Any fantasies?
“I think everybody at the party will be very impressed by you wearing an M4. That’s a big boy diaper,” Daddy tells me with a chuckle.
“Doesn’t matter, nobody will even know I’m wearing a diaper ’cause I’ll be wearing big boy clothes,” I firmly state as Daddy slips my shirt on.
I’m dressed in sheer white shorts that would fit me without a diaper but are now too tight and bulge out around my diaper. My top is a dark blue shirt that shows the top of my diaper whenever I lift my arms. The shirt features a T-Rex saying, “I’m T-Rexy and I know it”. Daddy is barely dressed as the first guests arrive to our house. Daddy is in a smart outfit with brown slacks and a tweed jacket.
...
Hours have gone by and my diaper has continuously been saturated with more pee as Daddy has refilled my juice throughout the night. The diaper is considerably swollen and obviously discolored under my sheer shorts. Daddy cuts off his conversation with his friend and turns to me to assess the state of my diaper. I’m in clear need of a change, so Daddy tells me he will change me in a minute. My tummy has been rumbling for some time at this point, so I ask Daddy to use the toilet before I get a change.
Daddy responds just loudly enough for all around to hear, “Of course you can use the toilet; you’re wearing it!”
There is an audible chuckle across the room, and I blush very brightly. The pressure in my bowels has become too heavy to ignore. I attempt to walk away to a different room to alleviate myself, but I can feel the poop about to force its way out. I’m immobilized as I weigh my options. A few farts, muffled by my sodden diaper, escape my body. The room hushes, and everybody looks to me. I sweat nervously as I consider one last time to run away. A sudden cramp forces me into a squat, and the result is inevitable. My diaper explodes outward as a firm log is shot into its rear. I stand up, ready to leave the scene, but a sudden pang steals the opportunity from me. My body involuntarily bends into a squat, and poo churns out of me, slowly expanding my diaper until a few loud farts signify the end.
“Alright, lets get you changed, Kiddo,” Daddy gently tells me with a sigh.
I begin to waddle towards my room so I can be changed in privacy on my changing table. My huge diaper has pushed my shorts to the limit, and they are too tight for me to walk at all comfortably. I tug at them to pull them off, but it’s nearly impossible to pull them over the huge bulge created by my soiled diaper.
“Here, I’ll help ya!” comes the offer of help from Jackson, my old high school buddy.
He kneels down and shimmies my shorts calmly over my diaper, and I step out of them. I begin to waddle off again, but I’m interrupted.
“Hold on a sec, little man,” Jackson condescendingly commands me, as he places a hand on the bottom of my sagging diaper.
He uses his other hand to pinch his nose, and his girlfriend takes a picture, giggling. Jackson no longer views me as a friend; he only sees me as a baby. I begin to waddle towards my room again, perceiving the weight of this discovery, but I am once again interrupted.
Daddy stops me, exclaiming, “Woah there, everybody can already see and smell what you did. They may as well watch you get changed.”
Daddy unfolds my portable changing mat. I arrive to the mat and can feel my tummy start to turn again, giving me a sinister realization. Daddy pulls off my shirt and instructs me to lie down on the mat. I whisper to him that doing so will force another bowls movement.
“How could you poop anymore?”, Daddy asks, exasperated.
“I dunno,” I whine while a tear rolls down my cheek.
“Well go ahead and make pushies so we can change you.”
I bend into a toddler squat one more time. My face flushes crimson, my cheeks puff out, and my legs tremble as I push down on my tummy muscles. I let out a few loud farts, and a small avalanche of mush is forced out. The diaper has no more space, so the poo has nowhere to go except out my diaper. Poop erupts up my back, and a few clumps of poo cascade to the mat. I can be phased no more by this incident, so I quickly plop down on my rear. More poop blows out my diaper, and I lie down ready to be changed. I spend the next thirty minutes stoically staring at the ceiling as all the guests watch Daddy clean me and change my diaper. I’m put into a double diaper with the top layer being a PeekABU with a dragon on it. Daddy senses that I am exhausted from the trauma of the night and decides to put me to bed.
Woken by the sensation of urine soaking into my disposable diaper the next morning, I look down and see my diaper has been fully drenched. I call Daddy for a change.
I majorly updated this story and reformatted it for easier reading. It is considerably longer. I’d love feedback if you have any!
