I was in the middle of scrolling on my phone when Vicky, my stepmom, walked into the living room. She had a cold, calculated look on her face. She stood over me for a long moment, close enough that I could smell her perfume. Too close. Uncomfortably close. She held my gaze without blinking as she slowly sat down on the couch across from me. Then she let the silence stretch, thick and heavy, until I started to squirm.
After what felt like forever, she finally spoke. Her voice was casual, but there was a sharp edge beneath it.
“I was in your room earlier today.”
A lump formed in my throat. That was never good. I didn’t like anyone in my personal space, and there was one very specific reason why.
I tried to play it cool, clearing my throat. “Oh yeah? What for?”
“I figured I would change your sheets for you” she said. “God knows you haven't done it in months.”
“And you want to know what I found?” She reached between the couch cushions like she had planned this moment perfectly. My heart pounded as she slowly pulled out the crinkly padding and unfurled it. She held it aloft with two fingers, right in front of my face.
“You see this, Evan?” Vicky said, her tone flat and accusatory, eyes locked directly on mine. “That's a diaper.”
My throat felt like it was closing. My mouth went completely dry as she dangled the little pamper, the bright Clifford the Big Red Dog print facing me like it was laughing at me.
“So tell me…" she continued. Her voice was cold and measured, with just the faintest hint of dark amusement. "Why does a twenty-two-year-old grown man have a diaper hidden in his room?”
“I… it's not mine!!” I stammered, my face already burning.
She stared at me for a long time, watching me squirm. “Oh really? Well then, whose is it, Evan? Did you have a baby without my knowledge?” She scoffed softly at that. “Haha...no, I don't think that's it. Because that would require you actually fucking a woman now, would it not? You've never had a girlfriend, have you? Never brought anyone home. Never even mentioned going on dates. At twenty-two, still living at home, still acting like a little boy who can't handle real adult responsibilities.”
She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping. “You're still a virgin, aren’t you, Evan?”
My face flushed bright red, giving her the answer she already knew.
“So I'm going to ask you again..." she said, "why there a diaper in your room?”
“S-someone must have left it there or—”
“Oh, you can do better than that,” she tutted, shaking her head. “Are you having accidents at night? Is that it? Do we need to get you some plastic sheets because you’re a little bed wetter?”
“I… no. It’s not that at all!”
“Honey… I’ve heard all kinds of noises coming from your room. Crinkles and whimpers and the most pathetic little sounds.”
The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. She sat there, perfectly composed, the childish diaper still held in plain view, waiting for me to break.
Finally, she sighed. A calculated, patient sound.
“Stand up and drop your pants.”
My eyes widened in shock. “B-but y-you're my stepmom! I can't just—”
“I said drop your pants.” she repeated, her voice firm and ice-cold, leaving zero room for negotiation.
I don’t know what made me obey, but I found myself rising from the couch. My hands shook as I fiddled with my belt and pushed my pants down to my ankles.
“Boxers too,” she said calmly.
I protested weakly, but her face remained resolute. She even raised one eyebrow in silent threat.
I hooked my thumbs into my boxers and slid them down.
There it was. My cock stood straight out, rock-hard and betraying me completely. It twitched visibly, the tip glistening with a thick bead of pre-cum that threatened to drip.
Vicky’s cold expression finally cracked into a wide, delighted, almost hysterical smile. She looked genuinely thrilled, like she'd just won a bet with herself.
“Oh my god,” she breathed, a soft laugh escaping. “Look at that! You're one of those diaper boys, aren't you?? One of those pathetic little pervs who gets hard just thinking about wearing pampers!”
I moved to cover myself, mortified. “No, wait, it’s is not—”
"Don't!" She snapped sharply. "There's the evidence, right there! Your tiny little three-inch thing, leaking and twitching like it's having a seizure. No point in lying when your pathetic baybee dick is giving you away so obviously.”
She stood up slowly, still holding the diaper, and stepped closer until she was only a foot away. Her presence felt overwhelming.
“You've been fantasizing about this for a long time, haven't you?” Her voice dropped lower, still calm but now laced with mocking amusement. “Hiding your diapers, sneaking around, probably jerking off while imagining yourself taped up like a big helpless wittle baybee. Well, congratulations. Your little secret is out!”
I tried desperately to explain. “It’s not like that! I don't!! It is just—”
“Oh please...” She interrupted, gesturing at my throbbing, leaking cock with the diaper still in her other hand. “It's practically begging for this!”
I tried one last desperate explanation, voice cracking. “Vicky, please… I swear it’s not what you think!! I can stop—”
“Stop?” She laughed again, colder this time. “Oh, honey. You’re not stopping anything. This is what you want, deep down. And now it’s what you’re going to get. From tonight onward, you’re wearing diapers. Every single day. No more big-boy underwear in this house. No more pretending you’re anything other than a 22-year-old diaper-dependent little boy.”
She reached out and gave my hard, leaking cock a single, patronizing flick with her fingertip, making it bounce humiliatingly. She smirked, then leaned over, holding the diaper open. The inside was already crusty and stained from...previous use. “Step in.”
I whimpered, but still obeyed. My legs shaking as I aimed my feet through the leg holes. She worked the thick, undersized padding up around my waist and re-taped it snugly into place. It was clearly too small. The cartoon Clifford print stretched tight across my hips, and my hard cock made a ridiculous, obvious bulge in the front.
“There we gooo!” she cooed, sitting back with a satisfied smile. “Much better! Isn’t this what you wanted??”
I said nothing, face on fire as she leaned back and crossed her legs.
“Now..." she said, taking a sip of her drink, "show me what you do in them.”
I blinked at her, jaw slack. “Wh-what?”
“You heard me. I know you’re not wearing them for protection. So show me exactly what it is you do when they’re on.”
I stood there frozen, the too-small Clifford diaper crinkling with every tiny shift of my weight. My face burned hotter than ever. “Vicky… I can’t. Not… not right here in front of you. Please.”
She raised one eyebrow, that cold, amused smile playing on her lips. “You can, and you will. You’ve been doing it in secret for who knows how long. Now you’re going to do it right here where I can see. Don’t make me ask again, Evan.”
My hands trembled at my sides. The thick padding felt ridiculous around my waist, the cartoon print stretched tight over my hips, my hard cock straining obviously against the front. I wanted to sink into the floor. But the way she was looking at me with that patient, unyielding, slightly entertained gaze left me no escape.
Humiliated beyond words, I finally pressed my palm against the front of the diaper.
The thick padding gave slightly under my hand. I started rubbing in slow, hesitant circles, kneading the padded material against my pulsing three-inch cock.
The loud crinkling immediately filled the room. Every small movement made the plastic rustle obscenely. The sound was impossible to ignore. It echoed off the walls, constant and humiliating, announcing exactly what I was doing.
I closed my eyes tight so I wouldn’t have to see her staring at me in amusement. The plastic rustled louder with every stroke. Shame burned through me, but it only made me grind harder. My hips started to buck. Soft, pathetic whimpers slipped out despite my best efforts. The diaper felt warm and restrictive, every crinkle reminding me how ridiculous I looked, humping my own hand through a tiny diaper right in front of my stepmom.
It didn’t take long. My legs began to tremble. My breathing turned ragged. I let out a choked moan as my whole body spasmed. I came hard inside the already-stained padding, adding fresh sticky shame to the crusty interior. My knees nearly buckled from the intensity.
When it finally ended, I stood there panting, face burning.
Vicky smiled. She leaned forward, slipped a finger into the front waistband, and peered inside. She grinned at the sight of my mess.
“Quite the little load in there,” she said, letting the waistband snap back against my skin.
I didn’t know what to say. I’d never felt more humiliated… and turned on… in my life. But the post-nut clarity was already hitting hard.
“Do you usually wet them?” she asked.
I nodded weakly, voice barely a whisper. “Y-yes…”
“And do you poop in them?”
“No,” I said. That was one line I’d never crossed.
She smiled slowly. “You will.”
She let that hang in the air for a long moment.
“Now, I want you to go grab all of your underwear,” she continued. “Then I want you to get the scissors.”
“Because I’m going to watch while you cut them all to pieces. Every last pair.”
“This is what you wanted, sweetie. So this is exactly what you’re going to get.”
She stood up and picked up her purse.
“And after that, you, me, and your little cum-pamps are going to the drugstore to get you some diapers in your actual size…until the even bigger and even babier versions get delivered.”
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