“No! No! No! Noooooo!”
I stamped my feet and chewed furiously around the invasive pacifier bulb filling my mouth. My cheeks burned, fully aware of the spectacle I was making as my wife and her friends looked on in surprised amusement, and perhaps a bit of second-hand embarrassment. But I didn’t care. This had gone far enough!
She could take away my video games, dress me in this ridiculous outfit, drag me through humiliation after degrading humiliation, but a bed time?? This was the last straw! Over the last year Mommy (wait, no I mean Sara!) had managed to strip every past identifier of my old life and the man I used to be, and with each privilege and cherished article gone I found myself becoming the person… the baby she wanted me to be. But dammit I was still a fan! And it’s the World Series! I’ve been waiting for this moment all year, my whole life even! She can’t make me go to bed now.
“You said… You said I could stay up! And watch with your friends! I want to watch!” I cried. I had even agreed to join them in the living room wearing the ridiculous new onesie she got me, the words “Mommy’s Lil Slugger” emblazoned over a cartoon ball and bat across my chest, all with the expectation that I could watch my team take the field on the greatest stage. Just to feel normal again, for even one night.
I could feel the hot tears rolling down my cheeks now. Sliding under the plastic guard of the pacifier, already slick with my spit, collecting with the drool running down my chin. The leg gatherings of my embarrassingly thick diaper rustled with each frustrated stomp. It was a full on tantrum now. She did it, she finally broke me. Months of restraints, supplements, spankings, all to force me into submission. But this finally broke me.
“I want! I want! I want!” I wailed, shook my mittened fists, and stomped my feet, the soft booties making only the dullest of thuds on the carpet. What was I doing?? I’ve never thrown a fit like this! Not since I was an actual baby. Not with Mommy watching. Not with her friends watching!! But I couldn’t help it, I was fully in it now, singularly focused on this final act of resistance.
And that’s when I felt it. The tummy gurgle. Suddenly ripped from my infantile tunnel vision, I felt myself brought soberingly back to a few short hours ago, before the guests arrived, confined tightly in the kitchen highchair, struggling in vain against the pastel leather straps as Mommy shoveled spoonful after spoonful of orange mush past my quivering lips. I suddenly remembered watching helplessly as the occasional dollop of slop splattered pathetically against the white plastic tray, and thinking that something was off. I wasn’t able to focus on it then, having to quickly steel myself for the next disgusting mouthful, much of which destined to end up smeared across my face anyway, but I was right. It wasn’t a trick of the eye, I had seen the unmistakable white powder carelessly mixed in with baby food. Laxatives! But why? Why Mommy? I was good today! I was good!
*Gurgle*
Another violent churn of my bowels brought me back to the moment. Frantically I looked around the room. To Lauren and Michael watching fixated from the couch. Alyssa sitting on Brad’s lap on the armchair. All looking on in a mixture of amazement and horror as the diapered boy before them doubled over, now clutching his stomach. I took one last look at Mommy and caught the slightest smirk firming on her gorgeous lips. And then it happened. Rivers of thick, gooey mush forced their way out of my backside, filling every crevice of space in my previously pristine white diaper. I bit down on my paci, grunted, and cried softly to myself as the back of my already thick diapers crinkled loudly, bulging further outwards. The adorable felt catcher’s mitt sewn onto the butt expanded to hold the softball sized lump growing in the seat of my pants. I moaned pathetically as my bladder surrendered as well, urine flowing endlessly through the opening of my baby blue cage, pooling and mixing with the shameful mess below. Finally finished with the humiliating ordeal and drained from my screaming fit, I felt my bowed legs suddenly give out beneath me and before I could stop myself, I was falling. Though only a couple feet, it felt an eternity before SPLAT, my bottom collided with the carpeted floor, smearing my mess deeper into the confines of my plastic prison. I could feel it threatening to creep up my back past the waistband, straining against the leg guards, and coating my naughty bits. Parts that even I didn’t get to touch.
And so I sobbed. I sobbed for myself, the poor, miserable position I found myself in, and the person, the baby, I had become. But honestly? I mostly sobbed as a scared little boy, who needed his Mommy and who needed a change. I felt her delicate hands cup my chin as she raised my puffy red face to meet her maternal gaze.
“All I said was to go brush your lil teefies and get ready for bed. I didn’t say that it was your bed time…”
My cheeks burned even redder than before, I tried to look away but she had my chin firmly now. I chewed my pacifier nervously.
“But after this? You clearly aren’t old enough to stay up with us big kids. Maybe it is somebody’s bed time. Sorry everyone, someone gets a bit cranky this late at night. Let me go tuck this lil stinker in and I’ll be back to watch the game in a few minutes. There’s beers in the fridge!”
She turned back to me. “Come, baby.”
She began to walk past the foyer and up the landing to ascend the stairs, pausing only to look back and give me that look that said “you had better come right now if you know what’s good for you.”
Feeling more humiliated than ever before but terrified of what Mommy might do if I didn’t comply, I rolled over, feeling the soppy squish of my loaded diaper as I came to a kneel, and began the long crawl up the stairs, thankful the buttons holding my onesie, strained though they were, hadn’t popped. As I climbed, I tried to ignore the hushed whispers and excited gasps from below, opting to stare intently at each wooden step and hope I could turn invisible. Still, I couldn’t help but look up to glance at Mommy’s pert figure. Her luscious curves moving with each swaying step. Her skirt flared and I caught the slightest glimpse of her delicate lace panties and I felt my member begin to harden in my baby print prison before the plastic of the cage uncomfortably reminded me of my unenviable situation. As if the squelching stew in the seat of my pants couldn’t do that enough.
Finally, we found ourselves at the door to my dreaded nursery. Despite the pastel walls, colorful block lettered mat, and general softness radiating from every conceivable angle, I couldn’t help but shudder to think of every painful memory to take place here over the last year, each one robbing me just a bit more of my old self. I couldn’t reminisce for long, though, as I heard mommy’s syrupy sweet words of encouragement. “Come on baby!” I began to crawl towards the changing table, towering above me in the opposite corner of the room, its shelves stacked high with row upon row of fluffy, white, cartoon imprinted diapers, bottles of baby powder, tubs of wipes, and many more exotic implements meant to regress and humiliate me ever further.
“Ah, ah, ah! This time Mommy did say bed time. And Mommy meant it.“
Stunned, I looked back at her to see if she might be kidding. Or if my pleading gaze might change her mind. But I saw no such remorse in her eyes, or in the mischievous grin curling up her lips.
“Crib. Now.”
Defeated, I crawled over to the adorable, oversized baby bed that had become my nightly prison, slumped over the lowered side and lifted one leg after the other as I clambered gingerly inside, my full diaper squishing and churning with each awkward movement. Mommy stepped over, raised the bars and I heard the telltale click locking them in place. I sighed deeply, resigning myself to an early night and what was sure to be an uncomfortable morning highlighted by a diaper rash I knew I wouldn’t soon forget. Mommy leaned over the railing, handed me a bottle of warm milk and kissed me on the forehead, her butter-soft breasts swaying gently underneath her loosely buttoned baseball jersey.
“Night night sweetie, I’ll check on you in the morning. Behave yourself!”
She turned and strutted out of the room, turning out the light as she went, leaving me in almost total darkness, the shapes of the changing table, my play pen, toy box and the dreaded punishment corner barely illuminated by the soft orange glow of my Winnie The Pooh night light. The smell from my mess permeated the nursery and mixed with the ever-present aroma of powder, ointment and stale urine. I wish I could say it bothered me, but truthfully I had grown used to it. Delicately, I rolled over onto my back, trying to avoid disturbing the toxic sludge below, the constant reminder of my infantile state, and spat out my pacifier. Reluctantly, I began to suck on my baba as I strained to listen to the sounds of the game below, wishing desperately that someone would suggest turning up the volume, as the sounds of the night air outside began to swell with the chorus of summertime, punctuated only by the occasional cheer from the living room, or from the neighbors next door. “Must be a good game,” I thought to myself as my eyelids began to droop. My head hit the pillow, and soon I was born swiftly off to dreams of hitting a home run and rounding the plates, blissfully unaware of whatever new adventures, and newer lows, the morning would surely bring.
A night out at the circus?
That was a strange offer by your friends, but you went along.
Maybe years have passed by ever since you’ve been to the circus. You wondered if it was like you remembered. Your memory was vague about it, but when you and your friends parked the car, you saw the giant red tent. It was dark, but lights were shining on the red fabric from afar. A red carpet led the way to the entrance. The smell of popcorn and beer filled the space as you got closer. You and your friends were laughing about how silly it was all going to be, holding beers in your hands.
“Hey kids! Get inside quick!” a clown passed before you, shouted in a goofy voice, and squeezed his red big nose.
You threw the empty beer, got a new one, and went quickly inside. Getting inside was a sight to behold. The interior felt bigger than what you imagined from the outside.
You and your friends found your places and sat down.
The lights turned off and only spotlights lit the ring.
“Howdy folks! Are you ready for the show?” A clown shouted to the crowd as he was holding a comical big microphone.
“YES!” the crowd responded.
“Are you really ready? Let me hear it” The clown looked toward you and pointed, or at least it felt like it.
“YES!” the crowd shouted again.
The show was wild and funny.
The clown's customs were colorful and silly. Each one had his own thing and color. One had fuzzy huge purple hair. One had huge shoes he could barely walk in. Another had a nose that covered almost half of his face. But there was one you would never forget his appearance. His face was painted all white, with a red smiley mark covering the lower part of his face, and red curls that looked like red springs, trying to bounce out of his head.
You had so much fun, that you barely noticed the pressure to pee building inside of you from those two giant cups of beer. You didn’t want to leave for the bathroom, the show was so entertaining, so you held it as much as you could. Eventually, you stood up and walked to the outside to find the toilets.
“You! The guy who’s walking outside! STOP!” you heard from the speaker, and the lights hit you.
You turned around and saw the curly clown was pointing at you.
The lights washed all over you.
You pointed at yourself questionably.
“Yes you! Where are you going? We are in the middle of the show!” he asked, intending to get the crowd interested in the moment.
“I’m going to the bathroom.” you naively answered.
“Can’t you hold it to the rest of the show? You are such a baby! Isn’t he a baby people?” the clown asked the crowd, making them clap and cheer.
You turned red from embarrassment, gave him your back, and went outside.
You had to pee so bad, you didn’t have time to think about what happened, not just yet. The toilets were around the tent, a bit far from the entrance. Next to it, there were the wheeled caravans of the circus crew. You could hear the crowd inside cheering and the faded voices of the clowns.
“Hey there kid, how’s it going? Have you found the bathroom yet?” said the clown with the curly hair.
He must have finished his act and went outside. He was smoking a cigar and the smoke moved around him in the light breeze. He looked at you, without the act from the show.
“No, not yet” you answered.
“It’s not polite what you did back there, only babies can’t hold and wait. You must be a baby. But you are funny, at least I can look at you and see you have The funny in ya. Ever thought about clowning? Do you want to clown around with us?” he asked as you took a big drag from his cigar, putting his lips around it, making it visible for you to see.
“What? Me as a clown? Nah, I have to take a piss, excuse me,” you said and turned away.
“You are certainly not excused.” you heard him say.
A second later, a bag was covering your head and it felt like two strong guys were holding you and dragging you somewhere. You heard a door slamming open and then closing. You don’t know how, but suddenly you were knocked out of consciousness.
Sometime later, that could be moments, that could be minutes, you gained your consciousness back. You heard the crowd cheering very closely. Lights were shining into the cotton bag your head was in. You were wearing something else, something that wasn’t your clothes. You felt like you were sitting on something very thick and puffy, which seemed like between your legs as well. Maybe you wore it you thought.
“We have a surprise for you good folks! Do you remember the baby who couldn’t hold it before? Well, I’m glad to tell you that he is a baby! Our new baby clown! Give it up for the biggest baby of them all!”
Someone grabbed your shoulders, squeezed them, and pressed his head to the bag, and whispered.
“This is your birthday baby clown, the crowd is cheering for the new baby, make us proud!”
The bag was lifted from your head.
You looked around, shocked.
You sat in the center of the ring, in front of the cheering and going wild crowd. The lights were blinding but you could see you were wearing a comically massive white diaper and big red clown shoes. A bib with the words “big baby” was strapped around you by the purple-haired clown. A bonnet hat was strapped around your head by the clown with a big nose. You felt like crying from the humiliation.
“Awwww is baby gonna cry?” the curly clown asked, now not so serious like he was outside, but goofy and cheerful.
He took some kind of blue makeup marker and drew tears on your cheeks.
“Give it up for our crybaby people!” he made the crowd cheer even more.
He took a rolled-up carpet and unrolled it in front of you.
It was a childish carpet like you see in nurseries.
“Crawl around for us baby! Let everyone see your wet diaper you needed!” gesturing you onto the carpet.
From the excitement and the commotion, you didn’t even notice you were peeing in your new diaper. Somehow the massive diaper became yellow on the front as you peed.
You looked at the wet and yellow diaper, at the carpet, and the gesturing clown, and the cheering crowd.
“Always, such, a whiny, baby. Folks our baby always wants us to pick him up! But he can crawl, I tell you he can! Cheer for him, tell him to crawl!” the clown thrilled the crowd.
“Crawl! Crawl! Crawl!”
They were cheering for you.
They were cheering for the baby clown.
You were it, you were the show now, give it to them.
Crawl to the carpet.
Crawl to the spotlight baby.
-------------------------------------------
My conversation with @itsclowntime about clowning got me really inspired to write this short story. If you like clowning or being naughty thinking about it, check out his page.
A side note - I used AI to visualize the story.
I hope it adds to your imagination.
< Old bully, New boss >
The past is in the past, and after high school, you set your mind only on the future.
High school can be so cruel, kids can be so cruel.
As an adult, you knew there was nothing wrong with being a little overweight or being a bit weird, just being yourself is okay. But your teen years were awful. You were being picked on by bigger, older, masculine kids. Nobody showed real interest in you. You had a good friend or two, but that was about it. Not to mention you had no young love at all. To this day, you're thanking the universe for the fact those bullies didn’t know about your bedwetting problem. You knew that if high school was rough, it could be much worse.
In college, you decided to make a change. To become fitter, healthier, stronger, physically and mentally. The past is the past, and you have the whole future ahead of you. In time, you fell in love with sports and decided to take a break from studying and take a course to become a personal trainer.
Your hometown is long away, this is the new you.
Not the little bedwetter weirdo kid, but a large-ass fit-looking man.
You felt that when you sent your resume to the local gyms.
After a day, a well-known gym called you back and booked you an interview with the owner for the next day. You were so excited that you picked out the best outfit you could think of. Sporty, but classy and serious. Showing your worked-hard body, but not overly revealing. You had to make it just right.
Walking into the gym, you were a bit overwhelmed by how pristine and well-maintained it was, probably for the rich and famous. A receptionist greeted you and led you to the owner’s office where she knocked and opened the door for you to get in.
A huge man stood up and greeted you.
By the looks of it, he was doing steroids, but you weren’t completely sure about it. Not to mention he was very good-looking and got you a bit nervous just for it.
There was something familiar about him.
“Nice to meet you Mark, the manager here told me it’s your name. Sorry but I still didn’t go through your resume, he just said we need to call you in, and we did.” He said and gestured to the chair next to you.
”Thank you, I’m honored by the thought of working here. Not only it is one of the best gyms in the area, but I feel like there are so many potential opportunities to develop my future clients, and myself.” You said, still trying in your mind to figure out why he was so familiar.
”That’s great! I like your attitude! So my name is Will,” his name was Will.
Fuck! That was Will! One of your high school bullies!
Shit he had changed so much. He surely took steroids, he wasn’t that big at all. But look at him now, he’s massive, bigger than you. Plus, he owns this place, and he is more successful than you. He is the owner, the boss, the interviewer, the one in control.
”Now let me check your resume real quick, for formality and all,” he winked and took a look.
”Wait, Mark Spencer? Shit, I knew I recognized you, from high school! Well, most of the time you were facing me while I gave you good wedgies. Ha!” he laughed and gave the table a loud knock.
It made you flinch a little, while your mind raced to the whole humiliating things Will and his friends did to you in high school.
”Bla bla bla, you’re hired! My manager said we should hire you and I trust him completely. Congratulations! Now for the real question -“ suddenly something changed in his behavior.
”Is it true you were wetting your pants and wearing diapers to bed? It was a rumor that went around just after we graduated so we couldn’t pick on you, but you are lucky because kids can be cruel with this kind of information! Ah, Mark the bed wetter! In my gym!” Will talked and laughed, while you sat there, blushing red from embarrassment.
“Well, that job is your pampers, you want it?” He asked and waited for your reply.
“Yes, yes thank you Will” You answered, trembling a bit.
”Off you go then, my manager will contact you. But I have only one demand for now.” He said and waved for you to come closer, and you did.
”The equipment here is very expensive and I can’t have big babies wetting it. So either you control yourself or we can help you with buying adult diapers for you to wear around here as a uniform! Ha!” He couldn’t help but laugh right in front of your face.
”Go go” he waved you off, still laughing.
You turned around, degraded, humiliated, holding your crotch while running for the nearest bathroom to release your full and erupting bladder.
------------------------------------
Our past, complicated as it is, makes us who we are today.
It forms our dislikes, but also our likes and desires.
“Come here, little one!” Susie’s mother called. “Come to Mummy!”
Susie immediately got up and abandoned the stuffed animal tea party she’d been forced to play with (“Would you wike some tea, Mister Snuggles?”), hurrying over to her mother as fast she could. Once she reached Mrs Taylor, she felt a sudden weakness in her knees. Against her will, her body did a submissive little curtsey. She lifted up the hem of her silly little frock and flashed her wet, drooping diaper. “Here Mummy,” she said. Normally she was allowed to wear cotton underpants and use the little plastic training potty in the living room, always under supervision, but occasionally her mother changed her into nappies and told her she couldn’t control her bladder. Susie had spent that whole morning dribbling wee-wee into her pants like a dumb baby. Her mother had told her she couldn’t hold her pee, so she couldn’t.
“Good girl,” Mrs Taylor cooed, smirking. Even after months of having her independent daughter back under her thumb, she was still delighted by the sight of the once mature, rebellious young woman reduced to an obedient little lady. She looked especially adorable in her soggy nappy, blushing crimson, her eyes fixed on her sweet little Mary Janes. “Come with Mommy, sweetie. We’re going to your nursery. We need to get you changed into your special dance clothes, okay princess?”
“Yes, Mummy,” Susie said again, with another curtsey. Then she waddled hurriedly after her mother, wrinkling her nose at the horrible, yucky wet feeling of her diaper squishing between her legs.
Once they reached her bedroom, her nursery, Susie couldn’t stop herself scrunching up her face in disgust at the baby-pink wallpaper, the large crib, the changing table, and the childish toys that littered the carpet. She didn’t want to pull a face, but Mummy had told her that was how she was supposed to react to things she didn’t like. No more superior sneers. No more cold stares. Just wrinkling her nose and pulling what Mummy called her ‘yucky face’.
Mrs Taylor turned around to her daughter and lifted her frock up and over her head, leaving her bare-chested. Susie tried to cover her breasts, but her mother smacked her hands away. “No baby. There’s no need to cover your boobies. You haven’t got anything Mummy hasn’t seen before.” Susie’s lower lip trembled as her hands dropped immediately to her side. Her mother slipped her shoes off her feet, leaving her in nothing but her squishy wet nappy and her frilly ankle socks. “What a soggy girl!” Mrs Taylor cooed, probing the discoloured front of Susie’s diaper with her fingers. “You’re Mummy’s widdle pee-pee pants, aren’t you precious? Yes you are! Yes you are! But I don’t think you need a change just yet. That can wait until later. Let’s finish getting you dressed.”
Susie could only stand there like a doll as her mother pulled a ridiculous tutu up her legs and over her nappy. The puffy frills stuck out from her waist, failing spectacularly to conceal her bulging potty pants. Next, a pair of ballet shoes over her socks, and finally a pair of glittery pink fairy wings that slipped into place over her shoulders.
“There we go!” Mrs Taylor announced happily. “Fully dressed! Come and take a look at yourself, cutie.” She led her daughter over to the floor-length mirror and stood her in front of it.
Susie almost started crying when she saw how absurd she looked. An attractive women in her early twenties (as her bare breasts made clear) dressed up like a little girl pretending to be a fairy princess, her wet diaper peeking out beneath the hem of her tutu, letting everyone know she wasn’t even mature enough for toilets. She gritted her teeth and fought to keep her face set. She didn’t want to give her mother the satisfaction of seeing her cry like a baby, but she still couldn’t stop herself from pulling her yucky face.
“Awww, what’s that look for, sweetie?” Mrs Taylor cooed. “Who’s Mummy’s pretty baby? Who’s my pretty little girl?”
“Me Mummy!” Susie blurted. The words spilled from her lips beyond her control. “Me a pwetty giwl!”
Her mother laughed. “That’s right, sweetie! Now let’s go and show you off to Mummy’s friends, and you can do your little dance just like we practiced.”
“Yes Mummy,” Susie said. She tried desperately to keep her feet rooted to the floor, but it was useless. She was nothing but a passenger in her own body when her mother gave her an order. She followed her mother out of her nursery and down the stairs towards the living room. The sounds of conversation reached her ears. Her mother’s twisted friends had been delighted to see Susie ‘put back in her place’.
A chorus of laughter rang out once Susie entered the room, and her lower lip trembled again. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor, wishing it would swallow her up and end this nightmare.
“Say hello to your Aunties, princess,” her mother ordered. “Just like Mummy told you to do.”
A big dumb smile spread over Susie’s face at once. She looked up and waved enthusiastically at the five women sitting on the sofas and chairs. “Hewwo Aunties!”
“Awww!” they all cooed in unison.
“Hi baby!”
“Aren’t you just the cutest!”
“That outfit is much more appropriate than all those silly things you used to wear!”
“I could just gobble you up!”
“I’m so glad you’re back where you belong, little one!”
“Little Susie-wusie wanted to show you all the dance she’s been practising,” Mrs Taylor announced. “It’s a bit different from the dancing she used to do when she was out partying at university, back when she thought she was a big girl, but she’s still very proud of it. Go on, sweetie, sing your little song for us!”
Susie tried once more, desperately, to control her body. But no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t disobey her mother. “I’m a little baby,” she sang, to the tune of I’m A Little Teapot. “Wet and dumb!” She struggled to hold back her tears. “Here is my nappy…” She patted it. “And here is my bum!” She spun around, stuck out her padded bottom, and wiggled it at her mother’s cackling friends. “When… I get… all stinky…” she sang between grunts, sinking down into a squat and straining to fill her diaper just like Mummy had ordered her to do. She felt sick and disgusted at what her traitorous body was doing. The seat of her nappy bulged and sagged. “Here me shout!” she sobbed, getting up and turned back around to face her audience with tears running down her cheeks, her loaded diaper now sagging halfway down to her knees. “Mummy!” she cried. “I did a poo-poo in my pants!”
Her mother’s friends shrieked with laughter and applauded, while Mrs Taylor smiled, darkly satisfied, and pulled her tearful daughter into a hug. “There, there, stinky-bum,” she cooed. “It’s okay. Mummy’s very proud of you for doing your cute little song and dance. It’s only to be expected that you pooped your pants. You might have thought you were a mature, independent woman who was clever enough to go off to university, but now you know you’re just a big, silly baby who can’t even stop herself making yucky messes in her nappy.”
“But you made me!” Susie whined. All her complaints came out in an annoying, whiny voice now, ever since her mother told her that was how she was to complain about things. “I can control myself!”
“Awww, is my widdle Susie-wusie being a fussy-pants?” Mrs Taylor crooned. “I think she is!” Then she leaned close to her daughter’s ear and whispered an order. “Throw a tantrum, Susie. Right now.”
Immediately, Susie lost control of her emotions. “I’m not a BABY!” she screeched, stamping her feet and pumping her fists madly the moment her mother had pulled away. “I wanna go back to college! I wanna go to parties and have sex with boys! I wanna be a grown-up again!” She stomped about stupidly, looking utterly ridiculous in her tutu and fairy wings, her bare breasts and her stinky diaper both jiggling wildly as she bounced up and down like an overgrown toddler. “I don’t wanna be a stupid baby! I’m a big girl! I’m a BIG GIRL!”
Susie tried to calm herself down. She knew this was exactly what her mother wanted – to make her to look like an absurd, oversized two-year-old – but just as it had been for months now, even since the Magician had put her in this state, she was completely unable to disobey her Mummy. Even her little ‘rebellions’ were controlled, only a means to humiliate her further by forcing her to act like the anger she felt at her situation was merely typical toddler fussiness. So Susie could do nothing as her body dropped to the floor and started kicking its legs and pounding the carpet, bawling its eyes out and shrieking that it was a big girl.
“Uh-oh!” her mother sang, glancing knowingly at her friends. “I think little Susie just earned herself some smacky bum-bum time!”
They all laughed, even while Susie continued to scream and shout.
“That naughty girl definitely needs a red bottom!” said one.
“Babies are often like this,” said another. “I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised that Susie is too. I’m sure a spanking will sort her out!”
Mrs Taylor smirked as she dragged Susie to her feet, sat down in a chair, and pulled her flailing adult daughter over her knees. “Bad baby!” she scolded, bringing her hand down on Susie’s bottom. “Very naughty girl, Susie-poo! This is exactly why Mummy can’t let you grow up! Imagine, still throwing tantrums at your age!”
Susie cried and thrashed as her mother spanked her, alternating between smacking what little of her bottom wasn’t covered by her nappy, and bringing her palm down forcefully on the seat of her baby-pants to make the mess inside squish horribly against her bum.
This was her life now, Susie knew. Toddler activities and tantrums and spankings. No free will. Just a doll for her controlling mother’s amusement. All Susie could do was hope that one day her mother would let her grow up again, or the Magician would take pity on her and undo what he’d done. But Susie had a feeling that wouldn’t be for a very long time.
“But I tried, I tried,” you cried while facing the corner.
“I don’t want to wear diapers anymore!” you pleaded but didn’t dare to turn around.
“I know you tried buddy, but these wet shorts and undies are of your making,” Daddy said in a calm tone.
Today you woke up dry. It was the third night in a row you woke up dry. It’s been months since you and Daddy started to engage in ABDL. At some point, you lose bladder control. Not fully, but you had very little control anymore. You wetted most nights and sometimes had day accidents. In this time you discovered how submissive you can be, and how dominant Daddy can be. You became his dependent boy, and he became your all-mighty Daddy.
It’s not clear if you gave away all your adult privileges, or he took them away.
But you had none.
“But Daddy, please no, I haven’t had an accident in three days,” you begged.
“I knew, and we tried potty training you, but I don’t think you’re ready,” he said.
Lately, you asked Daddy more than a few times to take a break from ABDL. You liked it of course, but you needed a break. You needed your adult clothes, phone, TV shows, friends, boxers briefs. You need to swear. You needed to fight with Daddy. Now when you are “arguing” with him, he calls it a tantrum and manhandles you straight to submission.
“But Daddy, I don’t need a night diaper during the day, please,” the tears kept rolling down your cheeks.
“Those aren’t night diapers my sweet boy, those are your normal diapers from now on. You proved to me you’re not yet ready to be potty trained,” he said as he rose your wet shorts and undies.
After you woke up dry, Daddy put out kiddy underwear for you, saying it’s time for his boy to show Daddy how he grew up to be a big boy. You were so happy that things were going your own way. At some point, Daddy even handed you a cup of orange juice. You were so excited to drink from a cup again, after months of bottle drinking at home. The orange juice had a metallic taste, maybe it was the end of the season you thought, and just drank it all.
An hour later, you wetted yourself in the middle of the living room.
You wanted to be potty trained so badly and Daddy was on your side.
Now you are facing the corner wearing a thick diaper.
“Too bad, not a big boy yet,” Daddy said and smiled.
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@bilbng86 really tried his best.
titsay
yousharknotpass
turnnoffyourmind
theartofmadeline
romaincrisis
