Hey you! Yeah, I’m talking to you, soggy butt. I see you sitting there in your crinkly pants, looking for hot diaper stories. Stories with deliciously embarrassing scenarios. Stories that’ll have your girlfriend wondering if she needs to lock you into that chastity cage after all. Stories you can really soak up.
Getting all tingly? Oh, you’re blushing? Silly baby.
I have just the place for you: Ream. On Ream, you can read all of my completed stories. Stories like Baby’s First Birthday, the Cuckold’s Crib, and Potty Retraining. Diaper Discipline: The Strict Wife’s Guide is there, too. Even if you haven’t heard of that last one, I bet your mommy has.
In total, I have over 200,000 words worth of finished stories for you to read in the privacy of your crib. Just don’t get too friendly with your teddy bear, okay?
But that’s not all. Not even close. Each week, I’m publishing a chapter in two huge, ongoing stories: Rian’s New Sister and The Good News. I know you’re going to love both of them.
You might want to sit down and stick that pacifier back in your mouth for this last bit: I’m also adding a new, completed story every other month. That’s in addition to everything above. Wipe that drool off your chin. I’ll pretend I didn’t see it (even if I’ll laugh about it with my friends later). The one I’m launching with is a follow-up to the fan-favorite Our Little Neighborhood.
So go ahead. Take a peek. I’ll be waiting for you.
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Note: This story features consenting adult characters and is intended for a mature, 18+ audience only.
This story was originally published on Ream. This is the fourth and final chapter.
Andy looked back and forth between Elise and Derek. "I'm not...controlled, I just..."
Derek snorted. “Uh-huh.”
Elise squeezed his shoulder. "It's a hot, sunny day. Whatever you decide to do next, it's important we get you some protection.”
Anger boiled up in his throat. “I don’t need protection!”
“Sunscreen, sweetie,” she said calmly.
“Oh. Right. Yeah.”
Derek rolled his eyes.
Elise cocked an eyebrow. "My brother doesn’t approve. But I suppose you don’t really need sunscreen when you spend every day in the dark."
Derek waved them away and turned back to his computer. "Whatever. Leaving in ten minutes. Be ready. I'm not waiting for you."
Elise put her hand on Andy’s back and gently guided him into the brightly lit hallway, Jason following along behind them.
Elise slipped off her towel, exposing a simple scarlet-red bikini with white trim. Her full breasts strained against the straps, looking ready to break free at any moment. Andy’s eyes tracked down to her taut tummy, a small silver belly ring in the center. And then there was the bikini bottom, which was sheer enough that he could see the faint shape of her body underneath. No fat, puffy diaper obscuring everything. No pee, accumulating until someone took pity on her and decided she deserved a change.
She held the towel out to him.
“I’m not wet,” Andy said reflexively. He immediately hated himself for the choice of words.
She giggled and eyed his boy bits. “You want to explain the yarn to Bri?”
Andy took the towel and wrapped it around his waist. The fluffy cotton was a bit damp and still warm from Elise’s skin. “Thanks.”
“Sure. You can keep it. At least until you leave with Derek.” She walked off down the hallway.
Andy and Jason shared a look, then followed after her.
***
Bri stretched out on a pool chair on her back. She sat up on her elbows when he walked out and lowered her sunglasses. "Are you done with the essay already? Why are you wearing a towel?"
Andy shrugged.
"He needed a break,” Elise said. “A bit of sunshine and fresh air." She shot him a quick, conspiratorial wink.
Andy's heart raced.
Thank you.
Bri shrugged and lowered herself back down on the pool chair.
Elise settled onto the edge of the pool chair next to Bri. "Come on. Let's get some sunscreen on you."
Andy shuffled over, one hand clutching the towel around his waist so it didn't fall to the concrete pool deck and expose his tight, itchy secret. "Um, where should--"
Elise scooted back on the chair and spread her legs, patting the space between them. "Right here, sweetie."
Even against the backdrop of scorching summer heat, Andy felt the surge of heat in his face. There'd be just a millimeter of fabric between them, but she treated it like no big deal. To her, it wasn't a big deal--she saw him as her friend's kid brother. Not a nineteen-year-old man with his own plans and ambitions. He should refuse. Tell her he could put the sunscreen on himself.
He eyed that triangle of space, walled in by her long legs on each side, and her breasts behind.
A black car pulled into the driveway, and a group of guys spilled out, talking and laughing.
“Andy?” Elise asked.
Andy pulled his attention from the driveway and settled down onto the edge of the chair. The vinyl straps were warm against his bare butt.
Elise slid her fingers into the collar of his shirt. “Upsie daysie.”
Andy’s arms instinctively shot straight up into the air.
Idiot! No wonder she treats you like a toddler--you act like one.
She pulled the shirt up and over his head, then set it aside.
Andy twisted around. “I could’ve done that.”
Elise tightened her warm thighs against him, pulling him in closer. “I’m sure you could. Now stop being a wigglepig, ‘k?”
I wasn’t wiggling!
“Okay,” Andy mumbled.
“Good boy,” Elise said.
Jason shouted, and a splash followed. “You almost ready, Andy?”
Andy glanced back at the driveway. No sign of Derek yet, but it couldn’t be too much longer until he came out and they left.
Elise squirted sunscreen onto her hands and then worked it into his skin, starting with his neck. Her hands were warm and soft, and she took her time. The smell of coconut sunscreen drifted through the air.
Andy closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“Can you relax for me, sweetie?” Elise asked. “You’re all tensed up.”
“Sorry,” Andy mumbled. He forced himself to relax, lowering his shoulders.
“It’s okay,” Elise said. She leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear. The soft swell of her breast grazed his bare back. “We’ll sort out your situation below in just a moment--I’m sure that’ll help you relax.”
Andy swallowed. He glanced down and was horrified to see a small tent in the front of the towel.
She’d seen that? What must she think?
Maybe she likes it, a quiet voice said inside him. She said she’d ‘sort it out.’ Andy’s mind raced with the possibilities of what that might mean.
Her hands reached his lower back. She hooked a finger in the edge of the towel and loosened it. It dropped to the side, exposing his stiffy, ribbon wrapped uncomfortably tight around him.
“That looks uncomfortable,” Elise said.
Andy shrugged.
A car roared to life in the driveway. The Camaro. Derek hung out of the open driver’s side door and looked around.
He’s looking for you.
Elise put her hand on his thigh, her nails bright red against his pale skin. “That needs to come off, Andy. Before you really get hurt.” She twisted around behind him and then draped a swim diaper over her knee. The one with sharks. “Will you let me help you?”
Andy glanced back to the driveway. At the group of guys gathered there.
Elise leaned close. “We have popsicles,” she said in a sing-songy voice.
The yarn squeezed so tightly it was leaving a mark on his parts.
Andy nodded. “Can you…” His breath hitched. “Can you help me?”
She patted his thigh. “Of course, sweetie.” She squirted a glob of creamy sunscreen into her hand.
“What are--”
Before he could finish his sentence, her hand had dropped to his part. She gripped him tightly, the lotion slick and warm against his flesh, and pulled forward.
Andy gasped.
The yarn slipped off and fell to the concrete.
A spurt of pee shot out.
Elise was ready. She wrapped the end of the swim diaper tight around him, squeezing as his deflating penis peed into the waiting diaper.
Hhhhhsssssssss
“Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m--”
“Shhhhhh,” she whispered into his ear. “Shhhh. It’s alright. Just let it out.”
He nodded, not trusting his words.
Then it was done. He slumped back against her. Relieved. Defeated.
“Feel better?” Elise asked.
In the driveway, there was the roar of an engine, and the Camaro peeled out, followed by the other car.
“Kinda.”
She pulled the wet swim diaper aside and patted his thigh. “Good. Just wait until you feel that pool--so good.” She swung one leg around, silky smooth skin sliding against his waist, and then was sitting beside him. She put her hand on his chest and gently guided him onto his back.
Andy lowered himself down on the warm vinyl.
She slid the swim diaper underneath his butt a moment later. The fabric was wet against his skin.
Elise tucked her legs underneath her and wrinkled her nose. “Feels a bit wet, huh? Swim diapers aren’t great for pee. They’re mostly to keep your poopy accidents contained. We have to drain the whole pool if that happens.”
Andy’s stomach balled up. I’m not going to have a poopy accident!
She frowned. “Hey, no. It’s okay, sweetie. If you need to make pushies, go ahead. The swim diaper will take care of it. Don’t you worry.”
“Okay,” he said. His voice harsh and raspy.
She leaned over him, sun behind her like a halo. Her breasts hanging low above him. She smoothed the swim diaper’s wings across his stomach. “You’re hoping to go to Claremont, right?”
He nodded.
“You know, my friend Miranda goes there. You remember her? She’ll be a senior this year.”
He remembered Miranda. He’d only met her once, at his birthday party last year. She’d brought him a set of plastic beach toys--a bucket in the shape of a castle, shovel, rake--and teasingly asked if she could be the one to give him his birthday spanks.
“Uh huh,” he said.
She fastened down the hook-and-loop tapes on one side. “I bet she’d be happy to help you with that essay. She lives a few minutes away--why don’t I see if she can swing by?”
Andy swallowed hard. Miranda had been nice to him. And he did need help with the essay, but the last thing he wanted was cementing his first college contact as someone who knew he wore diapers. That sort of news would spread across campus in days.
Elise grinned. “I’m sure she has some friends she’d like to introduce you to.” She cinched the other side of the diaper tight, patted the front of his diaper, and winked. “Cute friends.”
Girls who’d know he wore diapers. Needed diapers.
Cute girls.
Cute girls who’d dote on him. Give him attention. Let him tag along.
Change his diapers.
Maybe put sunscreen on him…
Andy let out a long, low sigh. “That sounds great.”
THE END
Check out my Ream for a huge backlog of stories like this one. Subscribers to the 24/7 Baby level get three new chapters a week!
Note: This story features consenting adult characters and is intended for a mature, 18+ audience only.
This story was originally published on Ream. I will be publishing all four chapters here over the next week.
“Oh. Oh god,” Andy said. “I’m so sorry.”
The last few drops of pee splattered onto Derek’s laundry. One yellow droplet clung to the end of his penis. What was he supposed to do about that? Shake it off? Wipe it?
Derek grabbed a roll of paper towels off his desk and tossed it to me. “No worries. Happens sometimes. Especially at first.”
Especially at first? Did that mean it was still happening for Derek?
“I’ll go get Bri,” Jason said.
Andy’s hand shot out and locked onto his wrist.
Jason’s eyes went wide.
“Don’t,” Andy said. He let go of Jason’s wrist. “Please. I’ll handle this. Bri won’t understand.”
Jason frowned. “Andy…this is silly.” He looked around the dank, messy room meaningfully and raised his eyebrows.
Derek snorted. “‘Silly,’ huh? Seems to me like running off to a girl to handle every little thing for you is silly. Though I prefer the term ‘bullshit.’”
Andy scooped up the pile of pee-soaked dirty laundry.
“Drop them in the laundry hamper there,” Derek said, pointing. “Give ‘em a spray with the Febreze.”
Andy dropped the clothes in the hamper and doused the whole smelly mess with Febreze. The spray bottle sat right by the hamper, like he had to use it for this purpose often.
Is this worth it? The risk of accidents? Not even a risk, really--an inevitability. At least at first.
Andy cleared his throat. Shrugged. Tried to make himself seem relaxed and unbothered. “Yeah, no big deal. I’m sure the accidents don’t last too long, right?”
Derek gave a noncommittal grunt.
“Come on out to the pool,” Jason said. “I won’t tell them about the accident. You can just say you were excited to get the swim diaper, so you took yours off. Your step-sis will complain, but she always complains.” He pointed down at his swim diaper. “It’s super comfy.”
“I don’t know…” Andy said.
Jason stepped closer and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Elise is wearing a bikini. She looks super hot. Like…super hot.” A grin crept across his face, and he let out a little giggle. “And she was talking about you. About your drawings.”
“Really?” Andy said.
“Uggghh,” Derek said. “Bro, come on. This is how they suck you back in. Keep you under their thumb.”
Andy frowned. “I like girls. That’s, like, the whole point of this. So I can meet college girls and not have them look at me like some kind of baby.”
Derek waved that away. “Right, no, I get it. I mean, I’m just saying do it on your own terms, right?” He shrugged. “Or don’t. Like I said, not everyone is cut out for this. Here, this will help.” He yanked open a desk drawer and rooted around. Then another one. He pulled out a ball of yellow yarn and snipped a length off with his pocket knife.
“What’s that?” Andy asked.
Derek dangled the yarn from his finger.
Andy reluctantly stepped forward and took it from him. “Is this…what’s it for?”
Derek grinned. “Little trick I figured out. Tie it around yourself.”
“Tie it…?” Andy’s stomach lurched as he realized what he meant. “Really?”
Derek grinned. “Yeah. That got me through the first six months.”
“Six months?!”
“Yup,” Derek said. “Still use it once in a while. On trips or whatever.”
Andy worked the bit of yarn between his fingers. Six months of this. More than six months, most likely. But a string was easier to hide than a diaper. He wouldn’t have to change his string in a campus bathroom after class. He wouldn’t have to lug around a backpack full of wipes and diapers and a spare change of pants. He wouldn’t have to worry about a college girl noticing the bulk of a bit of yarn under his pants.
Andy wrapped the bit of yarn around himself.
“Nice and tight, but don’t cut off blood flow,” Derek said, chuckling. “Who knows--you might want to use that thing someday, right?”
“Andy,” Jason warned.
Andy wrapped it again. And again. Was this too tight? Not tight enough? He felt a twinge in his gut that might be his bladder. Or might not be. He’d never needed to pay attention to that sensation before. He tied the ends into a simple knot--a bow. It looked absolutely ridiculous.
The bedroom door opened.
“Hey!” Derek snapped. “What did I tell you about knocking?”
Elise strode in. Barefoot. Smelling of sunscreen. A beach towel wrapped around her, hiding the bikini underneath, but leaving miles of her smooth legs exposed. “Don’t worry,” she said to Derek. “I won’t be in here any longer than I need to be.”
She turned to Andy and frowned. “Andy, sweetie…what are you hiding?”
Andy had instinctively dropped his hands to cover the ribbon.
She took his wrist and gently pulled back his hand, exposing his parts, wrapped in a bow like the world’s saddest Christmas present. She frowned. “What’s this about? Aren’t you supposed to be working on an essay?”
Heat flushed Andy’s cheeks. “I…we were gonna. And then, I wanted to see what it was like to…”
She cocked an eyebrow, letting the silence hang between them.
Andy sighed. “I wanted to see what it was like to, you know, not wear diapers for a while. To hold it.”
Elise giggled. “Is that why you’re doing the pee-pee dance right now?”
Andy realized he was rocking back and forth from one leg to the other. He stopped. Shrugged.
“So?” Elise asked. “Do you feel like a big boy now? Hmmm?”
No.
“Kinda.”
Elise smiled. “Okay, then. Now that you’ve gotten the big-boy sillies out, let’s get you comfy and secure again in a nice, fresh diapie.”
“Secure,” Derek snapped. “Why don’t you just say ‘controlled,’ huh?” He shook his head. “Don’t do it, man. Just because it’s soft and ‘comfy’ doesn’t mean it’s not a trap. That’s how they keep you stuck.”
Elise shrugged. “You can stay in here if you want to.”
Andy whipped his head around. “Really?”
Elise chuckled. “Yeah. Look, I’m not going to stay in this smelly little dungeon. I’m going back out to the pool. Might have a popsicle. Play with the pool toys. But if you and my brother have stuff in common…” she shrugged.
We don’t have anything in common! I’m not like him.
“I was gonna go hang out with a few of the guys from the old team,” Derek said. “You remember Terry Levins? Our catcher? He’s back from college for the summer. We were gonna grab a few, uh, Cokes and hit the boardwalk. Catch up on how his college ball career has been going.” He turned to his sister and smirked. “You could come with us if you’re not busy here.”
Andy sucked in a quick breath. Terry Levins was even more of a local baseball celebrity than Derek. Derek was probably just inviting him to give his sister the middle finger, but did that matter? Hanging out on the boardwalk with Derek and Terry and who knew who else, swapping baseball stories? “Would…someone be able to give us a ride?” His eyes darted towards Elise.
Derek snorted. “You didn’t see the Camaro out front? I’m still working on the rocker panels and some stuff, but that’s mine, man.” He glanced at his sister, then back to Andy. “And I won’t make you ride in the backseat like some Uber customer, either.”
Andy realized he was grinning. “Really?”
Elise sighed. “I can talk to Bri. But let’s get your little man all taped up again before there’s an accident. Wouldn’t want to piddle all over Terry’s leg, would you?”
“No diapers,” Derek said. “Not if you’re hanging out with me and my friends. You know how I feel about that shit.”
“Derek,” Elise said. “He clearly needs them. He looks like he’s about to pee on your carpet. And what if he has to make pushies? Do you have a piece of yarn to help with that? Are you gonna wipe his bum afterward? Hmmm?”
Andy’s stomach lurched, a sour taste bubbling up into his throat. The yarn chafed around his parts, but he stopped himself from adjusting it.
Elise’s hands were planted on her hips. Derek scowled at her from his chair.
“He only ‘needs’ them because you’ve brainwashed him,” Derek spat. “Right, Andy?”
They both turned to him.
Have you read No Running, No Diving, No Dignity?
"Ethan’s plan was supposed to be simple: impress Chloe at the community pool and land a date before the square dance. Instead, a harsh lifeguard and a single bad choice turn all of that on its head. It’s a long, hot summer ahead, and Ethan’s about to learn that some humiliations don’t wash off.
No Running, No Diving, No Dignity—and definitely no chance of keeping your big-boy shorts."
Note: This story features consenting adult characters and is intended for a mature, 18+ audience only.
This story was originally published on Ream. I will be publishing all four chapters here over the next week.
Derek had a door on his bedroom. An actual door, with a knob. Maybe even a lock.
Andy sucked in a deep breath. Talking to Derek was the right decision.
He knocked on the door.
From the other side, an explosion, followed by the tat-tat-tat of videogame gunfire.
"Fucker!" someone—presumably Derek—shouted.
Andy braced for someone to come around the corner and scold Derek. Threaten him with a mouth-soaping. A spanking. Loss of video game privileges.
Nothing. No one came. No one cared.
Andy felt himself grin. He knocked again, louder this time.
"Go away, Mom! I told you I’ll clean my room when I’m done gaming."
Andy swallowed. "Um, hey. This is Andy."
Tat-tat-tat-tat!
"Who?"
Andy glanced down the hallway. He could hear muffled talking. Splashing. No one was in earshot, though. Still, he couldn’t risk it. He put his mouth up to the door. "You're, uh, gonna help me with my essay. I brought it with me on a flash drive, like you asked."
Silence.
Andy held his breath.
"It’s unlocked," Derek said.
Andy stepped inside.
The room was dark. And not even just compared to the brightly lit hallway. This might have been a photography darkroom, if not for the glow of the computer monitor and PC tower LEDs at the far end of the room.
Andy took a step further, and his foot connected with something soft. Clothing?
"Close the fucking door," Derek snapped. "Jesus."
"Sorry," Andy said. He turned around and closed the door, feeling the small button on the back of the knob: a lock. He had an actual lock on his door.
Andy paused, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. The room smelled bad. Like junk-food farts with a haze of body spray over the top. Still, it didn't smell like diapers and baby powder. Stale Dorito air could be explained away when you had a girl over to your dorm room. Urine and baby wipes? Not so much.
"Dammit!" Derek snapped. He slammed a palm on his desk and spun around in his gaming chair. "You brought it?"
"Hey," Andy said. He fished in his pocket for the thumb drive and pulled it out.
Derek grinned and held out his palm.
Andy dropped the thumb drive into his open hand. He stepped back.
The smell wasn't just in the room—it was coming from Derek himself.
Derek stuck the thumb drive in his computer and pulled up the folder, then the first image. Anime. Hentai, Andy had learned it was called. This particular kind of hentai involved octopuses—or at least tentacles—penetrating busty women with big eyes and oil-slicked skin.
Andy looked away. He'd seen more than enough flipping through the images to verify he'd found what Derek wanted.
Derek turned on a desk lamp. His eyes were bloodshot. He wore black sweatpants and a white undershirt with a prominent caramel colored stain in the center. Sloppy, but no bulging, crinkling diaper underneath, at least.
You can wear whatever you want when you're free, Andy thought. When he was potty trained, he’d keep himself put together better than Derek did. But it’d be because he wanted to, not because his stepmother forced him. Showers, not bubble baths. He’d brush his teeth as long as he wanted to, not as long as the bright blue timer said he should. He’d probably even grow his hair out a bit: face, legs, and maybe even a bit of bush.
"How'd you find this?" Derek said. "I've been looking for this one for years."
Andy felt a swell of pride. “I couldn’t find the stills anywhere. But I tracked down the original video. I have my own Youtube channel. A gaming channel. So I’m pretty good at editing. I pulled the stills from—”
“Huh,” Derek said. “I watch a few gaming streamers. You know JoJaxxx? SteamyK?”
“I think I’ve heard of SteamyK. He’s a Call of Duty streamer, right? I mostly play JRPGs.”
Derek’s attention had already drifted back to the screen.
“So, uh, can I get that guide now?” Andy asked quietly.
“Oh, yeah. It’s under the mattress.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the unmade bed.
Andy paused in front of the bed. A bottle of lotion sat on the nightstand, and next to that, a box of tissues.
He winced. Gross. But who was he to judge? He’d made humpies just that morning, with Veronica Vole pinched tight between his thighs. Bri had teased him about his ‘sticky surprise’ all through his morning change; she’d only shut up about it during breakfast, when his stepmom told her to leave it alone.
He knelt beside the bed and began feeling around under the mattress. His hands connected with something. He pulled out a thin sheaf of stapled-together paper. He could barely make out the title in the dark room. It was all-caps, Times New Roman: POTTY TRAINING.
A chill ran up Andy’s arms, leaving goosebumps behind. The corners were dog-eared, and there was a splotch of tomato sauce or something on the front. Derek had used this to win back his independence, and Andy would do the same thing. No more bedwetting. No more changes at the park. No more leaks or diaper bags or condescending head-pats.
No more being treated like a baby by every girl he ever met.
He walked closer to the desk lamp, flipped the guide open, and began to scan.
"Your bladder already knows what to do. Your only task is to stop getting in its way."
Huh. Kinda obvious, but that was probably just the introduction. He scanned ahead a few pages.
"Accidents happen in the body. Success happens in the mind. Ask yourself: Are you listening to your fears, or are you listening to your future?"
He flipped three-quarters of the way through.
"The universe responds to certainty. Approach the bathroom as a dry person, and dry habits will follow."
Andy’s heart sank. “This is what you used to potty train? This is…are you sure?”
Derek shrugged, his eyes still locked on the screen as he flipped through the images. “No skin off my back if you wanna be a bedwetter. Not every guy is cut out for freedom.”
Andy shook his head slowly. “No. No, I need this. I’m going to college this fall. I need…” he took a breath. “I need to get out of these damn things.”
“Uh, huh.”
Andy set the guide down on the table. “You are 100% sure this is what you used? It seems kinda…fluffy.”
Derek glanced over his shoulder, staring at Andy’s exposed diaper. He turned around and started flipping through the images again. “Sounds like the chicks have worn you down. Like I said, not everyone can handle this.”
Andy’s eyes wandered the room: dirty clothes littered the floor, crumb-covered dishes were piled high on the desk, along with a half dozen mostly empty bottles of Mountain Dew—or at least what Andy hoped was Mountain Dew. Then his eyes landed on something else: a golden baseball sitting on a trophy stand.
“Do you still play?” Andy asked. “Baseball, I mean.”
Derek twisted in his seat. “Huh?”
“I went to all the Sailfish games. I was in eighth grade when you were a senior. We had a pretty good season this year, but nothing like 2018. You were incredible.”
Derek sighed. “So, listen. The guide is…whatever. I mean, I read it. But basically, you just need to start practicing holding it. At first, it’s gonna feel like, I dunno, wagging a tail you don’t have. But then it’ll start to—”
The door creaked open, and Jason’s head poked in, hair dripping wet. “Hey, um, are you gonna come out soon. We—”
“Bro!” Derek snapped. “You fucking ever heard of knocking?”
Jason blushed. “Sorry, I, uh...don’t have a door, so…”
Derek shook his head. “Right. I remember that shit. Ridiculous. ‘Why would you need privacy when we see everything you do in your diapers anyway?’”
Andy groaned. “God, if I had a dollar for every time I heard that.”
Jason stepped into the room and closed the door behind himself. He laughed awkwardly. “Me too. But…they’re kinda right, you know.” His eyes scanned the room, his lips curling into a wince.
Derek sneered. “Nice swim diaper.”
Jason wore a bulbous blue-green swim diaper with cartoon otters playing on the front. “Thanks!” He turned to Andy. “I left the one with sharks for you.”
Derek chuckled. “Lucky you.”
Heat surged into Andy’s cheeks. “Did you need something? We’re working on the…thing.”
“There are popsicles,” Jason said. “Like, three different kinds. I had an orange creamsicle. Elise said I could have another one, but I need to clean my sticky face before I get in the pool again. There was a coconut one—I saved it for you, but I think Bri was eyeing it.”
“Okay?” Andy said.
Jason shrugged. “So…are you coming out now?”
A poolside coconut popsicle did sound good…
“No,” he said. “I gotta start this today.”
Derek clapped his hands. “Damn right! You gotta commit yourself. Balls to the wall. Back yourself into a corner where the only choice is to regain control.”
Jason shook his head. “Andy…you know we’re not supposed to. Bri will be—”
“Fuck Bri!” Andy snapped. “She’s not the boss.” He yanked a tape free.
Derek laughed. “That’s the spirit!”
Andy ripped off the other top tape. His heart drummed in his chest. His hand rested on the left bottom tape. He yanked it, and the diaper slid down his leg and hit the floor with a splat.
Andy grinned. It felt incredible. Free. Like he was standing on top of a mountain. Or skydiving. Or—
Psssssssssss
The yellow stream landed right on a pile of dirty socks.
Enjoying this story? You might also dig Dependence Day.
"Raf and Olivia came to the lake hoping for one thing: a quiet Fourth of July weekend to reconnect after a painful mistake nearly unraveled the relationship they'd spent ten years building.
Then Brightbums announces its annual Dependence Day photo contest.
A year's supply of diapers. A custom nursery remodel. One winning couple.
Olivia's competitive streak ignites immediately. Raf wants nothing to do with turning their private dynamic into a public spectacle—but after everything they've been through, saying no feels like risking the fragile trust they're only beginning to rebuild."
Note: This story features consenting adult characters and is intended for a mature, 18+ audience only.
This story was originally published on Ream. I will be publishing all four chapters here over the next week.
Andy shifted on the hot vinyl of the backseat. The plasticky hot-car smell was strong enough he couldn’t even smell his own sweat or the copious amount of baby powder that dusted the inside of his diaper. “Can you please roll up the windows and put on the air conditioning?” he shouted at his step-sister.
Bri sat up front in the driver’s seat, long dirty-blonde hair blowing in the wind that flew through the open windows. Some too-upbeat pop song blared out of the windows, and Bri sang along to it.
“Bri!” he shouted again. “We’re cooking back here!”
She shifted her head slightly. Her eyes were hidden behind dark glasses. She turned the stereo down, but only slightly. “Should’ve worn shorts, baby-bro. Your little buddy looks comfy enough.”
Jason sat beside him in basketball shorts and a Nike tank top that showed off his sunburned shoulders. His friend shrugged and smiled good-naturedly.
Andy rubbed his damp palms on his jeans. Jason’s basketball shorts also showed off the squared-off shape of a diaper underneath.
Andy didn’t need to call everyone’s attention to the fact that his underwear was thick, absorbent, and generally pee-soaked.
Elise doesn’t need to see that.
Bri fished around in the diaper bag on the seat next to her and then extended her arm over the backseat, a bright green sippy cup in hand. Clear liquid bubbled around big chunks of ice inside. “I packed Sprite in your diaper bag. That’ll cool you off a bit.”
“I’m good,” Andy said.
“Can I have it?” Jason asked.
Bri laughed. “Sure. I thought you might want one, so packed a second.” She handed Jason the sippy cup.
He took it and slurped down a quarter of the liquid. He gasped and ran a wrist across his lips. “Thanks. That hit the spot. Sure you don’t want some?” he asked Andy.
Andy nodded.
Jason leaned back and sighed contentedly. “Pool’s gonna feel soooo good today. They have a waterslide, too. And they usually have popsicles. The good ones that have chunks of berries in them. You think they’ll have popsicles today?”
“I can’t go in the pool. I need Derek’s help with my college essay.” Andy raised his eyebrows at Jason. “Remember?”
Jason shrugged and looked out the window. They’d talked about this at length. It was the closest they’d come to an argument since the time they both blamed the other for the missing Switch controller before finding it under the couch. But Andy was desperate, and Derek was the person you went to when you were desperate.
Bri eyed him in the rearview mirror. “I told you I’d help you with that essay.”
“Yeah,” Andy said noncommittally.
Her eyes were still locked on his in the rearview. Why didn’t she watch the road and get off his case? This was a perfect reminder of why he needed to meet with Derek in the first place—to get out from under her thumb, and everyone like her, before it was too late.
“What about Elise, then?” Bri asked. “Last time we were hanging out, she mentioned something about your sketches and said what a cute little guy you are. I’m sure she’d be happy to help, and she’s a lot smarter than her idiot brother.”
Andy’s cheeks burned. ‘Cute little guy’ was exactly the box he needed to pull himself out of before college started in a few months. Once a girl saw the waistband, that was it. Puppy. Kid brother. Cute.
Jason grinned and nudged him with his elbow. “Did you hear that? She thinks you’re cute. You should totally go swimming with us. That essay’s not due for like another month, right? You have plenty of time.”
For the essay, yeah, but not for the other thing. I need all the time I can get for that.
But he wasn’t about to say that out loud. Not in front of Bri.
“Andy…” Bri said. “You’re fidgeting again.”
He almost denied it, then realized he was rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans. He stopped and dropped them at his sides.
The car pulled up to the curb in front of Derek’s house. It was nicer than his home, or Jason’s for that matter. All open and airy stucco construction that seemed to stay cool even when it was boiling outside. Carefully curated cacti and low bushes dotted the space between the road and the front door.
Bri twisted around in her seat. She lowered her glasses. “You’re not planning to talk to him about anything else, are you?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?” she pressed.
“I said no! I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
Bri’s eyes narrowed. “Hmmm, okay. Elise says he’s a bad influence. Mom and I don’t want his negative attitude rubbing off on you.”
Of course they’d consider Derek a bad influence: he was proof that boys could escape. But he wasn’t going to bring that up with her. Andy cleared his throat. “I mean, we’ll probably talk about baseball, too. He still has the strikeout record for the Sailfish. He—”
Bri sighed. “Oh, I’m aware. Everyone has heard about his glory days as a high school pitcher. I wasn’t talking about baseball. It’s fine if you look up to him for his playing; just don’t take anything he says too seriously, ‘k?”
Andy relaxed, but only a little. “Okay.”
“I just wonder if you’d do better focusing on putting together your art portfolio,” Bri pushed. “That picture you were drawing the other day of the anime character with the big eyes? That was adorable. I bet—”
“It wasn’t an anime character,” Andy said. “That’s Kefka from…” he shook his head. “Never mind. Can we just go in? I’m cooking.”
Bri opened the car door and stepped out. She walked to the driver’s side first and unbuckled Jason’s seatbelt.
“Thanks, Bri,” Jason said.
She ruffled Jason’s hair by way of response, then leaned across the bench seat to unbuckle him.
“I can do it myself, you know,” he said. “It’s not exactly complicated.”
She unclicked the belt. “I know. But I’m in charge when Mom isn’t around, and she wants to be sure you’re always buckled correctly.”
Andy gritted his teeth. She said it with such smug superiority, but she hadn’t even addressed his question, just danced around it. “Fine.”
She paused, her face inches from his. “Don’t get fresh with me or I’ll tell Mom. You know she still has your car seat in the attic. If you fight me on this…”
A chill prickled his skin, despite the overwhelming heat of the day. “Okay.”
She leaned back out of the car and walked around to the sidewalk.
Jason giggled. “Her boob brushed my arm a bit.”
“Gross, dude,” Andy said.
“Hey, come on, relax,” Jason said. “It’s Saturday. We’re going swimming at Elise’s house.” The corners of his mouth slowly drew up. “I bet she’ll wear a bikini,” he said in a sing-songy tone.
Elise in a bikini wasn’t the worst thing he could imagine. Far from it, actually. Those full breasts, straining against the fabric of the—
Andy shook his head. “No. I told you. I’m running out of time on this. College move-in day is September first. Derek’s the only one who can help me...get ready.”
Jason threw his hands up. “I’m moving in the same day, remember? That’s why we should be relaxing. Having fun and enjoying our summer together.”
“I’ll relax once I’ve started…” he didn’t even want to say the word out loud out of an almost superstitious fear that it’d summon Bri or his stepmom or pretty much any other woman in his life. He shook his head and gestured at the puffy mound of his crotch. “I just don’t want to show up to school like this, you know?”
“Not really,” Jason said. “Any girl worth my time will like me for who I am.”
Andy groaned. He’d heard that exact phrase from his stepmother a dozen times. If Jason wanted to walk into his dorm carrying a case of diapers, that was on him.
Bri knocked on the window. “I thought you boys were cooking? Come on, let’s go.”
***
The gentle slap of flip-flops on tile announced Elise’s entrance. She might as well have stepped out of an American Eagle ad. Her long, dirty-blonde hair hung down both sides of her sun-freckled cheeks. She wore what looked like a red bikini, but had a white, semi-transparent covering over it. Still, the covering did nothing to hide her tanned, toned legs.
Andy stood up a bit straighter in the foyer. She was a couple of inches taller than him, and he didn’t need to make their height difference any more obvious than it already was.
She smiled, cheeks dimpling. “Hey, girl,” she said to Bri. “Hope you’re ready to catch me up on all the gossip about June and Olivia. I heard something about a fistfight at Target?”
Bri laughed. “Oh my god. You have no idea. I’ll bring you up to speed on all that and the situation with Danny and my cousin. It’s ridiculous.”
“Can’t wait,” Elise said. “Let’s just swing by the kitchen on the way—I picked up some of those watermelon seltzers you love.”
“Hell yeah,” Bri said.
Elise turned her eyes on Jason and Andy. “Hi, boys. Thanks for coming over.” Her tone had changed to something syrupy-sweet—the kind of voice you’d use for an adorable golden retriever puppy you met at the park.
“Hi,” Jason said, giving her an awkward wave.
“Hi, Elise. Good to see you,” Andy said. He cleared his throat. “Hope you’ve been doing well.”
Elise giggled and cocked an eyebrow in Bri’s direction.
Bri sighed. “He’s been acting like this lately. All…formal. Weird.”
Andy’s fists clenched at his side. Like a grown man and not a toddler, you mean?
Elise reached out, her slender wrist covered in a henna tattoo, and smoothed his hair out. “That’s cute.”
“If you say so,” Bri said.
“Now, you boys know the rule for this house—I know it’s the same in your homes,” Elise said. She held out her hand.
Jason was already stripping off his shorts, exposing his sagging diaper. He handed them over to Elise.
“Thanks, sweetie,” she said. She turned her gaze on him. “Andy? Do you need help getting your pants off? I’m sure you must be pretty sweaty—it’s way too hot to be in jeans, ya silly billy.”
Her smile was wide, her eyes twinkling. She knew he’d comply. She was certain of it. But he wanted to meet Derek like a peer. Or at least someone who wanted to be a peer. Not just another diaperboy waddling around, doing whatever he was told.
“Come on,” Elise said. “Then we can all go get in the pool. That sounds good, doesn’t it?”
“Yup!” Jason announced. “I’m gonna go on that slide!”
“Actually,” Andy said. “I’m here to meet with Derek.”
Elise grimaced. “Derek?”
Bri groaned. “I know. He won’t stop talking about it. I figured he’d give up on it once we got here and he saw the pool, but…” She shrugged.
Elise shook her head. “You don’t want to hang out with my icky brother. Come and play in the pool. When Mom heard you boys were coming over, she bought two adorable new swim diapers you’re gonna love. One has sea otters on it, and the other has sharks. First one to the pool gets their pick.”
“I call sharks!” Jason said.
Did she actually think a swim diaper was tempting?
Andy shook his head. “I really need help with my essay. It’s for a scholarship.”
“I can help you with that after we go swimming,” Elise said. “Bri will tell you—I’m a great writer and a gentle editor.” She leaned in close. Close enough he could smell the sunscreen on her skin. Her bubble-gum breath touched his face. “We have popsicles. And a whole bucket of pool toys. It’ll be so. Much. Fun.”
An image of Elise lounging in her bikini, licking a popsicle popped into his head. Maybe she’d need to rub more sunscreen into her skin. He could offer to help. Maybe—
No.
No. He needed to focus. “Thanks. Maybe if there’s time after I go over stuff with Derek.”
Elise stood up straight again and shrugged. “Suit yourself. As long as that’s okay with Bri?”
Bri shrugged. “Whatever.”
“Alright,” Elise said. She held out her hand. “I’ll still need those pants, though.”
Andy groaned. But he complied, taking off his sneakers and working his jeans down his legs. He handed them over to Elise, unable to make eye contact with her.
“Thanks, sweetie,” she said. She reached out and gently squeezed the front of his diaper.
His heart immediately beat faster as she compressed the wet padding around his parts.
Her hand lingered a moment, the diaper crinkling, then she let go. “You’re wet, of course. But I think you can wait until we change you into a swim diaper, unless you want a fresh diapie first?”
“I’m fine,” Andy said, his voice small and hoarse.
“Alrighty.” Elise pointed down the hallway. “Derek’s room is down there.” She pointed across the living room. He could see a sliver of aquamarine pool out there. “And if you change your mind, we’ll be out there, having fun.”
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I'm not supposed to look. I know I'm not supposed to look.
I am supposed to be sitting on the floor watching the new shark documentary on my tablet like a good boy.
But how can I not look?
Mommy's dancing around the room in nothing but fishnet tights and a short skirt, getting ready for a night out with her friends. With each movement, her beautiful tits bounce and sway in the corners of my vision.
I can feel my big boy bits growing at even these brief glimpses of my wife's breasts. Despite the infantile, soggy diaper strapped around my waist, I still have the intense desires and needs of the grown man I am.
I can't help myself. I sneak a peek, causing myself to moan a little into my binky as I grow larger, pressing against the soft resistance of the warm, wet padding of my diaper.
That subtle noise draws Mommy's attention.
"Ollie baby? What's wrong... Oh! You're absolutely soaked! Mommy better get you changed before the babysitter gets here!" She coos as she bends down and squeezes the front of my diaper, "Maybe just not wet either."
She shakes her head in disappointment as she takes my hand and, still topless, helps me lay with legs splayed on the bed like an infant awaiting a change.
Her phone rings, and she grabs it with one hand as she untapes my diaper with the other.
"Katie? I know! I'm so excited to..." Her train of thought is interrupted as she pulls back my soggy diaper to reveal my rock hard cock, "Really, Ollie? The babysitter will be here any minute and you are this worked up?"
I can hear my wife's best friend cackling on the other end of the phone. The humiliation of not only being changed by my topless wife, but teased about it by her friend, overwhelms me with both shame and desire. Pre-cum starts to drip off my cock.
"Yeah, I'm just changing little Ollie, and his big boy bits are rock hard. I'll have to take care of this before the babysitter gets here, or he'll be rubbing his diaper on anything he can get is grubby little mitts on! Isn't that right, baby boy?" Mommy cooed as she grabbed my cock and disinterestedly started to stroke me.
I covered my face in shame as my wife teased me, but couldn't help but buck my hips as she continued to sloppily work my shaft up and down.
"Mmmm... Mommy," I moaned into my binky as she continued to talk to her best friend about her plans for the night, as if her husband wasn't squirming on the bed, laying on his still wet diaper, as she jerks him off.
"I know, I love that place! Their food is amazing!" Mommy responds to Katie, ignoring me completely.
"Mooommmmy," I moan again.
My wife looks at me, rubs be a little bit faster, and rolls her eyes.
"Yes, that's Ollie. He's such a squirmy little thing tonight, at least he won't embarass me with the babysitter again," she says into the phone as Katie laughs uproariously on the other side, "Come on, baby! Mommy still has to get ready."
I can feel my heartbeat in my cheeks and my cock. The disinterest, the teasing, the dismissal, it's all so embarrassing and so fucking hot.
"Moooommmmmyyyyy!!!" I scream out, spitting out my binky as warm cum explodes over my wife's hand.
She releases me and grimaces.
"Someone was saving all his big boy juices for Mommy, wasn't he?"
I can't respond to her jibe. I don't even try to make out what Katie is saying on the other end of the phone. I melt into the bed, letting my muscles go completely slack as my topless wife wipes my cum off of her hand with the inside of my fresh diaper and changes me into it, never dropping the phone pressed to her ear the whole time.
I lay on the bed as the fresh diaper is taped onto me, and Mommy proceeds to continue getting ready for her night out.
My brain buzzes with the fact that this release, from my wife's disinterest, distracted hand job, is the best I've had in months and may be the best I ever expect to have again.
No "ifs," no "ands," no "buts." This isn’t a negotiation. This isn’t a phase. This is your reality now, and the sooner you accept it, the easier it will be for both of us. You don’t get to argue, to bargain, or to pretend this is temporary. It isn’t. You’re here because you need to be here. Because you’ve proven, time and time again, that you can’t be trusted to manage even the simplest parts of your own life.
So let’s start with the basics.
You no longer wear “grown-up” underwear. Those days are over. No more briefs, no more boxers, no more pretending you’re something you’re not. From now on, your bottom is wrapped in thick, crinkly diapers, diapers that will hold everything you can’t. And you will fill them. You’ll wet them when you’re nervous, when you’re excited, when you’re just sitting there, squirming in your seat because you’ve forgotten how to do anything else. You’ll mess them when you’re overwhelmed, when you’re tired, when you’ve had too much to eat and your body decides for you. And you won’t ask. You won’t dare to ask. Because good boys don’t ask. Good boys let their caregivers handle it.
And you? You’re not a good boy yet. But you will be.
You are not trusted to manage your bathroom needs. That’s why you’re in diapers. That’s why, when you shift in your seat, when you clench your thighs together, when you whimper because you feel it coming and you know you can’t stop it, no one will rush to help you. You’ll sit there, your face burning, your diaper swelling, and you’ll learn. You’ll learn that resistance is useless. That your body doesn’t belong to you anymore. It belongs to us. To the people who know what’s best for you.
You are not trusted to regulate your emotions, either. When you pout, when you cross your arms and try to look defiant, when you stomp your foot like a child throwing a tantrum, we’ll just laugh. Because that’s what you are. A child. A little boy who doesn’t know how to behave, who needs firm hands to guide him, to remind him of his place. And when you cry? Oh, you’ll cry. You’ll cry when you’re frustrated, when you’re embarrassed, when you realize just how small you’ve become. But no one will comfort you. Not the way you want. Instead, you’ll get a pacifier pressed between your lips, a bottle shoved into your hands, a firm voice telling you to settle down. And you will. Because you have no other choice.
You function best when someone else is fully in control. That’s the truth you’ve been running from. You like it when decisions are made for you. When you don’t have to think, to worry, to try. When you can just… let go. And that’s exactly what you’re going to do here. You’ll let go of your pride, your dignity, your silly little delusions of independence. You’ll let us dress you, feed you, clean you up when you’ve made a mess of yourself. You’ll let us decide when you eat, when you nap, when you’re allowed to speak. And you’ll be better for it. Happier. Because deep down, you’ve always known this is what you needed. Someone to take the reins. Someone to remind you, every single day, that you’re not in charge anymore.
You will be changed, fed, dressed, and quieted as needed. Not as requested. Not when you beg. Not when you think you’ve earned it. When we decide it’s time. When we say you’ve been good enough, or when we simply feel like it. You’ll lie on the changing table, your legs kicking uselessly as we wipe you clean, as we powder your skin, as we slide a fresh diaper beneath you and tape it snugly around your waist. And you’ll stay still. You’ll take it. Because that’s what good boys do.
And humiliation? Oh, sweet, naive thing. Humiliation isn’t a punishment here. It’s a reminder. A reminder of who you are. Of why you’re wrapped in plastic and tape, why you’re drinking from a sippy cup, why you’re sitting in a high chair while the world moves on without you. It’s a reminder that you don’t get to be ashamed. You don’t get to be anything but what we say you are. And what we say you are is this: a baby. A little boy who needs to be taken care of. Who wants to be taken care of, even if he won’t admit it yet.
So here’s your first lesson: Stop fighting it.
The diaper between your legs isn’t going anywhere. The bottle in your hands isn’t a suggestion. The way the other boys look at you, the way the caregivers smile when you squirm, the way your own body betrays you again and again, none of it is an accident. It’s design. And you? You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.
He was kinda new to it, still seeing if he liked it, still learning how to relax when he wasn’t near the potty.
We were lying in bed, doing our own things, as I let him adjust to the feeling of padding swaddled around his most private parts.
Not treating him differently.
Not yet.
The only thing out of the ordinary was me reading with one hand (not entirely out of the ordinary, I’m a frequent smut enjoyer, but this was different). My other rested on top of his padding, right between his legs.
Eventually, a couple chapters in, I felt something.
“Hey, handsome, what’s making my hand all warm?”
I looked up at him for the first time and the ruddy blush covering his face answered my question without him needing to say anything.
I wanted him to say it anyway.
“Can you tell me what happened, honey boy?”
A small head shake, no. His eyes were big and a little nervous, not used to someone watching him be this vulnerable.
“That’s okay, we can work up to big boy words later. It seems like you’re pretty small right now, huh?”
This time I watched his head bob up and down. I reached up and ruffled his hair, resting my hand on the back of his neck.
“Do you think you’re okay to stay your cozy, warm big boy diaper for a while longer? I want to finish a couple more chapters before we go to sleep.”
He nodded, shifting his body down under the covers a little more, pressing his face against my tummy.
He drifted off by the time I finished the page, much less the chapter. But I was watching him for a while anyway, distracted by the warm padding now pressed against my leg, and the sweet trusting boy curled into my side.
The playful texts had been sent back and forth. The teasing had escalated into something more. Now, it was becoming awkward to read the texts in public. What if someone saw the flushed cheeks, the shuffling of pants to not show a rising problem and prevent nearby people from assuming there was a deviant in their vicinity.
What if there is a damp spot on the seat when I stand because my baby boy has made me drip with arousal; while I think of feeling his beard on my thighs and his tongue licking away at my center and his tongue sucking on my clit in that wonderful that he does.
All these thoughts had already happened, but now the script had been flipped. The teasing was being done my Mommy has she pulled her baby boy' face deeper into her.
However, it was her tongue that was causing her diapered boy to squirm while he licked, and sucked at her pussy that was soaked with arousal.
"Did you like teasing Mommy baby boy? Did it bring you pleasure to show Mommy pictures of you and your beard telling her that it was clean, soft, and a good place to sit? Because now you're here where you belong, pleasing Mommy with that tongue of yours, giving me pleasure, and all you can do is try desperately to get relief for my prince part, but you can't. Do you know why?"
I lifted my head slightly to answer, but was immediately she pulled my head back to her pussy.
"You know better than to talk with your mouth full, diaper boy. The reason you can't get relief is because Mommy has her prince part tucked away inside a thick, crinkly diaper, and you will not be allowed to have your cummies anywhere besides that thick crinkly diaper."
I felt her arch her hips and press her pussy harder into my mouth. "That’s it baby boy, make Mommy cum in your mouth. All that teasing you did earlier has her so worked up, and I want you to taste me!"
Without stopping, I did as ordered and tasted her arousal and savoring every drop of it.
When she finally relaxed her grip on my head and settled her hips back down on the mattress; she patted the bed beside her, beckoning me to lay next to her. I couldn't help myself as I moved up to lay beside her, my padded prince part against the naked flesh of her thigh.
"Still trying to be a sneaky baby boy, huh my little one?"
"Yes, Mommy."
"Ok, then show Mommy how you can be a big boy."
I sat up quickly and moved to undo the tapes on my diaper.
"No, baby boy, Mommy put you in those, so Mommy is the only one who can take you out of it."
I watched in resignation as Mommy reached behind her head; beneath her pillow, and pulled out one of the vibrating wands. It was the purple one that she used to tease her prince part.
"Here you go, baby boy. Lay down beside Mommy and show her how you can be a big boy with your prince part all locked away inside this thick, crinkly plastic prison.
As much as I had hoped to be a big boy inside of Mommy’s pussy the thought of being gifted an orgasm was too much to pass up. I just as quickly laid back down beside Mommy, taking the proffered vibrator and switched it on pressing it hard against the rustling plastic just above my cock.
Mommy rolled over and placed against the smooth surface just over my balls.
"Go on, baby, show Mommy how you make yourself feel good."
I let out a gasp of pleasure as I found just the right spot on my diaper, and I started to grind harder against the wand.
"Shh, baby boy, not so loud. Here I have an idea."
She grabbed my pacifier from the nightstand, and instinctively, I opened my mouth, but before Mommy placed it between my lips, she slid the pacifier down her body and then just inside her sex. I could only watch in rapt fascination as Mommy twirled the pacifier inside her for just a brief moment before pulling it back out and letting me see the clear, silicone nipple that was clearly glistening from being covered in her arousal.
She pressed the pink pacifier against my lips, and I inhaled the wonderful scent of her pussy before opening my mouth to except the silicone nipple into my mouth.
"There we go. Much better, baby boy. Now show Mommy how you are a big boy. I want you to taste me and know that you are mine and I am yours. My pussy juice is all over your face and all over your tongue, I've marked you and now I want you to show me your devotion and cum for me, baby hoy. Cum for me in your diapers."
While I suckled and used the vibrator Mommy had placed her hand back on the smooth surface over my balls, pressing and rubbing the cotton padding against me while she used that teasing tongue and wonderful brain of hers to bring me to the edge of of orgasm . As she told me to cum for her a second time. I did!
My whole body tensed. I think I nearly bit the nipple of the pacifier off, I'm sure, but as my orgasm peaked, I looked over into Mommy’s eyes and saw desire, softness, and all the other wonderful emotions, but most of all I saw love.
When I finally relaxed, Mommy cradled me softly against her naked flesh. The vibrator was turned off and tossed aside. It felt as if the only thing in the room was the two of us.
Later, as we lay there and felt the cool autumn air blowing through the windows and cooling are warm flush bodies. Just before we both drifted to sleep. I heard Mommy whisper in my ears. "You are safe, you are loved, and you are Mommy’s amazing baby boy."
I wanted to share with you the first part of a new story I've shared with subscribers at Ream. If you like what you read and want more, check out the details at the end of this post.
===
Well, this isn’t good.
The gauges are going haywire. All the red lights–the ones that are never supposed to be lit–are blinking and flashing. At least three different consoles are emitting ominous beeps, screeches, or sirens.
“Come in, come in! Mayday!” The radio is unresponsive.
Don’t panic. It’s easy to recall those words, but in a situation like this they don’t really mean anything. It’s the same as thinking of the words 'alligator butterscotch.’ Sure, those are words, but what the fuck do they mean?
First thing’s first, I need to come to terms with what is happening. This plane is going down. There’s no stopping that now. Even if I’m to get the damn thing working again, it’s probably too late to recover.
So, then, what are my options?
Don’t panic. Alligator butterscotch.
I’m pulling up. My best chance for survival–my only chance–is that I can somehow stabilize the plane and glide to a landing on the vast sea below me. And even then, it’s going to hurt.
And even then…what the hell do I do after that? Best case scenario, I’m sitting on a piece of floating wreckage, waiting for hope that never arrives, and then I just…die.
Woah, woah. One thing at a time. Let’s get the plane out of the sky first. Let’s get out of the plane. Let’s not blow up or drown. And then I can die.
“Shit.” That’s putting it mildly.
Actually…shit. Yeah, I think I’m on the verge of crapping my pants. How about that? Maybe someday, someone’s going to find me. “Hey, look, we finally found the body of that explorer-guy. And, uh, he shat himself.” And then that’s going to be my legacy.
At least I won’t be around to hear the snarky remarks about it.
Okay, okay. Focus. Alligator butterscotch.
I look out the cockpit window, scanning my surroundings. Blue. Nothing but sea in all directions, as far as the eye can see. Well, there might be one little blop of brown down there, but I can’t afford to take a second look. I pull the nose of the plane up, and after a little bit of a struggle, I mean to get the small aircraft into a nice glide. Aside from all the beeps, boops, sirens, and flashing lights, it’s not a bad ride.
Now it’s just a matter of minimizing the damage at impact. No matter what I do, this plane is never going to fly again; so it’s a matter of whether this thing is going to be my coffin or raft. The water is getting closer. It feels like I’ve managed to slow my descent, but the displays I’d check to confirm that are all busted.
Here comes the water. Bracing for impact.
In a moment, I’m either going to be swimming or dead.
I’m definitely going to crap myself.
Should I say something? Some final words?
“Hey, God, if you’re around, maybe you could…”
Explosion. Darkness.
And then…
My arms and legs are flailing in the water. There’s water in my mouth. In my throat. I don’t know which way is up and which is down. Something, somewhere, is on fire because I can see the orange reflections of it in the water. I reach for anything, and I find it. Something long, flat, and most importantly, floating. Despite most of my stamina being smacked out of my body, I manage to hoist myself out of the water and onto the object.
It’s supporting my weight, that seems good. Though if it didn’t, I’d be fine with just sinking. I’m too tired to do anything else.
What’s the condition of the plane? Where am I?
I think, maybe, I’ll seek answers to those questions later. I’m feeling weak. Sleepy.
And then…
This might be a dream. Because I feel hands touching me. Hands that are not my own. I hear voices. I feel my body being lifted.
Oh. Maybe I’m actually being devoured by a shark right now, and this is just how my injured brain perceives it.
Unfortunate, but there's not much I can do about that.
“Make it quick,” I mutter. “I’m more of a snack than a meal.”
And then…
It’s a surprise to me that my eyes are even opening at all. Well I’ll be damned. I’m alive, huh? But then the surprises keep coming.
I’m lying on something much more comfortable than whatever piece of wreckage I had been earlier. I feel at it with my hands. Soft blankets. This is a bed.
There’s a ceiling above my head. I’m no expert on such things, but it looks like dense thatching of straw and branches.
I try to sit up, but this proves to be too painful.
“No,” a voice says, soft and feminine. “You need to rest.”
“I do like that idea,” I say. “But I’d also like to know where I am.”
“You would no’t know this place,” she says. “So just rest.”
I turn my head to see who is talking to me, and there she is. She’s tall, with tanned skin and long golden hair. She wears a green shoulderless dress of sorts, with intricate designs weaved through it in gold thread. She is a strong looking woman. Back home, I’d assume she’s the type who frequents the gym.
“This isn’t a dream?” I ask.
“No,” she says softly. She comes closer and strokes my head. I wince a little, feeling a sore spot on the side of my skull. Otherwise, I find her hand to be soothing.
“How long have I been here?”
“Days,” she says.
“Days?”
“My sisters brought you here a near half cycle ago. You have been unconscious since.”
“Oh,” I say, pretending that I know what a ‘half cycle’ is. “Your sisters, huh? You live here with your family?”
She smiles. “All in our community are sisters.”
Does she mean that literally? Or are ‘sisters’ just friends? Community members?
“Where am I?” I ask again.
“You will not find this place on your maps. We know this because we have recovered them in the wreckage of your vessel, and we could not locate our home on it.”
“Well that’s not very convenient,” I mutter, already wondering about how I’m going to get out of this place.
“First, we will heal you, Hart. And then we will help you get home.”
My eyes widen at the sound of my last name. “How did you know that?”
“We found many things in what remains of your vessel, Hart.”
“J-Jack, please,” I say. “Hart is my last name.” Does she know what a last name is? She knows English. She–or someone–knows how to read a map and whatever other documents they found.
“Yes, Jack,” she says, nodding.
“And your name?”
“Lei’lo’ialla,” she says, her hand on her chest.
“Uh…you got a nickname?”
“You can call me just Lei if you’d like.”
“That’s going to work a little better for me, yeah.”
“I am glad to see that you’re awake,” Lei says, a kind smile spreading across her face. “I will need to tell my sisters. They too will be happy for this.”
“How many, uh, ‘sisters’ do you have, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“There are many of us,” she says, not elaborating any further.
So this is a community, I gather. In a place that isn’t on any map. I think about that little speck of brown I spotted in the water as my plane was falling out of the sky. Is that where I am now? Some tiny island in the middle of absolutely nowhere?
“Where am I?” I ask again, following it up with: “Like…what do you call this place?”
“Home.”
“Alright, I walked into that one. But, I meant, like…”
“Maternis,” she says.
Yeah, that name means nothing to me. There’s a million questions I could be asking right now, but as my body slowly wakes, I’m becoming more aware of other needs that I have. Namely, the aching in my bladder. Goddamn, I hope this isn’t days worth of piss that I’ve been holding in while unconscious.
“M-maybe you could help me up,” I say. “I need to go your, uh, bathroom–or bathroom-equivilant–and take care of some business.”
“You will stay right there,” Lei says, putting her hand on my chest. “You can just let it out.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Missy, I don’t know if this is part of your culture here or something, but where I come from, it’s frowned up to wet the bed. Especially when it’s someone else’s bed.”
She laughs a little, an amused little chortle, and proceeds to pull back the thin sheet that is covering my body. “Look. You are protected, Jack.”
Protected? It’s a curious choice of word and I lift my head a little to look down the length of my body. I’m not wearing any clothes at all, save for a pair of what appears to be white underpants. For a moment, I pay the undergarment no mind as I gaze at the cuts and bruises strewn across my body. But when my eyes come back to the garment, I observe that it’s…very thick. It almost looks like a makeshift…
“Diaper?” I ask aloud.
“It is okay for you to use it,” Lei says. “That is what it is for.”
“No offense, Lei. But I’m not a baby.”
She gives me that soft smile again. There’s something kind of maternal about it–it reminds me of how my own mother used to smile at me when she was trying to comfort me when I was a little boy.
“No one will judge you, if that is your concern, Jack. Many of us have already changed you.”
“Ch-changed!” I exclaim. “You mean to tell me that a bunch of strangers have been…changing my diapers?”
“Your body was sleeping,” she says, nodding. “But your body still needs to do the things that it must.”
I sigh. “You mean I’ve been laying here, conked out for days, while pissing and shitting myself in diapers?”
Her hand, still on my chest, runs slow and soothing circles on my bare skin. “You must not be ashamed, Jack. We have been happy to care for you.”
I bet I really did shit myself when the plane hit the water. These ladies, whoever they are, probably found me with some brown-stained pants. I feel my face getting hot at the thought of women I’ve never met before changing my dirty diapers like a goddamn infant.
“Just go,” she says again, her voice closer to my ear. “You will feel better.”
“But…”
“Just go,” she says, her finger on my lips to silence me. “I will take care of you.”
It goes against everything I stand for as a strong, independent man–but everything about her tone and body language puts me at ease. I don’t like the situation she’s putting me in, but I can’t deny that she’s making me feel safe regardless.
“Fine,” I say. “Then this is your mess to deal with.”
“Yes, exactly,” she says, almost looking excited about it.
It’s easier than it should be. I sigh, relax as much as I can, and allow my bladder to do its thing. My stream surges out of me into the cloth garment, immediately saturating it. It’s shameful and humiliating, but I can’t deny that it feels good to have the relief.
I’ve almost emptied the tank when I realize that Lei’s hand is no longer on my chest. I look down the length of my body again to see that it’s now resting on the front of this makeshift cloth diaper. She’s feeling it as it swells and warms. And there’s a big smile on her face.
Where the hell am I?
And then…
I sense that I’m still sleeping a lot. It’ll probably be like this for a while as I recover. I’ll come to for a short time and sense daylight coming from somewhere. Then, I’ll close my eyes and open them again, and suddenly everything is pitch black.
People come and go. I remember bits and pieces of conversations or things they say to me, though it all feels like a blur. I know that I’ve seen Lei the most, though there are other faces too. Occasionally, there are hands on me–manhandling and twisting me as they replace the cloth diaper I’m wearing. I rarely even know that it’s dirty.
“Jack?”
I’m daydreaming about those last few moments in my plane, as I careened towards the water, when I hear Lei’s voice. I focus and look towards the end of my bed, where I see her and two other women. One of them is darker-skinned, with thick braids that hang from her head. The other is younger and smaller, perhaps in her late teens. They were similar dresses as Lei does, simple in form, but with complex patterns sewn into them.
“Uh, hey,” I say to them.
“Jack, I want to introduce you to some of my sisters,” Lei says. She points to the braided woman, her dress a deep crimson color. “You may call her Rain.” She points to the other girl, her dress a soft pink color. “You may call her Fia.”
I sense that these are not their full names, but the shorter versions for an outsider like myself. I nod politely.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Jack.”
“We are pleased to see that you are awake, Jack,” Rain says. There’s something about her stature and the confident tone of her voice–not to mention the way that the other women seem to regard her–that suggests that she has some importance here. Perhaps a leader.
“It’s good to be awake,” I say. “And…alive.”
“Yes, we are thankful to see that you have survived as well. You have endured a challenging ordeal.”
“To say the least,” I mutter. “My plane, it’s…destroyed, I assume?”
“Your vessel has broken into many pieces, Jack. Most of those pieces lie at the bottom of the sea now.”
“Dang.”
“Yes, though we may yet be able to send you home,” Fia says.
“Is that so? You got a big boat or something?”
Rain holds out a cautious hand towards Fia. “My sister speaks the truth, Jack. Though we must not get too ahead of ourselves. You are still healing, and it will take time before you are capable of making the trip back to where you came from.”
I don’t love that answer, though logically, I know that she’s right. I can barely move my limbs–and I still can’t even get out of this bed.”
“Look,” I say. “I feel like a bad houseguest, crash landing on your front lawn and then overstaying my welcome while you take care of me. But…”
“No, it is okay,” Rain says. “We want you to stay here for as long as it takes for you to heal. We want to aid you in any way that we can.”
What I need ‘aid’ with right now, unfortunately, is this sopping wet cloth diaper that I’m wearing. I’ve slowly accepted the fact that I have to wear these–and that the women here don’t seem to mind changing me when I need them to. That doesn’t mean that I enjoy it, however. I keep this to myself, though. Sooner or later, they’ll check for themselves and see what I need. In the meantime, I don’t like coming off as any needier than I fear that I am.
“I understand that my sister Lei has been taking very good care of you,” Rain says.
“She has,” I say. “Five-star service.”
“I am pleased to hear this,” she says. Lei, meanwhile, blushes a little, sheepishly looking down at the floor.
“And you,” I say to Rain. “You’re in charge around here?”
“I am the elder sister, yes,” she says, calmly nodding. “Though that doesn’t always mean that I’m in charge.”
“And, uhm, your other sister here?” I ask, my hand gesturing towards Fia.
“Fia here is learning and growing–as we all must at some point,” Rain says. “I have asked her to assist Lei in caring for you. There is much to be learned here. Is that alright with you, Jack?”
“Ah, well…” I feel my cheeks blushing. It would feel strange to decline this, seeing as how I owe them my life. “It’s fine.”
Rain smiles, nodding her head. “Do you have any questions for me, Jack of Hart?”
“Uh…” I laugh and shake my head. I mean, where do I even start with that? I’ve got a million questions. “Are there any men around here?”
“No,” Rain says. “There are no menfolk here.
“None at all, huh?”
Rain smiles, but doesn’t offer any additional elaboration.
“So, then, how do y’all…uh…” But I’m not sure a conversation about procreation and reproduction is anything I should be getting into right now. For now, I’ll let that one go, instead opting to ask a different question: “You speak English very well. Better than a lot of the dum-dums I know back home. What’s up with that?”
All three of the women laugh a little, like I’ve stumbled into a local in-joke. “We know many languages, Jack,” Lei says. “We know many things about the world.”
“Aye,” I say. “But does the world know about you?”
“I believe you can presume the answer to this,” Rain says, her smile widening again.
And then…
I’m sitting up in my bed–the most I’ve moved in the week since I first woke here–and Fia sits at the side of my bed, carefully spoonfeeding me some kind of soup from a bowl. I can’t say for sure what it is I’m tasting, but I get hints of coconut, lemon, herbs, and there’s some sort of meat that I occasionally swallow a small piece of.
I keep insisting that I’m capable of feeding myself, but Fia refuses to take no for an answer. And, well, I think I have trouble saying ‘no’ to a face like hers. Those dimples. Those bright yellow-green eyes. Her wispy strawberry hair.
“May I ask how old you are?” I ask between spoonfuls of warm soup. “I don’t mean anything creepy by that. I’m just not a very good judge of age in the, uh…” I almost say ‘real’ world, but I catch myself. Who’s to say that this world isn’t real? “...in the city I come from, let alone here.”
She smirks, shoveling another spoonful into my mouth. “You will not believe me when I tell you, Jack.”
“Hoo boy,” I say. “So if I guessed that you were 18, how far off am I?”
“Hmm…I would say that you are very far off.”
“Well, you sure as hell aren’t 40. And if you’re, like, 12, I’m going to just let myself choke on this soup and die.”
“I am 73.”
“In human years?”
She giggles. “Yes, that is right.”
“Is that like a joke? I don’t know what humor is like around here…”
“I promise you that this is the truth, Jack. Ask any of my sisters.”
It’s hard to truly believe her, but I’m willing to at least play along. “And if you’re 73, what does that make Lei? 400?”
“She is 143,” Fia says with a playful little shrug.
“Get the fuck out of here…”
“Jack, I must stay and finish feeding you your food.”
“N-no, I just mean…” I sigh and allow her to push another spoon of soup into my mouth. I let it sit on my tongue for a moment, letting the flavors wash over my tongue before I swallow it all. “Are you considered…young here?”
“Yes, Jack,” Fia says. “I have much to learn yet. Much growing to do.”
I continuously have to remind myself to curtail it with the questions. They don’t seem to mind my constant curiosity, but I always feel like I’m interrogating everyone I talk to.
“This soup is good,” I say.
“It is a special soup,” she says, nodding her head. “Made for healing. It is good for babies.”
“Babies?” I don’t like the way she looks at me when she says that.
She nods and smiles. Putting the spoon back into the bowl, she balances it in one hand while her other hand lands on the crotch of the diaper’s thick cloth. “Baby.”
“I…I’m not a baby,” I say, my cheeks getting fiery hot. “My body’s just a little banged up and, uh…”
“It is not a bad thing,” Fia says. “A baby is special and good.”
“Sure, sure, I’m not going to argue with that. I love babies too, you know? But me? I’m not a baby myself. Fully grown.”
“How old are you?” she asks.
“Well, 28, but…”
“See?” she says. “Baby.”
“I have some ex-girlfriends who would probably agree with you,” I say, sighing.
I notice that her hand is still on the front of my diaper. I swallow nervously, not quite sure what to think of that. I like her hand there, but I can’t decide if this is a good thing or not. Is it impolite to get aroused at a time like this? Because that’s happening. I feel my cock slowly growing in the thick cloth garment.
Maybe I should say something? Cut through the tension a little?
“Well,” I say, “I’m glad to see that still works.”
Fia giggles a little before pulling her hand away from my diaper and lifting the spoon again, loading it up with some more broth and pushing it towards my mouth. I slurp the spoon clean, thinking of everything that I can to distract myself from the bulge in my undergarments.
And then…
I don’t care for this part.
There’s a pressure in my abdomen that begs for release–a need to fulfill that I’ve always taken for granted until now, when it’s harder to achieve on my own.
What goes in, must come out. And if it’s coming out, it’s coming out into the diaper.
LIke it or not, there really isn’t any other option. I continue to be too weak to get out of this bed, and the ‘sisters’ of this island, when present, insist that I just use my diaper. Never once have they made me feel silly or pathetic for doing so. They happily dote on me, cleaning me up and leaving me and taking care of my every need without a single disparaging word.
And so I’ve made a little peace with the fact that I’ll be soiling this diaper too. I don’t like it, but I suppose that this situation could be worse.
I’m sometimes a little curious about the diapers themselves. They’re interesting garments, crafted from layers of absorbent fabric that seem to fit my body perfectly, while metal pin-like clips keep the front and back clasped together at my sides. When one diaper is removed, a clean one is presented. It makes me wonder how many diapers they have on hand. Do they have them in different sizes? Or are they being made by someone on demand?
And, well, if they do have a stock pile of these diapers, why do they have them sized for adults like myself?
I won’t pretend to be an expert on diapers–albeit for infants or the elderly–but I was under the impression that cloth diapers needed some sort of plastic pants to go over them, due to the porous nature of the fabric. No such thing has been given to me. They must know something about producing a good diaper, though, as I’ve never had one of these things leak–even after it felt as if I pissed like a racehorse.
I’m stalling, I guess; thinking about everything other than the fact that I need to defecate. I look around this small room that I’m in as I sit up as much as I can. It’s sparse–just my bed, a small side table, and some sconces on the walls that I’ve seen the women use to hang torches from. There’s a window, but it is too high off the ground to see out of, and mostly serves to provide light during the daytime. Am I in a cabin? A hut? A yurt?
I can hear waves crashing against the sand outside, especially at night when the world seems extremely still and silent, so I imagine I’m not too far from the shore.
How big of an island is this?
How has no man ever discovered this place before?
How is it possible that–
I groan as a cramp reminds me of what I’m putting off. I’ve considered this before, and I’ve decided that it’s better to use my diaper when I’m alone and then have someone check in on me, as opposed to having to use my diaper while someone is here watching it happen. Especially for a job like this.
No time like the present, and all that. The sooner I do this, the sooner I’m free of the discomfort in my bowels.
I lean back, close my eyes, and push. I don’t have to push all that hard, though, as my body is more than happy to take over from this point on. My diet–mostly consisting of variations of soups, broths, and little rolls of seasoned vegetables–had made my movements a little loose as of late. My bowels erupt like a volcano, forcing a warm lava-like mess to spill into the padding. I groan and attempt to lift my hips a little in an effort to give more clearance in the back of my diaper, but the pain in my muscles is too great to sustain for long. The mess just goes where it goes, seeping into every nook and cranny that it can.
By some miracle, not a single drop escapes the garment. These strange diapers are simply made too well to allow for any spillage. The downside of this, of course, is that I’m not trapped in what feels like a water balloon filled with mud.
The smell is less than pleasant, but there’s little I can do about that. I just sit and wait. Sit and wait.
Then, there are voices outside, approaching the door. Here come my nannies.
Sure enough, Lei and Fia spill into my humble abode a few moments later, happy as they ever are to see me. Fia carries a small wooden pail in one hand, and another of the cloth diapers in the other. Lei carries another piece of thick cloth in her own hand, folded up into a neat little square. These are the things they usually bring when they are here to change me.
“Ah see, I told you,” Lei says to Fia. “It will be time to change him.”
===
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I hugged Mr. Fraggles close, trying to get comfortable in the too-small space. It wasn’t just that the crib was cramped or that I had to share the space with Gwen, but it was the overwhelming Gwen-ness of the whole space. The overpowering, sweet-smelling scents that clung to everything she owned. The completely unnecessary number of blankets and pillows with lacey, frilly covers and Disney prints. I felt like I was suffocating in cute.
Gwen lay on her side. Lying like this, our puffy nighttime diapers nearly touched. Our diapers and their matching covers. Now that had been embarrassing, even if it didn’t bother me as much as it did her.
The light in the room was dim, but as my eyes adjusted, I could see her glaring at me like a cockroach you’re preparing to crunch underfoot. Is this how a prisoner felt the first night in their cell? Waiting and wondering if they were going to wake up to their cellmate with a shank in their hand and a demented glint in their eye? Of course, she wouldn’t use a shank. Maybe a ribbon from her hair. Or one of those stupid Beauty and the Beast pillows.
“Do you always breathe through your mouth like a chimpanzee?” Gwen asked. “It’s bad for your health, you know.”
“I don’t breathe like a chimpanzee,” I said defensively. I wasn’t certain that was true. My breathing wasn’t something I’d given much thought to, and what did a chimp breathe like anyway? I knew that it certainly wasn’t a compliment, though.
“And your breath stinks. Have you heard of a toothbrush and toothpaste?”
Brushing my teeth was part of our nighttime routine. Sometimes, Mommy had me do it on my own. Sometimes, she had me kneel in front of the potty while she sat on it and brushed them for me, singing the ‘Happy Birthday’ song through twice.
“Sorry,” I said. “I guess we kinda forgot tonight because of all the…you know.” We’d also forgotten movie night, I just realized. Mommy and I always watched a movie on Saturday night, cuddling in bed with popcorn and snacks. Just another casualty of moving here.
“Whatever,” she said. “Just stay on your side of the crib.”
“There’s not really room for separate sides.”
“And breathe through your nose? I don’t want to bathe in stinky garlic breath all night, thank you very much. You’ll drool on my pillows if you let your mouth hang open, too.”
Just one night. You can survive one night with her. Then tomorrow we can find the crib parts.
“Try not to pee in my plastic panties,” she said. “I know those diapers she puts you in are a joke so it’s not entirely your fault, but at least try.”
I felt a surge of anger. “Anything else you want to whine about? Mommy takes good care of me. And there’s nothing wrong with my diapers. Not everything has to be exactly the way you prefer it, you know. There’s more than one way to do things.”
“Clearly,” she said. “The right way and…”
I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling, which had glow-in-the-dark stars and moons affixed to it. A Totoro nightlight in one corner provided a warm, yellow glow. The room was quiet, with none of the pleasant background hum of traffic noise I was used to. I started to drift off, my mind replaying bits of the day, all jumbled up and out of order.
“Gross!” Gwen said. She shoved my shoulder.
I snapped awake. “What’s the matter?”
“You pooted!”
“Huh?” I mumbled. “Oh, farted. Yeah, probably?”
“Not probably. It was loud. Like a…I don’t know. A goose’s honk!”
“Okay.” I never held it in anymore. Never held anything in. What was the point of holding in my toots? It wasn’t as if I could let them out in the privacy of the bathroom later. Everything—far worse than farts—ended up in my diapers eventually. And diaperboys didn’t have any need for privacy, Mommy liked to remind me, so no sneaking off to fart in solitude. Hiding in a bedroom to pass gas was the sort of thing I did when I first became her diaperboy but now the very idea seemed silly. Absurd.
“Well, it stinks,” she said.
“As if you don’t fart,” I said. “And I’m sure they don’t smell like ginger cookies either.”
She didn’t respond.
“Nothing to say to that, huh? You act so high and mighty, but you’re no different than me and you know it.”
“I am nothing like you,” she spat.
“Oh yeah? Well, I’m gonna laugh my butt off the first time you have a messy diaper. I hope I’m there to watch you absolutely wreck your stupid Royal Rump diaper.”
She huffed loudly and crossed her arms. Such a ridiculous pose, lying there in the crib, that I had to restrain laughter.
“I bet you’re a dramatic pooper,” I continued. “You probably grunt and get all red-faced when you load your diaper, don’t you? Hhhhhhhnnnnnnn! Hhhhhhhnnnnnn!”
“You’re disgusting,” she hissed.
“Not as disgusting as you with a nasty, reeking diaper hanging from your butt, Princess Poopybuns.”
“Whatever,” she said. “I bet you don’t make it until lunchtime tomorrow. I might even take a picture so we can all remember the moment.”
No way was I going to be first, I vowed. I could outlast it. Outlast her. I could hold it as long as I needed to. Probably. As long as we didn’t have Mexican food. And as long as I didn’t drink too many bottles of milk.
“Great,” I said. “We can frame it and hang it on the wall so you can think of me always.”
She huffed again and glared at the ceiling. “As if I’m ever going to have a chance to not think of you again. I’m stuck with you. You and your bad breath and your weird diapers.” She turned towards me, a smirk teasing the corners of her mouth. “At least I don’t have to look at your stupid blocks in my room.”
Right. I took a deep breath and counted to ten. We needed to talk. Actually talk. Not just bicker about stuff that didn’t matter. “Gwen, we need to talk about what David—what your daddy—said at dinner. About how he wants to cook dessert for the big dinner next week?”
She didn’t respond. Just stared up at the ceiling.
“Gwen?”
“You don’t cook dessert. You bake it.”
I sighed. “Sure. Okay. What kinds of desserts does your daddy like best?” I asked. “Is he into chocolatey stuff? Fruit pies? Cake? Something funky like…what are those bananas they light on fire?”
She laughed. A clipped bark of derision.
I tried not to be pissed—or at least not snap back at her like I wanted to. Rude as it was, it was more of a conversational opening than I’d gotten so far. “What? Why do you laugh?”
She rolled over and faced me, the tip of her little upturned inches from mine. “He doesn’t care about that.”
“So…like he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth?” If he wasn’t picky—if this was really more about making Gwen and I work on something together—that’d make this assignment much easier. We could pick something simple, like brownies and ice cream. Or maybe chocolate chip cookies.
“You saw the garden beds, right?” she asked. “All the beautiful flowers?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Many of them are ordinary. But a few are rare. Mostly orchids Daddy bought when he was in Japan. Well, this last spring, the Thai Pearl finally bloomed. That never happened before and Daddy was sooo excited. I was so excited, too. Not really about the flower, even if it was pretty, but because he said when it bloomed, we’d have a big garden party. Do you know what a garden party is?”
“Of course I know what a garden party is,” I said. A party in the garden, I figured. The sort of thing people with too much money and too many Victorian-style dresses did after morning tea and before the evening’s opera.
“Hhhhmmm,” she said as if she didn’t believe me. “Well in any case, I picked out the prettiest dress and a new pair of pearly white Mary Janes for the occasion. We even got my hair done extra special at the salon. Of course, Daddy invited all of those flower ladies from the arboretum. He had it catered by Amelie’s. Canapes and deviled eggs and little finger sandwiches. Nearly everything had egg in it. It was all proper and perfect, down to the last detail.”
“Oookaay?” I didn’t see where this was going or what it had to do with the dessert we needed to bake.
She sighed in exasperation. “Daddy hates eggs. He’s allergic. Not like go-to-the-hospital-allergic, but rashy, sick-to-his-stomach allergic. After the party, he threw up for hours. He didn’t tell me, but I could hear him in the bathroom.”
“Why did he order food he was allergic to? And why did he eat it? He could’ve just…not.”
Gwen stared at me with those big brown eyes. Realization slowly dawned on me. “He served all of that because that’s what you serve at a garden party. That’s what you’re supposed to do. It doesn’t matter whether he likes eggs or not. That’s besides the point.”
She smiled slightly, cheeks dimpling, that the dolt finally figured it out.
“So we need to figure out what kind of dessert you serve at an…investment dinner, talk…thingy?” Her revelation didn’t make it easier. If anything, the opposite. I could picture a garden party spread: little cucumber finger sandwiches and quiche and whatnot. This dinner he had planned didn’t convey any specific image.
“No, that’s what you need to figure out,” she said. “Or don’t. I don’t really care.”
“No,” I said, fighting back the anger, “we need to work on it together. That’s what he said.”
She didn’t respond.
“You don’t want to disappoint him, do you?”
She snorted. “You probably think we can just whip together a box of Betty Crocker cookies or something silly like that. Glop some ice cream on it and call it good. Why would I want to be a part of that? So you can get your stupid blocks in my room? Making anything with you is guaranteed to disappoint him, and I’m not going to be a part of that.”
“So you’d rather get punished? Get spanked or whatever?”
She shrugged.
I couldn’t tell if she was bluffing or not, but I didn’t want to risk it. “What if…what if you get to pick the dessert? And if it’s a hit, you get all the credit. And if it’s not a hit—”
“It won’t be,” Gwen interrupted, “it’ll be a disaster.”
“—and if it’s not a hit, you can blame it on me. Say I picked a recipe that was too difficult. Or I goofed up the measurements. Or that I dropped all the eggshells into the batter. I dunno. Doesn’t matter. You get all of the credit and none of the blame.”
She didn’t agree. But she didn’t immediately shoot it down, either.
“Okay,” I said. “We can do a dry run tomorrow. Pick something out of a cookbook or online and—”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t?”
She shrugged. “I’m busy.”
“Busy? Busy with what?” I asked, laughing.
“Important things that are none of your business.”
“I don’t think prancing around like Belle while you shit your diaper counts as ‘important things,’ princess.” I regretted the words the moment they came out of my mouth.
She rolled over away from me, smacking her padded backside against the front of my diaper. She huffed loudly, then was silent.
“Look,” I said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just think things will be easier for both of us if we work together on this dessert thing.”
No response.
“We can find time whenever it works for you tomorrow,” I said. That much was true. At least mostly. I needed to learn about my new chores and I had no idea how long that would take. I had to meet Colette first, but I didn’t want to think about that now. One problem at a time. “Gwen?”
“Leave me alone.”
I sighed. Outside, crickets chirped. Somewhere, a clock ticked away the time. I was about to apologize again when I heard something else. Something barely audible. I held my breath, listening intently, wondering if I’d imagined it.
“Mmmmmhhhhmmmm.”
The sound of a gentle sighs. They floated down the hallway. From Mommy’s room.
“Mmmmmmhhhhhmmm. “God, I needed this,” Mommy said. Quiet as it was, I could hear the mixture of hunger and relief in her voice. Like she’d just settled down to a delicious meal after a long day at work. My stomach turned.
The room was quiet again for a few moments, then Mommy gasped. A sharp, hoarse grunt, followed by a long, gentle moan.
Beside me, I felt Gwen stiffen. She heard it, too. She yanked out the hairband, nearly elbowing me in the face, and tossed it aside. She pulled at the braids, drawing her fingers through them roughly, like she was untangling a knotted length of rope. Then she huffed loudly.
Dramatic. But then my mind drifted to the cage around my cock. If I could rip that off and toss it aside I would. But I couldn’t. Not yet, anyway. I needed to play ball. Figure out how to make this stupid dessert with Gwen, so David hated me a little less.
I drifted off to sleep to the sounds of Gwen’s muffled crying and Mommy’s desperate lovemaking.
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Rian's New Sister - Ch. 7 - This Nursery Ain’t Big Enough for the Two of Us
Note: This story features consenting adult characters and is intended for a mature, 18+ audience only.
Gwen, David, and I sat in a big chair in the living room for storytime. Gwen on one of David’s hard, uncomfortable legs and me on the other. David was tall, but it was still an awkward position. When Mommy read me stories we were usually propped up in her bed, snuggled under some blankets. But when we read in the living room I sprawled out across her lap. That wouldn’t work with two people. Not unless Gwen and I wanted have our legs all tangled up in one another’s. I wanted as much physical space between us—miles, if possible, thanks—and I guess she felt the same way. So we each sat on one of David’s legs, backs against the sides of the chair, our legs dangly down between David’s, trying not to touch each other when we shifted. It was a fitting picture of everything in our stupid, new life: awkward, uncomfortable, and worse than how things had been before.
I shifted positions, trying to get comfortable. David wasn’t soft and comfy like Mommy. She smelled like vanilla creme body lotion and lavender shampoo. He smelled like aftershave and garlic, and his whiskers scratched me when I got too close. Worse, I’d felt the warm lump of his penis against my thigh at one point.
“Do you always wiggle this much?” David asked me.
“He does,” Mommy called from the kitchen. She’d insisted on cleaning up so David could relax and ‘get in some bonding time’ with Gwen and me. I gritted my teeth and bit back every nasty response that came to mind.
We were on our second story. The Girl and the Dinosaur. It was one of my favorites, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I kept wondering if I’d given in too easily at dinner. Had I caved to David’s demands just I could get my blocks in my room? After all, as much as I loved my little village having it in my room wasn’t going to fix anything. We’d still be living in this big, cold house with him and the brat. But outright defiance and arguing never worked with Mommy. Early on in being her fulltime diaperboy I’d refused to eat a veggie casserole she’d made. I’d called it ‘gross’ and shoved my plate away. Rather than give me the chicken strips I’d been angling for she pulled a jar of baby food out of the pantry and smacked it down in front of me, not saying a word. For a whole week, she spoonfed me peas, apricots, and the worst—turkey. Jar after jar of the mushy goop. The slop got on my chin and on my chest. It plopped down on my diaper. Even after she cleaned me up the smell of the stuff clung to me. Almost as bad, it rushed back out the other end just as quickly; I spent more time sitting in messy diapers than clean ones. ‘If you want to act like a bratty toddler I’ll treat you like a bratty toddler,’ she’d said at the end of the week.
If I refused to go along with David’s request, or stuck to my guns and told Mommy we had to move out, she’d double down. Tell me I needed to give it time. That I needed to trust her. That she was in charge. I’d still end up doing what they wanted, plus they’d be angry with me. So I’d go along with it for now. Give Mommy time to see how controlling David was. And what a self-centered brat Gwen was. See how much better things were when it was just the two of us sharing a home.
“The end,” David said. He closed the book and set it aside.
Finally. I was ready to get in my crib with no one but Mr. Fraggle to keep me company. I slid off his lap. Or tried to—he put his big hand on my tummy, stopping me. Then reached down and squeezed my wet diaper. He repeated the process with Gwen. “Alright, let’s get you two soggy butts changed. Don’t want you leaking all over each other tonight.”
I wriggled away and stood up. Leaking all over each other? That’d be quite a feat. I’d had some epic leaks, but nothing that’d reach across the room. But even if I was that wet, there was no frickin’ way was he going to change me. Ever.
Mommy walked into the room with a bottle in each hand. “How were the stories?”
I shrugged. Gwen didn’t say anything. She hadn’t said much since dinner. I guessed she wasn’t excited about David’s assignment for us either. Finally, something we agreed on. But that I meant I’d have to convince her; I had more at stake than she did, as David clearly treated her with kid gloves.
Mommy chuckled. “Looks like we have a couple of overtired babies.” She handed me a bottle. It was warm, not hot, just like I liked it. “Alright, then. Let’s go change that soggy bum and get you tucked in.”
I followed her up the stairs, David and Gwen behind us. I stopped dead when I reached the nursery. Where my crib should’ve been there was an empty patch of carpet.
“Where’s my crib? Did you set it up in your room?” I asked. When she’d first bought my crib for me years ago we set it up in our bedroom. The bedroom had been incredibly cramped—you could barely walk around the massive crib and king-sized bed to get to the dresser or the closet—but I wanted to feel close to her as we transitioned to a new sleeping arrangement. A new life. A few months later, the guest room became my nursery and I moved in there with my crib.
Maybe she finally realized how hard this move had been for me and did that to make it easier. I didn’t want to sleep in David’s room. I didn’t want to see Mommy in bed with him. But I couldn’t imagine where else they would’ve set up my crib.
Mommy opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again again pursed her lips. She turned to David and nodded at the changing table. “Do you mind?”
“Go for it,” he said. “Gwen and I will brush her toofers.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Climb on up on the changing table and we’ll take about it, sweetness,” Mommy said to me. She put a hand on my back.
I shrugged her hand off. “Where is it?”
She pointed at the table.
I sighed and padded over, climbing up and laying myself down on the vinyl top, setting my bottle down next to me. Mommy loomed over me. She popped the tapes and pulled the front of my soggy diaper down.
“There was a bit of a mixup with the workers today,” she said. “They started to put your crib together and realized they were missing some of the hardware.”
“What do you mean ‘missing’?” I shook my head. “Have you looked in…” I trailed off. I had no idea where the parts might be. There were still some unopened boxes in this room and a few more scattered around the house, and I knew they’d put a bunch of stuff in the garage, but I didn’t know where to start. “I can look.” I started to sit up.
“Ah ah,” she said. “Stay right there, mister. We’ll get the crib sorted out tomorrow.” She wiped me down, lifting the cage so she could get underneath it. “There isn’t any pinching or chafing or anything, right?”
If I lied and told her it was pinching she’d take it off. At least for now. But I knew that would be a temporary fix. She’d realize it was fine and then be angry I’d lied. Or buy a different size or model. And as big a problem as the cage was, all I could think about right now was my crib. “I’m not sure if it’s gonna pinch much. Hasn’t been on long,” I said, not wanting to commit to anything; that was a battle for another day soon. “I’ll put my sleeping bag on the couch. That’ll work for now.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You really think David wants you leaking all over the furniture? I’ve told him what a supersoaker you are.”
“We can build a fort and sleep in it together. There’s plenty of room on the floor downstairs. That way I’m not on the furniture. I can get a couple of sheets and—”
“No, sweetness. You need a good night of sleep. And we need to settle into a normal routine. You’ll be sharing a crib with Gwen tonight.”
“Sharing a…no. No no no. I can’t.” I could barely stand being in the same room as her. Sharing a crib? I’d have to smell her obnoxious, overpowering lotions and perfume. Have to listen to her lecture me on everything I did in that stuck-up, princess tone that she said everything in. I was sure she’d find at least ten things wrong with how I laid in bed in the first five minutes.
Mommy pulled the wet diaper out from beneath me, leaving my damp backside pressed against the cool vinyl. “You’re always telling me how bored you get at night. So now you’ll have some company. You two can talk and tell each other stories. Figure out what you’re going to bake this week. Just try to get some sleep, ‘k? Another big day tomorrow.”
“But she…”
Mommy fluffed out one of my overnight diapers, then slid it beneath me. “She what? You need to give that girl a chance. You two have a lot in common, you know.”
“Yeah, right.”
“You’re both in diapers, sleeping in cribs. How many people in their early thirties can say that? She’s sweet and playful, but can be a bit pouty when she doesn’t get her way. Sounds like someone I know.”
I didn’t even know what to say to that. We were nothing alike, even if some of the circumstances of our lives were.
Mommy leaned closer, her face inches from mine. I could feel her warm breath on my face. See her full, soft breasts hang low in her shirt. “We both know you’re gonna need some kind of distraction, now that you can’t hump your pampers all night long. She’ll keep you company.”
She smiled sweetly, then straightened back up. My mind reeled, unsure what to say as she finished the change. “But, what if I leak on her?” I finally asked, grasping for anything.
“Gross!” Gwen said, walking back into the room. “See Daddy, I told you he was gonna pee on me. You need to find him a different place to sleep. And make him wear Royal Rumps. Not whatever that is.”
David shook his head. “That’s a fine diaper, Jellybean.”
I didn’t want to agree with Gwen about anything and I definitely didn’t want to end up in Royal Rumps. But if she pitched a fit about us sleeping in the same crib, something might actually change. “I dunno,” I said, “I leak a lot.” I pulled the bottle to my mouth and gulped down a bunch of warm milk for emphasis.
“See!” Gwen said. “I’m gonna be in a puddle. Do you want your princess in a puddle of gross boy pee?”
“Plastic pants,” Mommy said. She patted my diaper. “Hop down.”
“They’re still boxed up,” I said, pointing at the stack of boxes by the closet. I slid off the changing table.
“Right. That’s going to be one of your chores tomorrow,” Mommy said. “Gwen will help you find space for all of your stuff.”
Gwen huffed loudly and crossed her arms.
“I have something you can wear for tonight,” Daddy said. He walked over to the closet and returned a moment later with a pair of pink rhumba panties with white hearts on them. Frills traced across the backside and leg holes.
“Oh, uh…”
Daddy smirked. “It’s okay. I’m sure Gwen would be happy for you to borrow them, right Gwen?”
Gwen glared at me. As if this was my fault. As if I had any control in any of this.
“Well isn’t that sweet,” Mommy said. “Say thank you, Rian.”
“You know what, she has another pair,” Daddy said. He went to the closet and returned with a pair that was white with pink hearts. “One for each of you. Now you two will match.”
Gwen stared daggers at me as David led her over to the changing table. This was going to be a long night. Mommy fed my legs through the holes and pulled the rhumba panties into place.
“They’re too tight,” I said, pulling at the elastic around the leg holes.
“They’re supposed to be tight,” Mommy said. “To stop leaks. And they look absolutely adorable on you. We might have to get you a pair of your own.” She guided me over to Gwen’s vanity so I could see myself in the mirror. The panties looked ridiculous. Like someone had sewn a bunch of old lady doilies to satin panties.
She ushered me over to Gwen’s crib and pulled down the wooden side. “Alright, up we go.” She put a hand under my butt and helped me climb up. Not that I needed help, really, but this was our routine.
I stretched out. The mattress was too firm. And it felt narrower than my crib. Far too narrow for two people. The blankets reeked of strawberry or cherry or something sweet and cloying. It was going to be like sleeping in a Bath and Body Works.
“I need my blanket and Mr. Fraggle,” I said. “And my pillows.”
Mommy shook her head. “All of that stuff is still packed away. But it looks like Gwen has a bunch of pillows and blankets. And I’m sure she’d share—”
“I need Mr. Fraggles.”
She sighed. “Alright, sweetness.” She walked over to the boxes and returned a moment later with Mr. Fraggles.
I squeezed him close, his orange fur pressed against my face. He smelled like home, at least.
Then Gwen and David were there. I took a deep breath. David scooped Gwen up in his arms and laid her down on the mattress next to me. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Sleep tight, Jellybean.”
“Love you, Daddy,” she said.
“Love you, too,” he said. He drew the side of the crib up and it clicked into place.
“Night, sweetness,” Mommy said.
I didn’t say anything. I just glared.
She looked sad for a moment, then nodded her head.
I felt a pang of regret twist in my gut. I wanted her to know I loved her. To know that I needed us to be us. But that I was hurt, too.
Before the words could come to me, she was leaving. David shut the light out and left the room, and Gwen and I were left in the darkness together.
I've been having loads of fun writing my current Tier 3 (24/7 Baby) story, titled Just Be Yourself:
"Lucas used to take his wife on dates. Used to dance, drink wine, and wake up tangled in the sheets beside her. Now he sleeps in a nursery and wears the diapers she buys him.
When Eliza plans a weekend away with her dominant lover, Lucas sees a chance to prove he is still a man. Gregory’s sister, Tamsin, will be there, newly free from college and planning a thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail. She represents everything Lucas thinks he has lost: autonomy, adventure, adulthood.
If he can impress her, maybe he can convince Eliza to give him back the independence he craves. But the deeper he pushes against the rules of their relationship, the more he risks losing the intimacy and security he depends on.
To reclaim his manhood, Lucas must decide what he is willing to give up and whether the life he loves is one he can truly choose."
Note: This story features consenting adult characters and is intended for a mature, 18+ audience only.
As much as I loved a warm, wet, squishy diaper, few things beat the feeling of a fresh diaper after a bath. They never stayed fresh and dry for long these days—sometimes not even until Mommy was done combing my hair—but I savored it all the same. She’d towel me off, then lay me down on the towel on the bathroom floor. Sprinkle me with powder, and draw the fresh padding all the way up to my bellybutton. I felt warm and snug and cared for.
Tonight, the rigid plastic of the cage blocked off my most sensitive parts from the bunny-soft cotton of the diaper. I told Mommy as much, but she just told me to sush and moved on to Gwen. And Gwen was a princess—at least in her own mind—so everything took longer. And Mommy allowed it to take longer, for some reason. Gwen kneeled in front of the potty as Mommy sat on it, talking about all of the fun things they’d do together as she braided Gwen’s hair. I sat on the edge of the tub as they talked about girl stuff. Dolls and horses. Makeup and favorite Disney princesses. Then Mommy rubbed coconut lotion into Gwen’s skin. I tried not to stare as she worked it into her breasts. Her tummy. Her thighs. I ached inside the cage. It was so tight I couldn’t even get a little hard.
“Rian?” Mommy asked, eyebrows raised.
I jolted to attention, face flushed. “Are you almost done?” I asked.
“Hhhhmmm?” she said distractedly.
“You’ve been doing that for, like, half an hour.”
“Got a hot date?” she asked.
“I bet she’ll love that little cage,” Gwen said. She giggled.
I resisted the urge to flip her off. The heat on my buttcheeks helped with that.
“Why don’t you go downstairs and help David make dinner?” Mommy said. “I’ll be down soon to help out, too.” She turned back to Gwen, a contented expression on her face.
Had she always wanted a babygirl? Had she just settled for me? I dismissed that thought. She hadn’t wanted any of this. Not at first, anyway. When we were first dating she was vanilla. Or close enough. It’d been a lot of baby steps, funnily enough, to get us where we were. And then that one weekend in Montreal that changed it all for good. But none of it had been her idea. Not initially.
That doesn’t mean she won’t realize she’d prefer a babygirl now, does it? That a cutesy little princess is more adorable than a diaperboy?
“He doesn’t need help,” Gwen said. “Collete does almost all of the cooking. Daddy is…not a great cook. Except for pancakes.”
I had this feeling that if I were here in the room with them I could stop this weird connection or bond or whatever was forming between them. “See?” I said. “He doesn’t need me.”
“Rian?” Mommy said.
“I want to stay.”
Gwen rolled her eyes. “Is he always this difficult?”
“No, I’m not sure what’s gotten into him. He can be a crankypants when he’s tired. Or when his routine is disrupted.” She leaned closer and mock-whispered in Gwen’s ear. “Or when he hasn’t filled his diaper in a few days.”
Gwen snickered.
“Very funny,” I said.
At home, she’d take me into the bedroom for cuddles and story time after a bath. We’d each pick a storybook. Or sometimes, she’d read a chapter of a grownup story to me. And if I was lucky, I’d sleep in her bed. I thought about bringing that up, but I needed to save all of my goodboy points to convince them—to convince David—that I should have my blocks in my room. And I needed her help for that. David didn’t listen to me. He treated me like an actual toddler. And a not very bright one at that.
I waddled out of the bathroom, my thick night-time diaper pushing my legs apart. I crinkled down the steps and into the kitchen. It smelled of garlic and red sauce and cheese. Some sort of Italian dish, I guessed.
David sat at one end of the massive dining room table, a laptop open in front of him and a stack of papers beside it. He typed furiously, stopped and rubbed the stubble on his chin, then typed furiously again.
“Hey,” I said.
He didn’t answer.
I sat down in the chair next to him, diaper crinkling loudly. “So, what is it you do? For work, I mean.”
No answer.
“Are you, an attorney or something?” I don’t know why that profession came to me. I thought Mommy had mentioned something like that at one point. Or had she said accountant?
He sighed and looked up. “No, I’m not an attorney.’
“Accountant?” I asked hesitantly.
“I own a chain of Mexican restaurants.”
“Oh. Cool. I love Mexican food. Especially Chile Rellenos. I’m a librarian. Was, anyway. Before…you know.” I gestured at my puffy diaper.
“Hhhhhmmm,” he said.
“I liked it. Well, I liked the actual job. Managing a highly organized system like that is satisfying. ‘Everything has a place and everything in its place,’ you know?” I chuckled. “But dealing with some of the people was really stressful. Some of our patrons were unreasonable. Most were pleasant enough, but the ones that weren’t were a nightmare. And my boss…yeah.”
He looked back down at his laptop.
“So, uh, how many restaurants do you have?”
“What?”
“You said it was a chain. How many restaurants do you have?”
He sighed and closed the laptop. “Nineteen.”
“Oh, wow. Are you getting any more? Or is that it? I’ve always wondered how someone knows its time to stop expanding.”
“My business partners and I are trying to sell. In fact, a prospective buyer is coming next week to go over the details.”
“Coming here?” I asked. I wasn’t sure I loved that idea. Then again, it was a big house and I could probably just avoid them easily enough.
“Hey, you two,” Mommy said, walking down the stairs. “Care if we join you?” Gwen followed her down the steps in white footie pajamas with a pink belly. They must have been uncomfortably warm, even with the AC going full blast. Apparently the rule about diapers being on display at all times wasn’t consistently enforced. Shocker.
David grinned. “Well look at you, jellybean. Turn around and show daddy the back.”
Gwen did a pirouette, her braids whipping around her, and displayed the bunny rabbit tail in back. She beamed.
“Adorable,” he said. He stood up and patted her puffy bottom. “Let’s get some food in that tummy.”
“Just relax,” Mommy said. “I can make us some dinner now,” Mommy said. “Unless you already started it? Something smells good.”
“Collete left a lasagna in the fridge,” David said. “I warmed it in the oven, along with some garlic bread. There’s a Cobb salad in the fridge. And double-fudge brownies for dessert.”
“Oh,” Mommy said. “Okay. Well, then I’ll dish everything up.”
“Who is Collete?” I asked. I’d heard that name a couple of times, now.
David sat down. “Let the little ones do it, hon. Gwen can show Rian where everything is. He needs to start learning so he can do his chores.”
Gwen pouted. David patted her butt again. “Go on, now.”
I followed her into the kitchen as Mommy was leaving. I didn’t mind helping out, but I wasn’t thrilled to be working with Gwen. “Who is Collete?” I asked her.
“She helps out with the cooking and cleaning. And some other stuff.”
“Oh. And she knows about…” I raised an eyebrow.
Gwen nodded. “She does. She thinks it’s funny, mostly. She’s nice. She helps me with my makeup, sometimes.”
“She thinks it’s funny?” I didn’t like the sound of that.
“The glasses are here.” She pointed. “Plates are up there.”
I opened the cabinet door and pulled out a stack of plates. “Like, what kind of funny?”
“Not those ones,” Gwen said. “Daddy likes these the best.”
I pulled out a different set of plates and brought them to the table. Gwen followed with glasses and silverware. David and Mommy were deep in conversation. “...Wednesday, most likely,” David was saying. “Probably just him this time. But the full group of investors if this meeting goes well. We’ve already met twice, but he wants to…I don’t know, get a sense of who I am?” He shook his head.
“Is this the guy you were talking about?” I asked.
“Sweetie,” Mommy said, “the grownups are talking. Why don’t you get your high chair out.”
“Can’t I just sit at the ta…” David looked my way and I trailed off. “Okay.”
I pulled my high chair over next to the table, pulled the tray off and put it on the table, then sat down. Mommy usually did that. I thought about asking her, but I was saving up for the LEGO question.
“You too, Jellybean,” David said.
“I’ll help,” Mommy said. She stood up and lifted Gwen’s high chair and set it next to mine. Right next to mine.
“Thanks,” Gwen said sweetly.
“Of course,” Mommy said. She removed the tray. “Now why don’t you scoot your buns up there. Or do you need me to lift you up?”
Gwen climbed up and settled. “I got it.”
Mommy slid the tray into place and kissed the top of her head. “Such a good girl.” She turned away to get my tray and Gwen stuck her tongue out at me. It happened so fast I thought I might have imagined it.
Mommy served up food, setting plates down in front of David, then Gwen, then me. As much as I wanted to hate it—if only because it was made by someone who laughed at people like me—I couldn’t. It smelled amazing. Looked amazing. I took a heaping forkful: it tasted even better. Rich and greasy and cheesy.
Mommy settled down next to David. “So, this investor. Does he know about…” she waved her hands around.
David winced. “Kind of. He’s a young guy. Pretty progressive, as far as I can tell. I told him that I had an unconventional relationship. I think he’s filled in the gaps to think that means poly. I’m gonna let him think that’s the extent of it. No diapers or anything. I’m not sure how he’d handle that and it’s none of his business, anyway.”
Mommy nodded. “Do you know what he likes to eat? I make a killer paella. And if he doesn’t like seafood, there’s a bolognese sauce I’ve been wanting to try out.”
David waved his hand. “Colette will prepare something.”
“Are you sure?”
“Mmmhhhm.”
“Alright, then. I can make dessert.”
“I have a plan for that,” David said.
“Oh,” Mommy said. “Of course. Whatever you think will make the evening a success.”
“The important thing is…” David trailed off and scowled at me. Then Gwen and Mommy turned to stare at me, too.
“What?” I asked.
Mommy wore the hint of a smile. “You have some food on your chest. And your chin.” She dabbed at her own chin.
I looked down to see a splatter of sauce on my chest. I wiped a hand across my chin and came away with more sauce and a glob of melted cheese. I popped the cheese in my mouth.
David sighed. “Can you not hold the fork like a shovel?”
I thought I was being good using a fork at all. Half the time at home I’d just dig in with my hands. Though lasagna would’ve been pretty messy, so that probably wouldn’t have been the best idea. “Sure,” I said. I adjusted my grip on the fork. If I could go more than two minutes without annoying him I’d have a better chance of him agreeing to putting my village in the nursery. But that was a big if.
“He usually has better manners than this,” Mommy said. “It’s been a long day. A long month.”
David nodded. “I get it. Gwen too. That fit earlier?” He shook his head. “She usually has more self restraint than that. Even when she’s been provoked.”
Next to me, Gwen held her fork halfway to her mouth, and stopped. The hunk of lasagna plopped onto her plate. She looked crestfallen. Like someone had just run over her puppy.
I snickered. Pretty little princess knocked off her throne.
She whipped around and faced me, eyes blazing. “You think that’s funny, huh?” she whispered. “Guess who is gonna be laughing later tonight?”
“What do you mean?”
She shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m gonna slip my hand in my diaper. Play with myself. Probably for a long time. It feels soooo good when it’s all warm and wet. It makes me all warm and wet. You’ll be stuck in your peenie cage.”
I shrugged. “Whatever.”
“I bet you can’t even remember what a pussy feels like, can you?”
“Yeah, I can,” I said around a mouthful of food.
“Doubt it. How long’s it been since she let that sad little peepee near her? Five years? Ten?” She put her hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “Or are you a virgin? You are, aren’t you?” She giggled.
“No, I’m not. That’s stupid. We…” I stopped and shook my head.
“Looks like you missed your chance, now that you’re in your cucky cage, huh? Gonna be mommy’s sweet lil virgin boy forever.”
I opened my mouth to tell her to fuck off and stopped. That’s what she wanted. She wanted me to lash out. Scream. Call her names. Because if I did, she’d look good in comparison. She’d be back on the pedestal.
“Mommy,” I said.
Beside me, I could practically feel Gwen’s excitement. It wasn’t the fit she’d hoped for, but she thought I was going to complain. Whine. Make a big fuss. Instead, I calmly asked a question. “Can you ask David about…?”
“Ask me what?” David said.
“Oh, nothing we need to worry about tonight,” Mommy said. “You’ve had a stressful day.”
“Please,” I said. “I really want to start adding the coastline tomorrow. ‘specially now that I have the Skull’s Eye Schooner. That’s such an awesome set,” I added. “Thanks again for getting it for me.” Couldn’t hurt to be appreciative, and it really was an awesome set.
“Your blocks or whatever?” David asked. He waved his fork. “Sure, okay. We can set a table up in the laundry room or something. Or under the pergola.”
I cleared my throat. “I was hoping, uh, that we could put the table in my room.”
“There’s no space,” Gwen said. “I already told him.”
“See?” David said. “No room in there. We’ll set stuff up down here. Colette can help you tomorrow.” There was a finality in his tone. My heart sank.
Mommy reached out and squeezed his hand. “This means a lot to him. Can we at least try it? If it doesn’t work out after a few days we’ll move it downstairs. I’ll do it myself.”
David paused. I held my breath.
“Sure,” he said. “Colette will help you set them up.”
Gwen sighed loudly. “Uuuuggghhh.”
“But I need something from you,” David said. “When Cristalli is here next week I want you to be on your best behavior. No sauce splattered all over yourself like a barbarian. No holding your fork like a coal miner. Manners. Adult manners. And you have to prove it to me between now and then.”
It’d been a long time since I’d needed to pretend at being adult. Last week I’d loudly farted in the grocery store without thinking. After all, I did far worse than fart in my diaper, so why hold it in? The two college-aged students in the aisle with me were not impressed. They ran off without their cart while I let the heat of humiliation wash over me. It was a reminder of how much I’d changed.
A month or so before that, we were in the DMV dealing with some paperwork. The clerk asked for our names and I referred to Amara as ‘Mommy,’ a big, dopey smile on my face. That raised some eyebrows, though Mommy just shrugged it off.
I wasn’t sure I could do it. Act like I had a job and played golf with the guys and didn’t piddle my diaper multiple times throughout dinner. But it was worth the attempt right? Not just for my village, but to get off on a better foot with David?
I nodded. “Okay. Sure.”
“And just to be clear, I’d rather use the carrot than the stick,” David said. “But you know I have no problem with the stick if that’s what works best.”
“I know.” I started eating again, paying attention to how I held my fork.
“Oh, and there’s one more thing I’d like you to do,” David said. “Gwen, you need to listen to this, too.”
My longest-running story is The Good News. Seventy-six chapters and counting!
"Hailey volunteers for SHINE, a college organization that believes all males belong in diapers.
While spreading the good word door-to-door, she meets Martin. He's rude, surly, and smells like he hasn't showered in days. She knows he belongs in diapers, but there's no way he will agree willingly. So she enlists some help - and goes to increasingly extreme measures - to put Martin in his place and ensure he will never get out of diapers again."
The world had changed so much in the last few years. Men, boys, really, were regressing everywhere. Some fought it, clinging to their old lives, their old selves, but most eventually gave in. The media, the cartoons, the subtle shifts in society, it all pushed them toward toddlerhood, toward diapers, toward the comforting arms of a mommy. And for those who embraced it, there were places like this: a cozy, sunlit apartment where little boys in onesies and overalls gathered, their stuffed animals in tow, their diapers crinkling with every step.
You’ve been coming to these munches for months now. Most of the boys here are already fully regressed, their lives revolving around their mommies, their diapers, their pacifiers. But Rob? Rob is different. Rob still has a big boy job.
He’s new. Not to regression, oh no, he’s been in diapers for a while, you can tell by the way he moves, the way he fidgets when he’s wet but to this. New to these muches.
Rob is always early to arrive. He sits quietly in the corner, his stuffed rabbit clutched tightly to his chest, his overalls straining just a little over the thick bulge of his diaper. He never asks for help. Never complains. Never even hints at needing a change, no matter how long he’s been squirming. You’ve watched him, seen the way his fingers dig into the fabric of his overalls when he’s wet, the way his cheeks flush when he thinks no one’s looking. He’s so used to handling everything himself that the idea of asking for help doesn’t even cross his mind.
And that, more than anything, breaks your heart.
Today, you decide to change that.
The munch is in full swing, mommies chatting over coffee, little boys playing with blocks or coloring, the air filled with the soft rustle of diapers and the occasional giggle. Rob is perched on the edge of the couch, his rabbit pressed to his chest, his legs squeezed tightly together. He’s been fidgeting for the last half hour, his fingers twisting the ears of his stuffed friend, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts.
You slide onto the couch beside him, close enough that your thigh brushes against his. He tenses, his body going rigid, but he doesn’t pull away.
“You’re so quiet today,” you murmur, your voice warm, inviting. “Everything okay, sweetheart?”
Rob swallows hard, his fingers tightening around his rabbit. “I’m fine, thanks,” he says, but his voice is too high, too tight. A lie. A bad one.
You reach out, your fingers gently brushing the back of his hand. “You don’t look fine,” you say softly. “You’ve been squirming for ages. Are you wet?”
His face burns crimson. He doesn’t answer, but the way his legs press together, the way his breath hitches, tells you everything you need to know.
You don’t push. Not yet. Instead, you lean in just a little closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. “You don’t have to do everything alone, you know.”
Rob’s breath catches. His eyes flicker to yours, wide and uncertain, before darting away again. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to.
You stand, holding out your hand. “Come on,” you say, your voice gentle but firm. “Let’s get you into a fresh diaper.”
Rob hesitates. His fingers twist in the fabric of his rabbit’s ears, his lower lip trembling. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t refuse. He just stares at your outstretched hand like it’s a lifeline he’s afraid to grab.
You wait.
And then, slowly, his hand slips into yours.
The nursery is warm, the walls painted a soft pastel blue, the changing table already stocked with fresh diapers, wipes, and cream. Rob stands in the center of the room, his rabbit clutched to his chest, his eyes darting between you and the changing table. He’s trembling, not from fear, but from something deeper, something he’s never let himself want before.
You guide him backward until the back of his knees hits the edge of the table. “Up you go,” you murmur, lifting him with ease, his slight weight nothing compared to the warmth flooding your chest.
Rob whines as you lay him down, his overalls already unbuttoned, the thick, sagging diaper beneath exposed. It’s heavy, the plastic crinkling with every shift of his hips, the front bulging with the weight of his accidents. His face burns with shame, but you only smile, your fingers tracing the outline of the wetness.
“Such a good boy,” you coo, your voice thick with affection. “You’ve been peeing alot, haven’t you?”
Rob nods, his lower lip trembling. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to.
The diaper tabs come undone with a soft rip, the sound making Rob flinch. You peel the soggy diaper away from his skin, folding it in on itself, the scent of his accident filling the air. Rob whimpers, his hands covering his face, but you only hum, your touch never wavering.
You clean him with slow, deliberate strokes, the wipe gliding over his sensitive skin, wiping away every trace of his accident. Rob shivers under your touch, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps, his fingers twisting in the fabric of his rabbit’s ears.
He whines, his voice breaking.
“Shhh,” you soothe, pressing a kiss to his thigh. “I’ve got you now.”
The fresh diaper is thick, the plastic backing crinkling as you unfold it beneath him. Rob’s breath hitches as you lift his hips, sliding the diaper into place, the soft fabric pressing against his skin. You take your time taping it snugly around his waist, your fingers lingering on the smooth plastic, adjusting the fit until it’s perfect.
Rob is trembling by the time you’re done, his cheeks wet with tears he didn’t even realize he was crying. You wipe them away with your thumb, your touch impossibly gentle.
“There,” you murmur, pressing one final kiss to his forehead. “All better.”
Rob looks up at you, his eyes wide and glistening. “T-thank you,” he whispers, his voice raw with emotion.
You smile, your heart so full it could burst. “Anytime, sweetheart,” you say, helping him sit up, your hands steadying him as he finds his balance. “You never have to do it alone again.”
And as Rob clutches his rabbit to his chest, his diaper crinkling softly with every movement, you know, this is only the beginning. For both of you.
@ameliemommy is a fantastic writer and super cool person. I've liked and reblogged a ton of her stories on here. Do yourself a favor and follow her new blog!
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“But wwwhhhyy can’t I wear a swim diaper?” I asked.
Mommy looked up from her phone and giggled.
“What?”
She sat on a stepstool next to the massive tub as steam filled the bathroom. The frothy peaks of bubbly mountains had just begun to appear over the edge of the tub, so I knew it couldn’t be much longer before I’d need to get in. She’d been scrolling away as the tub noisily filled, and we waited for Gwen.
“I’m serious,” I said.
“Sorry, sweetness. It’s just been so long since I’ve seen you on a toilet. I wasn’t sure you even remembered how they worked. Careful the potty monster doesn’t get you.”
Sitting on a potty did feel weird. Like a memory from another life. Or from someone else’s life. I shifted uncomfortably, and the stupid chastity cage clinked against the toilet seat. After they’d put the cage on me Mommy had ushered me into the bathroom and made me sit on the potty. ‘Don’t want any puddles on the floor, do we?’ she’d said.
I heard footsteps in the hallway. And hushed voices. She’d be here soon. The devil in angel’s clothing. “We have half a pack left over from the camping trip with Martin’s family last summer,” I said. “I’ll go get one.”
“I threw them out. We need to get you a proper, reusable one for the pool here. David’s rules. Besides, how am I supposed to get you all squeaky clean with your boy bits covered up, hhhhmm?”
More voices in the hallway.
“But, I don’t want her to see my…you know…” I looked down at the blue chastity cage.
When I got over my initial shock at first seeing the cage in the bedroom, I was relieved: they’d bought one that was too small. It was maybe two inches long. There was no way I’d fit. I wasn’t huge down there, but it’d be silly to even try to get this thing on me. Like shoving a cucumber into a straw. But Mommy insisted. She untaped my diaper and flopped down the front. She squirted a glob of baby oil in her palm and worked it into my bits. No teasing or playfulness. Just right down to business. Like diaper changes when she had something else she needed to go do. Still, I’d started to get hard. Her hand was so warm and soft. So slick. “None of that,” she’d chided. “I’ll get a bowl of ice water if I need to.” I’d wilted at the thought.
She fed my balls through a plastic ring, remarking that they felt really full. David chuckled and said that was something I’d need to get used to, and that’s when the reality of my situation crashed down on me. No more humping Mr. Fraggle in my crib during naptime. No more stealing Mommy’s vibrator and holding it against my soggy diaper until I exploded. No more special, sticky diaper changes on Sunday mornings, or when Mommy felt I’d been an extra good boy.
I protested. Asked her not to put the cage on. Pleaded to give me one more special diaper change first. Then I begged to just let me touch myself. Just for a few seconds. She didn’t respond to any of it, just kept putting the cage in place. Then there was a *click* and it was on. Tight, but not painful. She slipped the silver key onto a simple chain and then put it over her head. The key to my freedom—to my manhood—hung between her beautiful breasts. She handed a second key to David, who put it in his pocket.
Gwen walked into the bathroom, jolting me back into the present. She had stripped down to just a purple-and-white Perfect Princess diaper and a light pink undershirt. I could see the outline of her nipples through the fabric.
“Hey, Gwen,” Mommy said cheerfully. She turned back to me. “You don’t need to be embarrassed about your peepee’s new home. It’s going to be tucked away in your diapie anyway, remember?”
Gwen looked down at me and frowned. “Is that a…?”
Mommy stood up. “We were just talking about it before you came in. That’s just something to help keep Rian from worrying about big boy stuff so he can stay my sweet lil’ baby forever.”
I seethed at the description. As if this was for my own good.
“It’s not very big, is it?”
Mommy chuckled. “Let’s get you two into the bath.” She dipped her fingers in. “Temp is just right. Rian, why don’t you get in while I help Gwen with her diaper.”
“I can do it myself,” Gwen said.
Mommy put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow.
“Okay,” Gwen said. “Fine.”
“That’s a good girl,” Mommy said.
Finally, someone stood up to the brat. Even if just a little. I stepped around them and over to the edge of the tub. I climbed in and settled down into the warm water, trying not to cry out as my butt came into contact with it.
“Isn’t that nice? So much bigger than our tub at home, you’ll have lots of room for your ships.”
“There’s no shelf for my toys,” I said.
Mommy sighed and shook her head. “Okay, baby.”
“What?” I asked.
“Just because something is different doesn’t mean it’s bad. You know, at one point, you being my baby boy was a big change. A huge change. That wasn’t bad, was it?”
“This bubble bath is weird, too.” It smelled like grape or something and turned the water purple. “Next time I want to use our old kind.”
Mommy sighed and pulled Gwen’s shirt over her head, exposing her breasts. Then came the diaper. Four quick pops and the wet diaper plopped onto the tile. She was fully shaved down there. I felt myself swell against the hard cage. It didn’t hurt, but it was uncomfortable. Worse, I knew I my mind would replay this memory later when I was alone, but I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it with the stupid cage locked on.
Princess scowled at me. “I don’t want to get in.”
“Why not?” Mommy asked. “Do you need some toys? I’m sure Rian will share his boats.”
“Ships, not boats. And I don’t want to share them.”
“He’s looking at me weird,” Gwen said. “Like…dirty.”
Mommy laughed. “Well, believe me, he can definitely be a very dirty boy. Stinky, too. But not dirty like you’re talking about. Not anymore.”
“Really?” Gwen asked. “So that thing…?” She pointed at the place between my legs. The cage was hidden by bubbles but there was no mystery as to what she pointed at.
“Keeps him small and soft and adorable. Nothing you need to worry about.”
Gwen snickered and stepped down in the tub. She plopped down next to me. Far closer than she needed to. Her knee rubbed against mine.
I scooted away. She moved closer.
“She’s sitting too close to me,” I said to Mommy.
“I bet she just wants to be friends. Right Gwen?”
Gwen nodded, but the smirk was still there. How did they not see how manipulative she was? Was it because she was an attractive girl? They couldn’t look beyond that fake smile and the ribbons in her hair and all that nonsense?
“She should wear one, too,” I said to Mommy. I scooted as far away from Gwen as I could. “A cage.”
Mommy looked at Gwen and raised her eyebrows. “See? Such a sweet lil’ boy he doesn’t even know the difference between boy parts and girl parts.” Gwen snickered.
“You know what I mean,” I said. “One for girls. They must make ‘em.”
Mommy ignored me. She was looking all around the room. “Sorry, sweetness. Looks like your ships didn’t get unpacked yet. They must have been put in the wrong room. Maybe the downstairs bathroom.”
“Go look for them,” I said. “I always play with my ships in the tub.”
Mommy shook her head. “Gwen has a basket of toys right here. I’m sure she’ll share, right, Gwen?”
Gwen smiled sweetly. She leaned over the tub, her left breast, slick with bubbles, slid against my arm. A shiver ran up my back. Yeah, that was definitely something I’d replay later in my crib.
No. No, you won’t, I thought. You’ll toss and turn, your wet diaper snug against you as your mind plays a highlights reel of soapy breasts and soft, pink pussies. How was I going to survive like this? I might literally, actually explode.
Gwen held out a toy. A pink, plastic boat with a rainbow across the sail.
I ignored her. “This cage is too small,” I said. “It’s hurting me.”
Mommy arched an eyebrow.
“Can we take it off?”
“You really want to talk about this now?” she asked.
“We don’t want to have to go to the hospital and explain why my parts are all messed up,” I said. “That’d be so embarrassing for everyone. Worse than those stories you hear about people putting carrots and wine bottles and stuff up their butts. We can get a bigger one later. One that fits.”
Gwen shrugged and rested the ship on my knee. “I can’t wear a cage, anyway,” she said in a sing-songy tone. “Daddy and I still have special time. I don’t know what I’d do without that.”
I felt a stab of anger. “Oh yeah? You don’t think anything is going to change now that—” I struggled to get the words out “—we’re here and he’s sleeping with Mommy every night?”
Her eyes went wide for half a second. That certainly touched a nerve. Then it passed. She shrugged and acted as if she didn’t care.
“That wasn’t very nice,” Mommy said. “I’m sure nothing will ever come between Gwen and her Daddy. As for you, that cage is a perfect fit for a perfect little peepee.”
“But, what if it gets infected or something? It’s gonna get so dirty in there. Lots of germs and…”
Mommy chuckled and looked at the girl. “Boys and their bits. Would you believe that just last week I had to remind him to wash his hands three times after he played in the mud with Martin? Now all of a sudden he’s mister hygiene.”
“So gross,” Gwen said. “He’s probably just wondering when you’re going to take it off and wipe him so he can make stickies.”
“Bingo,” Mommy said. She turned to me. “I’ll keep you clean. Don’t you worry about that. And for the question you really wanted to ask, we have a release schedule for you.”
“Release schedule?” I asked. That sounded so formal. So clinical.
“Mmmmhhhhmmm.”
“So, like…sex?”
Mommy laughed. A big, hearty laugh. Gwen joined her. I wanted to sink down under the bubbles. “Oh, sweetie. No. Didn’t you hear what David said? Those parts are just for soaking your diapies from here on out. Your stickies belong in your diapers and that’s just where they will be going.”
“But you’ll take my cage off and give me a special change, or…?”
“I didn’t say that now, did I?” Mommy said. She picked up a washcloth and squirted a glob of baby shampoo into it. “That’s not for you to worry about. Just like you don’t have to worry about diaper changes, right? David and I talked this all over.”
“But, but…what if I need to cum before the scheduled time?”
“Cum?” Mommy asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Make stickies,” I said through gritted teeth. “What if I can’t wait for my next…release?”
She leaned over the tub and began scrubbing Gwen down. “Then you’ll make stickies in your sleep. While you’re having dreams about how much you love your diapies, I’m sure.”
I slumped down against the back of the tub. Why were they doing this? And why did he get to determine when I could cum? How I could cum? The earlier reference to Jake came to mind again. Was David just going to take charge of my life and Mommy’s? Was she going to be a mommy in name only, just doing whatever he said?
“You’re going to bring my village into my nursery, right?” I asked.
Mommy stopped scrubbing for half a second, then resumed. “It’s been a long day, sweetness. Soon it’ll be time for din-din and then night-night.”
“But, I need it in there. I need to start working on my pirate stuff.”
“There’s no space,” Gwen said. “I already told you that.”
“Mommy,” I said.
She sighed. “If you really can’t wait until tomorrow, we can discuss it at dinner, okay?”
Find a TON of stories on Ream, with new chapters added every week.
Here’s chapter eighteen of the ongoing, collaborative story written by my friend, BoysRBabies, and me.
All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older. Readers should also be 18+ only!
“Oh my gosh! Is that Tyger?” the girl in the yellow dress asked. “I almost didn’t recognize you without a load in your pants.”
The girl in the red dress covered her mouth, stifling her snicker.
No way. Not this again.
Tyler backed up towards the door. His back connected with a set of hands.
“Ah ah,” Miss Rosie said. “These lovely young ladies took time away from their studies to help you. Be nice.” She gently nudged him forward with one hand and swatted the seat of his diaper with the other.
Tyler stumbled forward into the room, nearly tripping.
The door clicked closed behind him. A second click locked it.
“Welcome,” Miss Calli said.
A handful of guys sat cross-legged on the floor. One, Jeffy or Jerry or something like that, lay on his stomach, legs kicking playfully in the air. His puffy diaper crinkled with every kick. He turned around and waved.
“Why don’t you have a seat, Tyler?” Miss Calli said. She sat on the edge of the desk at the front of the room, one slender leg crossed over the other, foot bouncing playfully. Behind her stood the girls. There were the three Tyler remembered from last time: the slim, busty girl in blue. Ella. She’d treated him like a puppy dog. Humiliating, but the least offensive of the bunch, by far.
Then there was the chick in the daffodil-yellow dress. Julie, maybe? Hot as hell, but she’d not bothered concealing her disgust at what he’d been coerced into doing. She’d looked at him like something to be scraped off the bottom of her shoe.
And the girl in the red dress. A fitting color for a villain. Her name was crystal clear in his memory: Amy. She’d thought the whole thing was a riot, tears streaming down her face as he’d fouled himself in front of them.
But they weren’t the only ones. There were eight college-aged girls in total, each in a different-colored dress.
Tyler put his back to the door and crossed his arms.
Miss Calli turned around. “See what a big tough guy Ty-ty is, ladies? Such a big, stwong man.”
The girls all laughed.
Tyler scowled, uncrossing his arms and letting them dangle at his side for a moment before crossing them again.
Miss Calli folded her hands in her lap. “Well, boys, can someone tell me why we’re all here today?”
Jerry-Jeffy swung his hand around in the air. “Me! Me! Miss Calli! Here!”
“Yes, Jeffy?”
“I’m here cuz I woked up in my crib and then I got changed and then I walked and then I was here.”
Tyler rolled his eyes.
Got a genius on our hands.
One of the girls in the back snickered. Miss Calli smiled. “Thank you, Jeffy. That’s not exactly what I want to focus on today. Every boy here has a PeePal Pal. Isn’t that exciting?”
Jeffy clapped his hands.
“Can you tell me about your PeePee Pal?” Miss Calli asked. “What kind of creature is your Pal, Jeffy?”
Jeffy rolled over onto his back and started to tug at his diaper.
“No no,” Miss Calli chided. “Remember, boys should never, ever open their diapers. If you’ve forgotten your Pal, why don’t you come ask one of these lovely ladies to help you?”
Jeffy leapt up and practically sprinted to the front of the room. He planted his hands on his hips, legs spread wide, his gaze darting from one girl to the next.
A tall woman with a braid draped over the shoulder of her forest-green dress stepped forward. She hooked a finger in the top of Jeffy’s diaper and peered inside. She giggled. Like a dam breaking, all of the other girls stepped forward, crowding around.
Jeffy wore a big grin on his face.
Unbelievable.
“Ladies?” Miss Calli asked.
“It’s a cuddly koala,” the girl in the green dress said.
“A newborn koala, based on the size of it,” Amy added.
They all laughed.
Miss Calli chuckled along with them. She turned back to the boys. “And do you all have koala PeePee Pals?”
The boys shook their heads.
“Mine’s a ja-waff,” one said.
“I have a goose,” another said. He blushed. “Cuz Miss Ledi says I’m a silly little goose.”
“That’s right,” Miss Calli said. “You all have a different pal. Special, each and every one. Just. Like. You.” She turned and booped Jeffy on the nose.
He giggled.
“But there’s one thing you all have in common. Do you know what that is? I’ll give you a hint. It has to do with your life before you got here. Before you met your PeePee Pal. It’s why you got your special PeePee Pal in the first place.”
No one said anything. Not even motormouth Jeffy.
“Were you always nice to ladies before you came here?” Miss Calli asked. “Hmmm?”
“Yes!” Jeffy said.
Miss Calli winced. “Oh, sweetie. I’m just afraid that’s simply not true. Your aunty told me about that girl at your work you kept asking out. And about that icky gym sock she found under your bed.”
A girl in teal opened her mouth and made a gagging sound. Several of the others snickered.
Jeffy’s brow furrowed, and he looked around the room, puzzled.
Miss Calli turned suddenly toward Tyler. “What about you, Ty-Ty? Were you always nice to ladies? Did you show them the respect they deserve?”
Tyler met her stare and kept his mouth shut.
“Bet he had a crusty sock or two,” one of the girls said.
Tyler whipped around. “Better believe if I did, it’d have a picture of your mom on it.”
Gasps.
Tyler didn’t even bother suppressing his smile.
“See, boys? See how Ty-Ty acts out?” Miss Calli jabbed a finger at him. “You disrespected them. You disappointed them.”
“BS,” Tyler snapped. “I never disappointed any woman.”
All eyes in the room turned to him. One of the dolts on the floor gasped.
Miss Calli’s smug smile cooled. She swept her gaze over all of the boys. “Lucky for you, you’re going to get a chance to prove it. All of you. Go ahead and show one of these lovely ladies how sweet, and sensitive, and cuddly you can be. Show them how your pal will make sure you never disappoint them again.”
The only sound was the faint rustling of diapers as the boys shifted and wiggled, looking at each other. At Miss Calli.
“Go on now,” Miss Calli said. “Don’t be shy, boys. Pretend you’re asking one of these ladies out on a date.”
Two boys jumped up, big, goofy grins on their faces.
“But,” Miss Calli said. “An appropriate date. The kind of date a soft, sweet diaperboy goes on. Not an icky, stressful, grown-up date. Maybe the zoo? Or to watch the newest Disney movie?”
Diaperboys stood up and shuffled to the front of the room.
Tyler watched as they stared at their feet and twisted their hands around. He listened as they stammered their way through silly questions.
“Can I touch your hair?”
“That’s a pretty dress. I wanna pretty dress.”
“Wan-ta meet ma teddy? His’s name’s Hanky.”
Jeffy was talking to the girl in the blue dress. Ella. Even though she was only a couple of inches taller than he, she’d bent over, hands on her thighs, nodding along to everything he said. She smiled. Beamed, really. Then took him by the hand to the Cozy Corner. They settled onto the floor and pulled out a box of blocks.
Good for you, Jeffy. Hope you enjoy your hot ‘date.’
One by one, they paired off, making their way to the Cozy Corner.
Then it was just Tyler, back against the wall, and the girl in the red dress. Amy. She sneered at him. “Never disappointed a woman because you never approached one, eh? Not sure that counts.”
Heat spiked in his chest. His hands curled into fists. He crossed the room in three long strides. “This little charade? This game? It’s all rigged. Give me an hour outside of here, and I’ll have you screaming my name.”
A smirk spread across the pretty girl’s face. “Aww, sounds like someone’s pal is making hims a bit fwustwated. Why don’t we cuddle up on the bean bag and you can tell me all about your big feewings?”
“I don’t want to cuddle,” Tyler snapped.
“That’s too bad,” she said. She leaned close. Close enough her perfume cut through the smell of baby powder and pee. Close enough her warm breath prickled his skin. Close enough he found himself leaning in, craving the feeling of her pressed against him. “Because cuddles is all any woman is ever going to want from you.”
“Bullshit,” he hissed.
“Talking about your icky diaper again?” she asked. “Not sure you can blame that stink on a bull. Why don’t you try again? Show me this world-class charm you insist you have, Ty-Ty.” She looked over at the Cozy Corner. “Because right now, it seems like you’re the only one here who can’t get the girl.”
“Like I said, the game is rigged. You wanna see what I’m like? See what it’s like to be with me? Let me out of here. Or ask one of the many, many women I’ve bedded how unforgettable it was.”
“Like Lindsey Condant?” Amy asked. “Or Melissa, that intern you hired? Or how about we go back to college? Lots of drunk, sloppy ‘satisfying women’ in that period.” She turned to Miss Calli. “Who was that one woman from senior year? She had the story about him squirting on her shirt before she could even get it off? Heather, was it?”
“Hannah,” Miss Calli responded.
Tyler’s mouth went dry. “I…” he cleared his throat. “Whatever. You got some names. Big deal.”
A grin spread across Amy’s face. The mirth didn’t reach her eyes. “We have more than names, Ty-Ty. A lot more.” She shrugged, tone suddenly casual. “But we don’t have to worry about any of that. Ask me nicely to take you over to the Cozy Corner, and we can forget all about disappointing old Tyler and focus on sweet, soft Ty-Ty.”
“You’ve got nothing,” he spat. He barely stifled the ‘bitch’ he desperately wanted to tack on to the end of the sentence.
Amy sighed. “Miss Calli?”
“One step ahead of you,” Miss Calli said.
It was then that Tyler noticed a projection screen had been lowered over the whiteboard. The white background went black for a second, and then a familiar face appeared. A few years older than he’d last seen her, but instantly recognizable. Melissa, the business admin major they’d hired as an intern in the early days of the firm.
A female voice off-screen: “So tell me about your sexual experiences with Tyler.”
Melissa snorted. “Not much to tell. He was charming. At first. I think it was the idea of this powerful, older man that drew me in. I probably should’ve said no when he asked me to dinner, but…” She shrugged.
“You said there’s not much to tell--things didn’t go on long?” the woman off-camera asked.
Melissa sighed. “No. It dragged on for months. By the end, I just felt…bad for him. He seemed so clueless. So…un-self-aware, if that makes sense? He’d make it all of five minutes, then brag about it like he was god’s gift to women. I started carrying a vibrator in my purse so I could take care of myself after he left.”
Miss Calli froze the video and turned to Tyler, eyebrows raised.
“Whatever,” he croaked. “You probably paid her.”
Amy squeezed his arm. “Oh, sweetie. You know that’s not true. You saw it in her eyes. Besides, they couldn’t pay all of those women.”
Tyler shook his head slowly. “Bull. Shit.”
Miss Calli sighed. “A potty mouth and a slow learner.” She held up the remote, and the video skipped to a different face. Hannah Martell. Senior year of college. He’d shot all over her jeans in the backseat of his Beamer. But it’d been her fault for teasing him so long. If she hadn’t dragged her feet, that wouldn’t have happened.
“Can he hear me?” Hannah said to the camera. “And you said he’s wearing diapers now? Did I hear that right?”
A female voice said something off-stage. Something he couldn’t make out.
She laughed. “No kidding! What did you call it? A PeePee Pal? Hilarious. And how fitting. Let me tell you about--”
“Stop!” Tyler shouted. “Shut it off.”
The video paused.
“Is there something you’d like to say, Ty-Ty?” Miss Calli asked.
“So what? This proves nothing. No one has anything good to say about exes. Old flings.”
Amy’s smile grew.
Tyler felt the jaws of the trap--the trap he’d set for himself--close around him.
“Oh, but it’s not just exes,” Amy said. “Monica, your wife? She sent you here, Tyler. She insisted on the diapers. The PeePee Pal. All of it. She sent a video along, too, if you want to see it…”
Tyler’s shoulders slumped. He suddenly felt tired. So, so tired.
She patted his cheek and made a pouty face. “Aww, sweetie. Don’t be sad. You don’t ever have to worry about trying to impress a woman ever again. Not with that silly little thing between your legs, at least. Isn’t that wonderful? No more disappointment. Just snuggles and story times and soft diapers forever and ever and ever.”
The easiest way to read the preceding chapters is on Ream. The entire story so far is available for free to followers.
You'll find tons of other hot diaper stories on Ream, too. Like Potty Retraining:
Erin is fed up with her husband's diaper addiction. His soggy pants keep coming between them in the bedroom. But when she challenges him to potty retraining, neither of them have any idea the wet and messy adventures they are in for.
Erin enlists her friend Kayla to help tease and torment poor, diaper-dependent Joshua into giving up and admitting he'll never escape his diapers. But he's not giving in that easily. With his pride and his love life on the line, he'll suffer humiliations public and private in his quest to prove that he can be a big boy.
