What were these sounds coming out of her mouth? How on earth could she be doing this… and in front of hundreds of random people on the internet? What was she even doing… or thinking?
Assuming she even was thinking?
Her hand slipped rhythmically back and forth, up and down, pausing and then in its fitful stroking at the thickened bulk between her legs. Yes, she was wearing a diaper: an oversized, bulky, undeniably thick and infantile diaper. Beneath a pair of tights it might be, sure – but sheer as they were, there was zero doubt about exactly what sort of mortifyingly babyish underwear she was wearing… and in full view of everyone.
But of course. Of course her diaper was on display. No sense in hiding the very garment that was the main attraction, right?
The fingers of her right hand clenched around the little baby bottle, its familiar warmth pulling her back into the hazy memories of the many previous times she'd held it like this. Sure, there'd been a time when she'd winced and grimaced in disgust at the idea of posing with such a babyish accessory – let alone drinking from it.
And yet… it was so useful. Its contents were so delicious. And when, in full view of the camera, she slipped it between her rosy lips… when she suckled and was rewarded, gulp after pulsing gulp, with the creamy, mind-soothing formula within… well, it no longer mattered just how babyish it might be. It tasted heavenly, and the viewers went absolutely wild over it. Besides, the longer she suckled and stared over the pastel plastic into the swirling depths of her special trance video, the more fuzzy and happy and stupefied she began to feel…
She'd grown to love that sensation: the feeling that even now she felt approaching like a familiar friend. The sensation of being limp as a warm dishrag… safe as a dreaming kitten… wrapped securely in warm happiness and the unspoken conviction that all was right in her dream-shrouded world…
Yeah, her ba-ba was probably hella medicated. But that wasn't really a problem, was it? The streaming platform she worked for provided all the formula she could drink, gratis. And if she was ever tempted to worry about things too much… well, there was always that custom-made trance video to take her mind off things, and to remind her that any trips she was taking were also fueled, at least in part, by its mind-bendingly shimmering swirls.
Was she hypnotized? Was she tripping? Or maybe both, simultaneously?
She didn't know… but neither did she really even care anymore.
Sure, she sometimes felt her adult brain kicking back – as it had been just now. She was embarrassing herself, it would scream. This wasn't normal. No sane person would ever dress up like a literal baby and whore herself out, playing on camera for hundreds of presumably horny strangers. She had to stop – take control – end her contract and with it this massive, horrifying nightmare of a mistake…
But fortunately those moment were becoming less and less frequent as time trickled by.
"Bbhhuuuhhhh… Gguuhh- gguuhh…" she babbled, no longer aware of the muscles within her throat that were producing such sounds. They were simply happening: emerging from the world around her, the soundtrack of her own mindless regression. Her eyes shifted, threatened to focus…
…and then went blank once more.
Into the screen she stared now, limp and calm. Her hand, which had paused in momentary confusion, lapsed back into its rhythmic ministrations. In the quiet room, nothing now could be heard but the steady, soft ssshhhhh of her hand over her babyish white tights… and crinkle of the bulky diaper beneath… and now and again, amid the pulse of her heavy breathing, the little burbling moans of longing and pleasure from her wordless lips…
In other words, the perfect soundtrack to titillate her ever-devoted fans.
Image Credit: @abdreams
Be sure to check out my Patreon here if you want to read more of my short stories!
"Why are you cowering over there by the garden, my little lamb? Come over here and join all the other sissies in their enclosed backyard playpen. I've unlocked the gate especially for you!
I know this is all very new - being my latest acquisition and all - but there's no need to be scared, they won't bite... sure, some of them will want to cuddle, and the two boys that attempted to escape last week will drool a bit from their doubled daily dose of sedatives, they'll all furiously hump their swollen diapers against yours in a futile attempt at feeling anything through their chastity cages, but biting is a very big no-no in this house! After everything you've been through in the last week of one-on-one initiation training, I think you know very well that my rules are not to be broken - so you see, there's nothing to worry about!
The tech team says we've had a big uptick in subscribers and a lot of activity on the livestream today after we released some teaser footage from your extremely eventful training week to announce the introduction of a new inmate in the "Pamper Prison", as the orderlies like to call it. So, I want to see you waddling into that playpen by the count of three, or you won't be sitting comfortably anytime soon. 1...2...
Awww, what a good lil' princess! I'm so glad you 'decided' to join them."
OMG, okay, so, MAJOR life update!!! 🚨💋 my life is so hectic right now, you guys have no idea! 😭🤪😩 Like, between the hormone therapy 💉💊, hypnosis maintenance sessions 🌀✨, and managing two literally exhausting sissy babies 🎀, your girl is working even more overtime than she did back in CoRpOrAtE wOrLd (blegh! 🤢💼). But honestly? I’m actually ~*thriving*~. 💅
Sooooo, say hello to Bunny and Lulu’s new Mommy! 🌸 Yes bittchess 🤭, Victor is ooofficially dead and buried ⚰️😇, and Victoria is in the house! 🏠💃 (Or, well, in the ballet studio waiting room 🩰🎭, which is baaasically my entire life now, am I right fellow sissy ballet mommies?! 👯♀️💕).
But ugh, let’s be real for a second—being a mom is so hard. 😤 Especially when your "babies" are actually two grown-ass former men who used to be your sons. 👨👦👦➡️👩👧👧 As all my followers know by now, Bradley and Luke are long gone 👋, and now I have Bunny and Lulu! They cry constantly (literally, look at their faces, they are such drama queens, hubby always says they get it from me 😭). But good thing Mommy knows exactly how to quiet them down. 🍼🤫
Okurr, I'll spell it out: these new tatas (ty hubbster!!) aren't just for show. 🍈🍈✨ Nursing time is just about the only way for Mommy Vicky to keep these two quiet when they start throwing a tantrum in public. 😤🤱➡️😴💤
Hubby, hubbster, Daddy—I keep mentioning him, and that's because he's a ~dreamboat~! 💘😍 Ever since he bought out our contracts from Samantha (bee-tee dubs I am, like, so grateful for her starting me on this journey 🙏🌈), I've learned alllll about what it means to have strong, real man taking care of everything. 💪🧔 Daddy actually builds things for a living, swooon! 👷♂️🛠️🫦 He spends all day in the hot sun, bossing around his construction crew and busting ass. 🗣️🔨 And when he gets home all sweaty at the end of the day, he still has more than enough energy to boss me around 😉—and yass girlies, you better believe he’s an expert at busting my ass! 😅🛏️🔥🤪
#SissyMommyLife #DanceMom #MommyVictoria #GirlMom #TransformationTuesday #GlowUp #DaddysGirls
(Thank you to the wonderful @servitudee for all the advice on making this, a fan follow-up to her second Daddy's Day caption. Honored to have my first post be a reference to her work!!)
Maybe she is grumpy because she hasn’t pooped today. Maybe she needs a suppository to help things get moving. She could also be grumpy if she hadn’t had her nap. Why not do both? A nice suppository or 2 and a long nap. I bet that would really change her tune. If that doesn’t work, maybe the blockage is too high for a suppository to work or she’s got to much energy. I bet caster oil and a trip to the park would help her out too.
I conditioned my sub into pissing himself on command. No exaggeration.
Like, I say two words, and his body just obeys. No warning, no hesitation.
Just soaking whatever he’s wearing. It started as a joke during a scene. Whenever I let him pee, I’d whisper “go drip” while stroking his hair, praising him like a good boy. Didn’t even think much of it. Just something soft. A little degrading.
Except it worked.
Last time I used it, he broke. Full-body shaking, begging, crying while he pissed down his thighs and said thank you.
And the best part?
He doesn’t know when I’ll say it next. Could be during a scene. Could be at brunch. Thing is, he never knows.
ughhh god the idea of words manipulating situations
being approached in public and told, "oh, sweetie, are you lost? where's your owner? there's no tag on your collar."
you reach to your neck. you aren't wearing a collar! but you are. there was no grandiose appearance, it's just there. she reaches under your skirt, giving a gentle, "let's check your diaper, sweetie." diaper? what is she talking about?
and there it is. unmistakably. you don't remember putting it on. you don't remember wearing it, but you also don't remember it appearing. it's seamlessly wrapped around your waist. and like clockwork, when you hear, "oh, sweet thing, you definitely need a change."
you do. you notice the sensations of a diaper that's reached the brink, but you never went, did you? how could you remember using it if you don't remember wearing it?
"i'll take care of you, tiny little thing." the woman a foot shorter says to you, but when she lifts you into her arms, she had always had about two feet on you. you could've sworn she was shorter, but what do you know?
clearly you're just a silly little pet who needs to be cared for.
Part of fully committing to your bimbo journey is to undermine any sense of intellectual authority you still might possess.
Do you have a degree? Maybe some kind of smartsy hobby? Or a complex job? It‘s crucial for your progress that this doesn’t result in people construing you as less of an airhead, so you’ll have to do your very best to discredit yourself from possessing any kind of experience:
whenever someone mentions some kind of fact relevant to your field, no matter how mundane, act totally surprised and let them know that you weren’t aware of that
confidently get obvious stuff wrong and start arguments about it; not giving in and insisting on your expertise in the area
mispronounce and mix up basic terminology
share obvious nonsense posts about your field and totally take them at face value
frequently mention how much attention you’re getting from the Men in your field and how often they help you out with stuff
"C'mon champ, just have a few spoonfuls and maybe I'll consider letting you have some apple slices and cheese cubes too, okay?"
"NO! This stuff is yucky! I'm not eating it, and you can't make me!"
"Baby Boy, I know you're upset, so I'm going to ignore the fact that you just went way over your spoken word limit for the day - although I know a certain crinkly chatterbox who'll be sporting a paci-gag during his stroller session at the park this afternoon.
This is what's for lunch. If you don't want it, then I guess you'll just have extra room in your tummy at..."
DINNERTIME
"Listen, Buster Brown, being our bouncing baby boy is your only job around here and commitment to our respective roles isn't something we take lightly in this household!
I hope you like your new mealtime accessories, because they'll be getting a lot of use from now on. Did our padded lil' picky eater think those cute star cutouts on the sides of his highchair were just for decoration? Guess again, Mr. Stinky-Pants. Looks like we'll need to order an extra strap to keep your feet anchored in the center - enjoy flailing your 'little piggies' around while you still can, wiggle-worm.
Now then, if you expect us to keep working jobs while you fill your pants in the baby bouncer all day and continue to pay for the 'privilege' of wiping and powdering your smooth little bottom on a daily basis - not to mention kissing boo-boos, cleaning Cheerios out of your carseat and reading bedtime stories - it isn't going to come without some tradeoffs to help balance things out.
We are the adults, and we are the ones who get to enjoy certain adult pleasures and entitlements - eating for enjoyment and not simply for nutrition being just one of them. The mature members of this family have made our decision and we are fully committed to transitioning our little bundle of joy away from the grownup privilege of solid foods permanently - whether he likes it or not.
Just like our sex-life is enhanced by watching the baby monitor every evening after 7pm, while our cute little crinkle-cuck thrusts away while locked in his crib, trying and failing to create any resistance between the thick memory foam topper and his hefty Huggies, heatedly humping away with what little mobility the ankle restraints allow in a futile attempt to get any relief from his chastity cage - so too will we savor every bite of our big-boy foods after seeing you endure eating your goopy glop while strapped into the highchair 3 times a day.
We tried to do it the easy way, let you go at your own pace, but unlike your locked little boy parts, it seems you only know how to do things the hard way. When will you learn that refusing to dip your toes into the water when we instruct you to do something is always going to get your squishy butt tossed directly into the deep end, my soggy lil' swimmer?
I think we'll start by making sure all your Kale & Spring Peas goes bye-bye, especially since I put some light sedatives into it that'll help relax your gag reflex and calm you down a little, though they probably won't kick in until at least half-way through.
Then, we'll move onto your main course of Boiled Turkey & Butternut Squash. Unlike lunchtime, I didn't add any seasoning to it, so it'll be extra gentle on baby's stomach!
Hopefully you'll still have room for that nummy bowl of Mixed Berries & Beets afterwards. Remember, only good boys who finish all their food get changed into nice clean diapers for beddy-bye.
That shouldn't be a problem though. With all the laxatives in those bottles, there should be plenty of empty space in your system by the time we reach dessert!
Now open up those hanger doors real wide, my hungry little man, because Mickey's plane is coming in for a landing - and he's not taking "no" for an answer!
...Hmmm, looks you're going to need a bigger bib, mess-maker."
Curse of Maladaptive Affection- Every time someone calls you "cute", you get a little cuter. Seems innocent enough at first, but the curse's definition of cute seems to be, well, a dumb, helpless, padded little princess.
At first, the changes are small. Your cute giggle gets a little higher-pitched. Your cute eyes get a little bigger and brighter. Your cute work dress becomes an adorable pink.
But, as it goes on... Your cute slip of the tongue turns into a permanent speech affect. A cute tripping incident turns into consistent clumsiness. Your cute moment of weakness becomes a complete loss of emotional control. You forget a minor thing in a way that someone finds cute and it leads to a lingering brain fog. You stumble over your own name and you're helpfully reminded that a cute thing like you naturally has a cute name like Princess!
Eventually all your little cutenesses stack up, and you find yourself lost in your office building frantically looking for a bathroom. Onlookers chuckle and coo, because of how cute you are of course! The sight of you would be ludicrous if not for the curse, running around in your cute puffy pink dress that may as well be a toddler's Halloween costume. Not to mention the cute cute cute way you're stumbling around, bumping into everything with the skirt propped up by layers and layers of cute frilly petticoats. And the cute cute big wet eyes you have, as you feel your bladder about to burst. But eventually, you fight through the brain fog and find the bathroom in the same place it's always been... and out of order.
It's not fair!, you mentally cry as you cutely stomp your foot, It's not fair! In a better state of mind, you might have started hurrying to the next restroom potty, futile as it was. But the cute cute cute cute cute you? Well, you cutely roll around on the floor and throw a cute little fit. You only manage to pull yourself together and stop when your boss a mean old lady walks up, towering over you. "What's going on? Is everything alright, Princess?"
The lucidity comes like being doused with a bucket of water. You cutely stumble up to your feet as you cutely stumble over your next words. You can't even make eye contact, just staring at your cute manicured hands as you fidget with them.
"Well, um, I um... Princess was lookin' for da pott-"
You scarcely get your words out before the pressure in your bladder returns in full force. By the time you realize what's happening, it's already over. The smell hits your nose as the hot damp feeling hits your thighs. Your boss grimaces, and tears well up in your eyes as you anticipate what she'll say next. But, no harsh rebuke comes.
Instead, perhaps in an awkward attempt to empathize, she says "You... you can go home for the day, okay? Just get cleaned up."
In an as-of-late rare show of wisdom, you immediately head for the exit, but not before you hear one last thing.
"Oh, and Princess? It's um, a cute dress you're wearing, by the way".
Immediately, you feel the change (perhaps literally) in between your thighs as they're wrapped in a ludicrous cute thickness that puffs out your dress even further. You turn around to see your boss's reaction, but she seems unfazed. In fact, she glances down with a matter-of-fact weariness.
"Wet again, Princess? It's almost cute how fast you fill those up. Come into my office and we'll get you changed again, okay?"
“You don’t have to let this ruin your life, baby,” Melissa’s boyfriend said gently. “You just need to have a new attitude about things.”
“A new attitude?!” Melissa repeated furiously. “Last time I went out with Emily and Janet, I pooped my diaper right in front of them. We were in the middle of the mall, and I let out a massive fart and started taking a dump in my pants while everyone watched. How exactly am I supposed to have a new attitude about that?”
“You treat it like it’s such a big deal, sweetheart,” her boyfriend said soothingly. “You never used to take things so seriously. You need to learn to laugh it off when something like that happens.”
“Laugh it off?!” Melissa raged. “Enough people have been laughing at me! I’m not going to start laughing at myself too! I’m not a joke! I hate this! I hate being incontinent! I wish I’d died in that stupid car accident instead!”
“Don’t say that,” her boyfriend said sharply, looking at her with deep concern. “Don’t you dare say that, darling.”
Melissa felt tears welling up in her eyes. “Why not?” she demanded, even though she was already regretting what she’d said. “It would be better than being stuck like this. I feel like a big fucking baby.”
“You can still walk,” her boyfriend said. “Your pretty face wasn’t injured.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “You got lucky, honey-bee. An injury to your spine like that could have done a lot more than take away your bladder and bowel control. Feeling a bit like a baby is a small price to pay for your life.”
Melissa pushed his hand away. She knew he was just trying to make her feel better, but it wasn’t working. “Easy for you to say,” she said, more harshly than she’d intended. “You’re not the one who has to wear diapers.” Her thick Pampers crinkled noisily under her jeans as she shifted. Even her baggiest clothes couldn’t quite hide the bulge around her waist. She’d tried using thinner, more discreet ‘protective underwear’ at first, but it had quickly become clear that they weren’t up to the challenge of containing all her accidents. Eventually, after leaking on the sofa and the bed and leaving dozens of little puddles on the floor, her boyfriend had insisted on getting her thicker ones, heavy-duty diapers that she had to tape on instead of pulling up her legs. He insisted they weren’t the largest size available, but they felt enormous to her. The padding between her thighs had to be three inches thick, and the bulk made it impossible to close her legs. She could never forget they were there, an ever-present reminder of her new status as a grown woman who couldn’t control when she peed or pooped. Even as she spoke, her bladder helplessly released a small stream of pee into her pants. Melissa turned even redder than she had been already, and she stomped her foot. “I hate this!” she cried again, cringing at the feel of her soggy underwear.
“Here,” said her boyfriend, taking his phone out of his pocket. He had an odd expression on his face, slightly hesitant, but as if he were steeling himself to do something. “I want you to have a look at this, okay baby?” He held up his phone to her face, and for a few seconds Melissa just stared, confused, at the swirling colours on the screen. What was this supposed to be? Then something seemed to clunk into place in her head, and she felt as though she were falling inside the spiralling lights. Her mouth slowly fell open, and a line of drool ran down her chin.
“I can’t reverse your incontinence, my love,” her boyfriend was saying, stroking her hair, “but I can make it so you’re not bothered by it.” He kissed her cheek. “I promise this is for the best. You’re going to be a happy, bubbly girl again in no time!”
One Week Later
Melissa, or little Missy as she now preferred to be called, stomped into the living room with a broad smile on her face. Below the waist she wore only her thick, white diaper, and above it she wore a tight, pale blue top with the words “Daddy’s Little Stinker” written across it in big, bold letters. She spotted her boyfriend sitting on the sofa, and hurried over to him, but she’d only gone a few paces when she stopped in her tracks. There was a rumbling noise from her belly. Her mouth formed into a perfect ‘o’ of surprise as she farted loudly. Then her knees bent, seemingly by instinct, and her face screwed up in concentration.
“What are you doing, baby?” her boyfriend asked lightly, suppressing a laugh as he got to his feet and walked over, watching the seat of his girlfriend’s nappy start to bulge out, just as the front darkened and yellowed.
Missy grunted loudly and grinned up at him. “Doing a big poo, Daddy!” she announced shamelessly.
Her boyfriend gasped theatrically. “In your pants, little Missy?!” he exclaimed in mock surprise. “But you’re twenty-seven years old! You’re way too old to be going poo-poo in your pants, aren’t you? Can’t you use the toilet?”
Missy put her hands to her mouth and chortled through her fingers like a little girl. She shook her head, her eyes sparkling with pleasure at the attention she was getting. She grunted again and her nappy drooped a little more. She pointed between her legs. “Gotta diapee, Daddy!”
“I see that, sweetie. But aren’t those for babies?”
“Uh-hu!” Missy chirped. “I can’t control when I go potty, so that makes me a baby!” With one last pouty-lipped, scrunchy-faced look of concentration, she finishing messing herself and straightened up, beaming. Her boyfriend-turned-Daddy held out his arms for a hug, and the infantilized, mind-addled woman toddled eagerly into his embrace. “I love you, Daddy!” she said.
“I love you too, baby girl,” her boyfriend cooed, cuddling her tightly. He didn’t mind the yucky potty smell that reached his nose. It was worth it to have his girlfriend happy again. He reached down and patted the seat of her sagging nappy, eliciting a delighted squeal.
“Yucky Daddy!” Missy giggled. “That’s yucky!”
“Do you want a change, sweet girl? Daddy will get you all clean again.”
“No!” Missy whined. “I wanna play!”
“Are you sure, baby? Janet’s arriving to take you to the park in about fifteen minutes, remember? If we don’t get you cleaned up now, she’s going to see you get your messy nappy changed here on the floor. Doesn’t that bother you?”
They broke apart, and Missy chortled mischievously behind her hands again, shaking her head.
Her boyfriend laughed. “No, I guess it doesn’t,” he said, smiling indulgently. “You don’t mind if everyone thinks you’re a big baby, do you little Missy?” He reached out to cup the front of his girlfriend’s nappy with his hand. He could feel the warm, heavy wee-wee within. He gave it a little rub, and Missy let out a soft cooing noise. “In fact,” her boyfriend went on, smirking, “I think you like it, don’t you?”
Missy’s eyes rolled back in pleasure and she nodded. It made her feel all tingly. People still pointed at her when she went out in public, but she enjoyed the attention now, and when they laughed at the sight of her diapers bulging under her jeans out peeking out from beneath her skirt, it made her giggle too. She didn’t blame them. She knew she looked super silly in her massive Pampers. But there was nothing wrong with being silly. Being silly was fun!
“Alright, little Missy,” her boyfriend said, rubbing the front of her soggy pants harder. “Daddy will give you a little playtime, okay? Then when Janet arrives we’ll change your full nappy right here on the floor. Maybe she’ll even help me wipe your mucky bottom!” Missy moaned and started thrusting her crotch against his hand. “You know how glad she is to have her bubbly best friend back,” her boyfriend continued, “even if it does mean dealing with your messy bum. And Emily will be round to babysit tomorrow. She’s got all sorts of silly games planned.” Missy gurgled happily and humped his hand harder. “So you don’t have to worry about a thing, little one.” He kissed her on the top of her head. “Daddy’s going to make sure that losing your potty training was the best thing that ever happened to you!”
Missy orgasmed in her dirty diaper, and she would have fallen to her knees if Daddy hadn’t caught her and held her close against him. As her body shuddered with ecstasy in his arms and she cooed with pleasure, she knew for certain that she was the happiest little girl in the world.
Lydia walked down the street holding her Mum’s hand, trying to ignore the pointing and laughing from passers-by. Her twenty-one year old body was crammed into a too-tight Hello Kitty top, a modest white skirt, and matching tights. Her black buckled shoes clacked loudly as they hit the pavement, drawing even more eyes in her direction. To complete the look, her blonde hair had been done up in a pair of childish pigtails.
She could feel herself blushing furiously. Her regression sentence mandated that she dress as if she were no more than four years old, and her Mum had embraced the court’s decision enthusiastically, picking her new outfit from the complementary wardrobe straight away so she had something to walk home in.
A group of girls fell about laughing as they passed. “Awww!” one of them cooed, mockingly. “What a cute toddler!”
“Isn’t she adowable?” another teased in baby talk.
A third made kissy faces at her, eyes glinting sadistically.
Lydia scowled and gripped her Mum’s hand more tightly, but her mother just tittered. “You’d better get used to being treated like that, sweetie,” she said, as they walked on past the girls. “Until the end of your regression sentence, you’re just a silly little girl. I know it’s embarrassing, but hopefully it will teach you not to deal drugs!”
Lydia looked down at the ground, gritting her teeth. She hated everything about this. She’d only wanted a little extra money to help pay for nights out at university! But there were no college parties in her future now. Even if she hadn’t been kicked out, there was no way her Mum would let her do something as grown-up as go out drinking, not now she had full authority over her again. For the next three years, in the eyes of the law she was nothing but a helpless child. There was only one silver lining – the white cotton undies that hugged her bottom under her skirt.
When the judge had told her she was forbidden to use the toilet for pee, and was to poo in it only, Lydia had felt like she was going to be sick. It was bad enough having her toileting habits discussed out loud for the whole courtroom to hear, but the thought of having to spend the next three years of her life wearing oversized Pampers, filling them with pee multiple times a day, taking them off only to go number two before having them strapped right back onto her bum, was enough to turn her stomach. If her Mum hadn’t whispered in her ear that she wouldn’t be making her wear nappies, Lydia thought she would have fainted in front of the judge. She supposed she ought to be grateful to her mother for that, even though it was suspiciously out of character… She wouldn’t have expected her Mum to go against the law, even though there was hardly any chance of being caught.
Finally, they made it home. Lydia was relieved to be out of the public spotlight, and more urgently, she needed to pee. She’d needed to go all morning, but she knew the staff at the courtroom would have just offered her a diaper if she’d asked for the bathroom there. She tried to make a bee-line for the toilet, but her mothed pulled her back, her grip tightening.
“Where are you off to, sweetie?”
“The toilet,” Lydia replied, trying to pull away again. “I need to pee.”
“Silly girl!” her Mum laughed. “The judge said you’re not allowed to use the toilet for pee-pee, remember?”
“B-but…” Lydia spluttered. She felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach. “But you said I wouldn’t have to wear nappies!”
“That’s right, sweetie,” her Mum nodded. “No nappies for my little girl. The judge didn’t say you had to wear them, after all. He just said you’re not allowed to use the potty when you need a wee.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense!” Lydia said, huffing with frustration. “What do you expect me to do? Am I supposed to just pee my pants whenever I need to go or somethi-”
“That’s right, baby!” her Mum interrupted, smiling brightly. “Clever girl!”
Lydia stared at her mother with mounting horror. Was her Mum really suggesting she spend the next three years wetting her knickers without any protection? “But… but I can’t just…” She didn’t even know what to say. How could her Mum not see how insane this was?! “I’ll make a mess everywhere!”
“Uh-hu,” her Mum agreed, nodding, “but that’s okay. You were always making puddles for Mummy to clean up when you were little, and it’ll be no different this time.” She looked positively thrilled by the idea. “I’ll have to get used to washing your wet pants again!” she added, beaming. “Not to mention ironing your tights and skirts. Oh, and hanging your sheets out to dry after you wet the bed!”
Lydia was looking at her mother like she’d lost her mind. This was worse than being in nappies! There was a determined, almost hungry expression in her Mum’s eyes. She was clearly delighted by the prospect of having a twenty-one-year-old pantswetter for a daughter. Her wayward little girl back home, dependent on her Mummy once again.
“But I have to pee like four times a day!” Lydia whined, trying to get her mother to understand how awful it would be, how often she’d need to be cleaned up.
“Then you’ll wet your pants four times a day, little missy,” her Mum said, simply.
“Mum, please…” Lydia begged. She was clutching between her legs with her free hand. The need to pee was growing stronger by the second, but the thought of just letting go in her pants was disgusting.
“Mummy said no, sweetie,” said her mother, sounding a little more stern. “No more toilets for you, young lady.”
“Please just… just let me wear nappies then!” Lydia cried, her face scarlet. She was bouncing from foot to foot now, doing an absurd potty dance. “I’d rather wear nappies if the alternative is peeing all over myself! At least it’s more private!”
“I’ve made up my mind, baby,” her Mum said firmly. “As much as I’m sure nappies would fix your behaviour, I think being a big girl who always wets her knickers will put you in your place even better!”
“No!” Lydia squealed, and then she let out a gasp. Her potty dance stopped abruptly, and she pulled her hand away as a dark, wet patch blossomed on the front of her skirt. A stream of pee trickled down between her legs, puddling on the floor between her feet. More pee ran down her legs, soaking her tights and pooling into her shoes. “Ewww!” Lydia cried, tears spilling from her eyes as she soaked her white cotton undies. “Ew! Ew! Ew!”
Her Mum was watching with a wide smile. “Mummy’s little pantswetter,” she declared affectionately, stroking her daughter’s hair. “Did you have an accident, sweetie? Do you need Mummy to clean you up?”
Lydia burst into tears and nodded her head.
“There, there, baby girl,” her Mum cooed. “Don’t you worry about a thing, okay? It was just a little accident. Mummy will take care of everything.” She began to strip away Lydia’s wet clothes, in a routine they would be repeating multiple times a day for the next three years at least – and perhaps, if Lydia’s bladder control had weakened enough by the time the end of her sentence came around, for many more years beyond.
She waddled back to the car, arms full of drinks and snacks. You'd used the bathroom. She... had not, she'd been on snack duty. Now, pizza flavored Combos in tow, she plopped back on top of the absorbent pad laid out on the passenger seat and got comfy again.
"I'm good. No change needed for a while, I think. I got you a diet Dr. Pepper!" She opened the bottle for you and put it in your cup holder. As you pulled out of the parking lot, the thought that you couldn't tell whether it was the sound of the snack bags crinkling or her diaper made you think about how the two of you got here.
You'd been besties for as long as you'd had friends, really. You'd taken each other to prom, you'd roomed together in college, you'd found jobs close enough to each other that you could hang out most weekends. She was the first person you'd come out to as non binary, and helped you through your first real, hard breakup. So a few months ago when she approached you, shaking, about a secret she'd been keeping from you, it was hard to explain how much you just wanted her to share.
Sure, she'd been a little childish growing up. You definitely got the little sister vibe from her, but you matched it with big sibling energy. No big deal. When she explained that all through college she'd been hiding wearing diapers from you, she was shocked you were more upset she'd kept it from you than she liked wearing diapers. She was even more shocked when you encouraged her to be comfortable around you - if she wanted to wear, she was welcome to. From then on, you could tell she'd been testing the waters. You were a little more reserved than her, so although you could tell when she waddled a little bit more, or when you'd been to the bathroom a few times and she hadn't been a single time, you were letting her explore at her own pace. You weren't here to pressure her to explain anything.
Now, sitting in the car for the 7 hours it took to get to the weekend long music festival you were both so excited to go to, your curiosity was getting the better of you.
"So..." You had a mouth full of Pringles you were trying desperately to chew. "The diaper thing... You mind if I ask you some questions about it?"
"We've got a fucking long drive, and I'm so board. You can ask me whatever you want as long as we don't have to listen to another Lizzy McAlpine song."
"Okay, first off, rude." She was always so good at cutting through tension. "But, okay, so like... How long have you, like, known, I guess? How long have you been, like, 'I wanna wear diapers and pee in them'? I think that's what I wanna ask first."
She took a swig of Red Bull. "Oh, fucking forever, I guess. Some people say they're hardwired diaper people. That's me. I think to some degree I've been wanting back in diapers ever since I got out of them."
"Yeah, but, when did you know know?"
"Uhh. I guess it had always been in the back of my mind? I remember being a kid and stealing diapers from the nursery a few times. I remember being weird about the diaper isle at the grocery store. I remember when I started going through puberty, being like, "I think when I grow up, I'm gonna wear diapers.' And then when we moved in together, I just kinda... started sneaking them."
"I'm still shocked I never noticed, honestly. Was I ever close to catching you?"
"Loads of times, oh my god. It freaked me out so much! You came in one morning to complain about the dishes, and I had just finished tying off a bag of wet diapers. I had to shove them under my bed so fast, I forgot I was still wearing a pull up when the door opened. If I wasn't wearing a long shirt, you'd have for sure seen it before I jumped under my covers on my bed."
"Fuck, was that what that was?? I remember you being a total space cadet that morning. I figured you were a little hungover, honestly, and I was kind of mad at you for not paying attention... Sorry."
"No need to apologize, oh my god! It was my bad, really. I should have been more careful."
"Still... sucks." The moment lingered. "Okay, next question. How often do you pee your pants?"
"Never. That is what the diapers are for." She patted her crotch, and a dull thud filled the car. "But, seriously. Uh, it depends on the week."
"Depends? Is that what you wear?"
"Very funny. No. I probably wear-"
"Wait, what kind of diapers do you wear?? I'm realizing now I've actually never seen one."
"I mean, I can show you mine, but they're just, like, big pink diapers, I guess."
"Pink?? Could you... could you seriously show me?"
She reached down and pulled the front of her sweat pants down, revealing a dull pink brief. You didn't know what you were expecting, but seeing your bestie's diaper in the flesh, sort of, was... you thought anticlimactic was the right word. Was it supposed to be weird? Was it supposed to be a revelatory experience? It felt a little strange, but nothing like what you imagined.
She pulled her pants back up, letting the waistband of the diaper poke out a bit.
"Huh. It is pink. And, like, thicker than I thought it would be."
"It's the booster."
"Booster??"
"Oh my god. I'll explain that in a minute, I'm sure. But, yeah, I wear twice a week these days on a bad week, and... like, every night on a good week."
"Every night?? So you sleep in them?"
"Actually, most nights, yeah. I kinda like it, honestly. Not having to get up in the middle of the night has been awesome for my sleep schedule. And then, like, when I work from home, I wear a lot, too. I guess I wear between 90 per cent and 50 per cent of the time, if I can afford it and I have the time to do the whole thing."
"So... would you want to wear all the time?"
"Oh god... you want me to be honest?"
"I mean, I think I know the answer."
"Yeah, probably. Especially if I had a partner that could help me. I think a lot of people are in that boat, though. At least a lot of diaper people. It's kind of hard to handle the logistics as one person. If someone else was there to help me. To change me and check me and pick up some of the slack? I could really see myself going sans-panty for long periods of time, I think."
"Fuck. Have you... have you found anyone like that?"
She slunk back in her seat. "Fuck. No. The dating scene for diaper people is terrible. I mean, it's not like there aren't cool people out there, but it's just... limited. Finding the right person, in our area, who wants the same things out of a relationship that I do that don't have anything to do with diapers, who I get along with naturally, and who aligns with my shit? It's been hard. And like, I actually talked to my stupid fucking ex back in high school about some of this stuff, but he made such a big stupid deal out of it. He really soured me on vanilla dating, honestly."
"Do you think you, like, need this kind of stuff?"
She looked out of the window. "I don't know. Probably, I guess. It's been really, really fun being able to do stuff like this-" She gestured at her diaper. "I don't know if I could go through the process of, like, turning a vanilla guy into someone who's cool with this. I kinda think I got lucky with you, or whatever. You were so cool with it. I don't think I'll get it again."
"Fuck. That sucks."
"And I can't even be a fuckin crybaby about it, because, like..." That made you both laugh.
"Okay, I don't wanna bum you out or anything, so change of subject. Or, I guess change back to subject. What the hell is a booster?"
"You really wanna know?"
"I don't know, do I?"
"It's not that big a deal, honestly. It's, like, a pad, really. Except it's flow-through. It adds extra capacity to a diaper. This is a looooong road trip, and I don't wanna change in the back seat, or like a truck stop or anything, so I put a booster pad in this diaper to hopefully make it to the hotel room. I think it'll work. I checked back at that gas station, and it hadn't made it up to the back part of the diaper yet, so I think we'll be cool with just three more hours to go."
"Okay, so like, I assume that's not just like, a large baby's diaper, right?"
"Oh... you sweet summer child. There are so. friggin. many. adult diaper brands out there right now. No, they're special made for adults, and they hold, like, 4 gallons of fluid or something."
"Oh my god? That much?"
"Some hold more. Ideally, that is. In practice, they hold a lot less. Hence the booster and pee pad. If I leaked on the seats of this rental, I think I'd freak."
"Okay, so... okay so like... can I ask you an invasive question, then?"
"We've been talking about me peeing my diaper for the last 30 minutes. I don't think anything is off the table."
You took a deep breath. "Have you ever worn the ones that look like giant baby diapers?"
"Oo ya." She said it without blinking. "I mean, the market is kind of saturated with that stuff. So, like, I'm not a huge... they call them "AB"s, that is, Adult Babies. I'm not a huge AB myself, honestly, but... I mean, I'm already wearing a diaper. Might as well be a cute one."
"Seriously??"
"They're awesome, too. Like, the looks is obviously a big part of it, but they just kinda work. Plus, who doesn't want to wear cute undies??"
"I can see it now, you with a bottle, a pamper on, and a bib."
"For now at least, no bib. But I do have a paci collection. I'll let you see it next time you're over if you want."
"... Honestly, I might have to do that."
You both giggled again. It devolved into a silence. The kind of silence that's only comfortable between two people who are more comfortable together than they are alone.
"Okay, one last one, and I'll leave you alone."
"As long as you don't leave me with Lizzy, I'll answer whatever question you got."
"Funny. Have you, like, ever done it with someone else?"
"You fuckin' know I'm not a virgin..."
"Not like that, smart ass. Like, have you ever... am I the only one that, like knows?"
"In my regular life? I guess. I mean, besides my ex, yeah. I've tried to meet people who are into it, but like I said, it's been rough. I've not met any dudes who I thought I was compatible with, and all the girls either ghost me or seem uninterested after a little while."
"Any fellow enbys?"
"You know, they're split evenly into both those previous camps. Go figure. But, nah. I'm looking for the right pervert, but so far, no dice. It is what it is."
Another comfortable silence, the sound of the desert road under the rental car.
"Okay... last last question, since nothing is off the table..."
"I do not poop in them."
"Not... what I was gonna ask... why not, though???"
"Have you ever been in a porta potty and thought, ‘boy, I wish my bedroom smelled like this’?”
“I… have not, no.”
“Me neither.”
“Okay. Seriously, though. Do you… do you use them to get off?”
She laughed. Luckily, she laughed. “My, my, how forward! A lady doesn’t kiss and tell…”
“Oh, so NOW we’re being modest??” You reached over and slapped the front of her diaper, and heard the now familiar thunk of a wet diaper.
“Fuck no. Modesty is out of the window. I do, yeah.”
“Seriously??”
“Oh yeah. A magic wand on the front of these babies does wonders.”
“Huh… and it feels… good?”
“Devine. I heard it said like this one day, ‘people don’t often complain about something warm, wet, and squishy around their genitals’. Ya know? I mean, I don’t only use them to cum. But… I definitely cum in em, yeah. In the same way that I’m sure a ton of folks jerk off with their panties on, or when they’re on the toilet or in the shower, right? I mean, if I need to nut, and I’m in a diaper… I’m just gonna nut in my diaper, ya feel me?”
It was honestly crazy how much sense that made the way she explained it. Like, of course she’d just cum in them. Of course. Not that you’d expect any less from her. She’d always been a pragmatist like that.
“You know, I’d feel bad proselytizing without offering you the chance to convert. You wanna forsake your panties at the next rest stop and join the diaper cult with me?”
After an hour of diaper talk, you’d be wrong if she didn’t make you curious. I mean, if her career didn’t work out, a life in the CIA would be fitting.
“You know, as attractive as you made pissing in your pants sound, I think I’m good right now…”
“Good. I only brought a few changes, and I’m gonna want to drink at the restaurant tonight - more for me!” You both laughed and let the moment sit. A few miles down the road, the conversation changed to something else, and the serious diaper talk was over. Who knows, maybe tonight at the hotel, you’d both drunkenly dig it back up. But for now, you were just happy you could give your friend an outlet. You could tell she was lonely with it. And after all, what are friends for?
Ethan trailed behind Lisa, his thick diaper crinkling softly with every step. The mall was bright, bustling with shoppers, and the air smelled of pretzels and perfume. He kept his head down, trying to look casual, but the squish between his legs was impossible to ignore. His diaper was soaked, had been for a while now, and every squirm, every subtle tug at the plastic-backed padding, was a silent plea for Lisa to notice. To do something.
She didn’t.
Lisa strolled ahead, her fingers curled around the handle of a shopping bag, her other hand swinging freely. She glanced back at him, her lips curling into a smirk. "You’re fine, sweetheart," she said, her voice light, almost sing-song. "That’s what your thick diapers are for."
Ethan’s face burned. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the wetness sloshing slightly inside his diaper. He tried to make it more obvious, hitching up his shorts, adjusting the waistband of his diaper with exaggerated movements. Lisa just laughed, shaking her head. "We’ll change you when I say so."
He bit his lip, frustration bubbling under his skin. It wasn’t fair. He was wet. He was uncomfortable. And yet, here he was, following her like a well-trained pet, his diaper growing heavier with every step.
They passed a clothing store, its mannequins dressed in the latest summer styles. Lisa paused, tilting her head as she eyed a rack of sundresses. Ethan hovered near her, his fingers twitching at his sides. He risked another tug at his diaper, this time louder, the crinkle sharp in the quiet of the store. Lisa didn’t even look at him. "Go on, baby. Pick out something pretty for me," she said, nodding toward the dresses.
Ethan’s jaw tightened. He didn’t want to pick out dresses. He wanted a change. But he knew better than to say it. The rules were clear: No telling. No asking. He was supposed to signal, to make it obvious, and if she chose to ignore him... well, that was her prerogative.
A group of women passed by, their laughter ringing through the store. One of them, a tall woman with a sharp gaze, had a boy in tow—maybe mid-20s, dressed in a simple t-shirt and shorts. The boy was fidgeting, his hands clutching at his crotch. The woman stopped abruptly, her eyes narrowing. "Stand still, Mark," she said, her voice firm. Without hesitation, she pulled down his shorts, checking his pull-up. "Dry. Good. But don’t think that means you can hold it forever." The boy blushed, but the woman just patted his head and continued walking, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Ethan watched, his heart sinking. Even the boys in pull-ups got checked. And here he was, in a full, thick diaper, soaked, and Lisa hadn’t even looked.
Lisa finally moved on, her new dress draped over her arm. They wandered into a toy store next, the shelves lined with bright, colorful toys. Ethan’s eyes flicked to a display of stuffed animals, but his mind was elsewhere. His diaper was sagging now, the weight of it pulling at his shorts. He shifted again, this time pressing his thighs together, hoping the movement would catch Lisa’s eye.
It didn’t.
"Oh, look at this!" Lisa cooed, holding up a plush teddy bear. "Would you like this, baby?" She dangled it in front of him, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
Ethan’s hands clenched into fists. He didn’t want a stupid teddy bear. He wanted to be dry. But he knew better than to say no. "Y-yes, please," he muttered, his voice small.
Lisa beamed, adding the bear to her growing pile of purchases. "Good boy."
Ethan’s frustration mounted. He was almost dripping. He was helpless. And Lisa was loving every second of it.
They stopped for lunch at the food court. Lisa ordered for both of them chicken tenders and fries for her, a kids’ meal for Ethan. He sat stiffly in his seat, his diaper squelching slightly every time he moved. Lisa, of course, noticed. She always noticed. She just didn’t care.
"You’re awfully quiet, sweetheart," she said, popping a fry into her mouth. "Something on your mind?"
Ethan’s eyes flicked to her, then away. He wanted to scream. He wanted to beg. But the rules were the rules. He had to make her see. He shifted again, this time lifting his hips slightly off the seat, letting the squish of his diaper fill the air between them.
Lisa’s smirk deepened. "You’re fine," she said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "Eat your nuggets."
Ethan’s face burned. He picked at his food, his appetite long gone. Across the food court, a woman was changing a boy on a bench, his diaper laid out beneath him. The boy giggled as she powdered him, his legs kicking in the air. Ethan watched, his chest tight. That was what he wanted. To be taken care of. To be dry.
But Lisa wasn’t ready.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Lisa sighed and checked her watch. "Alright, baby. Let’s go find a changing room."
Ethan’s heart leapt. Finally. He waddled after her, his diaper sloshing with every step. The family restroom was at the far end of the mall, and every second felt like torture. But as they turned the corner, Lisa stopped abruptly.
"Oh, look," she said, nodding toward the changing room door. It was propped open, and inside, three boys—all around Ethan’s age—were laid out on the changing tables, their diapers being swapped out by their respective caregivers. One of the boys caught Ethan’s eye and grinned, his legs swinging as his mommy taped up a fresh diaper. "You must be a super soaker," the boy teased.
Lisa chuckled, her hand resting on Ethan’s shoulder. "Patience is a virtue, sweetheart," she said, her voice dripping with amusement. "But I suppose you’ve earned this."
Ethan’s relief was short-lived. As Lisa finally led him into the changing room, he couldn’t help but notice the knowing looks from the other boys. They knew. They’d all been there. And they’d all learned the same lesson: You don’t get to be dry until she says so.
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