“Stop fussing, little one,” Janie’s mother said sternly as she taped her adult daughter’s diaper around her waist. “You need to get used to having your nappy changed.”
“But I don’t want to!” Janie whined, kicking her legs. “I’m an adult! Why can’t we just pretend I’m getting punished when the inspectors come?”
“Naughty girl!” her mother scolded, smacking her sharply on the top of her thighs. Janie squealed girlishly. “Don’t kick, little lady, or Mummy will give you a proper spanking. And we will not just pretend. The court sentenced you to five years as a one-year-old, Janie, and as your mother it’s my duty to enforce that sentence. Unless you’d rather be sent to a state-run adult discipline nursery?”
Janie shivered. “No, Mum…”
Her mother smacked her hard on her bottom, making her squeal again.
“I mean… No, Mummy.” Janie blushed in humiliation. She felt utterly stupid. She was an adult for God’s sake! A successful businesswoman! Or at least, she had been until all her illegal activities had been discovered. She couldn’t help but whine and complain, even if it did make her look even more babyish. It was almost too much to bear, the thought of being stuck in nappies for the next five years, forced to wear baby clothes (if she was lucky enough to get to wear anything at all over her tits and diaper), forced to eat baby food and drink from bottles, to sleep in a crib and get spanked for misbehaviour.
But the threat of a state-run nursery was enough to make her settle down. She’d seen the women who’d ended up there – usually girls whose husbands, boyfriends, or parents were unable or unwilling to enforce their regression discipline. They wore ludicrous frilly dresses, with their nappies, almost always used, completely on display. They sucked their thumbs and babbled nonsensical baby talk. They threw childish tantrums and cried when they weren’t allowed to have any ice cream. They acted like total babies, and even the slightest display of adult behaviour was met with a swift and nasty spanking, even in public.
“There’s no need to be so grumpy, little miss,” her mother said happily. She seemed delighted to have her baby back. “Here comes the tickle monster!”
She started tickling Janie’s exposed tummy and sides, making her wiggle about on the sofa, giggling uncontrollably. Janie blushed even more brightly as she giggled and gurgled like a happy baby. She wanted nothing more than to scream at her mother that she was still an adult woman, no matter what the government said, but all she could do was shriek with laughter as if she was enjoying being tickled like a toddler. Then she felt her bladder let go.
“No!” she gasped suddenly, looking down at her diaper, the front of which was starting to darken.
“What’s the matter, sweetie?” Janie’s mother asked, stopping her tickling and following her daughter’s gaze. Then a broad smile spread across her face. “Uh-oh! Is my little princess doing wee-wees? You always did have a weak bladder when you got tickled!”
Janie burst into tears. It was so disgusting! But it wasn’t just the feeling of a wet nappy that was making her upset. It was the knowledge that the icky, soggy, warm sensation in her pants was something she’d be experiencing every day for the next five years at least, assuming she wouldn’t end up incontinent by the end of her sentence. She didn’t want to wear nappies! She didn’t want to be a stupid baby!
“It’s okay, sweetheart!” her mother cooed. “It’s okay! You’re just a little baby, and babies wet themselves. That’s what your nappies are for!”
Janie cried ever harder at that. Her mother scooped her up and settled down on the sofa with her, stroking her hair and cooing at her lovingly. Even though Janie knew her mother was getting some twisted sense of enjoyment out of seeing her adult daughter reduced legally to the status of a sweet little one-year-old baby, she couldn’t help but feel comforted. Eventually her crying turning into sniffles.
“Will you… Will you change my nappy, Mummy?” Janie asked.
“I just changed you, silly!” her mother laughed. “You can have a nappy change after dinner.”
“After dinner?! But… But that’s hours away!”
“I know, princess,” her mother said slowly and sweetly, like she was talking to someone very stupid. “But being in a wet nappy is just part of being a baby. Sometimes you might have to spend a whole day in soggy or stinky pants, so it’s just something you’ll have to get used to. Okay, sweetheart?”
You desperately looked at the shore, lamenting how far away it was. You'd never make it in time. It was still at least 40 minutes away.
If you're lucky, you could hold it for five.
You hated these family vacations. Your parents still forced you to go, even though you were a senior in college. Vacations with family meant two weeks of your parents treating you like a child because you still weren't out of diapers.
Two weeks of your little sister publicly checking your diapers. Two weeks of hearing her laughing when your mother dragged you away for diaper changes.
There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide on this damned boat. Nowhere to sneak away to load your diaper without drawing attention.
All you knew is it couldn't happen here, while you sat between your mother and sister. Between your mother’s overbearing concern and sister’s taunting, you’d rather throw yourself off the boat in shark infested waters.
No. You had to go somewhere, anywhere to get away from them.
"I'm gonna go look for dolphins," you lied, hoping nobody would follow.
You slowly wander to the back of the boat through the crowd. If anyone had a toddler, they'd recognize your walk for what it is: the desperate toddling of someone trying not to poop his diaper.
You get to the railing, squeezing it tight, fighting your body. “Not here. Just a little bit longer,” you plead to yourself.
“Hey! This is embarrassing but you’re staying at the Flamingo Sands, right? There’s literally no one our age there and I’m going crazy!”
You almost lose control when you look up at her. She’s beautiful and she came up to you! You try to play it cool, despite the foreboding cramping in your stomach.
“Yeah, I swear the average age there is 65!”
Your heart skips a beat when she laughs, much more than expected for that joke. Maybe…just maybe you have a chance.
“I know, it’s supposed to be a party resort, not a retirement center!” she quips, “well, maybe you want to get a dri—are you okay?”
A savage cramp forced you to grab the railing and squat down a few inches. Your face growing a violent shade of maroon.
The cramp mercifully passes without you loading your diaper in front of her. Recovering yourself, you try to play it off.
“Yeah, sorry, I shouldn’t have gone snorkeling when I was this hungover,” you lie.
“Hahaha, I feel that. I thought I was gonna die yesterday. Wayyyy to many Mai Tai’s!”
Just as you’re about to respond, you hear footsteps coming towards you. Before you can even see who it is, you hear her.
Your sister.
“Hey, buddy, Mom says it’s been a while since she checked that diaper of yours, so I volunteered to do it!”
“Wait, what do you mean? Are you…? You’re wearing a diaper?” she asks, both deeply amused and wildly confused.
“Yeah!” your sister answers enthusiastically, “this little stinker has never managed to get out of diapers!”
“Oh my god, no way! That’s so embarrassing! I was about to ask him to get drinks with me!” she says, dripping in condescension, “wait. Are you actually cramping cause you’re hungover? Or are you trying not to poop your diaper? Because my niece is a toddler and she does the exact same thing!”
“Oh I’m sure it was! He had the cutest little poopy dance!” your sister teases, “he’s due for a stinky anytime!”
You try and give your sister your best death glare, too humiliated to speak. All it does is make her giggle.
“I don’t smell anything, but let’s see,” she says pushing your shoulders forward.
You won’t let your sister check you in front of her. Not like this. But in your effort to resist, you unclench yourself.
The consequences were immediate. You realized your mistake as your knees buckled into a deep squat. You were powerless to stop it.
You were pooping your diaper in front of them.
“No way! You’re actually squatting down like my niece! You even make the same little grunts! That’s so cute!”
You’re unable to defend yourself, incapable of anything but squatting and pushing. Despite your lifetime of filling diapers, you’ve never been more humiliated than you are now.
To your horror, you realize this isn’t a little accident. Round after round of mush fills your diaper. Bulging out, searching for space.
“Does he always poop this long?” she asks.
“Oh yeah, he makes the biggest poopies,” your sister answers, “my mom makes him wear the biggest diapers on the market. No idea how you didn’t see them proofing under his swimsuit!”
“Well now I can! It looks like he’s pooped out a mountain!”
Just as you think you’re done, you hear another voice.
“Oh, honey,” your Mom coos, “I saw you squatting down all the way from where I was sitting! Are you all done? Let me see.”
You meekly allowed your Mom to check you like a toddler in front of two giggling girls, hoping a tsunami was barreling towards you.
“Sweetie, you really filled your diaper,” your mom says, “I don’t think you can sit down unless you want a blowout.”
“Just change him here,” your sister adds unhelpfully, “you can’t subject the boat to his stink!”
She laughs, “for as big as the lump in his diaper, he doesn’t really smell! He won’t get a rash?”
“The captain said we still have 45 minutes until we’re back on shore,” your Mom says thoughtfully, “maybe it would be best to change you now. I saw a secluded place in the front, maybe we can ask the captain if it would be okay to change him there.”
With that, your Mom pulls you after her, heading to the captain. The last thing you see is her laughing with your sister, lost in conversation.
“Hey mister, where do you think you’re waddling off to all alone?”
Of all the people you wanted to avoid right now, Robin was at the top of your list.
“Ummm…t-to get something.”
You were never a good liar.
“Is that so? It has nothing to do with that big brown bulge in your Lil Swimmer?”
What could you possibly say in a situation like this?
It was bad enough Mommy dressed you in nothing but an oversized Lil Swimmers diaper and dinosaur floaties around your former friends.
And in Robin’s case, former crush.
It was bad enough having to surreptitiously squat down and load that swim diaper.
But somehow, this made it even worse.
Here you are—blubbering an excuse after Robin caught you red-handed trying to hide in your poopy diaper.
Exactly like a shy toddler.
“Awww, don’t be embarrassed, cutiepie! It’s just a poopy diapie. Poor thing, were you trying to hide from us?”
“I…”
“Come here, little guy. You’re okay,” she coos, pulling you into a hug, “You’re safe. How about I grab your diaper bag and get you out of that icky diapie, hmm?”
“B-but…wha-what about my…”
“I can change you, sweetie. Your Mommy is having some fun, I’ll give her a break.”
She pulls your hand to the group of sunbathing girls, giving you no choice but to follow.
“Found this lil stinker trying to hide his poopy diaper.” She tousles your hair. “Anyone know where Liz put his diaper bag?”
You felt every eye on you as you waited for Robin to grab your diaper bag, your drooping brown diaper unmistakable.
To your horror, she places the changing mat right next to you.
“H-here?! Can’t we g-go to the car?”
“That’s all the way up the hill, honey. Your Mommy would kill me if I let you walk that far in a poopy diaper! Besides, you’ve been playing in nothing but your diaper all afternoon, nobody will be surprised it’s getting changed.”
The other girls laugh, but not you.
“Lay down, kiddo.” As you do, she slides a paci into your mouth.
She rips the sides of your Lil Swimmers.
“You know, when I first heard your Mommy did this after your accidents started, I thought she was crazy. I mean, diapers or not, I always thought you were a good guy. I even had a crush on you!”
Wait—she had a crush? On you?
“And then to have your adulthood ripped away like this…I mean, you’re genuinely no different than my three-year-old niece. It just seemed so…cruel. But now that I’ve spent time around you, your Mommy chose right! This is sooo better for you!”
She starts wiping you clean.
“Think about it. No woman would ever want to be with someone in diapers. And who could possibly respect someone who might poop his diaper at any moment? That’s no way for an adult to live. So why try? You’re already closer to a baby than an adult, so why pretend? Why confuse you?”
“Aren’t you better off without any big boy expectations? Free from the burdens of adulthood? Doesn’t it make this diaper change easier knowing I think of you as a toddler, not an adult?”
She lifts your legs into the air.
“You’re free, honey. Babies aren’t embarrassed by their diapers because babies aren’t judged for needing diapers. It’s the most natural thing in the world for them. Expected. Just like you!”
She rolls up your messy diaper, grabbing a new Lil Swimmer, baby powder, and rash cream.
“Your Mommy gave you a gift: your Second Babyhood. Now nobody will judge you as an adult. Isn’t that great? You never need to be embarrassed again!”
She boops your nose.
“You can run around to your heart’s content in your cutie swim diapie like it’s the most normal thing in the world! Because it is! All us girls think it’s the most adorable thing!”
She sprinkles baby powder on you.
“So no more running off to hide because you made a poopoo, okay, mister? That’s why your Mommy put it on! Let us worry about your diapies, your job is to build the biggest sandcastle ever!”
You finally find your voice as she slides your Lil Swimmers on you.
“O-okay…”
She laughs. “Silly boy, you can do better than that! Aren’t you excited to show your Mommy the sandcastle you’re making her?”
“Y-yeah!”
“Hmmm, what do you think, girls? Is he excited enough?”
A collective murmur of encouragement rings out.
“I thought so!” Now,” she coos, tickling your tummy, “Who wants to build a sandcastle?”
“Meeeee!” you wail, laughing from the tickles.
“Good boy! C’mon lil stinker, let’s go build a sandcastle!”
The next hour flies by. For the first time since you were demoted to babyhood, you weren’t worried about your lost adulthood.
You were having fun!
It didn’t matter that you were building a sandcastle in nothing but a Lil Swimmer, surrounded by pretty girls your “age.” It didn’t matter that every so often, the back of your diaper was pulled back to inspect it for poopoo.
Robin was right—you were finally free.
You aren’t an adult, so why be judged like one? Why live by adult standards? Why fight to be seen as an adult, when you’ll never be one of them?
You finally embrace your new life and let go of who you were before the diapers. Let go of worrying what the girls next to you think you.
This is who you are.
A carefree baby boy. You have Mommy to care for you. She makes all the decisions. What’s there to fuss about?
“Wook Mommy!” you squeal when you see her, “I builded a thancathle!”
It’s been so long since Daddy let you have any big girl fun with him.
So very long.
Daddy stripped away every aspect of your adulthood, piece by piece, thrusting you into this infantile world of diapers, nap times, and Fisher-Price playsets.
Nothing but mind-numbing baby shows, toddler-level books, and never-ending nursery songs.
Everything but this.
He could take your potty-training, autonomy, and independence, but he could never take the one last piece of adulthood you have left.
Your desire.
After a year of permanent denial, of having your princess parts chronically ignored—except during diaper changes, Daddy would never let you get diaper rash on his watch—you almost wished he could take it.
The longer your diaper-clad chastity goes, the needier you become. Your mind is a hazy buzz of desperation. You can’t think straight.
All you want is to feel Daddy’s loving touch again. Even the thought of it send jolts of pleasure through your body. You’d do anything.
Anything.
You take a breath—and make your move.
“D-daddy…,” you whisper, suckling your binky with each pause and giving him your best puppy dog eyes, “I mith Daddy th-tho much…an..an…M all…w-wet…pwease, Daddy…”
Daddy smiles, pulling the waistband of your soggy diaper. “I can see that, kiddo! You’re Daddy’s little tinkle fountain!”
You wince, hating the infantile response to your adult request.
“N-not wi-wike da wet, Daddy…wike…mmm… da other wet.”
You can’t even ask like a big girl anymore.
But it doesn’t matter, this isn’t the time for pride. If being Daddy’s sweet princess will get you some big girl time, you’ll do it.
“Hmm,” Daddy ponders, sniffing the air, “Did you make a runny boom boom?” He prods at the seat of your diaper playfully.
Crinkles erupt as you squirm in embarrassment.
“Daddyyyyy! No poopieth! J-jus…I…well…”
“Well, what are you babbling about, sweet pea?” A sweet, innocent grin plastered on his face.
“I..I jus wa..wan Daddy l..like how m used tah get tah haves Daddy! M..miss him so much.”
Daddy boops your nose.
“Babygirl, you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you know that?”
You perk up. “W-weally, Daddy?”
Daddy’s hand rests ever so gently on your diaper. You shudder in anticipation.
“Of course you are, kiddo! But I don’t think you’re quite mature enough for that, yet. You’re far too sweet and innocent for such things!”
Your body deflates like a popped balloon.
“B-bu am big girl, Daddy, pwomith!”
“No, honey, you’re my silly babbly baby who has no need for such impure thoughts. Why else do you think Daddy only gives you binky kisses and plays with your hair?”
“D-don know, Daddy…”
“Well, baby, it has been a long time since you were a big girl hasn’t it? And you’ve been so well behaved without any fun with your princess parts. You must be sooo needy by now, huh?”
Your eyes light up. “Y-yeth, Daddy! T-tho tho needy for you! Good girl!”
“Yes, kiddo. A very good girl, giving up all your fun for your diapies! Just like a good baby should. I think you deserve a treat. What do you think?”
You’re practically bouncing with joy.
“Yeth pwease, Daddy!! Pwease pwease pwease!”
Daddy sits up, smiling ear to ear.
“Why don’t you come rub your soggy diaper on my leg, honey? Show me how thankful you are to make some cummies for Daddy!”
Daddy doesn’t have to tell you twice!
You’ve been so hopelessly denied for so long, even the prospect of humping your diaper on Daddy’s leg gets your diaper wet again.
“Good girl, just like that, babygirl. Make your crinkles for me. Prove how desperate you are to be a big girl.”
You straddle Daddy’s leg, positively vibrating in anticipation. Daddy grabs your waist, looking deep in your eyes.
“F-Fank you, Daddy,” you say before your hips start gyrating.
The effect is immediate.
You scream in pleasure—pleasure that’s been denied for so long. It feels better than anything you’ve ever felt in your life.
Nothing matters but the soggy mush squelching against your princess parts. You feel Daddy beneath it.
Daddy.
“D-dadddy!!!”
Twenty seconds after you start, a wave of ecstasy crashes over you. Unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.
Pure bliss.
As the world slowly starts reformulating, you see Daddy smiling at you, eyes full of love.
“Awww, someone loves her diapies, don’t they, Princess? Daddy loved your crinkle symphony, too! You’re so adorable, little one!”
You try to catch your breath, a mix of embarrassment at your actions clash with the ecstasy of your orgasm.
“C’mon, babygirl. Let’s get you changed out of that icky diapie.”
Daddy won’t tell you, but it’s all going exactly according to plan. You’ll do anything—anything—for that again. Even if it means going further and further into your second babyhood.
Tears glisten on her cheeks as she looks up at me, making no attempt to cover her diaper despite sitting on the bathroom floor.
I can’t help but wonder what’s going on in her head. Does she understand—truly understand—how radically her life is about to change?
There’s no coming back from this. Her status as Daddy’s pamper packer permanently cemented in place.
I’ll never forget the shock on her friends’ faces as it happened. The moment they realized their friend belongs in diapers.
The best part? She begged for this. All she wanted was one night as a big girl. One night without diapers. One night dressed in the sexy, adult clothes she loved so much.
She insisted I was overreacting when I said she should be diapered. That her messy diapers were her choice.
Sometimes natural consequences are the best teacher.
So, I didn’t make a fuss as she slipped on her panties—the last pair she’ll ever wear—and her favorite little black dress.
After tonight, she’ll never wear anything like that ever again. And she’ll definitely never walk out of the house without a diaper again.
She managed to keep her panties clean longer than I expected. Not that it matters. She doesn’t get credit for delaying the inevitable.
And it was inevitable.
She couldn’t have chosen a more fitting way to announce she was a diaper girl: at a fancy restaurant, surrounded by her closest friends, in her favorite dress.
The juxtaposition of the whole thing was too perfect.
It happened shortly after the appetizers were served. Which, admittedly, was inconvenient because I’d been looking forward to the burrata for days.
Her friends didn’t pick up the subtle signs that trouble was brewing. Why would they? None of them have any children. They don’t know the silly tells of a toddler about to have an accident.
But I do.
Except my “toddler” is 27 and sitting next to me in the last black dress she’ll ever wear.
I silently enjoyed the drama unfolding before me, unnoticed by everyone else. It started with the subtle panic when the first urge hit her. Her eyes wide, body squirming.
Then came momentary relief with the urge passing. Her body relaxed thinking she was out of the woods.
It was adorable.
If she were actually an adult, she’d know it was just the calm before the storm. But she’s not.
It happened suddenly and violently. A loud toot exploded out of her—an unmistakable prelude to what followed.
Her friends—aghast at this turn of events—stared at her in utter disbelief.
Nobody would question her need for diapers after this. Only someone who truly needed diapers would mess themselves in the middle of a restaurant.
She proved to herself—and her friends—that her rightful place is in diapers. That she doesn’t need me to be her husband.
She needs Daddy.
I will admit it was difficult to watch. Even though I knew this is who she was and that this was necessary step for my babygirl, it wasn’t easy watching her face contort from terror to concentration as she pushed.
But I was powerless to stop it. All I could do was watch as her friends realized what was happening. Too stunned to even speak, silently watching their friend regress before their very eyes.
She whimpered all the way to the bathroom, but not uttering a single word the entire time I cleaned the mess off her and her dress, ensuring she no longer smelled like the baby she just became.
She didn’t even resist as I grabbed a diaper from my bag and taped her into it. There was no point arguing anymore.
“D-daddy,” she finally whimpered, sitting on the bathroom floor, “C-can we go home, please? I…I don’t want my f-friends to see me like this…”
“Oh, honey,” I cooed, “Why would we go home? Your friends finally know who you are—the real you! You don’t need to pretend you’re anything but Daddy’s pamper packer! You can finally be yourself.”
“B-but Daddy,” she whines, “It…it’s embarrassing! They all saw…saw me…Daddy!”
I kneel down, embracing her. Poor thing. I hold her until her breathing calms, wiping her eyes dry.
“I know baby, I know. Everyone saw you making stinkies at the dinner table. And it won’t be the last time they see you squat down and make pushies, either. But tonight is the last time you’ll ever be in public like this again, little one, so try to enjoy it!”
“W-what do you mean, Daddy?”
“Oh, babygirl, look what you’re wearing! A sexy black dress, lace pantyhose, high heels…do you really think I’ll let you wear big girl clothes after this? I mean, that dress doesn’t even cover your diaper! You need more appropriate clothes for someone in your position.”
“B-b-b-but…”
“No buts, baby. You don’t need sexy, fashionable clothes anymore. You need functional clothing with snaps that allow easy access to your diaper for checks and changes.”
She whimpered but didn’t argue.
“Tight, form-fitting dresses will become cute, frilly dresses with Disney characters and onesies! Pantyhose will become knee socks to keep your toesies warm! And high heels will become Mary Janes!”
“But I like my—,” she starts.
“What did I just say, little one? No buts. Tonight is the last time you’ll ever wear clothes like this. Why not enjoy it? Who cares if your diaper is obvious? You’re a diaper girl! You’ll never be out of diapers again. So, why not walk out of this bathroom with your head held high?”
She sat in silence for a minute, deep in contemplation. She may not believe it, but she’s never been more adorable than she is right now. Dressed in the clothes of her former life with a diaper drooping below.
Her past, present, and future all here in this restroom. And her best friends in the world are here for her as she transitions from adult to babygirl.
“O-okay, Daddy. Uppies!”
I help her up, kissing her cheek as I do.
“I’m proud of you, babygirl!” I say as we leave the bathroom, patting her diaper, “Time to start your new life!”
This caption is for @ellieabdl, a blushy little thing. I hope you enjoy it!
You sat there frozen in place, terror washing over you.
This can’t be happening.
Pee trickled down your office chair, pooling on the floor. You just peed yourself. At work.
What were you going to do?
Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, it does. She walked in, that same confident smile plastered on her face.
Nobody would have ever suspected Megan was a mere intern at the office. Despite being over ten years older than her—and her direct supervisor—you were often confused for her intern by clients.
There was just something about her. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you felt the pressure her presence put on you.
Megan took one look at you, her eyes drifting down to the pool of your own pee, before walking straight toward you.
“Up,” she demanded. You obey. She inspects the damage, turning you around.
“Don’t worry, you’re okay. Give me your phone, I’ll call your husband.”
Too shocked to argue, you hand her your phone.
“Hi…no, this is Megan, Eleanor’s intern. She’s fine, well, kinda…no, no nothing serious! She just…well she had a little accident…oh, it’s not her first? Well that explains some things…great, we’ll be waiting in her office.”
She turns to you, smiling. “Your husband is on the way with a change of clothes. Just sit here, okay? I’ll make sure everything gets cleaned up.”
The next twenty minutes were some of the most awkward in your life. Megan never left your office. Finally, your husband, Jason, walks in with a bag of spare clothes.
He hands you the bag and you open it. To your utter horror, a pull-up is sitting on top.
“Eleanor,” Jason says calmly, “I think it’s time you wear some protection. This is starting to get out of hand.”
Before you can argue, Megan nods her head. “I agree, Eleanor. And Jason, I’ll be happy to help keep an eye on her. Make sure she’s not leaking and changing on time.”
That was six months ago.
Six grueling, humiliating months.
Somehow your intern now walked into your office like you were her subordinate. She didn’t knock. She just came in.
Megan walked straight over to you, telling you to stand up. And, no matter how much you wanted to argue, to stand up for yourself, you obeyed.
You let your intern—over a decade younger than you—walk into your office and check your pull-up. And if you were soggy, she’d hand you another pull-up and tell you to go change.
And your pull-up was wet far more often than before. Needless to say, your confidence was shattered. Your performance and work was slipping.
Every day, Megan would report your pull-up usage to your husband. Each day their conversations got lighter, their laughter intensified.
You loathed Megan’s power over you. The way everything she did was so effortless. She was graceful; she was strong. Most of all, you hated the way you always obeyed her.
And then it happened.
You felt a sudden, devastating urge. You needed to get to the bathroom now or you’d mess your pull-up. You wouldn’t let that happen.
You waddled as fast as you could without losing control to the bathroom. As you got to the bathroom door, you felt a sigh of relief.
You were going to make it.
Until Megan opened the door. “What’s the rush, Ellie?”
It was too late. Before you could take another step—or even respond—you were squatting down and filling your pull-up.
Megan watched the whole thing, eyes locked onto you.
“Uh oh, did smelly Ellie make a stinky in her pull-up? I need to call your husband, we need to have a little chat about you.”
The next day, your husband insisted that he drives you to work over your objections. It was unusual—but so was the thick diaper between your legs.
After yesterday, your husband decided you’ll be in diapers until you can figure out your “potty situation.”
To your surprise, your husband opened your car door and told you to follow him upstairs, offering his hand.
“W-what are you doing?” you ask meekly.
“Your boss is expecting us,” he says matter-of-factly.
Without another word, you follow your husband as he marched to your bosses office, hyper-aware of the crinkling of your diaper.
You stop dead in your tracks when you see her in your bosses office. That same confident grin you hated so much.
Megan greets your husband like an old friend before everyone sits.
“What’s this all about?” your boss asks.
Without hesitation, Megan starts, “About my promotion, sir. Ellie is no longer qualified for her position, though I’m not sure she ever was.”
You look at her stunned. You move to stand up, but your husband’s hand prevents it. “No, Ellie,” he whispers to you.
Your husband turns to your boss. “Ellie is here to resign. It’s for the best. She’s clearly overwhelmed by this job and Megan is far better suited for the position.”
Your boss looks at you and Megan. His confusion gives way to a smile.
“Well, this certainly saves an awkward conversation. Megan is someone our company cannot afford to lose. And Eleanor’s performance has been, well, dreadful lately.”
“Thank you, sir. I’m happy to take over her position immediately,” Megan grins, “This is a win-win for everyone.”
Your boss nods. “But…may I ask why?”
Your husband answers for you. “Ellie isn’t made for the corporate world. She needs a slower pace in life. If she’s too immature to keep her pants clean, she’s definitely too immature to be a Senior Vice President!”
“So it’s true?” your boss asks, “I try not to be involved in office gossip, but it was all everyone could talk about yesterday.”
“Yep!” Megan answers, “Ellie had an oopsie-daisy in her pull-up yesterday. So we decided it was best for her to…move to a position more suited for her.”
“Well, that settles it,” your boss says standing up, signifying the end of the meeting, “Stick around Megan, I want to talk to you about your job after I walk Elean—Ellie—out.”
On the drive home, your husband explained exactly what your “new position” would be.
“Ellie, I love you. I’ll always love you. But things are going to change. You were never cut out for all this. I see that now. It was selfish of me to even let you try.”
You open your mouth to argue.
“No sweetie, just listen. You’re not like Megan. She may be 12 years younger than you, but she’s already everything you’re not. She’s smart, confident, and capable. I mean, she did take your job in six months—starting as in intern!”
“And what did you do while she did that? You went back to diapers. While she was taking your job, you were filling your pampers. So, if you’re going to act like a baby, then you’ll be treated like one.”
“I-I’m not a baby, it was just stress! I..”
“Oh, you’re not? Let’s see, Ellie. Babies need diapers—and so do you. Babies don’t have jobs—and neither do you. Babies cry when they’re upset or have an accident—and so do you. So what does that make you?”
You feel your diaper grow warm.
“I’ll help you out. It makes you a baby. And what do babies need, hmm? Caregivers! Babies need Daddies! And so do you.”
Your eyes grow wide.
“So from now on, I’m not your husband. I’m your Daddy. And your only job—now that you’re unemployed—is to be Daddy’s little angel. You don’t need to worry about a single thing anymore.”
Your husband—well, Daddy now—took his new role seriously. The guest room slowly transformed into a nursery. Complete with changing table, crib, and toys.
So many toys.
You found yourself losing more adult privileges every day, slipping more into the world of your second babyhood.
Your bedtime was no 7:30. You took a nap at noon every day. Your meals were served in a high chair—and never with any utensils. Your movies and tv shows were never rated above PG.
More troubling, you could swear you heard someone else in the house after Daddy put you to bed. But no matter how many times you asked, Daddy just laughed.
“Don’t worry about the adults, Ellie-welly, babies like you should be in dreamland!”
Which brings us to today.
It started like any other. Well, since your Daddy sent you back to babyhood. Daddy woke you up, changed your diaper with plenty of tummy tickles and raspberries. You ate your oatmeal in your highchair. You made your mid-morning stinky. And Daddy put you down for your nap.
All standard stuff.
You were laying on your bed, coloring and watching Bluey when it happened.
“Hi Da—!” you started, before realizing it wasn’t Daddy.
It was Megan.
“Hiya, Ellie!” Megan cooed, “Awwww, are you coloring for Daddy? Are you staying in the lines or is that still too much for you?”
“Wha-what are you doing here?” you whimper.
“Well, someone needs to watch Daddy’s little stinker while he runs errands. Babies can’t change their own diapers, silly!”
Megan reaches down and checks your diaper. “Not too wet, yet, Ellie-belly!”
You whimper like a scared baby who misses her Daddy.
Because that’s what you are.
”I can’t believe it,” Megan scoffs, “I knew you were pathetic when you hired me, but I didn’t know you were this pathetic. I mean, aren’t you like 33? Look at you! In a soggy diaper coloring on a workday?”
You look at Megan. She’s so beautiful, so sexy in a way you could never be. Not in thick, soggy diapers.
“And this room? I can’t. Well, nursery, is the better word. You even have a changing table! And look how many diapers! Isn’t it embarrassing to know you’re going to fill every single one up?”
“Or do you even care? I mean, I’d never let myself be some pamper packer while his Daddy is out fucking re—never mind.”
Despite your overwhelming humiliation, you can’t help yourself. “D-doing what?”
“Oh, honey, you don’t know? Did Daddy not tell you? Well, it does make sense, why would a Daddy tell a baby who he’s fucking? Wait…have you not even wondered? Are you THAT much of a baby you don’t even think of sex anymore?”
She’s lying. She had to be.
You blush violently, dreading the truth. You hadn’t had sex since the day you were fired. But that was just because Daddy was adjusting! Surely.
“Ellie, your Daddy needs a woman—not some baby in diapers. You understand that, right? Look at me. I’m everything your Daddy wants. I have a job. I’m potty trained. I’m mature. You’re none of those things.”
You want to yell, to scream at Megan. But the look in her eye—the menace—shuts you down.
There’s no point in trying. She’s in control. You’ll never be able to beat her. She’s right. She’s everything you’re not.
“Now, little one, let’s find something to do before your Daddy gets home. I think it’s good for us to bond in our new roles.”
“N-new roles?” you stutter.
She just laughs. “Don’t you worry your silly little head, Ellie-welly, I’m sure you’ll figure it all out one day.”
You should have seen her face light up when I told her she could wear her old clothes tonight! She practically exploded in happiness.
And that was before I told her she could wear pull-ups instead of her usual thick, crinkly diapers.
It was adorable.
After being nothing but a cutie patootie for so long, I’m sure the chance to be sexy is just so exciting.
But that’s the thing.
She didn’t think things through.
I did.
Sure, she’ll turn heads tonight from plenty of boys. And rightfully so—she is beautiful.
Except most girls don’t have a Daddy. And they definitely don’t wear diapers.
Most girls get to have sex whenever they want with whomever they want.
She is not like most girls.
Sex for her is when she humps her stuffy in a soggy—and often messy—diaper. And only when she’s been a good girl.
I wonder when it will click for her tonight. When she realizes all the attention she’ll get is nothing more than fool’s gold.
Because it doesn’t matter how beautiful she is. It doesn’t matter how many heads she turns tonight.
She’ll still be just a silly little pamper packer.
The boys checking her out don’t see the soggy pull-up under her skirt. They don’t know that she has a bedtime. And they definitely don’t know she’s only allowed to have sex with her stuffies.
She’s playing make-believe tonight.
They don’t know she’s Daddy’s diaper girl. And she’s right where she belongs.
Once she knows you need your diapers to make squirties, the best thing you can hope for is that she'll still include you in her sex life in one way or another! You can learn how to fluff her bull to get him nice and hard for her tight pussy that you'll never feel again!
“So you’re really gonna stand there in a clearly poopy diaper and tell me you’re still a big girl?”
It was one thing when Daddy gave you this look. It’s the look you get every time you say you’re a big girl. He knows better.
But she wasn’t Daddy, she was your best friend. Was being the key word. Because she’s not here as your best friend. She’s here as your babysitter.
“Sweetie, I gave you the benefit of the doubt when your boyfriend asked me to babysit you. I thought it was a joke. I gave you the benefit of the doubt when I saw you laying there in your diaper watching Bluey.”
“But seeing you squat down behind the couch and poop yourself like a toddler? You need your diapers, don't you? This isn’t a game, is it? He didn’t ask me to watch you to embarrass you, he asked because you need someone to change your stinky diapers!”
“And then you have the audacity to say you’re a ‘big girl?’ Like really? You had me fooled, I’ll give you that much. But now I see you for what you actually are, sweetie. No wonder he’s been flirting with me so much. He doesn’t have a girlfriend, he has a needy toddler. All the rules he gave make so much sense now.”
You look up at her, fidgeting in your cold diaper. You want to argue your case, argue that you are a big girl. But more than anything, you want your paci. And Daddy. You feel the tears welling in your eyes.
“Oh no, don’t cry, sweetie! I’m sure it’s hard knowing you’re nothing more than a needy toddler in my eyes now, knowing you’ll soon be laying on the floor as I wipe your stinkies, but I’m still your friend! It’s just…things will be different from now on.”
“Obviously I can’t take a toddler to the club or go out and get wasted, but I’m sure we can still hang out! Next time I’ll know to bring some…age appropriate games and movies for you! Maybe our other friends can come and babysit! Would you like that?”
All you could do was cry as she gently pushed you down onto your changing mat. Every time she ripped a diaper tab feeling like a physical blow.
There’s no coming back from this. By the time she leaves, everyone will know about your diapers—and that you need them. This isn’t a game you played with Daddy anymore.
I’ve gotta hand it to you babe, no man has ever satisfied me like you.
What do mean “we’ve never had sex?” We have sex ALL the time! Well how do you expect to have “regular” sex when you’re not a regular guy? Does a regular guy wear diapers? I didn’t think so. Regular guys have control over their bladders.
So why do you expect to have regular sex? You think I want to fuck you after your penis marinates in pee all day, every day inside your diaper? No.
I’ll never take off your diaper to have “regular” sex. You’ll never cum anywhere outside your diapers. It’s time you accepted that.
Your job is to make me feel good. You do that in more ways than you think, babe. You do it every time you helplessly cum in your diaper whenever you see me in my underwear. Do you know how much confidence that gives me?
You do it every time you eat me out. You’re so enthusiastic and talented in a way only someone as desperate as you can be. All for the promise of a 30 second diaper rub.
And what about the times I put a strap on over your diaper and let you fuck me? You get to act like a real man. You get to see me in ways only real men see. Is that not enough for you?
And what about your favorite cummies? When you’ve been a truly good boy? You get to hump your wet diaper right on top of me, just like a regular man would. You get to pretend your warm, wet diaper is just like being inside me! And you don’t have to feel bad when you cum so fast!
What more can an incontinent diaper boy like you ask for?
You look up at her, desperate to see more, nodding enthusiastically.
“Gosh you’re sweet! I absolutely adore when the little ones I babysit have a crush on me. Look at you getting lost in your fantasy. Imagining I was in your room for something very different.”
Her gaze never leaves yours as she kneels down and pats your soggy diaper.
“And there it is! The moment I’ve been waiting for. That look right here!”
She boops your nose playfully.
“Did you just remember your place? The position you’re in? Did the bubble burst, cutie?”
“You have no idea how enjoyable this is for me, honey. I love watching the hope fade from your eyes as you remember you belong right here on this changing table.”
You squirm at her words, fearing what’s coming next.
“You’re a pamper packer. I’m a babysitter—your babysitter. Do you see the problem little one?”
She giggles like you told her the sweetest thing in the world.
“I see you for what you are. A helpless, sexless, diaper-dependent baby. And somehow you thought you had a chance with me?”
She grabs your next diaper, showing it to you.
“This is where you belong. In a diaper. This diaper. On your back waiting to be changed. Helpless. Pathetic. Sex should be the last thing on your mind.”
She laughs again, crushing the last vestige of your dignity.
“It’s funny. Your Mommy is probably on her back right now too. I saw that little red dress she was wearing. She looked stunning.”
You whimper pathetically.
“I think it’s got a nice symmetry to it. Both of you on your back. Except one is living an adult life and the other—you, cutie!—is getting a fresh diapie!”
“What’s the matter, baby? It’s really early.” She reaches up and flicks on the light. “Are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?”
He shakes his head on the pillow, eyes still sleepy.
“Can I check your diaper?”
He shakes his head ‘no’ and turns his face towards the pillow, sinking into the bed.
“What’s the matter? What are you trying to hide from me?” She pulls herself up onto her elbows. Her hair falls onto his shoulders as she hovers above him. “You didn’t leak on the bed again, did you?”
He shakes his head again.
“Okay, that’s enough. You aren’t being very helpful. And I don’t know why I’m asking you, anyway.” Her warm hands snake his shirt up to where his arms are crossed under the covers and then down his pajama pants. She’s right above him and he can hear her breathing, and every so often feel her warm body against his as she squeezes his padding.
Without speaking, she sits up, pulling away from him, and rips off the sheets and blankets, throwing them onto the floor.
“It’s cold…” he whines.
She climbs over him, spreading out his legs so that she can kneel between his knees, and pulls down his pants. The tapes of his diaper rip open.
“Oh, baby, this isn’t pee. You’re all sticky in here.”
He crosses his arms over his face.
“Is this from when you got all worked up last night? I know you didn’t hump your diaper. You couldn’t have, you fell asleep before I did. Did you leak when you were sleeping?”
“I don’t know…”
“It looks like you did. I’ll go get a washcloth and get you cleaned up.”
“Baby, you’re peeing on me.” She gently shook him awake.
“What’s that?”
“You just peed all over me and on the couch, too.”
“Oh…I didn’t think…I had a funny dream but I didn’t think…”
“It’s a good thing I put a plastic covering down,” she said, standing up and lifting him up with her. “I knew this might happen since you wet the bed during your nap last week…”
“I didn’t think…I have a pull-up on…”
She adjusted him on her hip. “It wasn’t really up to the challenge, was it? I think you totally emptied your bladder.”
“I didn’t mean…I didn’t…”
“Shh, shh. It’s not your fault, honey. Let’s go get out of these clothes and start the laundry.”
They made it to the laundry room and she let him down and started to strip off her pants. “Oh, you even got it on my shirt…”
“I didn’t…” he started to cry softly, chewing on his finger.
“Oh, baby. I’m not mad at you.” She undid his pants and eased them down slowly. The wet denim felt scratchy on his thighs.
She unbuttoned his shirt and threw that in, too. “See, it’s all going to be okay. I’m going to get you in the shower and then you’ll get a new diaper and everything will be okay.”
She led him to the bathroom and took off his soaked pull-up. “That is soo much pee. At least I know you’re drinking enough water.” He shifted uncomfortably as she dropped it in the diaper pail. She crossed to the shower and turned the tap on, waiting for it to warm up before switching it to the shower head.
“Step in, honey. Mommy’s going to get you clean.”
He hesitated. “I’m not going to shower with Mommy?”
“No, baby, you go first. I’ll shower after you, okay?”
“Okay…” He stepped into the shower and she lathered her hands with soap, standing just outside with the curtain ajar. She spent a long time washing his privates and bottom, instructing him to turn around so that she didn’t miss anything. Then she gave him a quick scrub and rinse all over and went to get him a towel.
“There, all clean. Let’s go to the bedroom.” She guided him down the hallway and laid another towel out on his changing mat. “Lie down right there while Mommy showers.” He opened his legs automatically as soon as he laid down, like he was expecting a change.
“Aww, you’re so cute. You know what…Stay just like that until I come back, okay?” She turned out the light and left him in the dark room. A second later he heard the shower running again.
She came back and switched on the light. She just had a towel wrapped around her waist. She started rummaging through her dresser, humming. He was starting to get cold and shivery on the floor.
“You are sooo patient,” she said, pulling on a pair of pajama pants and an old tshirt. “Look at you.” She opened the bottom drawer of the dresser, the special drawer, and procured lotion and a big diaper.
“I don’t need that, right?” he said timidly as she knelt down, diaper in hand.
“Baby. What planet are you living on? You just peed all over both of us. You definitely need this.” She fluffed the diaper and he wiggled on the mat.
“I don’t need that. That’s too big. It’s going to be all bulky, and…and I’m not…I don’t need…”
“It’s this or a pull-up, honey. And it seems like pull-ups aren’t really up to the cut anymore.”
She started to rub lotion on him and he started to whine.
“What has gotten into you? It’s not like you haven’t had one of these before. You had to wear them for a couple days on the road trip. And remember when you had a messy accident and I had to…”
“No….” he whined.
“Oh, I get it. Did somebody make fun of you again?”
He stared at the ceiling for a moment, and then nodded.
“Was it Joan’s boyfriend?”
He nodded again, rubbing his hands across his face.
“I’ll tell you a secret. Joan’s boyfriend has to wear these every night. He probably just felt insecure.”
“It’s not the same…I had to have it during the day.”
“Right, because you went poop in your pants. And because I know you, and you can never make it all the way to the rest stops when we go for a long drive. It’s okay, honey. It’s just Mommy here. Lift up your butt for me. There you go.” She taped him up and pulled him into a sitting position.
“Mommy,” he said really quietly, and she pulled him towards her. “I like it.”
“I know, baby, I know you like it. Is that why you were really scared?”
He nodded.
“It’s okay. It’s not a big deal. Lots of people like all kinds of weird things.” She rocked him a little bit.
“I don’t want to get rocked right now.”
“Okay, just a hug?”
“Uh-huh.” Pause. “Mommy…?”
“Yes?”
“Can I mess in this one later? Just this one time.”
“It’s always okay to mess in a big diaper, baby, just not a pull-up. But if you do, Mommy’s going to change you into another big diaper and you won’t see the pull-ups again for a while.”
“I want that.”
“Okay, baby, whatever you want. That might also mean more spankings, too. And no toilet. No, not even in public. If you want to be a no-control little baby you’re going to be a no-control little baby. You can’t just get away with everything.” She stood up, carrying him with her again. “Let’s go get the couch cleaned up and then we’ll get you dressed and go out to get some food. I want to get that taken care with before I have a stinky baby on my hands.”
