Son of a Biscuit Eater (Tumblr exclusive fic)
Hope you guys like this one!!! Let me know if you think I should post it on AO3 too. <3 It was originally posted on my old blog, and originally the first part was a short standalone and I eventually wrote a two chapter followup, but I made it into one fic for coherency’s sake. Content warning: Very messy and John has to eat baby food.
John was in trouble, and it was only a matter of time before Paul realized it too. John’s stomach lurched and he squirmed, sheets twisting between his legs. Even worse than the turmoil in his tummy was the knowledge that very shortly, he would embarrass himself fully. He groaned a little, face flushing as he envisioned what lay before him.
Paul stirred next to him, voice deep and tinged with sleep, “Johnny. Settle down. You need to go to sleep.”
John only whimpered as his stomach turned again, audibly, gurgling loudly enough to make Paul open his eyes. “What’s wrong, baby,” he whispered, rubbing his hand against John’s tummy. “Do you have a tummy ache? You seemed fine after we ate.”
He didn’t answer, only buried his face into the pillows. Maybe Paul would think he was still asleep. Just then, he broke wind loudly, and Paul laughed. “Are you making a mess for me, baby?”
John jerked his head up. “No!” His voice was a desperate whine, even annoying to him, but Paul only grinned. “I don’t hafta!”
A hand made its way to John’s bum, squeezing slightly. “Is there something you want to tell me, Johnny?”
The moment of truth, John. He focused on Paul’s dark brown eyes, half-covered by fringe, and his toes curled at the bottom of his footed sleeper. “I… I sneaked a snack, Daddy…”
There was a smack on John’s bottom, but the thick padding of his flannel sleeper and thicker cloth nappies protected the sensitive flesh; nevertheless, John squeaked in pain. “Johnny!” Paul admonished. “You know the rules! No snacks after dinner! You already had your desert, little boy, there was ice cream all over your face not two hours ago.” He sat up, reached for the cigarettes on the nightstand, and lit one. The fire illuminating his face made him look unearthly and older beyond his years, and once again, John sank into the cold wave of shame that washed over him as he felt his cock stir against his soft, clean nappy.
“So what did you sneak, hm, baby?” He blew a stream of smoke over John’s head and John sniffed it greedily. Paul didn’t allow him cigarettes on these “baby weekends.” “Babies don’t smoke these nasty things,” he had said while blowing a smoke ring right over a kneeling John’s head. Sometimes he would relent and let John have one, particularly right after sex, or on the occasions where John got too overwhelmed by the games they played, and he’d try not to cry as he sucked the smoke down his throat, Paul usually stroking his hair or running his fingers down his back. Paul was much more lenient about pot—they were often high when playing and John didn’t dare to argue that babies wouldn’t get stoned off their arses either.
“The… the chocolate biscuits, Daddy…” John winced at a particularly bad stomach pain, and accidentally let out another loud fart. Paul only laughed.
“Well, that’s what you get for disobeying Daddy, love,” he said, running his fingers through John’s thick hair. “Daddy knows best, and he knows that if you stuff yourself full of chocolate biscuits before bed, you’re going to be up for hours with a tummy ache. Daddy doesn’t make the rules to be mean; he makes them to help you.”
John whimpered and curled into Paul’s bare chest, the scruff of his body hair scraping against his smooth cheek. “I know, Daddy. I’m sorry, Daddy. I was just hungry.” He moaned as his stomach roiled. “Are you going to punish me, Daddy?”
“Well, you broke the rules, Johnny. You need to be punished, how else are little boys going to learn their lesson?” John moaned and farted again, much to his humiliation. “But I think you’ll be suffering enough tonight, love. Daddy will have to punish you tomorrow.” He pressed a kiss to John’s forehead, damp with perspiration. “Poor baby, I know it hurts. Let Daddy get you some nice milk.”
Paul lay John onto the pillows, and grabbed the oversize blue dummy sitting on the bedside table. “Open up, sweetheart,” he whispered, rubbing the rubber nipple against John’s lips. John latched on, suckling the dummy while Paul smiled stupidly down at him. “My cute little baby.” He kissed John’s forehead again, and cigarette in hand, walked out the bedroom door and down the stairs.
John snuggled back into the pillows, not bothering to spit the dummy out now that Paul was out of the room. It was genuinely comforting and could be a blessing when he counted how many times it had stopped him from back talking Paul. He suckled the pacifier and closed his eyes, listening to the man he called Daddy bustle downstairs in the kitchen. This was a… rather recent development, in the timeline of their friendship. When they met as teenagers, this was a secret so deeply hidden inside of John, he hardly knew it was there; unlike the secret of liking other boys, he was hyperaware of every brush of the arm and too-long stare. He and Paul had been friends, and they became lovers long before the world ever knew their names. Paul knew him better than anyone. Paul was the only one who knew that he wanted… this.
“All right, darling,” Paul said, walking back into the room, “let’s go sit in the rocking chair for this, shall we?” John opened his eyes. In his hand, Paul held a large bottle with an obscene rubber teat, filled to the brim with warm milk. He let Paul lead him by the hand to the rocking chair in the corner, the nappy between his legs making him waddle and the plastic cover making him crinkle, sniffling as he sat on Paul’s lap. The fat cotton at his crotch strained deliciously as Paul pulled the dummy from his lips and replaced it with the baby bottle.
“There we go, Johnny,” Paul cooed. “Daddy put something in your milk to help settle your little tummy. Just relax and drink up.” John snuggled into Paul’s chest, letting the warm milk trickle down his throat. He was such a baby… Just an overgrown infant, suckling his bottle in Daddy’s arms. He broke wind several more times, only slightly muffled by his nappy, but he was in such a blissed-out baby state, he didn’t even notice, only kept sucking his baba. Paul patted his thick, diapered behind. “That’s it, Johnny. Let it out and Daddy will change you.”
The pressure started building on John’s bowels, making him whimper around the nipple of his bottle. “Do you have to make a messy, baby?” Paul asked, eyebrows nearly rising into his hairline. John stared up at him, incredulous, desperate. Please don’t make me, he begged silently, please don’t make me go while feeding from a baby bottle. He kept sucking, being a good boy for Daddy, and Paul squeezed his bottom. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, Johnny,” he whispered. “You’re just a baby. This is what babies do.”
It was too much. Milk still pouring into his mouth, John started grunting and his little face turned bright red as he filled his diaper. This wasn’t new for them, but something John tried to avoid as much as possible. No matter how often Paul told him that he didn’t mind, that he actually liked it, the feeling of babyish humiliation was too intense for John. No grown man would do this, no grown man with a wife and child and millions of adoring fans would shit his nappy sitting on his best friend’s lap, sucking down sweet, warm milk from a baby’s bottle. But here he was, grunting and farting as his bottom expanded on Paul’s lap.
“There you are, love!” Paul patted his bum excitedly, squeezing the mess now present. “See, that wasn’t hard! It’s a very natural thing for babies to do in their nappies.” John tried to unlatch from the bottle, but Paul held him in place. “Ah-ah, darling. We’re going to finish your bottle first, then Daddy will change you.”
John squirmed uncomfortably. The mess around his bottom was squishy, but not unpleasant, and without even meaning to, he released a long stream of pee into the front of his nappy. Paul only smiled. “That’s right, Johnny, get it all out. Tinkle for Daddy.” His right hand sneaked between his legs, groping his drooping, wet crotch as his left still held the bottle for John. “Just enjoy being a little nappy baby,” he whispered.
There’s nothing you can do, John told himself. You’re just a little nappy baby. You’re Daddy’s nappy baby and he’s going to change your dirty bottom. He squirmed in Paul’s lap, and closed his eyes, feeling his mess squish against his bum and Paul’s hand squeeze his piss-soaked nappy against his insistent erection. Every time they played these games together, John pushed the boundary of how infantile he thought he could be. You’re the biggest baby, he thought, filled with the deepest shame and hungriest desire. You’ll let your best friend treat you like a fucking infant, you’re the naughtiest, dirtiest baby there could ever be. But desperate to be Daddy’s good boy, he kept sucking at his bottle until he was loudly sucking air.
Paul gently tugged the nipple out of John’s mouth, and to his embarrassment, he kept sucking at thin air for several seconds. “All right, baby, let’s get you burped!” He bounced John upright on his lap, and started patting his back brusquely. John let out a loud moan to feel the load in his nappy press against his bottom, and his cocklet rub against Paul’s hip, and within seconds, he interrupted himself with a burp.
“Good boy!” Paul praised, ruffling John’s hair. “Are you ready for a change, little one?”
John nodded, heart pounding as Paul stood him on two feet, and ran the zipper on his sleeper from the top his neck to the bottom of his toes, and helped John until he stood naked save for a heavily sagging nappy and a pair of pink plastic pants. Paul set out the plastic covered mat he had bought, the girliest, most babyish changing mat he could have found, covered in flowers and drawings of kewpie dolls in nappies as thick as his own, and lying on it now, Paul snapping the poppers of his plastic pants and unpinning the sides of his nappy to change his dirty bottom, John stared at the doll closest to his line of vision, a little girl with a white fluffy nappy and two red circles on her cheeks, and tried not to sob as Paul revealed his shame.
“Pee-yew!” Paul exclaimed. “This is why I tell you no snacks after dinner, Johnny! Because you’ll make a big nasty mess like this, and both of us will be exhausted in the morning. Legs up!” John was completely exposed now, his messy bum on full display as Paul cleaned his most intimate of spots. Paul hummed a soft lullaby as he cleaned John gently and diligently, and as John stared up at him, he remembered the chubby faced kid who idolized him back in Liverpool, the skinny-legged lad who fucked him in Paris. His best friend who had gone to the toppermost of the poppermost with him.
“Johnny, sweetheart, don’t cry,” Paul whispered, and it wasn’t until then that John realized that there were big fat teardrops falling down his face. “Where’s your dummy, that’ll help, won’t it?” He stood and John remained on the floor, legs still high up in the air. He quickly found the teat and slipped it into John’s mouth, and snatched the stuffed panda bearing sitting on the foot of the bed. “Pandy will help too, won’t he?” he teased, and John embraced the stuffy tightly in his arms as Paul resumed to the task at hand.
The younger man wiped down John’s smooth bottom and private areas, meticulously shaved by Paul himself the day before. “Babies don’t have big boy hair,” he’s said time and time again, and John’s grown to love it, the feel of the wet wipe on his baby smooth cocklet, the sight of his boyish private parts compared to Paul’s manly ones. John squeezed Pandy tight to his chest as Paul took a clean wipe and started to stroke John’s dripping hard-on. “You’re all clean, sweetheart,” Paul cooed, “now Daddy’s going to help you make a nice cummy so you can go straight to sleep, all right?”
John squirmed and gurgled underneath Paul’s touch, sucking loudly on his dummy until he exploded in Daddy’s hand. Paul continued to stroke John’s cock until he was nice and soft again, then lovingly wiped the cum from his tummy. A nice clean nappy was placed under his bum, and John felt a small metal bulb press into his hole. He started to squirm, but Paul shushed him and held him in place.
“I’m sorry, baby, but this is part of your punishment,” he said in a soft, stern voice. “You’re going to wear your little bum dummy until tomorrow night. You don’t get to make poopies until Daddy says you can make poopies.” The plug pressed in and completely filled him, but John didn’t make a fuss, only sucked on his pacifier. He knew that he was naughty, and Daddy knew that the plug was one of his favorite punishments. With a liberal sprinkling of powder over John’s soft cock and balls, Paul pinned his clean diaper into place and affixed his plastic pants over it. He helped John up and back into his fuzzy sleeper. Leading John back to bed by the hand, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Pink cheeked and teary-eyed, his bottom abnormally oversized from the thick nappy and mouth gagged from his dummy, he looked like the biggest baby in the world. And Paul loved it. Paul saw his little boy watching his infantilized reflection in the mirror, and stood behind him, wrapping his arms around his soft body and pressing his lips to his boy’s sweet tasting neck.
“You’re so precious, Johnny,” Paul whispered into John’s ear. “I’d never meet another boy as sweet and lovely as you.” He clutched the front of John’s nappy. “I love being your daddy. I love to take care of you, and that you trust me enough to do so.”
John turned around in his daddy’s arms, pulled out his dummy, and planted a hard, wet kiss on Paul’s lips. “I love you, Daddy,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around Paul’s neck. “You’re my only daddy, and I’m your only baby.”
“That’s right, baby,” Paul said, kissing his cheeks. “Now come to bed, we’ve got to get some sleep. I need to think of a good punishment for you.” He crawled into bed and John immediately scurried into his arms, eyebrows furrowed and mouth downturned.
“I thought my plug was my punishment, Daddy?”
Paul smirked a little as he closed his eyes. With one hand, he held John tight and with the other, pulled his cock through the slit of his boxer shorts, stroking the erect member confidently under the sheets. “That’s just part of it, Johnny. Daddy wanted to make sure you didn’t make any more poopies in your nappy until I said you could, since you seem to have trouble remembering who’s in charge here.”
A coy hand covered Paul’s own, so Paul grabbed it, getting his boy to stroke him in the rhythm he wanted. “That’s it, little boy,” he groaned. “Make Daddy cummy. Daddy got so hard watching you use your nappy like a real little baby. You’re such a baby, Johnny.” John whined and buried his face in Paul’s throat, cock rising shamefully at those words, but he didn’t slow his hand’s pace. He knew Daddy loved his little baby.
“Oh Johnny, you’re my little naughty boy,” Paul panted into John’s hair. “What am I going to do to you tomorrow, hm? Perhaps I should make you wash all your dirty nappies and put them on the line to dry, how about that?”
“No, Daddy!” John protested, heart leaping into his throat. Paul wouldn’t make him wear this outside! The thought of John’s oversized, stained cloth nappies fluttering in the breeze was enough to bring tears to his eyes, but his cock was still pressing insistently against embarrassing baby garment.
“Oh, you don’t like that?” Paul kissed the top of John’s head and urged his hand faster. “Maybe Daddy is going to feed you baby food all day, since you can’t seem to handle eating by yourself. “ He paused to groan, sending a shiver all the way down to John’s toes. “I’d love to see your cute little face all covered in baby food, Johnny,” he growled, “and then I’d let baby Johnny suckle on Daddy’s cock until he’s nice and full.” John took the cue and took Paul into his mouth, swirling his tongue inexpertly around the head of Paul’s cock while Paul groaned above him and continued talking.
“Or maybe, maybe baby Johnny… Maybe Daddy’s going to put laxatives in your baby food and make you fill your nappy, and then you’re going to ride your horsie for Daddy.” John nearly choked on Paul’s cock at those words, and his bottom clenched around the plug inside him. Paul had presented him with an adult-sized wooden rocking horse weeks ago, and when John misbehaved, Paul simply strapped him onto his horsie and left him there until he was squirming in his wet nappy and ready to be a good boy. The image of himself riding his ridiculous rocking horse with a full, stinking diaper was too much to bear, but suddenly, his mouth filled with Paul’s spunk. Paul must have had the same vision of John.
“Oh God,” Paul panted, falling back onto the pillows. “Oh God, Johnny, you’re the best little boy in the world.” He wiped his cum the corners of John’s mouth. “I love you. Jesus, I love you so much, Johnny.”
“I love you too, Daddy,” John whispered, nestling his diapered crotch against Paul’s hip. He was still hard, but Daddy was strict about too many cummies in one night for little boys, so all Johnny could do was rub his little cocklet against his soft nappies. Paul was already snoring slightly as John drifted off, feeling small and utterly protected in his daddy’s arms.
***
John woke with his nappy already unpinned, and Paul wiping his arse like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Good morning, sweetheart,” Paul cooed, noticing his little boy’s sleep covered eyes blinking in the early sunlight. “Did you sleep better after you made your big mess for Daddy?”
Awake for seconds and he was already blushing. He didn’t answer, but Daddy didn’t expect him to. “You made a big wee in your nappy too, all in your sleep. Such a helpless baby I have.” He ran his finger around the plug in John’s bottom, making the boy squirm on his open nappy. “This is going to stay in for now, Johnny. I don’t want you to make poopies without Daddy’s permission.” He pulled up John’s legs to slide the soiled nappy out from under him, and put a clean one in its place. “Open wide, sweetheart.” Well-trained, John promptly raised his knees to his chest, letting his thighs splay open. Paul heaped a generous dose of powder over John’s privates, rubbing it into his hairless skin. John couldn’t help but get hard. Paul’s tousled bedhead and half-hard cock underneath the pajama bottoms he wore, chest bare, John’s arousal and need for his daddy bubbled within him, making him squirm and whimper underneath Paul’s hands, slipping a thumb into his mouth to keep from making any “big boy noises.”
Paul only smiled at Johnny’s erection, and tucked it down as he pinned the clean nappy into place. “Shh, I know you like your nappy changes,” Paul whispered, rubbing the front of John’s nappy while the boy underneath him rocked his hips up. “Daddy likes your changes too, but you know the rules, you only get to cummy when Daddy says so.” He gave John’s nappy one last squeeze before bouncing off the bed. “All right, love, let’s get you dressed! Would you like to wear your new onesie today?”
John nodded, thumb still in his mouth and dick throbbing. He loved his onesie more than he dare admit to Paul. Paul had taken his measurements, and ordered the onesie and the sleeper that now lay at his feet from a specialty shop in Amsterdam. Nearly as soon as Paul helped John into the onesie for the first time, he was tearing it off in order to fuck John stupid, swearing that he’d buy out the whole damn store. The onesie was a soft pink with white lace stitched along the neck, arm, and leg bands; it only served to accentuate John’s thick diapered crotch, and he got such a rush from Paul reaching between his legs to unsnap the poppers and sneak his fingers inside John’s nappy to see if he needed a change.
Paul helped John from the bed, and he stood on wobbly legs, his mid-section ballooned out from his thick nappy and plastic pants. One leg after the other, Paul helped John into his babyish costume, pressing a kiss to his lips when he finished. “Aren’t you adorable,” Paul murmured, patting his baby’s bottom. “Are you ready for breakfast, Johnny?”
“Uh-huh, Daddy.” The thumb was back in his mouth, and Paul paused to ruffle his hair before pulling on a t-shirt and leading him out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. Though they were acquiring the materials for their special games slowly, Paul’s most elaborate purchase to date was the adult-sized high chair currently sitting at the kitchen table, ordered from the same specialty shop that had made his onesie. Paul lifted the tray off the highchair and helped John inside, locking him in place as his nappy squished between his thighs. He then placed a baby bottle in front of him, filled with cold milk. John looked up, dismayed. “I want my sippy, Daddy…”
“It’s more natural for a little baby like you to drink from a bottle, love.” He leaned over, rubbing the nipple against John’s lips until he gave in and started to suck. “Good baby,” he whispered with a smile. John wasn’t a dummy—he realized that Paul got off on their baby games as much as he did, but the unsettling insecurity within him never relented, telling him that Paul was only laughing at him, trying to see how many humiliating things he could get John to do. But he trusted Paul. Paul had seen him at his most helpless, his most debased, and yet he urged John to go even further. The taste of milk in his mouth reminded him of the mess at the seat of his nappy last night—you filled your nappy like an infant, he thought ruefully, it’s no wonder you’ve been demoted to a bottle. Nevertheless, he suckled like a good baby.
Bacon was sizzling on the stovetop and toast almost slightly burning in the toaster, and John felt his stomach rumble. “Daddy,” he whined, pulling the bottle from his mouth with a slight pop, “I’m hungry! Daddy, I’m so hungry!”
“We’ll be able to eat in just a few minutes, darling,” Paul called, not even turning in John’s direction.
“Daddy, I’m hungry now! I want my breakfast!” As petulant as a real child, he slammed his bottle on the highchair tray. That certainly got Paul’s attention. He whooshed over and gave the back of John’s hand a good smack, making the boy squeal.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten your punishment from last night, little boy,” he scolded while tears formed in Johnny’s eyes. “I have a very special breakfast planned for you.”
After Paul’s own breakfast of bacon and toast was on his plate, he unveiled John’s punishment: six jars of baby food, two for each meal. “I bought these a few weeks ago,” he explained as he tied a bib around John’s neck, “but you haven’t been naughty enough for me to use them yet. I think you definitely deserve them today.”
It looks like slime, John thought in a panic, watching Paul open a jar of pureed carrots with a piece of bacon hanging out of his mouth. He scooped a mouthful out of the jar with a plastic baby spoon, and began making airplane noises as he aimed it at John’s mouth. “Nyeeeear, here comes the airplane, baby!” He brushed the baby spoon against John’s tightly pressed lips, but the force of John’s head shaking back and forth rubbed the goo onto his cheeks. “Now Johnny, open up,” Paul chided, bumping his lips with the spoon again. “You’re not going to get anything else to eat today.”
John cautiously parted his lips and the spoon immediately slipped inside. “Good baby!” Paul crooned as John gagged on the carrot slime sliding down his throat. Before he had a chance to recover, Paul was spooning another mouthful into him.
“Daddy, Daddy, stop!” John cried. “It’s bad, Daddy, I don’t want it!”
Paul paused, gave his boy a disbelieving look. “It doesn’t matter what you want, Johnny. You broke the rules last night and this is part of your punishment. Now you can behave and eat the rest of your breakfast like a good baby, or you can make your punishment even worse.”
Tears streaming down his face, John’s mouth fell open silently for Paul to feed him. He made it through several more spoonfuls before a loud gag sent him into a coughing fit and he began to spit his baby food onto the floor.
“Johnny!” Paul yelled, and grabbed his wrist. “John, you stop that right now!”
“No! No!” John struggled to break free of Paul’s grasp, and in his excited state, flailed his unattached arm across the table and swiped the jar of carrots to the floor, shattering it. John’s heart stopped as he looked at Daddy, glaring at John in such a way John imagined a jungle cat looks at its prey before pouncing.
“You naughty little boy,” Paul growled, and John burst into full-fledged sobs as Paul rose from the table. He didn’t do anything however, simply left the room, only to return moments later with John’s punishment mittens. These mittens had rings on them that could be locked and unlocked, and John knew immediately what was going to happen. He wailed but didn’t struggle as Paul captured his hands and locked the rings onto the arms of the highchair.
“Now, you’re going to suck on this,” Paul stuck the nipple of John’s baby bottle between his lips, “and Daddy is going to eat his breakfast. After this bottle, you’re going to eat this entire second jar, and I don’t care if you’ll sit here all day to do it.” The milk flowed steadily into John’s mouth, making it difficult for him to cry, so he only sat and suckled pathetically while Paul ate his big boy breakfast.
Once John was sucking air through his bottle, Paul opened the second jar of baby food. Peas! Even worse than carrots! John started whining, but Paul only had to give him a look for John to know that he would be in for a severe punishment if he put up a fuss. He parted his lips, and Paul beamed at him. “There’s my good baby! Airplane is cleared for landing!” The spoon pushed between John’s lips and he gagged, but didn’t fight.
For such a tiny jar, the amount of liquidized food was incredible. Or maybe it just seemed that way because of the baby spoon Paul insisted on feeding him with. The whole process was drawn out far too long, in John’s opinion, but he knew Paul would say that it was because John wouldn’t stop crying and spitting up his breakfast onto his chin. When they were only half-way through, John felt a twinge in his bladder, and without even thinking about it, flooded his nappy.
Paul paused with the spoon almost to John’s mouth. “Did someone have to tinkle?” He reached between John’s exposed thighs and grasped his hot and squishy nappy. “What a good baby,” he praised, a twinkle in his eye as John shrank in shame.
It took John close to a half-hour to finish the jar of baby food, and when he was finally released from his baby restraints, Paul embraced him, stroking his back, fingers brushing the top of his nappy. “I know you didn’t like that, Johnny,” he whispered. “Sometimes Daddy has to do things like this to make you learn your lesson. I’m not trying to be mean to my baby.” He wiped John’s sticky face as best he could with his bib. “Come with me, darling, we’ll feed you another bottle to get the taste out of your mouth.”
John followed Paul silently to the sofa, and immediately curled into the crook of Paul’s arm, suckling hard on the nipple of his baby bottle to replace the taste of peas with milk. His wet nappy squelched between his legs, and he felt Daddy’s fingers creeping under the leg band of his onesie. “You’re not too wet, love. This nappy could probably withhold another wee-wee.” John’s little cock stirred, to his embarrassment. Only Paul could talk about his bodily functions so freely, so knowingly, and so… lustfully. John let his mittened hand slide down his body until he got to his nappy, and he rubbed gently, trying not to call attention to what he was doing.
Of course, Johnny couldn’t even think of trying to keep anything from Daddy’s careful eye. Instead of scolding his boy though, he simply reached down and pulled John’s mitten away from his nappy. John looked up at him, lips still wrapped around his bottle and cheeks flushed red. “I know babies like to play with their nappies,” he chided, “but Daddy doesn’t want you playing with your little pee-pee, honey.”
Almost at the end of the bottle, John wet his nappy once again; the loud hissing sound made Paul smile and he patted John’s crotch. “There we go, sweetheart, let it all out.” John didn’t bother getting embarrassed this time—he was already sleepy from his milk and the comforting heat of Daddy’s body against his. When the bottle was completed, Paul stood John up, his nappy drooping noticeably underneath his onesie. “What a big baby I have,” he mused, pressing the crotch of John’s nappy up between his legs, making John moan. “You needed to be in nappies, Johnny, think of how many embarrassing accidents you could have had without them.”
John moaned again pathetically. “Oh yes, Daddy, I need my nappies!”
“Do you love your nappies?”
“Y-yes, Daddy, I lo-wuv my nappies.”
Paul hummed in pleasure, and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pajama bottoms, pulling them down past his knees and exposing his thick, erect cock. “I bet my big baby is still hungry since he threw his food onto the floor,” he said, stroking his cock while John fidgeted in front of him. “Does baby Johnny want to feed on Daddy’s cock?”
“Ohhh, yes, Daddy!” John dropped to his knees in front of the sofa and began to lick and suck at Paul’s member enthusiastically. His wet nappy felt so delicious against his straining cocklet, and Daddy’s leg between his provided too much temptation.
Paul laughed, delighted, as John started humping his calf, nappy squishing audibly along with his crinkly plastic pants. John knew he was making a fool of himself, but he knew that’s what Daddy liked—when his little boy got so carried away that he did embarrassing, babyish things without even thinking about it. Paul’s fingers threaded themselves through John’s thick hair, urging him to suck Daddy’s cock deeper and faster. “That’s it, big baby,” he grunted. “Daddy’s going to feed you his milk, baby.”
John choked, but kept going. He loved “nursing” from Daddy (and secretly loved when Paul referred to it as “nursing”); Paul had the gift of saying the most perfectly embarrassing thing that still made John’s cock ache. When Paul came, John managed to swallow most of it, but treacly white lines dribbled down his chin. Paul panted, brushed John’s hair back from his face, and used the bib John wore, stained with baby food, to wipe his face.
“Thank you, baby, that made Daddy feel so good.” He pulled John up onto his lap so John was straddling his legs, kissing his cheeks and squeezing his nappy. “My cute baby. Do you think you should be allowed to cummy, darling?”
John moaned, his face bright red, accented even more by his pink onesie. “Yes, Daddy, I wanna cummy!” He bounced on Paul’s lap, his erection poking against Paul’s hip, no thoughts in his head except for his desperate need for release. When John was an adult, there were constantly a million thoughts racing around his brain, but as a little boy, he found it easier and easier to be more singular-minded. “Babies don’t worry about what’s to come,” Paul had said on many occasions, “they only focus on what’s in front of them.”
“My cute baby,” Paul whispered, rubbing the crotch of John’s nappy vigorously, “my sweet, naughty baby, make a big cummy in your wet nappy for Daddy.” Being the obedient boy he was, John immediately orgasmed, spilling his cum into his pee-soaked diaper and squealing “Daddy!”
In his post-orgasmic haze, John half-registered being carried upstairs, his Daddy’s strong arms locked underneath his bottom and his legs wrapped around Daddy’s waist. “Little death” was the most apt phrase for an orgasm, he had always thought; after he came, in whatever embarrassing situation his Daddy had let him debase himself in, he never hated himself as much as he did once the high wore off and reality had made itself known once more. In the beginning, every orgasm was as much a death as any. John tried not to cry, though not always successful, and often would end the game soon after, opting to change himself in private, and thinking that this would be the last time, Paul would never want to see him after this, he would never want this again, John would never need this again… But as time went on, as Paul not only stayed but initiated their baby games, taking special care to make John know how much he was loved, John batted the hateful thoughts away from him as he would unremitting gnats, let himself bask in Paul’s cooing and praises.
Instead of going to the bedroom, Paul walked straight past to the end of the hall, entering what they referred to as “the nursery.” Paul had too many rooms for a bachelor, many of them only in use when there was a party that went early into the morning; the nursery was one of Paul’s many guest bedrooms, but filled with John’s toys, picture books, and diaper supplies, plus the large wooden rocking horse in the corner and a playpen large enough for an adult in the middle of the room. John’s childish drawings decorated the walls, many of them depicting his handsome daddy.
“My wet little darling!” Paul gushed after he had snapped the poppers on Johnny’s onesie and pulled off his protective plastic pants, leaving his bottom half bare save his yellow-stained nappy, and laid him out on his changing pad. He grasped the crotch of the nappy firmly, and John moaned to feel the liquid inside leak down his chubby thighs. “Daddy will change you into a nice, clean nappy, and then baby will feel much better, won’t he?”
Paul changed John quickly and efficiently, not spending any time playing with his bare privates or taking his time as to admire the view, though John did feel a finger trace around the plug in his little hole. Once he was clean and powdered, Paul pinned him into a fresh nappy and pulled his pink plastic panties over it. “There we go,” he announced, patting John’s crotch, “now you wait here while Daddy cleans up your other mess in the kitchen.”
Paul left John on his changing mat, staring up at the ceiling and finding himself wishing for a cigarette, or at least his dummy to suck on. His thick mittens were still firmly fastened, so like a real baby, he was unable to hold onto objects without clumsily grasping it with both hands. After a few minutes, when Paul had not yet returned, he rolled himself over onto his tummy and began to crawl to his pile of toys. Paul found him like that when he came back to the nursery, sitting on the floor with his legs splayed while he played nicely with his stuffed bunny. Paul had taken the time to dress, and John felt even smaller when his daddy crouched down to talk to him.
“You’re so precious in your little onesie,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to John’s forehead. “I wish I could dress you up like this every day.” John squirmed in embarrassment, picturing himself dressed in his girlish onesie on stage, thousands of eyes on him, but Paul kissed his lips and he instantly forgot everything but Daddy.
***
The two spent the morning in the nursery, Paul reading and carefully watching his baby over the edges of his book, while John crawled around, first playing with his toys, then lying on his belly to color, sucking his dummy absent-mindedly and wriggling his diapered bottom against the carpet. Soon enough though, his tummy started rumbling. It was time for lunch, but instead of running to Daddy like he usually did, he remained on the floor, refusing to give any indication that he was hungry. There were still four more jars of baby food sitting on the kitchen table that Paul intended to put in his mouth. Maybe if he didn’t remind Paul, Paul wouldn’t realize it was time for the second installment of John’s punishment.
It worked for a few minutes, until Paul put his book down and announced with all the usual gleefulness of his daddy role that it was time for lunch. Heart pounding, John toddled along after Paul, sucking his dummy for comfort and to keep from saying something naughty. He didn’t fuss when Paul fastened his mittens to the arms of his highchair when he sat—if this morning was any indication, he might throw his food onto the floor again without impediments.
Paul made himself a sandwich; John sniffed the air like a hungry little puppy. Grilled cheese with ham bits, his favorite and Paul knew it. He whined around his pacifier, but Daddy ignored him. Instead, he opened up an orange jar of John’s baby food and pulled out a package of pills that he began to crush into a fine powder. Johnny’s heart started thumping so hard it almost made him nauseated. He didn’t know if Paul had meant what he said last night, but now he knew for sure.
Paul approached John’s chair and set the package in front of him. “I want you to see what Daddy is putting in your baby food, Johnny,” he said, stern as any father. “This is medicine that is going to make you use your nappy. After Daddy pulls out your pluggy, all that baby food is going to come out and it’s going to sit against your little bottom until Daddy changes you.” John couldn’t look Paul in the eyes. The bright red lettering on the cardboard package read “LAXATIVES: FAST ACTING.” Despite his horror and humiliation, Johnny felt his cock stir inside his nappy.
The boy watched jealously as Paul devoured his sandwich, audibly relishing every bite. The jar of pureéd oranges sat on the tabletop, the white powder slowly dissolving on top. John started squirming as Paul got closer to the crusts of his sandwich, his nappy cover crinkling around him as he did.
“Settle down, Johnny,” Paul said, licking his fingers clean before tying a fresh bib around John’s neck. “Daddy’s Messy Boy,” it read. John burned in embarrassment, and tried to cling onto his dummy before Paul pulled it out of his mouth.
“Here comes the airplane, darling,” Paul cooed as he bumped the plastic baby spoon against John’s lips. Hesitantly, John let his lips part. The oranges were nowhere near as bad as the carrots or the peas, and to his ever-growing horror, John found that the baby food he was being punished with actually tasted good to him. It’s just because you’re hungry, you haven’t had real food since those biscuits last night, he thought. That should have made it easier to swallow, but John felt the tears bubbling to the surface and he was sobbing before he could help himself.
“Johnny, I thought we were over this!” Paul’s tone was harsh, but John couldn’t bring himself to explain why he was crying—he wasn’t totally sure himself. Instead, he let his mouth drop open, his wet, gulping sobs ripping out of him, letting Daddy know that he still wanted to be a good baby.
There was a soft clink as Paul put the spoon back in the jar. “Johnny,” he whispered, gripping his knee, “love, what’s wrong? Do you want to stop?”
John shook his head frantically, but couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t explain to Paul why he hated this but loved it, needed it. Of course they had a safeword, but John always used it if he needed to. It could just be overwhelming. John had never been carefree with his emotions, and tears hardly ever flowed from his eyes when he was an adult. As Paul’s little boy though, he found the tears close to the surface, brimming over at any of the countless embarrassments and actions of love Paul bestowed on him. He couldn’t tell Paul, his best friend, his lover, even as he stroked his hair and stared at him with concern, how much of a baby he really was.
“I’m okay, Daddy,” John whimpered through his tears. “Please, I’m hungwy.”
Paul bit at his lip, but didn’t push the issue. Daddy’s rule for his baby above all else was to be honest, and Johnny almost always was, except for when he was trying to hide something naughty. If John had a serious problem with his baby food, he would tell Paul; so despite John’s sobs and wails, Paul spooned the orange goop into his mouth.
“There we go,” he crooned, wiping some of the food that had spilled onto John’s chin with his bib. “Daddy has a big, hungry baby to feed, doesn’t he? Babies get cranky when they wait too long to eat, hm?”
They made it to the bottom of the jar of oranges, and by the end of the jar of pureéd bananas, John was satisfactorily full and already squirming uncomfortably in his seat. His tummy grumbled loudly, and Paul grinned. “Sounds like somebody is going to make a big present for Daddy!” he exclaimed, and John winced at his enthusiasm. How could anybody be excited to clean up a dirty diaper?! At the same time, he felt his heartbeat quicken and his cock stir at the thought of helplessly filling his nappy for Paul.
Paul unhooked his mittens from the highchair and helped John to his feet. “Come on, baby, let’s go back to the nursery. Daddy’s going to pull your pluggy out and you’ll make a big, stinky poopoo in your nappy for me.”
The tears that had subsided shot to the surface again as John moaned in humiliation. Paul was tugging his hand and his insides were twisting viciously thanks to the laxatives—his gut was filled with liquid fire already and it was harder than he thought to keep himself clean. “Daddy, please, I want to use the potty! Daddy!”
“Johnny, this is what Daddy has decided,” Paul said firmly. “You stuffed yourself like a silly little baby last night; silly little babies have to eat baby food and they don’t use the potty.”
“I’m not a baby!” John wailed, stamping his foot. He could feel a tantrum welling inside him, even though he knew Paul’s retaliation would be swift and brutal. “I’m not, I’m a big boy and I want to use the toilet! I—” He interrupted himself with a long, loud groan, clutching his tummy as he doubled over.
“Oh, aren’t you a baby?” Paul asked, cocking an eyebrow as he squatted next to John, meeting him eye-to-eye. “I’m seem to recall a little baby happily messing himself sitting on Daddy’s lap last night, drinking out of a baby bottle, no less.”
“You made me,” Johnny whined. That was the wrong thing to say and John immediately knew it. Anger flashed across Paul’s face and he grabbed John by the wrist, dragging him over to the bed. He sat John down and crouched in front of him.
“Let’s get this straight right now, Johnny. I’m not your boyfriend right now. I am not your bandmate and I am not your friend. Right now, I am your Daddy, and you do what I say, because Daddies know what’s best for babies like you, and we know how to punish babies when they’re naughty so they don’t do it again.”
John wailed and sobbed, ashamed that he made Daddy upset with him, humiliated because Daddy was right (because Daddy is always right), still in pain from his distressed tummy. “But I don’t wanna b-be a b-b-baby!” he bawled. “I wanna be a b-big boy, Daddy!”
Paul took John’s trembling mittens in his own hands, and kissed them, gently. “Johnny, Daddy won’t make you do anything you don’t really want to do. You have the final say in everything, and Daddy won’t push you farther than he thinks you can go. But I think you like your dirty nappy more than you say you do, so Daddy is going to give you a choice.”
John sniffled, and tried to quell his sobs so he could listen.
“If you can keep your nappy clean for ten minutes, just ten minutes, you can go poopy in the potty. But if you can’t…” Paul threw his gaze in the direction of the large wooden rocking horse, and John’s heart stopped.
“Oh no, Daddy, please—”
“It’s up to you, darling,” Paul said, rising. “But from the smell of things, you don’t have long to decide.”
John flushed red, painfully aware that his farts had already begun to stink up the room. “Okay, Daddy, I’ll try.”
“My sweet baby,” Paul murmured, standing John up and pressing kisses over his cheeks and forehead. “My sweet, brave baby. Let’s get you out of this onesie, shall we? Daddy wants to see when you fill your big baby nappy.”
Within moments, John stood naked before his younger friend, save his plastic pants, thick white diaper, and babyish polyvinyl mittens. He felt Paul’s arms wrap around his waist and started in alarm when he felt his fingers slipping inside his nappy.
“Promise you’re not going to poopy as soon as Daddy takes your plug out,” he whispered into John’s ear, his teasing tone tickling John’s earlobe and short-circuiting his brain with visions of that particular humiliation. His finger circled the ring of the plug, and Johnny whimpered as Paul slowly removed it from his little hole.
“There we go, darling!” Paul cooed, setting the plug on the bedside table. He set the alarm for ten minutes, making sure not to waste any of John’s valuable time. “Now, hop up on the bed for Daddy. There’s a good boy, lie down.”
John was obedient, but he exclaimed in a loud yelp when Paul took his arm and hooked the ring on his baby mitten to a restraint attached to the bedpost. “Daddy, no! Don’t wanna be tied up!”
Paul didn’t respond to John’s panic, simply checked the restraint to make sure nothing pinched or snagged, then went to adjust the other one. “This will only be for ten minutes, Johnny… If you manage to keep your bum clean. Otherwise, there’s no telling how long you’ll be here.”
John wailed again as his intestines seized and his bowels clenched, thrashing his arms against his restraints. With his tear-streaked face, nose dripping with snot, and drool dribbling down his chin, John had never felt more infantile than at that moment; Daddy standing over him, reaching down to grasp his nappy reminded him that much more babyish experiences were close at hand.
“You’re such a good baby, Johnny,” Paul whispered, and leaned down to kiss him on the lips, letting their lips part and met tongues briefly, before John turned away to groan again.
“My big baby is going to make a big poopy in his nappy!” Paul laughed. “Come on, Johnny, just let go, this is what your nappy is here for.”
John moaned again, but even tied to the bed and on the verge of shitting himself, he did not back down from a challenge. “I’m going… to use the p-potty!” he panted. Just then, an earth-shattering fart ripped out of his backside, launching Paul to the other side of the nursery.
“Fuckin’ hell, John!” he giggled, less like a daddy and completely like John’s best friend, waving a hand in front of his face. “That was the loudest bloody fart I’ve ever heard in my life! That might have broken the sound barrier!”
John sobbed, writhing on the bed and yanking at his restraints. “Please, Daddy, please let me go to the potty!” he rasped. His body convulsed, racked in pain, and Paul rushed to his side.
“Shh, shh, darling,” he crooned. “Daddy hates to see you in so much pain. Just let go in your nappy, sweetheart. It’ll feel so much better than an angry tummy.” He rubbed John’s pudgy stomach soothingly, feeling it churn. “Daddy’s going to clean you up when we’re all finished, okay? I’m going to clean your cute, messy bottom and your dirty little pee-pee, and then I’m going to give you a reward for taking your punishment so well.”
John was barely hanging on by a thread, every single atom of his energy going to keeping his mess inside him. He was dripping with perspiration, his hair damp and skin slick beneath Paul’s fingers, and eyes far away. He had no idea how much longer was left on the timer—it felt like a thousand years had passed since Paul removed his plug.
You should do it, you big baby, John thought, head swimming with his one singular need. You should fill your nappy with your baby food poopies, just like Daddy wants you to… At that moment, Daddy squeezed his baby’s diaper and whispered, “Come on, baby. Go poopy for Daddy.”
With a loud groan, John did as he was told, flushing with the relief of letting go and the ultimate babyish indignity. Paul patted Johnny’s nappy encouragingly. “That’s it, darling! What a good baby! Get all of that nasty mess out.”
The mess was hot and soft against John’s bottom, and he sobbed as it shot out of him again and again. His head was hazy with shame, but at the same time, he realized he was rock hard inside his dirty nappy. If Paul noticed, he hadn’t commented on it, but John focused through his tears at his daddy, palming his own hard-on through his jeans while watching his adult baby mess himself.
“You look so beautiful like this, Johnny,” Paul whispered. “My helpless little boy, all for Daddy.” He leaned down to kiss John again, silently telling him that everything was all right.
It seemed like an eternity for John’s body to empty itself. Somewhere through the haze, John registered that the alarm was ringing, and Paul turned it off. “That was ten minutes, Johnny. It only took you four to completely mess yourself. What was that you were saying about being a big boy…?”
John sniffled and moaned pathetically as another squirt came out of him. The room stank, and the source was currently all over his arse. He had never been so thoroughly humiliated in his entire life, nor as incapacitatingly aroused; Paul gently unhooked his mittens and John let his body be manipulated, molding like clay to Paul’s hands. He lay on his forearms, face buried in the pillows, and drooping diaper up in the air for Paul to inspect. He let the full seat the nappy lay on his palm, then pushed it against John’s bottom. The boy squealed, and Daddy laughed. “It looks like my little boy didn’t mind his punishment too much… You must be looking forward to part two!”
“Nooo, Daddy,” John sobbed as Paul stood him up and walked him to the rocking horse. He must have wet himself at some point, because his nappy not only sagged heavily in the back, but the front as well, making Johnny waddle just like a toddler with a load in his pants.
“Upsy-daisy!” John moaned as Daddy helped him onto the rocking horse and the mess squished hot and wet against his bummy and rushed to the front of the nappy as well. “Now, Johnny, I don’t want you to cry the entire time during your horsie ride! Daddy wants to hear his baby laugh. Can baby do that for Daddy?”
John’s lower lip trembled—he wanted so badly to be Daddy’s good baby. He nodded, looking so pathetic that Paul almost stopped before he hooked John’s mitten rings to the rungs of Johnny’s rocking horse… almost.
“Daddy will let you off the horsie in ten minutes, darling,” Paul said, setting the timer and settling himself into an armchair, unzipping his fly. “You just enjoy your little toy.”
John scrunched his eyes closed as he started to rock, feeling the filth inside his nappy rub against his bottom. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t help the sobs that ripped from his chest; he felt so disgusting, so babyish, he wanted nothing more than a hot bath to clean himself. As he struggled to adjust himself on the seat of the wooden horse, he could feel his mess leaking out the leg holes of his nappy and settling against the backs of his thighs. He wailed, less from the feeling of the shit against his skin, but the knowledge that Daddy was right when he insisted that John wear plastic pants. What a stupid baby he was!
He could hear Paul masturbating from across the room, though he stayed silent in response to John’s tears. John took several deep, gulping breaths, trying to steady himself as he continued to rock back and forth on his horsie. Little by little, his breath evened, and his face relaxed. Paul loved him even like this. Especially like this. He let his mind clear, focused on the motion of the rocking horse, and the sound of Daddy’s breath as he watched him. It was actually kind of fun… He started rocking faster, and without realizing it, giggled babyishly.
Paul groaned loudly from his chair, but Johnny wasn’t paying attention. The horsie was so much fun! Gradually, all his frantic thoughts about his filthy nappy, about his baby food punishment, about his grown-up responsibilities and pain... Those thoughts faded, and all that mattered was riding his horsie and Daddy.
A shrill alarm finally broke John from his trance. He had been riding his horse ten minutes already?! He turned his head to look at Paul, evidently spent and smoking a cigarette. He smiled at his little boy kindly. “Did you enjoy your horsie ride, sweetheart?”
John nodded shyly.
“Do you want Daddy to change you now?”
“Yeth, Dada,” John whispered. Apart from his aching erection, no part of him felt adult anymore. He let Daddy help him off his horse and lay him on his changing mat, only whimpering slightly as Daddy pulled his plastic panties off.
“Oof, darling, you certainly did make a mess! Daddy has his work cut out for him, doesn’t he?” With no further preamble, he unpinned John’s heavily-used nappy, and exposed the entirety of his little boy’s mess. John only let out a small, babyish whine as Paul pushed his legs up, something inside of him still knowing how wrong this was. But Paul was prepared, and had John’s favorite stuffed animal ready for him.
“Pandy loves you,” he cooed, making the panda bear kiss John’s face all over his cheeks and forehead, nose and finally lips, before it was nestled in John’s arms. “Pandy is so happy to have a little boy who loves him so much, Johnny. And so is Daddy.” He pressed a quick kiss to John’s lips before setting to the task at hand. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves, took a wipie, and began to clean his boy’s filthy little bottom.
“That’s my sweet baby,” he praised, “so nice and good for Daddy. Daddy’s going to make you nice and clean, then he’s going to give you a lovely cummy for being so well-behaved! Little Johnny will like that, won’t he? I think he will…” Paul took his time, making sure every inch of his boy was clean, paying special attention to his messy little hole, rubbing it with the wipie and making Johnny moan with excitement.
Once he had double- and triple-checked his work, and Johnny lay clean and bare before him, he took a clean wipe and began to stroke John’s shaft, making his little boy squeak softly in pleasure. “I’m so proud of you, Johnny,” he whispered. “You took your punishment like a perfect little baby, Daddy was so happy to see you laughing on your horsie in your poopy nappy. Baby Johnny deserves a big reward for being so good, doesn’t he?” He leaned down and kissed John’s neck, hastening the pace of his strokes until Johnny was writhing and whimpering underneath him.
“Let go, baby,” Paul whispered in John’s ear, kissing his cheek softly, and after all of that, his frightful humiliation, the horrible pain of his bowel movement, and the shame of his infantile status, Johnny came hard into Paul’s hand, bucking his hips and moaning like he didn’t have a single care for what the world would think. Paul worked him through it, slowing his pace until John was spent, trembling and panting in Paul’s arms. He kissed both his cheeks and his forehead, fringe plastered to the skin with sweat. “I love you, Johnny,” he whispered, again and again. John could only whimper, turning on his side to burrow into Paul.
Paul stroked John’s wet hair back. “All right, love? Johnny?”
John nodded. He couldn’t talk, not just yet. Paul seemed to understand, and they lay there on the nursery floor for some time, safely wrapped in each other’s arms, listening to their heartbeats match rhythms.
“Johnny.” John opened his eyes suddenly; he must have dozed off in Paul’s arms. “Darling, I do believe you’re due a nap.” Paul carefully removed his baby from his grasp and laid him squarely on the changing mat. “Daddy will put you in a nice, clean nappy, and after your nap, we’ll take a bath. How does that sound?”
John made a soft noise of affirmation and popped a thumb into his mouth, eyes falling back shut. He felt the soft nappy underneath his bottom, and the sweet-smelling powder that rained down on him, and when the nappy was pinned into place, Daddy helped him to his feet and into his special playpen. John didn’t complain—he was happy to curl up with his oversized pillow, surrounded by all his toys, while Daddy wrapped him snugly in a blanket.
“Sleep tight, my little baby,” Paul whispered. John blinked up at him, and beamed around his thumb, radiant and sleepy.
“Love ‘oo, Daddy,” he murmured, thumb still between his lips, and Paul bent over to kiss him once more.
“Love you too, baby.”
***
John woke from his nap groggy and disoriented, gray light tumbling in through the window, the horrible feeling of not knowing if it was dusk or dawn. The smell caught his attention before anything else—the faint smell of his mess earlier was still present, yes, but this smell was so strong, so fresh… John shifted in his pen and froze when he felt the source of the smell pressing against his bottom.
He… had messed himself while sleeping. That was it. That was the most babyish thing he could possibly do. Before he even realized it was happening, fat teardrops were rolling down his cheeks and he was already wailing at the top of his lungs. Just like a baby, he cried for Daddy’s attention, to come change the nappy he messed in his sleep.
Paul rushed in, only pausing to switch on a lamp by the door. “Darling, darling, what’s the matter,” he cooed, crouching down to stroke John’s hair as John knelt on the floor of his playpen against the wooden bars.
John could only wail and sob, as Paul sniffed the air and his eyes widened in understanding. “Baby, did… did you go poo-poo again?”
“D-Daddy!” John cried, burning in shame. “Please change me, Daddy!”
“Of course, Johnny,” Paul said, his voice soft and calming. He helped John out of the playpen; as soon as he stood, he immediately felt the weight of his mess in his nappy, and he sobbed pathetically. “There, there, baby, don’t cry,” Paul soothed, guiding him to the changing mat. “Daddy’s here to change you and make you feel nice again.”
John was laid upon his changing mat, nappy squishing underneath him, and Paul squeezed it gently. “Darling, there’s no reason to cry,” he whispered. “This is what your nappy is here for, in case you have to go wee-wee or poo-poo.”
“But Daddy,” John sobbed, “Daddy, it was an accident! A real accident when—when I w-was sl-sl-sleeping…”
“Oh! Oh, Johnny…” Paul stroked his hair back as John continued to sob and sniffle. Reaching into his pocket, he produced John’s dummy, which John latched onto the instant it was put against his lips. Kissing his hot, wet cheeks and tip of his nose, Paul ran his fingers lightly down John’s bare skin, making the boy giggle softly despite himself. With the sobs subsiding and John’s breathing steadying, he pulled the safety pins from the nappy and opened it, exposing John’s messy privates to the cool nursery air.
“It’s all right, baby boy, Daddy’s going to have you clean in just a moment,” Paul whispered, even as John whimpered behind his dummy and squirmed, feeling like he may die from the humiliation of accidentally shitting his diaper. It was one thing to do it on purpose, and another to not be able to help it, like when Daddy feeds him laxatives mixed in his baby food. How could he ever claim to be a grown-up again after this?!
“Legs up, darling,” Paul said, his hand on John’s thigh, urging it upward. John obeyed, still sniffling pathetically as he pulled his knees toward his chest. He wrenched his eyes shut as Paul opened him wide; the cold air of the nursery hit his most private parts with frightening intensity and he could only imagine how he must look from Paul’s perspective.
“I know you’re embarrassed,” Paul said as he took a baby wipe from the container, “but accidents happen, from little babies to grown-ups. This was just your tummy pushing out the rest of the laxatives from lunchtime; it doesn’t mean anything more than that. I’m not going to punish you, and I don’t want you to think that I will punish you for having an accident. That’s not what daddies are here for.” The cool wipe came down between John’s filthy cheeks and he squirmed, making Paul tut and grasp his hip firmly as he cleaned him. “I actually think it’s cute,” Paul continued, looking John in the eye as he grabbed a clean wipie. “You’re so absolutely helpless like this. It’s adorable.”
John tried to hide the smile forming from behind his pacifier. He loved it when Daddy gave him such precious compliments. Sometimes he felt too big for himself, more than having a few extra pounds around the middle, but a curious longing to be much smaller and more vulnerable than he physically was. When he allowed himself, he longed to be cute and sweet, or at the very least, seen as much. He never dreamed he’d be lucky enough to have Paul want to treat him exactly like he wanted to be.
“Daddy sees that smile,” Paul teased. “Such a good baby I have. And he’s already clean! See, I told you a dirty nappy isn’t all that.”
John nodded, not really listening to Paul’s words but his warm, lovely voice. He felt good. Ordinarily, the darkness that lived inside him would be screaming over how foolish he is, how absolutely idiotic he is to trust someone this way, even if that someone is Paul. Anyone could be lying to you, the darkness always said, but that could be a lie as well. He smiled at Paul, gentle and childlike. “I love you, Daddy.”
Paul leaned over, and kissed the corner of his boy’s lips behind his dummy. “And I love you, Johnny. I think someone could use a bath, hm? Who’s ready for a bath?”
John soon found himself in the bathtub, suckling his dummy peacefully and playing with his rubber duck as Paul washed him with a cloth. “Darling, can you get on your knees? Daddy needs to clean your bummy.” John did as he was told without any sense of shame, and as Paul was carefully wiping him, the doorbell broke their tranquil little domestic scene.
His heart beating fast and sucking on his dummy even faster, John’s head whipped around to see Paul stand. “Shh, shh, it’s all right, Johnny. I didn’t want to punish you any further today, so I got take-away. From the Indian place you like a few streets over, yeah? Now you stay right here and don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone, okay?”
Even though the darkness was concocting every scenario from Paul returning with one of their friends, or his wife, or even paparazzi, John sat in the tub and smiled up at his lover. “Okay, Daddy! I’ll be a good boy!” When Paul returned less than five minutes later, the aroma of Indian food emanating throughout the house, the darkness shrank back even more as he resumed bathing him and helping him play Battleship Duck.
In due time, Paul had John laid on their bed on top of a fresh nappy, a light blush covering his body from both the bath and the embarrassment he always had during a change. He was powdered and pinned; his soft pee-pee nestled between his legs as Paul patted him. “All set, love. I think it will be warm enough to just keep you like this for a while, are you comfortable?”
John nodded, smiling around his pacifier. He was more comfortable than he could ever remember being. Paul kissed his cheek. “Good boy. I’ll be right back.”
Paul returned after a minute with a tray of boxed Indian food, a single plate, a bottle of milk as well as a sippy cup of water and a large beer for Paul himself, and a new pink bib that made John squirm in pleasure when he saw that it that it read “Daddy’s Best Baby”. John let the bib’s strings be tied around his neck, but whined quietly when Paul took the dummy from between his lips. Paul chuckled and gave him a light kiss. “You really are my best baby, you know that, Johnny?”
“I’m your only baby, Daddy,” John said, and Paul had to laugh at that.
“That may be true, but you’d be my best even if it wasn’t. Now, I’m sure you’re very hungry after all you’ve been through today. Go ahead and pick out what you want to eat.”
Gleefully, John scrambled over to the tray to pick out what he wanted, and Daddy portioned it onto the plate, including a healthy pile of veggies which John wrinkled his nose at, but didn’t complain. At least they weren’t pureed.
Johnny was sweet and uncomplaining as Daddy Paul fed him carefully, savoring the spicy flavor and Daddy’s attentiveness, his sweet cooing and encouragements as filling as the food itself. Paul smiled, wiping the corners of his mouth with the bib and managing to sneak some bites of food while John carefully chewed.
Soon enough, Johnny was full and Paul fed himself while John curled up next to him, suckling peacefully on his bottle. Every few minutes, Paul ran his fingers through John’s hair, or smiled down at him. He had never felt so peaceful or loved as he did in this moment. The world outside their bedroom simply didn’t exist anymore, and no intrusive thoughts worried his mind. His humiliation over what had transpired earlier didn’t even register with him now, and without even thinking about it, he let his urine flow into the fresh nappy, not bothering to move or even stop sucking his bottle.
Paul paused with the fork halfway to his mouth, John’s loud tinkle obvious in the quiet space. John blushed a bit and diverted his gaze from Paul’s, but the other man just chuckled and continued eating. A large bloom of affection opened in Johnny’s chest, his love for his partner feeling absolutely bursting right then. He let his eyes fall shut as he continued to wet into his diaper, placing his head onto Paul’s shoulder while he finished his bottle of milk.
Within a few minutes, Paul was tugging the nipple from John’s lips. “All finished, love,” he murmured. “Would you like Daddy to change you now?”
John seemed to think for a minute, then shook his head shyly.
“Oh?” Paul grinned a little, making his baby squirm with embarrassment and arousal. “You want to stay in your wee-wee nappy a little while longer, baby?”
John’s cheeks turned a deep red, but Paul immediately started peppering his face with kisses so his little boy knew that was perfectly all right—in fact, Daddy loved to reach between Johnny’s legs and squeeze his wet nappy, making him even more squirmy and excited. John squealed in pleasure as Daddy kissed him and squeezed him, giggling until he was gasping for air.
“Daddy, can you read me a story?” he asked, looking over at the shelf of picture books they had acquired over the past months. “I wanna read the one about the duckies again.”
“Of course we can read a story, baby, give me one moment.” Paul promptly cleared the bed of the food tray and dishes, and retrieved the proper book from the shelf. He positioned himself properly on the bed for Johnny to scramble into his lap and cuddle. He plucked the pacifier from the nightstand and outlined John’s lips, smiling gently as John tried to latch on, getting more and more annoyed as Daddy kept it out of reach. Just before he was about to start whining, Paul chuckled and slipped the soother into his mouth.
In a strong, clear voice, Paul began reading the story of the little ducks who wanted to raise their family in the Boston Public Garden. John loved it when Daddy read to him; he had the best voices for all the characters, and made sure to read the exciting parts the best. He let himself relax into Daddy’s arms, forgetting how many times he had heard this story before, and focused on Paul’s voice and colorful pictures.
Halfway through the book, John felt a familiar blockage in his lower stomach. Even though he had already messed himself more than enough for one day, the Indian food had quickly traveled through him, and he couldn’t be positive that all of the laxatives had worked their way out of his system. Daddy hadn’t noticed his discomfort yet, trying to give a funny American accent to the policeman helping the ducks cross the busy city street.
If today had taught him anything, it was that Daddy loved him no matter what, even when he made a mess in his nappy or if he did naughty things. If he went poopy in his diaper again now, sitting on Daddy’s lap, he would be able to feel everything… But, even in Johnny’s little mind, he knew that was what Daddy wanted. With a quiet grunt, he started pushing his bowels, and a little effort was all it took for his hole to loosen and release his mess.
Paul stumbled over his words, obviously feeling what his little boy was doing right on top of him. John’s face was bright red and the slightest hints of tears formed at the corners of his eyes, but he didn’t try to stop himself. Paul watched, transfixed by the sight in front of him, until Johnny was finished and panting slightly from the exertion. Yes, he was embarrassed… but in a good way. He knew that Paul would never betray him, and he knew that he loved him. If this is what helped him find comfort in this world, he had Paul beside him for support. With trembling fingers, he reached out and touched the page, signaling he wanted to keep reading the book. Paul shook himself a tiny bit, as if shaking off a daze, and continued reading. John snuggled deeper into Paul’s side, feeling the mess sitting against his bottom, but not having it within himself to worry about it.
At the end of the book, Paul placed a kiss on top of Johnny’s head. “You ready for a change now, darling?” he said in a low, gentle voice.
“Wanna read the book again, Daddy,” Johnny said around his pacifier, and Paul had to smile.
“We can read the book again, love, but let’s change your nappy first. You smell a little ripe.” He helped John out of the bed, and ushered him towards the nursery. He walked behind, admiring the view of John’s sagging diaper. “You’re waddling a little like those duckies, Johnny,” he murmured, patting his bottom, and laughed when John turned even redder. “I wish I could have a picture of this. So cute.”
He laid John out on the changing mat, a cloth liner beneath John’s bottom, all the supplies still close at-hand from his accident earlier. This was beginning to feel so natural, John could hardly believe how calm he was when Paul opened his nappy and exposed his privates. His pee-pee was hard but Daddy ignored it in order to properly clean him.
The soiled diaper was pulled away, quickly folded and placed to the side, and Paul planted Johnny’s feet firmly on the floor, wide apart as he gently wiped his cheeks clean. John whimpered around his dummy, canting his hips up as Daddy circled the wipie around his sensitive bumhole and made sure he was completely unsoiled.
“Is baby ready to play?” Paul asked, voice so low it almost sounded hoarse. His eyes devoured the sight before him—John, always so tough, so hard, laying naked before him as soft, as needy, as helpless, as anything could ever be. The tip of John’s prick already had a small pearl of pre-cum on it, and it dripped down the shaft, making Johnny and Paul both shiver ever so slightly.
John bucked his hips again, sucking his dummy faster as he stared up at Paul with adoring eyes. Paul grabbed the baby oil sitting beside them, squirting just a touch onto his fingers, and began to work his index into Johnny’s tight heat.
“Daddy,” Johnny moaned, dummy falling to the side of his head, “Daddy, I want you, all of you!”
“Ohh, love, I don’t want to hurt you,” Paul whispered, leaning down to kiss John’s cheek and nuzzle against his hair, “you’ve been through so much today. I didn’t want to go too fast.”
It had been the most humiliating day of his life. At another time, John would look back on this moment and still feel a surge of deep shame and arousal. To be such a desperate degenerate… Anyone but Paul would have laughed, but not his Paul. Paul loved it as much as he did. Maybe more. And now, he lay naked on a changing mat, legs spread for his best friend whom he had known since high school, and he said, “Please fuck me, Daddy.”
“Christ, Johnny,” Paul groaned, and snatched the baby, fingering John with his left hand and slathering his cock with his right. Within moments, John’s knees were hiked up high as Paul sank into him.
“Daddy!” John cried, wrapping his arms around Paul’s neck, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He could feel the walls he had built so many years ago crack at their very foundation as he let Paul fuck him hard and fast on the nursery floor.
“My beautiful baby,” Paul grunted into his ear, making John moan in pleasure. Paul took his dripping cock in hand and started to stroke forcefully. “My helpless little baby, I love you, I love doing this to you, Johnny, Daddy loves fucking your tight little baby arse.” He punctuated his words with deep thrusts inside John, but it was the look on John’s face, the utter dishevelment of his entire person and complete ecstasy at his Daddy’s words that made him come.
“Daddy!” John felt Paul’s load inside him, and he spurted his jism over Paul’s hand, bucking his hips up as Paul slowed his last thrusts. They lay together for several moments, Paul resting on top of John, stroking his hair and kissing the side of his face. Then, gently, he removed himself from his lover and lay side by side.
“I love you, Johnny,” he whispered, brushing the hair from his eyes. “Are you all right?”
There was no little death; at least, not this time. Johnny carefully took Paul’s face in his hands, and kissed him as gently and sweetly as he could. As an adult, John was never at a loss for words, and always equipped with the most cutting barbs. But now, words failed him, and he could only try to show Paul how much he loved him.
They lay together on the floor like this for some time, until Paul finally extracted himself from Johnny’s warm embrace. “Why don’t we get you in a fresh nappy, and we’ll go read the ducky story again, what do you say to that, love?”
“Yes!” John said, his enthusiasm making Paul chuckle. In no time at all, John was in a soft nappy and his footy jammies, curled against Paul as he started the story book once again from page one.
Tomorrow, they would have to go back to living their real lives. They had to go back to the studio, back to women who would never in their wildest dreams imagine their lovers doing this with one another. No one ever would, really. But if they could see the complete relaxation of John’s muscles, the way Paul’s fingers gently brush through his hair as he reads, the looks of utter love and adoration they give to each other… No one would really condemn it.
