don’t we celebrate with some pizza and a movie after your nap, hmm?”
“Oh, stop pouting, baby. Mommy thinks you look adorable!”
You could not disagree more.
Your light blue binky bobs in nervous anticipation, your arms crossed dramatically over your dinosaur-clad play shirt that makes no effort whatsoever to cover your half-filled Lil’ Comforts Teddy Bums diaper.
“Buh he gon’ fink ‘ma baby!”
Mommy just smiles. “You are a baby, dear.”
Your cheeks flush. Normally, you wouldn’t think twice about this outfit.
But today is not a normal day.
Mommy’s new boyfriend, Derek, is coming over to meet you for the very first time—and this is how Mommy dressed you? Of course you’re going to pout!
It was already a hard enough pill to swallow the day Mommy told you she no longer saw you as a man capable of having sex after being her baby for so long.
Especially when she started dating again, leaving you alone with her friends to babysit you.
As humiliating as it was to be babysat by women who used to respect you while your wife was out fucking some random guy, at least it happened away from you. Made it easier to pretend you weren’t some silly baby who lost any hope of sex.
Not anymore.
Tinkle spurts into your diaper when the doorbell rings. Your tummy feels like there’s a swarm of angry bees desperately trying to escape.
Until today, only women have seen you as the baby you are. You shudder at the idea of a man seeing you sitting on a play mat, with a bulging diaper and pacifier.
Knowing full well he’s there to fuck your wife.
You cringe at the casual, intimate way Mommy greets Derek. The same way she used to greet you a lifetime ago.
Just as your nerves seemed poised to overwhelm you, a beautiful woman timidly appears behind Derek.
To your surprise, Mommy greets her nearly the same as she greeted Derek. But why didn’t Mommy mention her?
You didn’t have time to dwell. “So this is the cutie I’ve heard so much about!”
Derek confidently walks straight to you, smiling warmly. The woman trails behind him, her hand in his.
“Hey, little guy! You’re even more adorable in person—and the pictures your Mommy showed me were just so stinking cute! I’m Derek and this adorable lady is Megan.”
As Megan smiles at you, you’re positive you see the faintest trace of a diaper under her pink floral dress.
“Benny,” Mommy scolds you for your silence, “That is no way to greet our guests. Be a good boy and use your manners.”
By now, your cheeks are a shade of red so deep only an artist would know the name. “H-hi Mithter Dawek an Megan.”
Derek kneels and boops your nose. “What a sweet little boy you are! My Megan wears those same diapies!”
“Daddyyy! Only at night!” Megan shouts proudly.
“That’s right, kiddo! How can I forget how far my princess has come with her potty training?”
“Mhm! Only pullies now, Daddy!” Megan says, turning to you, “I’m not a baby in diapers!”
“Be nice, sweetie. He’s a long way off from potty training. Some babies need diapers longer than others.”
Mommy grabs Derek from behind and kisses his neck. “His diaper isn’t the only thing that’s wet, babe. I’ll be waiting upstairs.”
Derek flashes a devious grin and playfully spanks Mommy as she walks away. “I’ll be right up, babe.”
You wince every time they call each other babe.
“I get to babysit the baby like you said, right, Daddy?”
“Yes, sweetie. Show Daddy you can be a responsible big girl. Do you remember what we agreed on?”
“Mhm! If my pully is dry and the baby is okay when you come back, I get to come play upstairs with Daddy and Ms. Emma!”
Derek winks at Megan. “Good girl! And remember, only come upstairs if there is an emergency. Poopy diapers are not an emergency.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
Derek kissed Megan on the forehead before he ran upstairs, leaving you alone with Megan.
All the excitement you had about Megan faded away as she closed in on you, grinning with her newfound authority.
“Hello, little baby,” Megan snorted, “You have to listen to whatever I say, got it?”
You spit your paci out. “Says who?”
“Says Daddy. And binky stays in, baby,” Megan commands, sliding the pacifier back into your mouth.
“Stop calling me baby! You’re in diapers, too!”
Megan rolls her eyes. “Pull-ups aren’t diapers. And besides,” Megan gloats, prodding at your wet diaper, “I’m dry, soggypants.”
“Whatever.”
“Your Mommy says you still make poopoos in your diapers. Only babies poop their diapers.”
“Shut up!”
“And that you only get cummies when you make silly baby humpies in poopy diapies! Daddy lets me play with him now that I’m out of diapers!”
Her words send shivers down your spine. “N-not true!” you lie.
“Hehehe, oh yeah? Well, your Mommy showed me a video of you humping your teddy bear! That one right there!”
A stream of pee floods your diaper.
“Awww, did the baby just piddle hims diapie?” She giggles uncontrollably at the wet squelching as she slaps your diaper.
“S-stop!” you whine feebly, hating the stupid pats yet wanting—needing—her to keep playing with your diaper.
It’s been so long since Mommy rubbed your diaper.
So very long.
Suddenly, your hips thrust forward into her palm. The movement is so pathetic, so desperate, there is no denying what you were doing.
Oh no.
“Ewwwwwww! Gross baby humpies! I’m telling your Mommy!”
Terror floods your already fuzzy brain at the thought of Mommy’s reaction. “N-no, please don’t tell Mommy! I-I’ll do anything. I’m sorry!”
“Anything?”
The way Megan said anything made you regret ever begging.
“W-well, I-I…what do you want?”
Megan grabs your special teddy bear and tosses it on the floor next to you.
“I want to watch the baby make his poopy pamper humpies!”
Your heart drops. “Bu-but i-if Mommy…if she…sees stickies in my diaper…I-I…”
“What if I tell her you tried to make gross baby humpies on my hand?”
“P-please…anything but that!”
“C’mon, baby,” she coos, patting your diaper again with an air of finality, “I know you wanna. I’ll even let you look at me.”
Your head is beyond fuzzy now. She wordlessly pushes you to the floor, grabbing your legs. Slowly, she pushes your left leg to your chest. Then your right.
A rhythmic dance of pushing and pulling.
Much to Megan’s amusement, a loud, bubbly toot erupts from you before you realize what she’s doing.
“Ut oh, are you going poopy, baby? Yes, you are! Yes, you are!”
Faced with the constant onslaught of bicycle kicks, the pressure in your tummy builds despite a series of bubbly toots. Each toot sounded more ominous than the last.
Megan could barely breathe from laughing, chanting, “Poopy baby! Poopy baby!” in between giggles.
Finally, the pressure hits its zenith. There’s nothing you can do to stop the inevitable.
“Awww, are you being a good babysitter and helping Benny make pushies, Megan?”
Mommy’s sudden appearance—in stunning black lingerie no less—breaks open the floodgates.
“Mpfgfff,” you grunt as a loud, bubbly mess explodes into your diaper.
“Yes, Ms. Emma! His tummy hurt and he was sooo nervous to poopoo in front of me!”
“Mgfhgff.”
“That’s so sweet of you, honey! Thank you!”
Megan beams with pride while you grunt.
“Come over here, sweetie. Your Daddy asked me to check your pull-up.”
Megan walks over to your Mommy, who slides her hand into her romper and feels her pull-up.
“Good girl, all dry! Ready to come play with me and your Daddy?” Mommy winks playfully.
“Mghhff.”
“Yes, please, Ms. Emma! But…ummm…”
“What is it, dear?”
“C-can the baby come watch? M-maybe if he sees what he’s missing, he’ll take potty training more seriously.”
Mommy laughs. “You’re such an angel, honey. But no. I don’t want my room smelling like a nursery. He’ll wait in his crib while we play. Besides, I have no plans to ever potty train him. He never satisfied me anyway. He belongs in diapers.”
“Hehehehehe, okay, Ms. Emma! I’ll help with the stinky baby.” Megan takes your hand and helps you stand up.
Your diaper, burdened by a massive mess, hangs perilously from your waist.
Between your Mommy, the continuous laughing from Megan, the ridiculously drooping diaper, and unrelenting stink, you’ve never felt more pathetically infantile.
Never felt more like a baby.
Megan slaps the bottom of your diaper. “He makes big poopies, Ms. Emma! Look at his diaper!”
“You have no idea, honey. Come on, Benny. Let’s get you in your crib. Megan, Daddy is waiting for you in my room.”
“Yes, Ms. Emma!” Megan shouts, running upstairs.
Mommy kisses your forehead. “Did you have fun with Megan, baby? Isn’t she the sweetest? She might even be your big sister one day!”
You nod uncommittedly.
Mommy leads you to your crib, handing you your favorite stuffy. The silence of the nursery is interrupted by Daddy and Megan talking.
“Oh, I forgot to mention, honey. Daddy got you a present!” Mommy says over the muffled moans.
You realize what it is.
“But remember baby. If I find any stickies in your diaper, I will spank your poopy butt in front of everyone, okay?”
“O-okay,” you whimper.
“Good boy.”
Ten minutes later, the moans from Mommy and Megan fill every space of the your nursery. Not even the rapidly cooling mess dulls the throbbing in your diaper.
Or the memories of Megan’s diaper pats. And the disappointment of not getting to finish—punishment be damned.
Nothing you do gets Megan out of your head.
Surely Mommy was kidding about the big sister stuff, right?
The thought of this being a common occurrence made you shiver with fear—and arousal. You know you were in trouble as your hand drifted down to your teddy and placed it under you as you flipped on your stomach.
You humped to the rhythm of the moans on the baby monitor, imagining what it would be like to do this in front of Megan.
Your spurties came so fast and were so intense you screamed in pleasure.
The baby monitor went silent.
“If he did what I think he did, I’m going to spank him raw.”
“Let me, babe,” Derek says calmly, “We should both be responsible for disciplining our littles.”
“Not me!” Megan whines.
“Why don’t we do it together, babe. As a family.”
The baby monitor was silent again as the footsteps got louder.
Let mommy check to feel if your backside gets nice and warm and make sure your plastic pants fit snugly.
Now, remember to assume the position every time you need to wet. We want the backside of your expensive diaper fully used.
And I don't think you will forget to do your number two in your wet diaper before your morning feeding.
Yes, you will have your yummy in the highchair in your soiled diapers. You need constant reminders that you're nothing but a little sissy with no control.
But look at the bright side: You don't need to spend all that time again in your poopy daytime diaper like yesterday.
And one more thing, my little bedwetter.
If I ever see another naughty little stiffy in your diaper, it might not end with just a spanking.
I wrote this Christmas caption with @prettymuchpottytrained, who is also the adorable little one pictured here. We hope you enjoy it and enjoy the holidays! This may also turn into its own story universe, so let us know if you want more!
Sunlight trickled into the room as the door inched open. The sleeping girl never stirred.
Mommy intended to wake her up from sleep slowly, but her momentary pause to take a quick picture gave their overly excited golden retriever an opening.
Instead of a tranquil picture of Kallie sleeping with her thumb in her mouth and a swollen diaper peeking out of her Christmas pajamas, Mommy captured the moment the puppy licked her face.
It wasn’t the perfect picture Mommy had hoped for—this was their first Christmas as a family since Kallie was regressed after all—but it was authentic to their new life.
And, if she was honest, even more adorable than she had hoped.
“Hehehehee, Kaya!” Kallie giggled, fighting off the overzealous puppy’s kissing onslaught.
“Well, good morning, little one,” Mommy cooed, “How did my precious babygirl sleep, hmmm?”
“M-mooooorning, Mama,” Kallie yawned, wiping the sleep from her eyes.
Mommy scooped up her groggy little, who clung to her like a koala. Kallie’s diaper squished on Mommy’s forearm, yet Mommy still pulled back the waistband of her diaper.
“Mamaaa!” Kallie whined.
Mommy expected that reaction, of course. Kallie always squirmed and fussed when her diaper was checked the first thing after she woke up.
Not that Kallie should be surprised. By now, waking up dry isn’t even a consideration. And waking up to a clean diaper is more of a surprise than a messy diaper.
“No poopies!” Mommy announces, carrying Kallie out of the room.
The smell of sizzling bacon and chocolate chip pancakes is unmistakable once they leave the bubble of baby powder and soiled diapers.
“Pantiecakes!” Kallie squealed in delight. Mommy can’t help but laugh at Kallie’s adorable name for pancakes.
Kallie was so excited about her “pantiecakes,” that she completely forgot it was Christmas morning—at least until she got upstairs.
There was no mistaking that it was Christmas up here.
As always, Nana and Gampa’s cabin was decked out for Christmas. Strings of Christmas lights wrapped the wooden walls as firewood crackled in the fireplace. And of course, the freshly cut Christmas tree with stacks of presents under it.
Though, unsurprisingly, Kallie only had eyes for the presents.
“Pwesents!” Kallie shouted, bouncing in Mommy’s arms.
Her pure, innocent excitement drew everyone’s attention to her, causing her to blush profusely.
“Merry Christmas, Peanut!” Daddy said from the kitchen,
She didn’t have any time to answer before Nana was pinching her cheeks and gushing over how cute she was.
“Breakfast will be ready in 15,” Daddy announced, “I have her morning bottle ready. Do you mind, babe?”
“Oh, no, you relax, dear,” Nana waved Mommy away. “This is a job for Nana, isn’t it, baby?”
Kalie’s cheeks continued to redden as she was placed in Nana’s lap. The twenty-two-year-old never felt more babyish than when Nana doted on her.
Especially lying there in her pajamas that did little to hide how soggy her diaper was.
And Nana always fussed over her diaper.
By the time her bottle was empty, Kallie was lost in a milk haze, barely registering Daddy’s voice as Nana burped her.
“Kallie? Do you wanna help Dada bring over the plates for breakfast?”
She answered with a loud burp.
“Good girl, get all the icky bubbles out of your tummy,” Nana encouraged as she gently patted Kallie’s back.
“C-coming, Dada!” Kallie shouted after one last burp.
“Be careful not to spill, baby,” Dada warned as Kallie grabbed two plates, “Those are for Nana and Gampa.”
After delivering the plates, Kallie turned around to get the remaining few.
“Come here, sweetie. Let’s get you in your high chair, okay?”
“B-buh!”
“No butts,” Mommy laughed, picking Kallie up and depositing her into her highchair. Her little feet swayed nervously being the center of attention.
Gampa took Kallie’s plate and cut up her pancakes into bite-sized pieces while Nana made silly faces.
“Don’t forget her bib, hun.”
“How could I forget?” Daddy laughed, wrapping the bib around Kallie.
The bib is red with a picture of Santa, next to it says, “Drinks more milk than Santa!”
“Can you read what it says, Peanut?” Daddy asked.
Her cheeks are as rosy red as the Santa on her bib. “D-dwinks mo’ m-milk den Santa…”
“Wow, good job!” Nana gushed, “What a smart baby you two have!”
“She loves to read,” Mommy said proudly, “If only she had that same enthusiasm for potty training!”
“Awww, don’t be too quick to make it past the diaper phase!” Nana responded sagely, “You’ll miss those moments one day.”
“Well, I’ll let you change her after those pancakes make it to her diaper, Mom,” Mommy retorted, smiling.
Daddy didn’t give her any time to dwell on the idea, feeding her a piece of pancake. Chocolate smeared on her cheeks.
“Your Daddy tells me you’re itching to go sledding today, little one. Are you sure you’re ready?” Gampa asked Kallie.
“I don’t know about that, Dad,” Mommy interjected.
“Mhm! M’a big girl! I cans do it, Mama!”
Gampa laughed at her bravery.
“Dadaaaa,” Kallie whined, bouncing and kicking her legs after waiting too long in between bites.
“How could I forget my little Kallie’s nummies?” Daddy answered.
“Don’t forget to drink your juice,” Mommy said, putting a sippy cup on her tray.
Juice trickled down Kallie’s cheeks and into her bib.
“Have you been a good girl for Santa this year?” Nana asked.
“M..M’fink sos! I…umm..been using ma manners a…an not squirmin and fussin during didi changes f-for m-mah teachers ah daycares!”
“Well,” Nana said conspiratorially, “That must be why I saw so many presents under the tree!”
Kallie giggled as she took another bite of pancakes.
“That’s my girl,” Daddy announced, ruffling her hair, “All done!”
“That must mean it’s time for presents!” Gampa added.
“Yahhhh pwesents! Pwesents, pweeeease?”
Mommy shot him an angry look.
“Once we clean up, honey. Not before,” Mommy commanded.
“H-hey!” Kallie squealed as Daddy checked her diaper.
“She didn’t poop yet, right, babe?” he asked Mommy.
“Not yet, but it shouldn’t be too long.”
All Kallie could do is cover her face in embarrassment until Nana pulls them away and wipes her cheeks and hands of the chocolate.
“Why don’t you watch some tv while the adults clean up, hmm?” Daddy suggested.
“B-buh…pwesents!”
“Once we clean up, I promise, kiddo.”
“Kay…wanna watch Bluey! Pretty please?”
“Bluey it is,” Mommy conceded, pulling her from the highchair and bringing her to the living room. “Now, can you be a good girl and watch quietly, or do I need to get your playpen?”
“Nuh uh! Big girl, Mama!”
“Okay, I trust you, baby.” Before she left to clean with Nana, Mommy put on Bluey.
Once out of earshot, Nana worriedly turns to Mommy. “I’m worried about her. Is she backed up?”
“Oh, she’s fine. She’s been a little potty-shy lately. Let her think we're distracted and I’m sure she’ll move things along.”
Nana nodded, but kept a watchful eye on the poor girl.
“Trust me, she’s okay. You won't have to wait long.”
“I don’t know, she’s such a cutie. I hate thinking she’s uncomfortable.”
Kallie glanced at the adults, who all seemed busy. She stood up, eyes fixed on the tv, whimpering as she unconsciously did a potty dance to the intro of Bluey.
“Bingo!” she shouted.
She sang along while slyly looking for a comfortable place to poop. She spied the couch and slowly toddled over, trying to act innocent.
Daddy elbowed Mommy and Nana, knowing all of Kallie’s telltale signs she’s about to fill her diaper.
“Bluey!”
As the show started, Kallie slowly crept to her chosen spot on the back of the couch, pushing her tummy against it and squatting down a bit.
“Mmghh.”
Her big breakfast and last night’s dinner erupted into the back of her diaper as she pushed. Her diaper strained under the weight of her mess, drooping dangerously low and pulling down her pajamas.
Everyone watched her little show, doing their best not to ruin the adorable moment unfolding on the couch.
At the silly girl who thinks she’s not obviously messing her diaper.
“Mmmggghhhh.”
A loud toot betrayed her, forcing her to blush. She wiggled her butt, still pooping, pretending to be invested in Bluey.
“A..all…mghff…d-done,” she whispered to herself.
After one final grunt, she takes a deep breath and relaxes, giggling. She immediately went back to watching her show, dancing and bouncing on the couch.
Unable to help herself–and struggling to stay composed in the face of something so adorable–Nana sat next to Kallie, smiling.
She does her best to ignore the smell of Kallie’s very dirty diaper.
“Enjoying your show, baby? Your Mama says this is your favorite! Can you tell me about it?”
Kallie tried to inch away from Nana to stay undetected, but is pulled into her lap.
Fighting to stay innocent, she nods excitedly. “Mhm! Dats Bluey! An an dats Bingo!”
Nana let Kallie ramble on about her favorite show, telling her about her favorite episodes, and who all the characters are.
“Those are her Mama and Dada! Buh they’re not as cool as mines! My Mama and Dada are the bestest!”
“Awww, thank you, peanut!” Daddy said as he headed downstairs to grab her diaper supplies.
Kallie’s rambling immediately slowed as Daddy came back upstairs with her diaper bag and set up the changing station right next to the Christmas tree.
“Uhh…ummm…keepy uppy is my favorite,” Kallie mumbled distractedly.
“Ohh, that’s exciting,” Nana responded, looking past Kalie.
Kallie feels the back of her diaper pulled back, turning to find Mommy smiling at her.
“Uhh ohhh, does Mama have a stinky baby, hmm? Are you my stinky baby? Yes, you are! Mama’s little stinkerpants!”
Nana sensed her embarrassment and pinched her cheeks before pulling Kallie into a hug.
“Don’t be embarrassed, sweetpea! Nana knows you’re just a baby and couldn’t help it!”
“Well, either way, time to get that tushie clean,” Mommy laughed, carrying you to the changing pad.
Nana followed Mommy, but Gampa grabbed his coffee and headed to the patio. “You girls have fun.”
Mommy knelt between Kallie’s legs and pulled off her pajama pants as Nana sat down next to her.
“Kaya, no!” Mommy chided the dog who shoved her nose into her diaper.
Kallie wiggles in shame, eyes welling with tears. “Nuuu, don’ wan ch-changies!”
As Mommy prepares the wipes, Kallie kicks and fusses, forcing her to grab her ankles.
“Such a squirmy baby this morning, aren’t you? Someone must be excited to play in the snow with Kaya after presents!”
Mommy knew she said the magic words as Kallie stopped fussing.
Kallie looked out the window at the falling snow and then down to the presents next to her.
“P-pwesants an-and swedding!”
“That’s right, honey,” Mommy cooed as she ripped the tabs of her diaper and used the front to wipe as much poop from her tush as possible. “Once you're clean, you can open presents!”
Between the promise of presents and sledding, Kallie barely fussed as her legs were thrust into the air and Mommy wiped her bum clean of poop–a slow process given the extent of her mess.
Kallie still wasn’t used to being changed so openly, like she was a genuine baby. Especially when there were people other than Mommy and Daddy.
Though she couldn’t deny she loved the attention from Mommy and Nana.
After what Kallie was sure was three hours, Mommy finally taped on her diaper and slid up her pajamas.
“There, all done, Ladybug! That wasn’t so bad, was it? Thank you for not being a squirmy wormy baby!” Mommy praised, before blowing a big raspberry on Peanut’s tummy.
“Hehehe Mama!! Ticklesss!”
Nana grabbed the stinky, rolled up diaper and threw it away.
“Do I spy a clean Peanut?” Daddy boomed coming inside with Gampa. “Is it time for presents?”
“Yayayaya! Pwesents Dada!!”
Daddy suddenly looked serious. “Well, sweetie, can you do something very important for us?”
“Mhm!”
“I knew I could trust you! You’re going to be Santa and choose the next present for everyone to open? Can you do that?”
“Yeah, Dada!”
“Good girl! We’re all counting on you!”
Everyone took their seats on the couch next to the Christmas tree. Kallie was shaking with eager excitement.
“Who’s first, cutie?”
Kallie waddled to the tree, her diaper crinkling merrily with every step. When she bent down to choose a present, three inches of diaper poked out, causing Nana to gush about how cute she was.
“This one, Dada!” she decided, running to Gampa with a gift.
By the time she gave everyone but herself a gift, she was buzzing. Wrapping paper was strewn over the floor.
“Time for one of yours, honey!” Daddy said, “Grab one and come sit on my lap.”
“Okay, Dada!!”
Kallie grabbed the biggest one she could find. “This one from Nana and Gampa!!”
Daddy helped Peanut bring it over, putting the present at his feet for Kallie to open. She didn’t need any encouragement, ripping it open without any hesitation.
“Ahhhh, itsa Bluey play house!!! An an an look it has Bluey and Bingo! Thank you Nana and Gampa!” Kallie shouted as she ran over to give them hugs.
“You’re very welcome, dear,” Nana answered, patting her cheek. Gampa looked just as surprised as Kallie to discover what the present was.
Suddenly, Kallie looked like she remembered something. “Oh oh, Mama and Dada!! M…I made you this at daycare an an…it’s cause you’re the bestest Mama and Dada ever!”
She bent down and grabbed a poorly wrapped package, holding it as if it were her masterpiece. She brought it to Daddy for them to open.
“My gosh, Peanut!” Daddy gushed, “You got us something?”
“M-mhm! Open it!”
Mommy carefully unwrapped the present, trying to fight back tears. When they opened the box they found a Christmas ornament.
“Baby…this is…well…” Mommy could no longer fight back tears, “This is the best gift ever!”
She held up the ornament for Nana and Gampa to see. It was a beautiful red ball with a drawing of Mommy, Daddy, and Kallie.
On the other side of the drawing, Kallie had written “Baby’s First Christmas, 2025.”
A collective “awwww” rang out as Mommy and Daddy wrapped their babygirl in a bear hug.
“We love you, little one,” Mommy crackled through tears, “More than you’ll ever know.”
“I…I love you too, Mama. And Dada!”
The moment was only broken when Daddy couldn’t control himself anymore and walked to his bedroom to “grab something special” for Kallie.
She was confused as she still had more than a few presents to open.
Mommy gave him the “slow down” look, but it was obvious Daddy couldn’t wait any longer.
When he got back, there was only a small, neatly wrapped box in his hand. He scooped up Kallie and put her in his lap.
“This is from Mama and me, sweetie. I couldn’t wait anymore after I opened your amazing gift. Anyway, here you go.”
Kallie took the box from Daddy, holding it like it was a precious gem. She ripped the wrapping paper and found only a black box.
“Open it, silly,” Daddy said to her confused look.
When she did, she saw some weird bracelet. It took a second to realize what it is.
“I-is this…a-a Magic band, Dada?” she asked.
“Why don’t you keep opening it, baby?” Daddy prompted.
She did.
Kallie found a hand drawn ticket from Daddy that said “Good for one week at Disney World with Mommy and Daddy.”
Underneath it was a paper wrapped around a keycard that said “Kallie’s key to the Beach Club Resort.”
Under the keycard were a few random tickets, such as: one “Good for ONE Get Out Of A Nap Free” card; two “Good for ONE big girl drink at Epcot” cards; and three “Good for ONE Snack of Your Choice” cards; and finally, one “Good for ONE Disney Stuffie of Your Choice” card.
Kallie slowly put it all together, her eyes full of tears. She looked at Daddy. And then Mommy.
“W-we’re g-going to D-Disneyw-world?!”
“That’s right, baby! We leave in two weeks!”
Kallie squealed in utter delight, practically tackling Daddy as she leaned to hug both him and Mommy.
It was another ten minutes before she calmed down enough to start handing out more presents. Of course, more than a few of the presents were Disney related to tease the idea of Disney before the grand reveal.
But it didn’t matter.
Not when they watched their little one fully regress in pure, unfiltered joy. By the time she opened her last present, she barely resembled the twenty-two year old girl she was.
She was their little.
An hour later, Kallie was lying on the carpet next to her Bluey playset, fast asleep, still holding her Bluey figurine in her hand. Her binky still bobbed slowly.
Daddy and Mommy watched her sleep for a few minutes, soaking it all in. Eventually, Daddy put down his whiskey and carefully picked her up and brought her downstairs for a nap.
All anyone could talk about for the next hour she was asleep was how adorable their little Kallie was—and how perfect their first Christmas was going.
Mommy tried to talk Daddy out of taking her sledding after she woke up. But eventually gave in. Besides, the thick, poofy snowsuit they got was far too adorable to not use.
And the hill behind the cabin wasn’t too dangerous. She may be their little, but she was big enough to be safe. And it’s not like Daddy and Gampa wouldn’t be right there with her.
But until she woke up, they were content to prepare dinner and watch football, checking on her every so often in the baby monitor.
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow over the rows of grown men sitting cross-legged on the padded floor. Their thick, crinkling diapers, some adorned with cartoon dinosaurs, others plain white, bulged slightly under their baby blue t-shirts. Ms. Harper stood at the front of the room, arms crossed, watching with a smirk as the last straggler, a broad-shouldered man with a buzz cut, shuffled in. His face was flushed, his jaw clenched. He hated being here. That only made it sweeter.
The screen flickered to life, and the room fell silent.
"Good boys fill their diapers," the cheerful voice cooed, accompanied by the image of a muscular man in a onesie, his face twisted in pleasure as he rocked his hips against the padding. "The toilet is only for girls. You are a baby boy."
Ms. Harper’s lips curled. She loved this part.
Jake’s fingers twitched against the plastic between his legs. The diaper was thick, too thick, but that was the point. He could feel his body responding to the hypnotic rhythm of the screen. "You don’t need to hold back. Let it all out, baby boy." The words slithered into his ears, warm and sticky.
Beside him, Tommy giggled, already grinding his hips into the floor. His diaper crinkled loudly with every movement, the sound filling the space between them. Jake swallowed hard. He hated this. He loved this.
"Good boys don’t fight it," the voice purred.
Jake’s breath hitched. His cock strained against the padding, the friction maddening. He shifted, trying to ignore it, but the screen flashed, another man, this one on all fours, humping his diaper like a dog in heat. "You’re just like him. Aren’t you?"
Tommy moaned softly, his hands rubbing his diaper. Jake’s face burned. He wasn’t like this. He wasn’t.
But his hips betrayed him, rocking forward, just once.
Ms. Harper’s heels clicked as she strolled between the rows. Some of the boys were already lying flat on their tummies, their diapers crinkled obscenely as they humped the floor . Others, like Jake, still fought it, their faces twisted in shame.
"You can’t help it," the voice crooned. "You’re a baby boy. And baby boys fill their diapers."
Jake’s teeth ground together. His cock throbbed, trapped, the pressure unbearable. He could smell it, the baby powder, the plastic, the musk of sweat and something fouler. His hips jerked again, his ass lifting off the floor.
Ms. Harper reached over, her fingers brushing Jake’s thigh. "C’mon, Jakey," she whispered, her voice high and teasing. "You know you wanna."
Jake groaned, his pride crumbling. His hands rubbed the fabric of his diaper, pulling it tighter against his cock. The screen flashed "Good boys don’t think. Good boys just feel." and Jake stopped thinking.
The room was a symphony of crinkling plastic and ragged breaths. Ms. Harper paused beside Jake, watching as his hips pistoned upward, his diaper crinkling with every desperate thrust. His face was a mask of pleasure and humiliation, his lips parted in a silent gasp.
"That’s it," she murmured, her voice dripping with amusement. "Let it all out."
Jake’s back arched. His cock pulsed, the sensation overwhelming. He wasn’t going to... he couldn’t...
But he did.
His body shuddered, his hips stuttering as he came into the diaper. The warmth spread, the padding swallowing every last drop. His face burned, his chest heaving.
Tommy clapped, his own diaper squelching with every movement. "Good boy, Jakey!"
Ms. Harper’s smile widened. "That’s what I thought."
Uh-ohhh, is my hubby making a poopy in his diaper? Aw, it's ok baby. I know you can't help it, that's why I've got you in thick diapers! I don't mind changing your dirty diapers baby, well sometimes they are super stinky, but dealing with wet and poopy diapers is so much better than accidents without them.
Though, since it seems like your potty training has completely gone bye bye I wont be able to change you as often going forward. Sorry honey, but you wear the diapers, I change them. So I get to decide when you go on the changing table. You're already used to waddling around in wet diapers drooping between your legs. I'm sure you'll get used to squishing around with a mushy bum too.
I'll make sure you're never far from a diaper change though baby. I've got this diaper bag for when we go out now, isn't it adorable? And if I'm not around I'll be sure that my mom, one of my sisters, or maybe those college girls in the house down the street are with you to change your yucky used diapers.
Why the grumpy look babe? Oh! You're not done going in your diaper, so stinky! Tell you what, you go play in the living room for a bit. We both need to get used to poopy diapers. I'll make some calls and see if I can get some ladies over and give them a lesson in dirty diaper changes. Off you go stinky!
This caption is for—and features—the relentlessly adorable diaper girl, @blushydollypoppy, who deserves all the attention for being so stinking cute.
You see what’s happening here, don’t you? The needy way she’s gyrating her diaper into her stuffy?
That delightful mix of obedient hesitation and greedy desperation. The way she yearns for the brief moment of bliss when her princess parts rub against her pee-soaked diaper.
A prisoner of pleasure.
Watch how each thrust is carefully tempered. Slow. Far less than what her needy mound craves. Just enough stimulation to want more, but far too little to get off.
The best part is she actually believes her ridiculous display is too subtle and sly for me to notice. Or maybe she’s just too desperate to control herself, consequences be damned.
To be honest, I don’t know which is more adorable.
All I know is the independent, ambitious, and confident woman she used to be is long gone.
The same woman who had guys eating out of her hand after simply smiling at them now reduced to surreptitiously humping her poopy pamper in the middle of the living room.
I should put a stop to it—diaper girls like her are never allowed to choose when they get cummies—but it's far too entertaining to not let it play out.
Plus, I can't help but wonder what she's thinking about right now. Is she imagining herself as a big girl having sex? Or maybe she's been denied so long she now craves her diapers?
I hope it's the big girl one. Ugh, that would make this so deliciously ironic.
I mean, how adorable is it to think she’s imagining herself having sex, like an actual adult, when all she’s actually doing is rubbing herself with four hours of tinkles?
Every stroke becomes bolder as her desperation grows and her brain fogs with desire after every unsatisfying thrust.
Barreling towards the inevitable.
There is nothing quite like watching a formerly strong, sexy woman demoted to this—humping her Build-a-Bear “boyfriend” in nothing but a very soggy, very messy diaper while Blue’s Clues plays in the background.
Nothing can possibly be cuter than her little diaper humpies as Steve teaches Blue how to tell time.
She even put her binkie in her mouth after a particularly adorable moan as if it were her soft moans, not the percussive crinkle symphony her diaper makes with every movement that gives her away.
Oh! It won’t be long now.
Each thrust is greedier than the last. She can no longer focus on anything but lustily rubbing her princess parts on her soft, squishy diaper.
One…two…three carnal, ravenous thrusts in quick succession send her into a frenzy, all attempts at subtlety abandoned.
She’s so close now.
“Having fun, buttercup?”
Her humping immediately stops, though she’s still shaking with the fruitless anticipation of an orgasm that was a heartbeat away.
“I-I-I…”
I didn’t expect a coherent answer, of course. Not when she’s consumed by the orgasm that was so close, but now so far away.
Poor thing must be so frustrated!
And even worse, knowing her unapproved, desperate performance had an audience the entire time. Caught in a ridiculously silly position.
“Awww, I think it’s romantic, little one! You and Sir Cuddles are star-crossed lovers like Romeo and Juliet—if Juliet were a poopy pamper princess! I don’t remember Romeo mentioning changing any messy diapers!”
Her cheeks slowly change from pink to red to burgundy.
“Come sit on my lap, princess. We need to have a little chat.”
She whimpers an adorably quiet “k-kay…”
Her diaper squelches as she straddles my leg, wincing as her mess smushes throughout her diaper.
I boop her nose. “Was someone being a naughty girl?”
“I…m’sowwy was v—hnnngh.”
Her eyes are suddenly unfocused, body tense as I bounce her on my leg.
“Come again, princess? I didn’t understand.”
“Mmmmgh...”
“Are you trying to apologize for being a horny widdle diapie girl?”
“M-mhm…”
“And that you know poopy pamper princesses never make cummies without permission?”
In the hushed confines of the nursery, the air thick with the scent of baby powder and something far less innocent, she lay sprawled in the crib, her body betraying her in the most humiliating way possible. The diaper, already heavy and sagging between her legs, was a constant, infuriating reminder of her new reality, one where Daddy called the shots, where her adult dignity had been stripped away, layer by layer.
She could feel it coming, that deep, insistent pressure coiling in her belly, twisting and tightening until her breath hitched. Her fingers dug into the crib sheet, her knuckles white as she squeezed her eyes shut. No, no, no, she couldn’t let it happen. Not like this. But the urge was a living thing, clawing at her insides, demanding release. Her thighs trembled as she pressed them together, as if sheer willpower could stop the inevitable.
A low, embarrassed whimper escaped her lips around the pacifier. Her stomach cramped, a sharp, insistent twist that made her gasp. She tried to clench, to hold it back for even two seconds, just two pathetic seconds, but her body wasn’t hers anymore. With a shuddering exhale, she lost the battle.
Her belly heaved, the pressure giving way in a rush of shameful relief. The diaper crinkled loudly as it filled, the sound obscene in the quiet room. She could feel it, thick and warm, pushing against the padding, spreading between her cheeks. The scent hit her immediately, earthy, musky, undeniable. Her face burned, tears pricking at her eyes as her body betrayed her completely. The diaper sagged further, the weight of her mess pressing against her skin, a constant, humiliating reminder of her failure.
She let out a broken sob, her fingers twisting in the blanket. There was no hiding it, no pretending it hadn’t happened. The evidence was right there, warm and heavy between her legs, the crinkle of the diaper a mocking soundtrack to her defeat. Daddy had taken everything, her control, her pride, even her ability to hold herself together for more than a heartbeat. And the worst part? Some shameful, traitorous part of her liked it.
“Amy, honey, do me a favor and check your sister’s diaper for me. She’s been awfully quiet the last hour.”
Had Sophie not been fighting another wave of nausea from a particularly sharp turn, she would have slapped the smirk off her sister’s face.
She was forced to settle for a halfhearted glare, which only seemed to delight Amy.
This was, without a doubt, the worst hangover of Sophie’s life. Her head was threatening to explode, and it took everything in her power to keep herself from throwing up.
The long drive up a winding mountain road with her parents and sister only increased her suffering.
But her hangover was the least of her problems.
Amy showed absolutely no fear as she casually flipped Sophie’s skirt, revealing the diaper between her older sister’s legs.
No matter how nauseous Sophie may have been, the was no way she would ever let Amy get away with checking her diaper like a baby.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she hissed, pushing her skirt back down.
“Checking your diaper, silly.”
“Not if you know what’s good for you.”
“Excuse me, young lady?” their mother snarled, “Do not speak to your sister like that, do you understand me?”
Just hearing her mother’s tone sent shivers down Sophie’s body. It had been years since her mother used that voice.
“I don’t need my…my…I don’t need her to check me!”
Even Sophie was startled by how whiny and childish she sounded.
“Remind me, honey. Was it you or your sister who not only wet the bed, but also pooped themselves last night, hmm?”
Amy snickered at her mother’s words.
“That was only because…” Sophie trailed off, realizing the excuse would only aggravate her mother.
“Because you got drunk?” her mom scoffed, “Do you actually think that helps your case?”
Sophie knew arguing would only make things worse. She decided on another tactic.
Tears welled in her eyes. “I-I’m sorry! I kn-know I broke your trust…and dad’s…and what I did was wrong. B-but it doesn’t mean I n-need to wear a diaper…”
“Spare me the waterworks, honey. You already ruined a mattress today; we’re not risking our new car on your word. Not after this morning.”
“F-fine…but why does Amy need to be involved? I can tell you I’m dry, you know.”
Her mom scoffed. “Because, unlike you, Amy didn’t just prove she is immature, irresponsible, and untrustworthy. After last night, how am I supposed to trust anything you say? And after this morning, how do you expect me to believe that diaper isn’t necessary?”
“I know I messed up, but this punishment is ridiculous.”
“Punishment? Did you listen to anything I said this morning? You’re not in diapers as a punishment. You’re in diapers because we don’t trust you to keep your pants clean if you fall asleep on the drive.”
“I told you I wouldn’t sleep!”
“You also told me you were just going to Jane’s house last night. It’s hard to trust you right now, honey.”
“Whatever. I’m dry. Can we just drop it?”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
Amy pouted as her mom reached back and checked Sophie’s diaper, looking like she had lost a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Her disappointment didn’t last long.
“Are you kidding me right now, Sophie? After all that arguing about trust, you’ve been lying the whole time?” her mom snapped, “You’re supposed to be an adult.”
“What? I…I’m not lying!”
“YOUR DIAPER IS SOAKED, YOUNG LADY!”
The anger flashing in her mother’s eyes was nothing compared to the look of disappointment in her dad’s eyes from the rearview mirror.
Sophie’s hand reached down to her diaper, unable to believe she actually used her diaper.
To her horror, she felt the warm squish she hadn’t felt when her mother put her in the diaper.
“B-but…I-I-I-I…I don-don’t r-remember ever…”
“No way! Sophie pissed her diaper?” Amy chortled, reaching out and squeezing Sophie’s diaper.
“Mom, I’m s-sorry! I…didn’t lie!”
Her mother stared at her for a long time before sighing. “I believe you, honey.”
“You do?” Sophie and Amy said together.
“Yes, I do. And that’s what concerns me.”
Her mom’s sudden change from anger to concern made Sophie uneasy.
“Are you positive you didn’t sleep, Sophie?”
“Yes…why does that matter?”
“Because it means you were awake when you peed yourself—and didn’t even realize you needed to go potty.”
The world spun again for Sophie, but this time had nothing to do with her hangover.
“Maybe…well, now that you mention it,” Sophie bumbled, “I…think I did fall asleep for a bit. That’s probably when it happened. Yeah.”
Her mom ignored her. “Is there anywhere we can stop to change Sophie?”
“Not until we’re up the mountain. And by that point, we’ll be a few minutes from your sister’s cabin anyway,” her dad answered.
“I don’t know how much longer she has until she leaks...”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you. There isn’t a safe place to pull over.”
Her mother sighs.
“I can change her diaper, Mom,” Amy suggested.
“Shut up, Amy!” Sophie squeaked.
“Hush, you two,” their father commanded. “It’s too dangerous on this road for that, Amy.”
“I’ll change Sophie when we get to your cousin's house.”
“What?! Change? Mom, you said it was just for the drive!”
“Honey, you don’t remember using your diaper. Do you want to risk having an accident in front of your cousins?”
“I don’t want to wear a diaper in front of them! I won’t!”
By now, Sophie was sobbing, looking—and sounding—more like a toddler than a college student.
“I’ll tell you what, honey. If you make it the rest of the day without an accident and wake up dry tomorrow morning, I’ll drop the diapers. I think that’s fair.”
“That seems more than fair, Soph!” Amy teased her sister.
“Fuck that! I won’t wear diapers! This is a fucking joke!”
Amy beamed like she had just won the lottery.
“That’s it. I’m done. You keep proving how immature you are. You’re two months from turning 21. It’s one thing to drink a little in college. I get it. But to lie to us, come home that drunk, pee and poop the bed, then take absolutely no responsibility for your actions?”
Her mom paused, waiting to see if Sophie would say anything. But gave up any hope after a few seconds.
“Even now, throwing a tantrum like a toddler when it’s obvious you’re having issues making it to the bathroom today. The diaper wasn’t to embarrass you; it was to save you from embarrassment and protect your aunt and uncle’s cabin.”
Sophie realized she had gone too far. “I’m sorry, I-I’ll wear the diapers today…”
“It’s too late, Soph. Your father and I were perfectly happy letting this drive while you were hungover be the punishment—I know how miserable it must be. And I certainly never wanted to let everyone else know about your diapers. I warned Amy not to mention this to your cousins. But now…”
Before she could finish, they turned into the driveway and parked the car.
“What? Mom no! Please! Please, I’m so sorry!” Sophie begged, terrified of what her mom was about to say.
But by then, everyone had gotten out of the car. Her aunt, uncle, and cousins were bearing down on them.
Until this morning, Sophie had been looking forward to seeing her cousins. Millie and Jolene, the twins, were both seniors at UC Santa Barbara.
They were effortlessly cool—whatever fashion trends they had that year became Sophia’s for the next year.
This was supposed to be the year they thought she was cool.
Then there was Jill, who was the same age as Sophia. But she was already a senior at MIT, something her parents loved to mention.
Her mom talked around to her door, opening it. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go get your diaper changed.”
Sophie sighed but didn’t dare argue. With any luck, her mother was just bluffing.
The moment she got out, the cold mountain air hit her hard.
She felt…wet.
Her mother immediately saw the two dark circles on her skirt. Sophie felt her skirt pulled up at the back.
“So happy you could make it, sis!” her aunt said to her mother, her smile turning to confusion at the scene.
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world! The cabin is even more beautiful than the pictures!”
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Sophie’s diaper leaked on the drive up. Couldn’t find anywhere to stop on the mountain.”
“Her…diaper? Why is Sophie in diapers, Laura?” she asked, giving Sophie a concerned, pitying look.
Sophie covered her face in shame as the twins caught on to the conversation.
“She’s been having a lot of trouble lately. First it was a bedwetting thing, but now it’s even happening in the day. Just this morning she woke up stinky…”
“Is she okay?”
“Oh, she’s fine. But I do need to change her diaper.”
Her cousins swarmed Amy, whispering energetically. Sophie didn’t need to hear them to know what the conversation was about.
“Let’s go downstairs. We set up a room with bunk beds and waterproof mattresses for when Mark brings his kids. Plus, it’ll be nice to have if Millie gets engaged and has kids soon.”
“Grandma Dana, huh? Makes me feel younger for once. But I think it’s a good idea for Sophie to sleep there. I don’t want her ruining any more mattresses.”
Sophie follows behind her mom and aunt, ignoring the laughter from her cousins.
“Yeah…look see she leaked!” Amy told the cousins loud enough for Sophie to hear. “She didn’t even know she peed until my mom checked her!”
“Does she, like, poop herself too?” Millie asks.
“Yeah, apparently my mom woke her up this morning and she pooped herself and everything.”
“Maybe we should be hanging out with you, Amy. Looks like Sophie needs her Mommy,” Jolene says to Amy.
They finally, mercifully made it downstairs.
“That room right there,” Dana points to the door, “Come on, girls, give them some privacy.”
Sophie follows her mom into the bedroom, hating how childish the bunkbeds were.
Her mother turns to Sophie. “If you have to poopoo, do it now, honey. I’ll change you when you finish.”
“Why can’t I just use the bathroom?”
“You know why. I gave you a chance and you blew it. You’ll spend the whole week in diapers, not a potty in sight.”
“It’s not fair!!” Sophie whined.
“Keep complaining and see what other privileges you lose, hun. I’m offering you the gift of privacy. You can poop your diaper now with me or poop your diaper later in front of whoever happens to be there. Up to you.”
Even though she knew she should, the idea of pooping in front of her mom after she told everyone she needed diapers was a non-starter.
“I don’t have to go.”
“Okay, well, on your tush, honey.”
Sophie could hear her cousins laughing at her first diaper change in who knows how long. She was sure her mom did, too.
“There. Not bad for someone out of practice for so long, huh?”
“Yes. Amazing,” Sophie quipped flatly.
“Here are your sweats. Let me see how they fit.”
Sophie pulled them on.
“Well, it could be worse,” her mom admitted, staring at the bulge in the back, “But it’s not like your diapers are a secret.”
“No thanks to you, mom.”
“Don’t blame me, kiddo. Need anymore advil?”
“I’m fine.”
“Suit yourself. Let’s go unload the car now that you’re in a dry diaper.”
Based on the laughing outside the door, Sophie knew she wasn’t going to wait long to see her cousins again.
“Hey, girls,” her mom said to the cousins, “Make sure Sophie here doesn’t get into any trouble.”
“No problem, Aunt Laura,” Jill responds as Laura heads back upstairs.
“Hey, diaper girl,” Jolene quipped, giggling hysterically with the twins.
“Feel better in a dry diapie, sister?” Amy laughs at the crinkles when she pats Sophie’s bum.
“Leave me alone.”
“Don’t be silly! Im sure your cousins wouldn’t leave you out just because you’re in diapers! Besides, someone needs to check those diapies. Didn’t you hear Mommy?”
“She can stay until she poops herself, I guess.”
“Wait, does your mom think we’re going to change her?”
“Oh no, if she poops just let me know and I’ll take care of it,” Amy says.
“Is she even allowed to, like, watch movies and stay up with us?”
“I’m not sure,” Amy admits.
“Ugh, well, just bring the baby back upstairs. We can babysit some other time.”
Amy smirks at Sophie, knowing that balance of power between them is forever altered.
“Come on, Sophie, you heard your cousins. You can hang out with the big girls later.”
Once again, this story is for, and features, the adorable lil stinker, @ellaindiapers.
“Okay, you two! Ready to see your new nursery?”
Ella’s father beamed with pride, despite the beads of sweat running down his head and paint stains covering his clothes.
“We’d love to, Mr. Smith!”
“Please, Maggie, call me Jim! We’re family now!”
Maggie blushed. “Jim it is! Are you excited to see your new room, Ellybelly? Your Dad has worked so hard setting everything up for you!”
Ella did not share Maggie’s enthusiasm about the nursery—or the Ellybelly nickname. Did they actually expect her to jump for joy for a nursery?
It was bad enough that everyone thought she looked “so stinking adorable” in her new onesie and matching knee socks. But a nursery is for babies.
“Awww, don’t be such a lil’ stinker,” Maggie cooed, tickling Ella’s tummy, “You’re gonna love it, you’ll see!”
It was the same thing she said about the pacifier dangling from her onesie.
“Hmpff.”
Jim glared at Ella, who begrudgingly stood up. Ella knew not to push it—her parents made sure of that.
Under no circumstances was Ella to disrespect or disobey Maggie.
It only took Maggie an hour that first day before Ella’s parents fell in love with her, gushing about how smart and mature she was and how successful she would be.
The only thing worse than Maggie being her caregiver is listening to her parents rave about her nonstop.
By the end of dinner, they had already called Ms. Jones, Maggie’s supervisor, to begin the process of formally naming Maggie as Ella’s caregiver.
Later that night, they had a long talk with Ella about how lucky they are to have a woman like Maggie caring for their daughter—and that Ella could learn a thing or two from her if she ever wanted to be successful when she grew up again.
If she grew up again.
But in the meantime, they explained in no uncertain terms that Maggie was in charge. Ella was nothing more than a child now; Maggie is the adult in the relationship. If they heard any complaints from Maggie, they would bring her home and she could forget all about college.
Maggie was practically buzzing by the time they got to the nursery door. In typical dad fashion, Jim has Ella do a drum roll before opening the door like a game show host revealing a grand prize.
It was worse than anything Ella could have imagined.
Until that moment, Ella assumed the “nursery” would essentially be a normal room decorated with infantile designs and paint.
“Oh my gosh, Jim! It’s perfect!! You put that crib together all by yourself?”
Ella had also been staring at the crib. The crib big enough to fit her. At worst Ella thought she’s get some twin bed.
But not a crib.
“Don’t look at me, I’m just the muscle,” Jim conceded pointing to his wife in the rocking chair, “She’s the brains of this operation.”
“Well, still, thank you both! I love it. You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble!”
Ella’s mother, Susan, waved the comment off. “Don’t mention it, dear. It’s the least we could do for the woman responsible for changing our daughter’s poopy diapers!”
Everywhere Ella looked, she found something mortifyingly infantile. Her parents really had gone all out.
A mobile spun slowly over the stained wood crib. Pastel blankets expertly tucked and folded. An actual baby monitor clipped to the rail.
Next to the crib was a cubby loaded with picture books and Fisher Price playsets, with a horrific laminated chore chart with animal stickers ready to be placed if Ella “cleaned her toys” or “read a book” and a few other embarrassing chores.
Even worse was the large changing table, with padded ridges to prevent her from falling off mid-change. And of course, a diaper pail with the sticker on it claiming, “Not even the stinkiest diapers get past our patented Scent Defense Lining!”
But what Ella saw below the changing pad made her truly shudder. It wasn't the quantity of diapers that caused her tummy to bubble in terror—though there seemed to be enough diapers to last years—it was the cornucopia of infantile colors and prints.
These weren't the basic, solid pink diapers she had been wearing. These were far, far worse. Some looked like actual oversized Pampers. Some had ridiculous teddy bears on them. She saw pandas, penguins, and even dinosaurs.
And everyone in the room expected her to fill every single one of them.
Just the thought made Ella cringe. Not a single person in the room believes Ella was potty trained anymore. They expected Ella to use her diaper. The potty wasn’t even a consideration.
Ella’s hope that those first few accidents were random, isolated aberrations was quickly crushed when the accidents never stopped—along with any chance of proving this was all some massive overreaction.
Even Maggie struggled to balance the demands of her new role as a caregiver with her desire to provide Ella with some modicum of dignity. After all, Ella was still an adult, even if it was slipping through her fingers.
So, for the first few days, Maggie regularly asked Ella if she needed to use the potty. Even as it became obvious Ella would never make it to the potty.
It was the least she could do for the poor girl.
As much as Ella hated having Maggie treat her like some potty-training toddler, whining and fussing that she didn’t need reminders to use the bathroom, she soon came to miss it.
At least that had meant Maggie thought Ella actually had a chance to make it to the potty.
Maggie doesn’t even bother to ask if Ella needs to use the potty anymore. She doesn’t even ask if Ella needs her diaper changed.
Now she just checks Ella’s diaper. No warning. No nothing.
It was a tough pill for Ella to swallow, knowing Maggie doesn’t even trust her to know if she has a poopy diaper.
“Ella? Earth to Ella?”
“Wh-what? Sorry, I zoned out.”
“Don’t you want to thank your parents for your beautiful nursery?”
She did not.
“Why? I don’t need a nursery! I don’t need a crib! I don’t need any of this! It’s stupid!”
Maggie put her hand up to stop Ella’s parents. They may be her parents, but she was Ella’s caregiver now. She needed to be the one disciplining Ella moving forward.
“I got this,” she tells them, grinning.
Ella’s mother nods, recognizing the passing of the torch.
Maggie turns to Ella. “Little one, your parents worked very hard on this. I will not tolerate disrespect, especially when they did this for you. You can use your manners—or you can go to timeout. Up to you, kiddo.”
It’s too much for Ella. Where does Maggie get off thinking she can act like her mother? She doesn’t get to tell her to behave like she’s some snot-nosed brat.
“Oh, I’m sooo scared,” Ella hisses, her words dripping with sarcasm.
Ella expected Maggie to show some signs of anger. Maybe if she could get Maggie to explode, her parents would see that Maggie has no business being a caregiver. And that Ella has no business being treated like some ridiculous baby.
But all Maggie did was sigh in disappointment, allowing the silence to linger.
“That’s disappointing, Ella. I expected too much from you. I guess I was foolish enough to think that even though you’re in a diaper and a onesie, you might not act like a baby. But it’s obvious that’s not the case. So, if you’re going to act like a baby, that’s how you’ll be treated moving forward.”
Ella’s parents smiled at each other—clearly impressed by Maggie’s answer.
Ella was trapped and she knew it. Any argument would make it seem like she was a whining baby, yet apologizing would mean giving in to Maggie.
And that was out of the question.
Maggie and her parents seemed all too comfortable in the silence, carefully watching Ella to see what she would do or say.
The longer the silence stretched on, the more foolish Ella felt.
Maggie waited patiently, understanding the gravity of the situation. Ella needed to understand she was in control—and that there was no room for negotiation. Whatever awkwardness she initially felt after being put in charge of someone older than her had long since dissipated.
By now, there was no more doubting that Ms. Jones was right—Ella was not ready for adulthood. Ella was no longer an independent college student; she was a scared child in an adult’s body, desperately needing love and stability.
Desperately needing Maggie. Even if it meant a few tantrums along the way.
Ella couldn’t take it anymore; she needed to say something. Anything.
“I-I’m s-sorry,” she whispered.
“Thank you for saying that honey. It’s okay to have big feelings, but it is never okay to yell or be rude. We’ll practice controlling our emotions. But first, I think you owe someone else an apology.”
Ella stared at her feet, unable to meet her parents' eyes.
“Sorry.”
“No, sweetie,” Maggie chides, “Don’t apologize to the floor. We look at the people we’re apologizing to.”
It takes everything in Ella’s power to meet her mother’s eyes. “I…I’m sorry for being rude.”
“Apology accepted, dear.”
“I’m proud of you, Ellybelly. But if you’re ever going to be a successful adult, you need to learn that actions have consequences. Let’s go to the corner for a ten-minute timeout. When it’s over, I want you to explain what you did wrong and how you can learn from it, okay?”
“What? Why? I apologized, Maggie! It’s not fair!” Ella shrieked, stomping her feet.
All Maggie could do was sigh. She overestimated Ella’s maturity—that much was obvious.
“I’m going to count to three. If your nose isn’t touching corner when I get to three, you’ll spend the next ten minutes with a bar of soap in your mouth, got it?”
Ella glared at Maggie.
“One…”
“Hmpff.”
“Two...”
For a split second, Maggie thought the look Ella gave her was defiance—until a loud fart dispelled the notion.
Maggie stifled a laugh when she heard Ella toot. It was almost like Ella’s body was on her side.
Ella whimpered as her knees bent and her hands balled into fists, her tummy cramping the way it had every time she pooped her diaper.
The official position of pamper packers.
There was nothing she could do to stop herself from grunting like a baby as Maggie and her parents watched her poop her diaper. Nothing she could do to preserve any shred of dignity.
Nothing but grunt and push.
With every round of warm mush that invaded her diaper, Ella felt her adulthood slipping away.
The scene was so pathetic, even Maggie wondered if Ella would ever be an adult again.
Nobody would have questioned Ella’s status as an adult a week ago. She had her own apartment, went bar hopping with friends, and was on the verge of graduating and starting her life.
Now Ella’s biggest concern is whether a freshman will change her poopy diaper before or after she’s put in timeout.
“Looks like Ellybelly is making a big poopoo! Pee yew, little one, I didn’t know you’d be such a lil’ stinker!”
Maggie couldn’t help herself, not after that tantrum. If this was how Ella was going to act, then she would treat her like the baby she was.
Ella’s father gently slaps the changing table. “Looks like Ella here is gonna put this puppy to to good use!”
“Let’s see what the damage is,” Maggie announces, unbuttoning Ella’s onesie and pulling back the diaper. “Woah! How does such a little thing make such biiiiiig poopies, hmm?”
Ella didn’t bother responding. She wasn’t sure she could say anything after everything that happened.
“Well, looks like your plan worked, you silly goose,” Maggie boops Ella’s nose, “Only a monster would let such a precious little babygirl go to timeout in a poopy diaper! Ready to take your new changing table for a test drive?”
“M-mhm…” Ella whimpered.
“Oh, don’t pout, Ellybelly. Even though you have a reservation for one at the Corner Time Cafe, I’ll still let you choose your diapie! Look at all the cool choices you have!”
“Why don’t we give you two some privacy?” Ella’s father said.
As they left the room, Ella breathed a sigh of relief.
“So what diapie is it gonna be, Stinkerella?”
As Ella surveyed the options, she realized how little it mattered.
In the end, she was going to wear every single one.
