Enter at your own risk

Her phone chimed with a text from her date, a simple "Can't wait to see you tonight!" She took a deep breath and typed back a cheerful response, trying to push her true feelings aside. Sam was one of those daddy types, the dozens of which she had sifted through in her matches. He was cute, that couldn't be denied, but he had a baby face, incongruous with the daddy role he wanted to play. That was why she had chosen him. She would show him, slowly but surely, that he was the one destined for diapers.

Emily took a hot shower, the steam wrapping around her like a warm embrace, and she let her mind drift to the sweet, secret fantasies she had been harboring for so long. Her heart raced at the thought of the transformation she had planned for Sam. It was a long, uncertain game she was about to play, but she had convinced herself she was up to it.

With a towel wrapped around her body, she stepped into her bedroom and surveyed the collection of diapers and baby clothes that had once been for Brynn. She had kept them, a silent reminder of the love she had lost and the life she had hoped to build. Now, they would serve a different purpose. A twist of nerves bubbled in her stomach she laid out a fresh diaper on the bed. It was time to start anew.

Emily had always been the one in charge, the caregiver. But tonight, she would be the one in need. She diapered herself with practiced ease, feeling the soft fabric embrace her body. It was strange, being on the receiving end of something she had done so often for Brynn. Her heart fluttered as she sprinkled on way too much baby powder, rubbing the excess into her tummy and chest. It was one of her favorite things to do with Brynn, and she loved the way her baby smelled sweet all day.

Selecting an outfit for the evening was a deliberate dance. She chose a demure green dress with a lace top that stopped just above her knees, cinched at the waist to show off her figure. The material clung to her curves, but didn't betray her diapered hips and bottom. She could flash those when the time was right.

Emily applied a light face of makeup. She brushed her hair until it shone, letting it cascade over her shoulders in soft waves. In place of perfume, the smell of baby powder lingered on her skin, as much for her as for Sam. Completing the outfit, she slipped into a pair of brown sandals and walked out the door, car keys in hand.

The rain had stopped, and the air was fresh and clean, carrying the scent of wet earth. The city lights reflected off the slick sidewalks, painting the world in a warm glow. It was a beautiful night. She decided to make the best of it.

They had agreed to meet at a small mom & pop Italian place. Sam was already waiting, a modest bouquet of wildflowers in hand. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and Emily felt a pang of guilt. She knew what she was about to do was manipulative, but she couldn’t stop now.

"Sam?" she asked. He didn't quite look like his pictures, his face shaped and shaded by a few days' growth of facial hair.

He nodded eagerly, taking a step closer and offering the bouquet. "Hi Emily, these are for you," he said with a hopeful smile.

"They're beautiful," she replied, eagerly taking the flowers and holding them to her nose. The scent was faint but delightful. She leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin. "Thank you, they smell delightful," she whispered.

"I can't help but notice you're wearing a lovely scent yourself," Sam said, his eyes scanning her.

"Just a little something," she replied.

They entered the restaurant, and the warmth of the interior was a welcome change from the cool evening. The hostess led them to a cozy booth, the red-checkered tablecloth reminiscent of childhood picnics. Whatever misery she had been feeling after getting home from work was quickly whisked away by the aroma of garlic and tomato sauce in the air, mingling with the comforting scent of fresh-baked bread.

Throughout dinner, she played the shy, slightly clumsy role to perfection. She dropped her napkin, spilled a little wine, giving Sam the chance to test the waters with coded comments like, "Oops, maybe you're not old enough for wine after all..."

Emily's heart raced every time he took the bait, her cheeks flushing with a blend of feigned embarrassment and genuine excitement. She giggled and squirmed in her seat, the plastic of the diaper crinkling softly with every movement. It was a sound that sent a thrill through her, a sound she hadn’t heard in a very long time, even if it was coming from under her dress.

As dinner progressed, Sam’s behavior grew increasingly more patronizing. He cut her steak into small, bite-sized pieces, wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin, and even offered her sips of his water when she had a cough. It all only served to remind her of Brynn's sweet submission, and how much she missed it. The more Sam tried to take on the role of her caretaker, the more uncomfortable she became. But she pushed through the ick, giggled and cooed as Sam spoke to her in a condescending tone, calling her "sweetie" and "my little one." She pretended to love every moment of it, while inwardly cringing at his attempts to be dominant. The whole time, she kept her own thoughts in check, reminding herself of her end goal: when little Sammie would be her very own diapered toddler.

As he signed the check and folded the holder closed, Sam finally asked, "Is my little Emily protected tonight?" He flashed a knowing smile, eyeing her suspiciously.

Emily felt the dry heave in her throat but fought it off with a giggle, blushing harder than the wine stain on her napkin. "What do you mean?"

Sam leaned in, his voice dropping to a patronizing whisper. "I know we talked about it a little bit. Did you put on a special surprise for me?" His eyes twinkled with excitement, mistaking her nervousness for shyness.

Emily took a deep breath and forced a coy smile. "Maybe I did," she murmured, batting her eyelashes.

Sam's reached over and patted her thigh, his hand lingering a bit too long. "Good girl," he said, his voice thick with a patronizing affection. She felt a twinge of regret for choosing him, but she pushed it aside. "I hope you haven't been holding it," he added, a hint of a challenge in his voice. "Little ones like you can get hurt if they hold it too long."

Emily's stomach tightened, but she kept her smile plastered on, nodding eagerly. She had been dreading this moment. So much of her behavior tonight had been noncommittal, could be hand-waved away. She could leave right now with her dignity intact. A wet diaper, on the other hand, that was evidence.

Of course she had been holding it. It was all her body knew how to do, after all. Her body simply did not know to pee in her pants. But if she was going to see this through, it was something she'd have to do, and soon...

Sam insisted she take his hand as they left the restaurant. The diaper felt thick between her legs as they strolled through the city, the night air cool against her skin. She had to admit, it was a thrilling kind of weirdness to be doing all this in public, even if it was just between the two of them.

Emily giggled and leaned into Sam, playing up her little act. Letting her hand go, she let him lead her, his arm around her waist, his hand occasionally dropping below her waist and patting her bottom. Under the cover of the evening dusk she felt his fingers dive beneath the hem of her dress and linger on the plastic of the diaper. She had to bite her tongue to keep from scolding him. She knew this was what he liked, and when she was in his shoes she'd have a handful of his diapered bottom at all times.

"Someone is still dry," Sam whispered in her ear as they came to a stop in front of a park bench. He sounded disappointed.

Emily felt her face go hot with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. "I'm sorry," she murmured, trying to keep the edge out of her voice. "It's kind of hard to go. I'll try really hard, okay?"

Sam's smile grew more smug, his hand giving her diapered bottom a firm pat. "That's my good girl," he said, before gesturing to a nearby bench. "Why don't we stop here until you go? It'll be our little secret."

Emily motioned to sit down, but he stopped her, with a wag of his finger. "Ah, ah," he chastised, sitting down himself before patting his lap. "You sit here, little one."

Her stomach dropped as she obeyed, her heart racing at the thought of what was to come. She sat gingerly on his lap, felt the heat of his thighs against her own, and she could feel his excitement growing as he held her closer.

Sam leaned in, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, his breath hot against her neck. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the task at hand. This was just a means to an end, she told herself, as his hand slid over her diaper again, pressing down slightly.

Peeing in her diaper was a strange feeling, one she hadn’t expected to be so difficult. It had seemed so natural for Brynn, who could barely be trusted out of diapers. But for Emily, it was an act of rebellion against her own dignity, a step into the uncharted waters of her own fetish. She took a deep breath, pushed, failed, pushed, breathed out, and finally willed herself to let go, feeling the warmth spread through the padding beneath her. Sam’s hand remained firmly on her diaper, his voice cooing sweet nothings that made her cringe. But that feeling was quickly replaced by another, this one much stronger, as she felt his thumb firmly tracing circles into the warm, wet padding around her crotch.

Emily’s cheeks burned with a mix of shame and arousal as she sat on his lap, wetting her diaper, her nipples stiffening in spite of herself, a quiet moan betraying her. She had never felt so exposed. She was playing a dangerous game, and suddenly she wasn’t sure if she was going to win. Sam’s hand remained on her diaper, his thumb rubbing in slow, lazy circles. She knew he was enjoying her submission, the way she squirmed and whimpered. It was what he wanted, what he had been waiting for all night, but as much as Emily thought she wanted to pull away, it felt like maybe she wanted this too.

As they sat on the bench, Sam’s hand grew more insistent, his voice low and soothing as he whispered baby talk into her ear. The world around them faded away, and all that was left was the sound of her own breathing, the crinkle of the diaper beneath her, and the feel of his hand on her. She could feel herself getting wetter, her body betraying her mind. She had always been in charge, the caretaker. How pathetic was she now, stifling a moan in her pissed pampers?

Sam’s other hand reached up and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Look at you, all wet for Daddy,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against her cheek. Her skin crawled, but she forced a giggle, leaned into his embrace, her pulse racing. She had to admit, the feeling of his hand on her diaper was doing things to her she hadn’t anticipated. Her body was responding in ways that both disgusted and excited her, and as she found her hips bucking in rhythm to Sam's ministrations, she feared she might not be as in control as she thought.

As if on cue, he stopped. "I think that's enough for now," Sam announced, shifting her off his lap.

Emily felt her body protest as the thumb circles stopped. She didn't dare look up at Sam, afraid her face would give away the conflicting emotions swirling inside her. Instead, she nodded meekly, playing her part to perfection. She stood, her legs wobbly, her cheeks smoldering, and lowered her head. "Thank you," she murmured.

"Um," he began, his voice dropping out of the put-on 'daddy' voice he'd adopted during their date, "Would you like to continue this back at my place?"

Emily's heart hammered in her chest. Yes. So badly. "Actually, I think I'll just go home," she said, her voice small. "I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed." It wasn't a lie.

Sam's smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "A-am I doing okay?" he asked.

Emily forced a smile, her heart racing. "You're doing great, Sam. It's just..." she took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "It's a lot, you know?" Another not-lie.

Sam's expression softened, his eyes searching hers for any sign of distress. "You're okay?"

Emily nodded. "Yeah, promise."

Sam looked at her with a mix of disappointment and concern. "Okay, Em," he said gently. "I'll walk you back to your car."

Emily nodded gratefully, taking his offered arm. The sound of the distant traffic and the rustle of leaves were a stark contrast to the intimate bubble they had been in. Her heart felt heavy, a confusing mix of relief and regret. She had played her role too well, hadn't counted on her own body betraying her. The warmth of his arm around her felt safe, but she knew she needed to break away before she lost herself within his care.

When they reached her car, she leaned into him. "Thank you for understanding," she whispered.

Sam nodded, kissing her forehead. "I just want you to be happy, Em."

Emily felt a pang of guilt, looked up into his eyes. He was cute. Sweet. He'd make the perfect baby one day. "Thank you," she murmured, sliding into her car. "I'll text you tomorrow?"

Sam nodded, his eyes a little sad. "Okay, little one. Drive safe."

Emily managed a small smile before she started the engine. She pulled away, watching him in the rearview mirror as he waved goodbye. She felt a strange sense of relief mixed with a hint of disappointment. She had enjoyed the evening more than she thought she might. In a way, though, it just reminded her of Brynn. Is this how Brynn felt in a wet diaper? Did she look up at Emily and see those hungry eyes she saw in Sam? How did Emily's hands feel, caressing her princess parts in slow circles through her diapers?

Slinking out of her dress and crawling into bed in just her wet diaper, Emily could barely keep her hands to herself. Her heart raced as she felt the sticky warmth between her legs, the outer plastic shell of her diaper crinkling with every move she made. Closing her eyes, she imagined herself plunging fingers into Brynn's warmth, the way she used to. But it was Sam's voice she heard whispering sweet nothings, his thumb making those circles she hadn't been able to resist.

The next morning, Emily woke up to the sun peeking through her curtains. She lay in bed, the cool dampness of her diaper clinging to her. "Blegh," she muttered as she shimmied it off her hips and kicked it to the floor.

After a quick clean-up, she made herself breakfast, her mind racing with thoughts of Sam and her plan. Despite the awkwardness of the evening, she couldn't deny the excitement that had built up in her. The thrill of the chase was intoxicating. One day his cute hiney would be in diapers. And she would squeeze it.

Emily decided to start small, sending him a text message. "Thank you for a wonderful night," she typed with a smile, adding a heart emoji for good measure.

Sam's response was quick. "You're welcome, my little angel. Did you sleep well?"

Barf. Emily bit her lip, contemplating her next move. "I did... It was the first night I've ever spent in diapers." Another truth.

Sam's response was immediate, his excitement palpable through the screen. "Really? Did you like it?"

Emily took a sip of her coffee, the sweetness of the cream and sugar doing little to soothe the bitter taste in her mouth. "It was... interesting," she replied, playing it safe.

"Would you like to try it again tonight?" Sam asked, his excitement clear. "We can watch a movie, snuggle up, and I'll keep you nice and dry."

Emily felt a flicker of doubt, but she pushed it aside. "Okay," she texted back with a smile. "You come to my place? I've got... supplies." She added a winky emoji and hated it immediately.

Sam's response was a series of happy emojis. "Can't wait to see what you've got in store for us!"

Emily felt a twinge of sadistic glee. If only he knew.

---

After a shower, Emily appraised the different diapers and baby outfits she had spread across her bed. She frowned, picturing herself wearing each outfit. They had been so perfect for Brynn. She was so adorable and innocent. But on Emily, these stupid baby outfits were party store costumes.

Her phone buzzed with a notification, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was Sam, eagerly confirming their plans. She had to admit, his excitement was infectious.

"See you at 7," she typed back, her pulse quickening before returning her attention to the outfits before her. Pinching the fabric of a fuzzy onesie between her fingers, she wondered for a moment if she should answer the door all dressed up, or if she should start 'big' and let the night progress from there. What was more babyish? Enthusiastically diapering yourself for a guy, or allowing him to diaper and regress you?

"Pick your poison," she muttered to herself, unfolding a fresh diaper. It was better to keep as much control as she could. She was wearing a diaper on her terms. Right?

Emily settled on a pair of white ribbed cotton pajamas with a subtle teddy bear pattern. They weren't necessary babyish, but they would be comfortable for movie night. And she knew Sam would like them anyway, because these were the same pajamas she loved to dress Brynn in. The sheer pajama bottoms hugged and accentuated the bulky diaper underneath. Nothing was left nothing to the imagination. Brynn was always so embarrassed and squirmy when Emily pointed out the diaper's decorations through the fabric. She was especially embarrassed when Emily traced the blue wetness indicator. Emily caught herself daydreaming before finally getting dressed.

Looking in the mirror, she grimaced. "I look ridiculous."

Saved, or maybe screwed by the ringing doorbell, she took one last glance in the mirror, adjusted her pajama bottoms, and headed to the door.

Sam's eyes widened when she answered the door, the excitement clear on his face. "Wow, Em," he said, stepping inside, "You really went all out."

"I hope you don't mind that I dressed comfortably," Emily said, too shy to look him in the eyes, retreating back into her apartment before any neighbors saw.

She turned around to lead Sam to the living room, where she had set up the couch with a mountain of blankets and pillows, a perfect spot for their cuddle session, but before she could take two steps she felt a finger hook into the waistband of her pajamas, stopping her in her tracks.

Sam's eyes had never left her, his gaze lingering on the visible bulge of her diaper. "You look seriously adorable," he said, his voice thick with anticipation.

In spite of herself, Emily smiled, feeling her cheeks color. It was strange to hear him say she looked adorable when she felt anything but. She gave him a peck on the cheek before dragging him by the hand to the couch, patting the cushion. "Come sit," she urged, her voice sweet and coaxing. "It's Fantasia. It's smart adult classical music junk for you, but still Disney for me. Sound good?"

Sam eagerly took a seat, his hand immediately reaching for her diapered bottom. "That's very grown-up of you, Em. And we don't want that at all," he said, his tone gently chastising. "We'll need to nip that behavior in the... butt!"

He swatted her bottom. It was playful, but a little firm. Emily was shocked at first, but recovered quickly. "Meanie!" she shouted, whopping him with a small throw pillow.

"That's better," he chuckled, rubbing in his hand through the thick padding around her bottom, his fingers travelling wherever they liked. It was strange, having him be so overt about it. With Brynn, it had been a gentle dance, a shared secret that grew into something beautiful. This was nice in its own way, upfront, unashamed. It felt good to be desired.

Emily leaned into him, playing her part with surprising ease. She had never been one for physical contact outside of her caregiver role, but she found that she didn't hate it. His hand grew more insistent, his fingers dipping under the waistband of her pajamas to feel the plastic beneath. She allowed it, her breath hitching slightly.

They watched the movie, Sam's hand never leaving her diaper. Emily felt a strange sense of comfort, his warm touch a balm to the ache she'd been carrying for months. Her mind wandered, thoughts of Brynn slipping away as she focused on the here and now. She had to admit, she liked the way Sam looked at her, the way he treated her like a delicate, precious little thing that he could devour at any moment. She would be sure to return the favor.

During 'The Sorcerer's Apprentice,' Emily found Sam's fingers snaking inside the legband of her diaper. She pretended not to notice, not to hear his patient sigh. "Em," he whispered, doesn't all this water make you feel like using the potty?"

Emily watched the brooms on screen dumping endless buckets of water and swallowed a laugh, turning to look at him with feigned innocence. "I'm sorry..." she said quietly, nuzzling her face into his shoulder. "It's just hard for me to let go." Another not-lie.

Sam nodded, his hand moving to her shoulder, giving her a comforting squeeze. "It's okay, baby. We'll take care of that pesky potty training soon enough."

Emily wanted to roll her eyes, but instead closed them, focused on the task at hand, tried to loosen the iron grip her pelvic floor had on her bladder. This was the part she'd have to play, just for a little while. Get vulnerable so he'd drop his guard. She took a deep breath, willing her body to cooperate...

"Sam!" she finally squeaked, her voice pitched up, arch.

Sam's eyes lit up, his hand immediately going to her crotch. "What's the matter, sweetie?"

"I'm... peeing..." she admitted with some effort, her cheeks burning.

Sam's expression shifted to one of pure excitement. "Good girl," he said, his voice low and filled with approval, his hand slowly working itself up and down the warm padding, pressing it gently back up against her.

Emily felt her body betray her once again, responding to his touch, to the wetness of warm urine spreading under his hand, to the feeling of her wet diaper pushed back up against her, rubbing her in all the right places, her cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and growing arousal that she tried to stuff back down where it came from.

"I'll change you once the movie's finished, okay?" Sam whispered into her ear, his breath hot against her skin. Emily nodded, her eyes glued to the screen, trying to dissociate. That's some other embarrassment of a girl on the couch, dressed like a baby, pissing in her pampers. Not her. The sound of orchestral crescendos filled the room, covered the sound of her crinkling diaper as Sam fondled her through it, and Emily bit down on her lip trying to fight back the inevitable. All it took to send her over the edge was his other hand brushing her stiffened nipples through her pajama top and kissing the crown of her head.

Emily felt the climax first as a tightening in her belly, the hear of her own arousal spreading outward, making her squirm and whine. "Fffff-fuck!" she whispered out through her teeth. Coming in her diapers was not part of the plan, but instead of stopping, she was helpless but to lean into it, bucking her hips into his hand.

Sam chuckled, his hand slowing its stroking to gentle pats. "What big feelings for such a little girl!" he murmured, kissing her on the head once, twice, three times more, softly kneading her breasts as Emily limply basked in the afterglow.

Her mind reeled. That wasn’t supposed to happen. She had never been into this kind of thing, but here she was, panting in a puddle of her own making. It was like her body had a mind of its own, a treacherous little minion eager to betray her. As if on cue, another trickle of urine escaped into her diaper.

Sam's hand stilled on her chest, his thumb tracing the outline of her nipple through the fabric. "This is a little backwards, Em, but... can I kiss you?"

Emily's cheeks flushed, but she nodded, leaning into his gently parted lips. The kiss was gentle and sweet, a stark contrast to the depraved situation she found herself in, even as she felt his tongue snake its way between her lips. When he pulled away, his eyes searched hers for any sign of regret. She offered a shaky smile. "Thank you," she murmured.

Sam couldn't help but laugh, "'Thank you' is a new one."

Emily felt a strange warmth in her chest, his laughter infectious. "Well, you're taking such good care of me."

Sam's eyes lit up at the praise. "It's what I'm here for, Em," he said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. He looked up at the glowing television as the credits rolled. "Would you like a change? I bet that diaper is positively icky."

Emily felt her face burn again, but nodded, standing up unsteadily. She could feel the warm weight of her diaper clinging to her thighs, the padding at her crotch clumping up and falling out of place. It was not meant to hold up against what it had just experienced.

She led Sam to her bedroom, where she had laid out a changing pad, wipes, baby powder, and an array of diapers. She lay down on the pad, her heart racing as Sam hovered over her, his excitement palpable.

He looked around the room, taking stock. "Nice setup," he mused. "Lots of amenities for a little girl who says she has a hard time using her diapers..." He shot her a glance, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

Emily's stomach tightened as she watched him approach, his hand reaching for the waistband of her pajamas, tugging them down to her ankles, revealing a swollen white diaper covered in alphabet blocks. This was it. He was about to see the inside of her rather well-used diaper. Another rung down the ladder she'd fall. What an embarrassing excuse for a woman she must look like right now.

"Let's get you clean," Sam said, his voice gentle and soothing. He untaped the diaper with surprising care, and she felt the cool air kiss her skin as she lay bare before him. She couldn’t help but feel exposed, vulnerable, and utterly humiliated as the smell of her own urine hit her nose. She cringed internally, but Sam didn’t flinch, he just took her hand and whispered sweet nothings, his eyes never leaving hers as he began to wipe her down with the other. The sensation was strange, both intimate and degrading. She tried to remember the times she'd done this with Brynn, but the shock of the cold wipe made it hard to concentrate. For a couple reasons.

Emily felt her resolve wavering all over again. This little shit she was indulging in was all just an act, right? Just a way to get what she wanted in the end. But the gentle way he touched her, the way he talked to her, it was... nice. Too nice. She was going to the dark side, and needed to put her foot down before she went feral. A feral little diaper baby.

Sam's eyes grew serious as he pulled the diaper away from her, revealing her... well, everything. He paused, looking at her, really looking at her. "You know, Em," he said, his voice low and sincere, "You're the first girl who's ever done this with me... I've been really worried that I'd fuck it up."

Emily's heart twisted in her chest. "I couldn't ask for a better guy," she assured him, her voice softer than she had intended.

"Am... am I doing everything that you want?" he asked, his eyes searching hers for approval.

Emily nodded, the cloying irony washing over her. Yes, Sam, you're doing everything that I want to do to you.

"I like it more than I expected," she said. Yet another not-lie.

Sam's smile was pure sunshine. "Good," he said, his thumb tracing the curve of her hip bone. "I want to make you happy."

Emily felt a strange mix of emotions—excitement, guilt, and something that felt suspiciously like affection. "Sam, can you tell me more about why you like this?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Sam looked thoughtful as he picked out a new diaper from the stash, a candy-themed one. "It's hard to explain," he said, his cheeks flushing.

"Well, what's your favorite part?" Emily urged, her voice gentle.

Sam took a deep breath, his eyes focused on the diaper in his hands. "I don't want to sound selfish," he said finally. "It's the diapers."

Emily's eyes widened slightly, her heart skipping a beat. This was her in! Her opening to make the switch! "Why?" she asked, playing innocent.

Sam shrugged, his cheeks reddening further. "It's probably the same reasons you like them, right?"

Fat chance.

"I don't know," she said coyly, wiggling her naked bottom on the changing mat. "You'll have to tell me."

Sam smirked, sliding the fresh diaper under her bottom. "I like how they look, how thick they are," he began, sprinkling baby powder from her navel to her bottom, casually massaging it in. His gentle touch made her squirm. "I especially like how they look on the bottoms of cute little girls like you. The telltale bulky behind of a girl who can't make it to the potty. You can tell because they have a uni-butt!"

"Excuse me?" Emily laughed.

"So like, every butt has a crack, right?" Sam asked.

"A very scientific observation, Mr. Scientist."

"But diapers don't have a crack. So diapergirls have the most obvious diaper butts. It's a uni-butt!" Sam looked proud of himself.

Emily thought for a moment, opening up her mental filing cabinet, flicking open the Brynn folder to the 'hiney' section. "...Oh my god, you're actually right."

"Of course I'm right," he chuckled, lifting up the front of the diaper between her legs, pressing it against her tummy to hold it in place. "And I like how they feel," he continued, his voice dropping an octave as his hands glided over the diaper's smooth plastic shell. "They bunch up between your legs, force your hips apart, crinkle just loud enough... There's no way you're pretending they're regular underwear."

Emily silently nodded, enjoying the pampering as much as she was enjoying reminiscing on Brynn's uni-butt.

"And I like that you can't just slide them on and off." He continued, taping the diaper into place, snugly securing the four adhesive tapes. "You're in these until I let you out."

Emily felt a thrill at his words, "Oh, is that so?" she challenged, a grin on her face.

Sam chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "You bet it is," he said, patting the front of her diaper, forcing out little clouds of powder. "You can take it off if you want, but naked hineys are much easier to spank."

Emily let out a little gasp. That was a good line! One she'd have to steal and use on her future littles...

"But, of course, good girls like my little Em would never earn a spanking," he added, offering his hands to help her to her feet.

Emily took his hands, letting him pull her up. The fresh diaper felt snug and reassuring, somehow better than doing it herself. As Sam knelt down and adjusted the fit of Emily's diaper. It finally struck her as odd. "You're really good at this," she remarked. "You're too good at this."

"I've had a lot of practice," he said, standing up.

"But you said I was your first little. Which would make that your first diaper change, like, ever, right?"

Sam's eyes caught hers, then darted away, searching her bedroom wall for an explanation.

Emily couldn't help the giggle that bubbled up. Victory. "Saaaam~" she said, her voice gentle but firm, "I want to know everything. No secrets."

"Ugh, Em..." he protested.

"SaaaaAAAaaAaam~"

"Okay," he said, his voice a little shaky. "I've been into diapers for a long time. It's just something that... turns me on." He looked at her, then away again. "Is that... bad? For a... daddy?" The word felt awkward coming from his mouth.

Emily took a moment to process this revelation. "No," she said, her voice surprisingly steady. "It's not bad. It's just different." She took a deep breath. "But we should to talk about this. It changes things."

Sam looked at her, his brow furrowed. "Does it?" he asked tentatively. "Does it change...us?"

"Do you want it to?" Emily asked. She stepped closer to him, her diaper crinkling with each step, and grabbed him by the belt buckle.

Sam's eyes grew wide, but he didn't resist. "I... I don't know," he admitted, his voice wavering.

Emily leaned in, pulled him closer by his belt, and stood on her tip toes to try to close the distance between them. "What happened to mister-in-charge 'daddy' Sam? Where'd he go?"

Sam's eyes searched hers, a hint of fear in them. "He's still here," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

She grinned, "Oh, I don't think he ever existed."

Her words hung in the air, the room suddenly feeling charged with a tension that hadn't been there before. Sam's eyes searched hers, a silent question in them, before Emily spun him around by his belt and pushed him backward into the changing mat.

"W-wait! What are you—" he began to protest.

Holding an identical diaper to her own on both hands, Emily simply grinned. "Tell me to stop."

Sam looked down at the diaper, then back up to Emily, his expression a mix of shock and arousal. He didn't say anything.

Emily knelt down and began to undo his belt, shaking her head, clicking her tongue against her teeth, her eyes never leaving his. "Just a big boy playing pretend," she murmured, her voice a low purr. She pulled down his pants, revealing his hardened erection straining against his boxer briefs.

Sam's breath hitched. "Em, I—"

Emily silenced him with a finger to his lips. "Shh," she whispered, her eyes gleaming with mischief. She tugged down his underwear, freeing his cock, and took it in her hand experimentally. This was definitely going to be different than Brynn...

"Now, what do we do with this?" she asked, slowly stroking the length of him. It was a genuine question.

Sam looked down at his exposed member, his cheeks flushing. "I—uh..."

"Total character break moment," Emily began, "what do you normally do with... this?"

Sam's eyes grew even wider as he stumbled over his words, "Well, I-I usually... I mean, I don't know."

Emily chuckled, enjoying this version of Sam so much more. "It's okay baby, you can tell me. No secrets, remember?"

Sam's cock twitched in her hand, and she felt a thrill of power. Little boys were fun. "I usually... I just..." He took a deep breath, "I... jerk off so I can get the diaper on."

Emily raised an eyebrow, "Really?" she asked, her voice filled with mock innocence. "What a naughty boy," she said, stroking him with a bit more pressure.

Sam nodded, his breath quickening. "I'm sorry?" he offered.

Emily's smile grew more playful. "I guess that's just how I'll have to take care of my baby..." She leaned in closer, her breath hot against his skin as she wrapped her hand resolutely around his shaft and tugged it down to the base. His hips bucked involuntarily, and she giggled, enjoying his squirming.

With the confidence of someone faking it 'til they make it, she began to stroke him, her movements slow and deliberate. She watched his reactions, the way his eyes fluttered closed and his breath hitched. It was like watching a butterfly caught in a spider's web, unsure whether it was about to be devoured or simply toyed with.

"Does that feel good, baby?" she asked, her voice a seductive whisper.

Sam whispered out a moan, "I... I'm not a baby." His voice was strained, his body betraying his words with each jerk of his hips.

Emily leaned closer, her breasts pressing into his thighs, her eyes gleaming. "Tell me to stop," she instructed, her hand moving faster, enjoying the feel of his hardness in her hand.

Sam's breathing was shallow. "I can't," he murmured, his hips jerking upward to meet her strokes.

Emily's grin grew wider. "Because why?" she asked, her voice a sultry whisper.

Sam's eyes searched hers, his cheeks red with embarrassment. "Because... it turns me on," he admitted, his voice barely above a murmur.

Emily leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming with victory. "My sweet, bouncing baby boy," she whispered, her hand moving faster.

"Oh my god," Sam muttered, his body arching as he came, spurts of cum landing on his stomach and thighs.

"Oopsie!" Emily announced, shielding herself with the opened diaper, before using it to wipe up all the little messes he made. "Sammy, look what you did!" She teased, feigning mock-disappointment. "We definitely can't trust this pee-pee out of diapers, now can we?"

Sam panted, his body trembling slightly as Emily played with and prodded his softening cock, wiping away the last of his release with the diaper before taping it snugly around his hips. He looked down at the thick padding and then laid his head back on the mattress for a long moment.

"You're a natural," he finally murmured, reaching for her wrist and grabbing it firmly, then holding it aloft like a prize. "In fact!" he began, letting the unfinished thought hang in the air.

Emily flopped down next to him on the bed so their eyes could meet, hers sparkling with mischief.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice innocently sweet.

"No secrets, Em," he said. "That's your rule. Fess up."

"Okay, okay," Emily conceded. As she conjured an image of Brynn, her chest suddenly tightened at the prospect of telling him everything. Like, everything-everything. Maybe she should start small... Parcel out the easy truths before the hard ones. "I did have a little. My ex."

Sam's expression grew serious. "What happened?"

Oh, where to start with Brynn? Emily rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling. "I think I smothered her."

"Like... with a pillow?" Sam's voice was a mix of mock shock and horror.

Emily couldn't help the laugh that escaped her before she gave Sam a playful shove. "You're supposed to be daddy, not a Dad!" she giggled. "No, I didn't literally smother her. I just... took care of her too much. She said I just pretended it was all about her, but it was actually all about me."

It took Emily saying the words out loud to another person for the meaning to finally sink in. "Ugh, fuck," she muttered.

Sam's hand found hers, squeezing gently. "Sounds like you've had a lot of time to reflect."

Emily shook her head, taking her hand back. "Not enough..."

Sam's expression softened, "I'm sensing there's more you're not telling me?"

Emily took a deep breath and turned away from him. "I... maybe only dated you as a little because I thought I could get you into diapers." She clenched her eyes shut.

Sam was quiet for a long moment. "Why?" His voice was gentle, but there was a hint of something else. Hurt, perhaps.

Emily swallowed hard and turned to face him. "You looked... nice. You claimed to be a daddy, but I thought maybe I could change you? And I was really fucking lonely."

Sam's eyes searched hers. "So, I'm just Brynn for tonight?" His voice was quiet, the excitement of moments ago draining away as he grabbed the thick padding of his diaper. "Congrats, Em, you did it."

Emily felt the guilt drop through the floor of her stomach. "Wait, please. It's different." She wanted to hold his hand again but was afraid he'd pull it back. "It started out under shitty pretenses. But I want to be honest now! I really like you."

Silence.

"And I didn't know I would... like it so much."

Silence.

"The diapers. The... little stuff. What you do to me in them."

Silence.

"Ugh, my cheeks are on fire."

"So, let me get this straight," Sam said. "You're a mommy. You don't wear diapers. But you saw my dating profile, a daddy, but you didn't believe me, thought you could turn me."

"Sam--"

"We go on a date, you show up in diapers. You pretend to be a little, sit on my lap and pee yourself in public on my command... Stop me if anything is inaccurate..."

Emily felt her eyes welling with tears.

"We schedule a second date, and you answer the door dressed like a toddler at a sleepover. You pee yourself again, and then you are helpless but to come in your diapers in my arms, a pathetic excuse for a woman..."

Emily couldn't help but squirm at his recounting, the truth of it stinging.

"I don't know, I think we're even," he finally said.

Emily sniffled back tears. "W-what?"

"You used me because you wanted a little boy in diapers. Well you got him. But I wanted a little girl in diapers, and I got her too! If anything, I got you better!" He laughed. "You thought you were a big girl who was too good for diapers, and I reduced you to a whimpering little baby who made cummies in her wet diaper in the middle of a Disney movie."

Emily felt her cheeks burn brighter than ever, "Sam!"

"I think your mommy card's revoked, Em," he said, wrapping her up in a big hug and patting her diapered bottom. "You're a much bigger baby than me."

Emily's body instinctively stiffened at first, but as Sam held her, she felt something unravel inside. She exhaled, leaned into his embrace as his hands traced slow circles around her padded bottom.

"Ugh," she groaned, "I hate that I like this so much."

Sam chuckled, his voice a warm rumble in her ear. "You don't have to hate it, Em."

Emily sighed, her eyes closing as she enjoyed the feeling of his strong arms around her. "But what now?" she asked, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

"Hmm... We do need to consider how naughty you've been." Sam's voice was playful, but Emily felt a twinge of nerves at his sudden shift in tone. "You've been keeping secrets that could really hurt some feelings."

"I know," she murmured, her voice small and sincere. "I'm sorry."

Sam's expression grew contemplative. "I believe you, but I think I know the best way to punish you, so that we both know you're truly sorry."

Emily's breath quickened. "What do you mean?"

Sam's eyes glinted with excitement. "Your punishment," he paused for dramatic emphasis, "is keeping things exactly the way they are."

Emily tilted her head. "What?"

Sam smirked, his voice low and authoritative. "You are going to stay my diapered little girl, even though she desperately wants to be a big mommy who's in charge. And I'll be a daddy who wears diapers when you earn it."

Emily felt the air thicken around her, the weight of his words sinking in. "But..." she began, feeling the loss of control she had so carefully crafted.

"But what?" Sam challenged, his voice still gentle but firm. "You said you like it. Deal or no deal?"

Emily bit her bottom lip, trying to process. She felt the softness of the fresh diaper against her skin, the way it held her in place like a warm hug. "I do," she murmured, her voice small. "But..."

Sam leaned back, his hands on her diapered hips. "But what?" he prompted.

Emily took a deep breath, "But what if I want to be in charge again?" she asked, her voice sounding more hopeful than she had intended.

Sam's smile was knowing, "Well, baby, that's what makes it a good punishment," he said, his hand resting around her waist. "You're going to have to earn it back. You need to learn that you can't manipulate your way into getting what you want all the time."

Emily felt a strange mix of anger and arousal at his words. She didn't like being told what to do, but the way he said it, the way he treated her like a child, it was... She nodded, her eyes downcast. "Ugh. Okay..." she murmured.

Sam leaned down and kissed her forehead, "That's my good girl," he whispered, the affection in his voice sending shivers down her spine.

Emily felt a strange sense of submission wash over her, a feeling she hadn’t anticipated. "But how do we do this?" she asked, her voice still a bit shaky. "I don't know how to be... a good little."

Sam's grin was wide, "Tell me about it!"

She scoffed reflexively, before a couple giggles spilled out of her mouth. "Rude!"

"Em, if the two days have taught me anything, it's that you're a fast learner," he said, his voice a warm caress. "And we're in this together. We'll figure it out."

As Emily looked into Sam's eyes, she saw something there that she hadn't seen before—understanding. And something else. A spark that told her he was just as into this as she was.

They sat on the bed for a few long moments, looking at each other with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Sam pressed his forehead into hers, patted her diapered behind, and then rolled out of bed. He stood in front of Emily, stretching, his diaper crinkling with each movement. She very much enjoyed the view.

"Can I use your shower?" he asked. "I've got to get out of this silly thing." He ripped one of the adhesive tapes off his diaper.

Emily nodded, "Yeah, I'll get you a towel. Or..." she paused, smirking. "I could join you?"

Sam's eyes lit up. "Sorry cutie," he replied. "You're in that diaper for the rest of the night. But maybe we can give you a bath tomorrow?" He flashed a shit-eating grin and resumed walking to the bathroom. "I will take that towel, though."

Emily watched him go, feeling a strange sensation wash over her. She looked down at the thick diaper between her legs. It felt wrong, but she couldn't deny the thrill of it either. The reality of what she had tacitly agreed to was setting in, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. There was still time to back out. She could just rip this diaper off, kick him out, and be done with it, but as she heard the water in the shower start to run without her, she couldn’t help the anticipation building in her chest.

---

"Remember, Em," Sam instructed. "You hold my hand when we're walking so you don't get lost, okay?"

Emily looked back and nodded, grasping his hand in hers, trying to keep the smile off her face. She was getting used to this, the thrill of playing the submissive little girl in public, the thick diaper crinkling beneath her skirt a constant reminder of her role, but she still had to keep Sam on his toes. If he wanted a perfect little angel, he had another thing coming.

The month had flown by, a whirlwind of wet diapers, cute clothes, cuddles and teasing games that had somehow turned into something more intimate than she had ever experienced with Brynn. The lines had blurred, and she found herself enjoying the feeling of being taken care of, even if it came with a side of humiliation she hadn’t signed up for. And... that part was kind of okay, too. Emily relished the scattered moments when Sam would let her return the favor and put him in diapers, but it was always a privilege to be earned, usually by sacrificing some new grown-up part of herself upon the altar of littledom.

Tonight, they were dining at a fancy restaurant, an echo of their first date, but on a much grander scale. Sam was dressed sharply in a blazer and dark jeans, and Emily in a flouncy pink dress with tiered ruffles. The first time he showed her the dress, she could've slapped him, but here she was, feeling like a doll overdressed for the tea party.

The evening was going as expected: Sam was charming the waitstaff, while Emily sat quietly, not speaking unless spoken to. She squirmed in her seat, trying to get comfortable with her legs splayed helplessly apart beneath the table. Because her dress was so full and ruffled, Sam had taken full advantage, stuffing an already thick pink diaper with two booster pads. She pretended to pout at the time, but the mommy in her was impressed and taking notes for her next chance to retaliate.

Sam noticed her stare, the thoughtful look on her face, a knowing smile playing at his lips. "What's the matter, little miss?"

Emily gave him her best pout, "Nothing," she mumbled.

"Come now," Sam's eyes danced with mischief. "Use your words."

Emily rolled her eyes. "I'm just plotting how I'll get you back for this," she murmured, her voice a mix of feigned irritation and genuine affection.

"Oh, you will?" Sam's grin grew wider. "And how's that going to happen, my clever little girl?"

Emily felt the heat in her cheeks, but she was determined not to let him win this round. "I don't know... Maybe I'll leave you a present in my pants for later?"

Sam's eyes lit up. "Careful, Em. Once you open up that box there's no taking it back, babygirl." He leaned back in his chair, watching her with amusement. "You should consider if you want to invoke the nuclear option over getting to wear a pretty pink dress."

Emily stuck her tongue out at him, but her eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Good choice," Sam chuckled, as the waiter arrived to take their order.

He ordered for the both of them, without consulting Emily, which only served to fuel her secret delight. She had grown to crave the way he took small things away, never quite sure what grown-up thing she had once taken for granted was on the chopping block next.

"Remember to sit like a lady," Sam reminded her as the waiter walked away, still in earshot.

Emily grimaced at him above the table, but below it, obediently squeezed her legs together, or at least tried to. With every consecutive little wetting the bulk of her diaper made it more difficult to sit 'lady-like' as Sam had instructed, and he knew damn well. She could feel the heat of his gaze as she squirmed, and the smugness of his smile made it clear he was enjoying her discomfort. But she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much she liked it too. That was her secret to keep.

The meal was exquisite, each bite a robust balance of flavors that seemed to tease and tantalize her palate. But her mind was elsewhere, focused on the squishy padding beneath her. Every move she made was calculated to avoid any tell-tale signs that she was indeed enjoying her 'punishment'. She had learned to play the part well, the begrudging little girl who just wanted to be in charge again. But as they shared dessert, the sweetness of the chocolate mousse mingling with the faint scent of baby powder that clung to her, she couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment that she hadn't felt in a long time. She didn't notice the glob of chocolate that had missed her mouth until Sam wiped her clean with a napkin.

As they walked back to the car, Emily's hand remained firmly in Sam's, her hips waddling slightly with each step. Drowned out by the sounds of the city, her diaper's subtle crinkling was just for her. She glanced up at Sam, his handsome profile illuminated by the soft glow of the street lights, and felt a strange sense of peace settle in her chest. She let her head fall onto his shoulder.

"God damn it, Sam," she said, quietly, contentedly.

Sam's eyes sparkled with mischief, "What's wrong, baby?"

"I just figured it out," Emily murmured.

"Figured what out?" Sam's voice was low, distracted, as he fumbled for his keys.

"I love you. You've done all this to me and now I love your dumb ass." Her heart was racing.

Sam froze, his hand on door handle. He turned to face her, his eyes searching hers for a long moment. "You love my dumb 'hiney,' you mean," he finally said, correcting her.

He opened the door for Emily, but she saw his grin stretching from ear to ear as she ducked into the back seat.

"I love you too," Sam replied, buckling her up. "But we're going to have to do something about that yucky word you said when we get home."

"Looking forward to it!" Emily called back, trying to hide the quiver in her voice as she watched him shut the door. Out of his eyesight, she buried her face in her hands. She said it! And he said it back! Her chest was tight, but her heart was so full.

The car ride home was quiet, both lost in their own thoughts, their eyes occasionally locking nervously in the rearview mirror. A thousand questions buzzed through her mind. She was an exposed nerve, but in a good way.

When they arrived at her apartment, Sam didn’t even bother to ask if she needed help. He just unbuckled her seatbelt, hoisted her over his shoulder, and carried her up the stairs.

Emily couldn't help but yelp in surprise as she felt the hem of her dress slowly lift and uncover the thick diaper beneath. "What are you doing?" she squealed, clawing her dress back into place, but fighting a losing battle to gravity.

Sam chuckled, his grip firm but gentle as he carried her over the threshold. "Somebody earned an early bedtime."

Emily squirmed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and excitement. "But I'm not tired!" she protested, her voice muffled in his shoulder.

You feel your face burning as they both look at you expectantly. “N-nuh uh, Daddy, not adult,” you whisper, knowing not to disobey Daddy in front of company.

“Good girl,” Daddy coos, giving your diaper a playful slap.

“She’s adorable! So well behaved, too!” she says, her voice thick with derision.

“Thank you! She’s Daddy’s special girl!”

Her face suddenly lights up. “No way, is she actually peeing herself?!?” she screams excitedly.

Daddy looks over at you. You look back at them, confused. You’re not peeing, that much you know. You would know if you were.

“Oh my god, she is!” she screams, “look at her diaper! You can see her tinkles spreading! I can’t believe it!”

You grab your diaper, still positive she’s making it up. Until you feel your diaper. It’s warm. Your eyes are wide in terror.

Before you can do anything her hand is reaching down at your diaper, grabbing it as your pee continues to flow. “It’s so warm and thick! You’re actually peeing yourself in front of us like a baby!”

Daddy looks at you, his face both confused and excited. “Did you know you were peeing yourself, Princess?”

“I-I-I…,” your eyes fill with tears, “D-daddy!!!”

“Oh, come here, silly,” Daddy says, wrapping you in his arms, “looks like you’re finally unpotty trained! You should be excited!”

Becoming unpotty trained had been your goal when you started wearing diapers. But that was before you truly understood the reality of life as Daddy’s diaper girl.

All you wanted was to wear diapers. Maybe have Daddy tease you here and there for them. Just basic, casual fun.

Like all diaper girls, you thought you could have your cake and eat it too. It’s adorably naïve.

You actually believed you could wear diapers 24/7, having Daddy care for you, check and change your diapers and still be treated like an adult. It’s absurd.

If you wear diapers like a baby, squat down and fill your diapers with stinkies like a baby, and rely on your caregiver to change your diapers like a baby—surely you cannot expect to be treated anything but a baby.

“Wait!” she screams, “she’s unpotty trained?! Like she’s been wearing diapers so long she actually needs them? That’s so pathetic!”

It’s too much for you. You won’t let some girl younger than you tease you.

“I’m not a baby, you bitch!” you scream, stomping your feet.

You knew you were in trouble the moment you said it. Daddy looked at you as if you just slapped him. Thick, heavy silence hung in the room as they both stared at you.

“I-I-I d-didn’t m-mean it, D-daddy,” you sob.

More silence.

Daddy looks over at her. “I’m sorry, Claire. She knows better than to act like a little brat.”

“It’s okay, poor thing probably couldn’t help it!”

“It’s not okay, is it, kiddo?” Daddy asks you sternly.

“N-no D-daddy, I n-not allowed to u-use n-naughty words anymore…”

“That’s right! And what happens when you do?”

“I h-have to l-lay over y-your lap…”

“Good girl. Do you have anything to say to Claire first?”

You look over to Claire, forcing yourself to ignore the smirk on her face. “I-I’m s-sorry for calling you a naughty word, C-claire,” you say sheepishly.

“It’s okay, little one. I know you didn’t mean it!”

Daddy reaches out his hand for you. You reluctantly grab it and follow him to your crib. Daddy puts the bars down and sits on the edge. He looks at you expectantly.

You hesitate, not wanting Claire to watch Daddy spank you. You couldn’t bear the thought of her watching you get spanked like some naughty toddler.

“B-but…Daddy…,” you mutter, looking at Claire.

Daddy only smiles. “Claire stays, babygirl. If you didn’t want her to see you get punished, you shouldn’t have been naughty. Lay down. Now.”

As you move toward Daddy, he suddenly stands up. “Oh, I almost forgot! Now that you’re unpotty trained, I can’t risk you tinkling on me!”

Daddy heads to the closet, bringing a package of puppy pads out. He opens it, unfolding one and placing it on his lap.

Claire loses it, giggling uncontrollably. “A puppy pad?!? Stop, that’s so embarrassing, even for a diaper girl! But I guess it’s necessary if she can’t hold her tinkles!”

Red-faced, you stand in front of Daddy as he rips the tabs off your diaper. The cold air forces you to shiver as your diaper is removed. He balls it up and hands it to you to hold.

“On my lap, babygirl,” he says sternly.

You lay down on Daddy’s lap—and the puppy pad—more humiliated than you’ve ever been in your life. You hold on to the diaper in your hand, doing your best to cover it up.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Claire’s laughter fills the room as Daddy’s spanking pauses. Tears pour down your face as you realize how infantile and pathetic you must look to Claire.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

More laughing. You look around your nursery. The monument to your place in life. You see all the horrifically infantile designs, the pastel colors, the supplies to keep you pathetically pampered.

You take it in. Everything in the room made you so beautifully squirmy when they were added. It’s was all so hot. But as you look at it—through Claire’s eyes—you realize how far you’ve fallen.

She doesn’t see you as an adult. She sees you as a toddler. You’re not a threat to her. You’re a cute sideshow. She’s going to sleep with Daddy tonight, not you.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

All the cute baby-patterned diapers and accessories that you loved so much stare back at you, each with a life of its own. They mock you, gloating that they trapped you in their world.

They know what you are. A helpless, diaper-dependent baby. They know this isn’t an adults room—it’s yours.

The only sex that would ever happen in this room is between Daddy and any woman he brings in here. A woman getting off knowing what you are. Proving she’s better than you.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

By now your butt is on fire. Your whimpers fueling Claire’s laughter. She can’t get enough of this pathetic display.

Daddy’s hand strokes your hair before turning your face to look at him. You look at him through your tears.

“I-I ‘m sorry, Daddy!” you plead, “I w-won’t use naughty words again, I promise!”

“I know you won’t, babygirl. Let’s get you in another diaper.”

You timidly stand up, hiding from Claire’s smirking. You preemptively head for the changing table.

“HAHAHHA no way!” Claire goads, “did she really pee on the puppy pad?”

Horrified, you look back. Daddy holds up the pad clearly wet with pee. You cover your face, too ashamed to meet anyone’s gaze.

“Let’s get you in a new diaper before you leak all over the floor, Princess.”

You obediently lay on the changing table, still covering your face.

“Can she wear this diaper?” Claire says, holding up your thick night time diaper.

“That’s what I was going to put her in! Gotta get this lil stinker in her night time diaper before bed!”

Claire watches—on comments—on the entire diaper change. You whimper through the whole thing. Halfway through, Daddy gave you your paci, which you happily accepted.

Once your diaper was taped on, Daddy helped you off the table, leading you to your toddler chair and table.

He sits you down, bringing you paper and a box of crayons.

“I want you to write an apology letter to Claire while we go have some fun. And it better be good.”

“B-but,” you beg, “I need a pen!”

“A pen?” Daddy scoffs, “you have crayons here! Diaper girls don’t need pens! Diaper girls use crayons, silly!”

With that, they head out. Your stomach sinks watching Claire all over Daddy.

You get to work, writing your apology letter to the woman who took your man. As you write, you hear them in the next room over. You try to ignore the moaning as you write.

For someone as tightly wound and anxious as her—incessantly stressing over deadlines, hearings, and trials—making time for silly things like orgasms was never a priority.

You have no idea how hard I worked to help her relax enough to finally orgasm. I mean, I spent so much time going down on her, I could barely chew my food for two weeks straight. My jaw still clicks every once in a while.

But then it happened.

That first orgasm changed everything—hard work pays off. The way she shook and shuddered, the way her legs squeezed my head so tight I almost passed out, it was magical.

Her first lesson in the power of pleasure.

No matter how stressed she was over a hearing, how anxious she was about a deadline, she could, for a few blissful moments, lose herself in the sweet release of a powerful orgasm.

My tongue became her stress reliever.

I will admit she wasn’t entirely wrong that knowledge is power. The knowledge I unlocked over the next few months proved indispensable.

Her body was my teacher; I was its diligent student, soaking in every lesson. I learned every pattern, pressure, and pulse that her body craved. I knew her body better than my own.

In a matter of weeks, she went from being unable to cum to coming home to fuck away the memories of her boss yelling at her, her inbox of angry emails, and the impending deadlines.

Pleasure became her escape. And I was more than happy to be her accomplice.

With every orgasm, she fell deeper down the rabbit hole, blissfully ignorant to the consequences of her dependence on those moments of ecstasy.

And me.

I no longer gave her those precious orgasms on demand. No, those only came when the dishes were clean, our clothes washed and folded, and the house was clean.

None of this was ever explicitly discussed, of course.

But that’s the point of Pavlovian training—I simply rewarded the behaviors I wanted to encourage with orgasms and ignored the behaviors I wanted to discourage.

Any time she left work early, chose a brain-rotting reality show over the news, or made a simple mistake on her Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle, she was rewarded with my head between her legs.

Work was never rewarded. The days she worked late at the office, left for work early, or even complained about her boss or deadlines never ended with an orgasm.

There were no rules, no expectations, no punishments. I never made any demands or criticized her choices.

I simply rewarded her when she deserved it.

And soon enough, the house was always clean, my drawers were filled with freshly laundered, folded clothes, and she spent more time at home with me than ever before.

But that was far from the only benefit. Her entire demeanor changed as she shed the weight of years of internalized anxiety and work stress.

For the first time in her life, work wasn’t her top priority. Suddenly, staying up all night to meet a deadline for some demanding client no longer appealed to her. Not when it was so rewarding to leave work early.

Even as her work performance plummeted and her bosses were rethinking their plans to offer her a partnership, she continued to choose pleasure over promotions.

She was so eager to please that most days started with her under the covers, showing me just how much she appreciated everything I did for her.

In her mind, the more pleasure she gave, the more she would receive. A notion I did little to dispute.

It was proof that the pursuit of pleasure dominated every facet of her life.

That was when I knew it was time. Sex became increasingly more sporadic and infrequent. She could no longer rely on the same behaviors being rewarded so easily.

Nor could she assume our time together would always end with an orgasm. As often as not, it ended with her on the brink of an orgasm. Or only after being edged and teased until she begged and pleaded for the sweet release of an orgasm.

I almost felt bad watching her desperately struggle to figure out the secret behaviors to unlock the orgasms. But it was all part of the process.

A clean house and shorter workdays weren’t going to cut it anymore. I needed more.

After a week without a single orgasm, she reached new levels of desperation. Her calm, confident façade collapsed into an adorably whiny, needy, sex-crazed shell of her former self.

Her normally sharp intellect crumbled under the weight of her denial-fogged haze. She struggled with even the simplest tasks. Her attention span wouldn’t have impressed a goldfish.

The hardest part was figuring out how to reward her whiny, vapid behavior without resorting to the usual rewards. Obviously, orgasms were out of the question—denying them is what caused the behavior in the first place.

The solution was elegantly simple: praise.

Praise lit up the pleasure center of the brain. A quick, fleeting hit to be sure, but enough to encourage her to be as dumb and whiny as possible.

I lathered her in praise whenever she replaced her post-graduate level vocabulary with simple, unrefined words. Or when she misplaced her keys. And especially when she acted particularly whiny and helpless.

So, she never questioned why the house was suddenly full of coloring books, crayons, and dolls. Not when bringing me a finished drawing or quiet playtime with her Barbies earned her heaps of delicious praise.

Her long, tedious month of denial ended in spectacular fashion when she came home from work with tears pouring down her cheeks. She was so ashamed, she could barely look me in the eye when she told me she was fired.

She expected disappointment; she received more praise than ever before. And, of course, the best orgasm of her life.

Things moved quickly after she was fired. With me working from home—and her not working at all—there were significantly more opportunities to reinforce and encourage her behaviors.

Especially because the ghost of the last orgasm haunted her; she was willing to do anything for the next one.

I didn’t make her wait long.

A few days later, she found the package of Beddybyes diapers I left in our room for no particular reason other than my own curiosity.

And because they are ridiculously adorable.

I’ll never forget how nervous she was when she crinkled into my office. Her beet-red cheeks almost distracted me from the comically inept way she taped her diaper on.

I never loved her more than that moment. And I rewarded her courage beyond wildest dreams.

The diaper wasn’t the only surprise. What good would a diaper be without a Hibachi Wand? They go together like peas and carrots.

I spent the next few hours heaping praise on her over the buzzing and crinkling of the wand on her diaper. By the time she fell asleep, she had set a personal record for the number of orgasms in a day.

Based on how soggy her diaper is right now, I’m sure you can guess I wasn’t content with her just wearing diapers, even though I never told her to wet or mess them.

All I did was lower the rewards for simply wearing them—she did the rest.

I wish you could have seen the way her face scrunched in concentration just to tinkle her diaper in the beginning. It was a whole thing. You might have thought she was solving complex math problems in her head.

But no, she was just trying to pee—hoping for another round with Senor Buzzy.

And let me tell you, she loved Senor Buzzy. He was so persuasive, I think I owe him a thank-you note.

The way she went feral when she was tucked into my lap, gazing lovingly at me, while Senor Buzzy vibrated on her soggy diaper is the cutest thing I have ever seen.

It didn’t even take a month for her to go from occasionally wearing and tinkling her diapers when she was horny to lustily humping Senor Buzzy while I tossed all her panties in the trash.

That was the point of no return.

From then on, it was all downhill. Once she accepted she belonged in diapers, she didn’t even try to hold onto whatever intelligence and independence she had left.

It was Daddy’s job to make sure her diaper was clean, her tummy was filled, and the bills were paid. Though by then she had been so conditioned to be my vapid, needy baby, I don’t think she could have handled adulthood anymore.

I don’t even think she realizes that we haven’t had sex—or that I haven’t gone down on her—since her first poopy diaper. Pleasure isn’t a static concept.

Which brings us to today.

Look how excited she is to play with her stuffy. Listen to her moans. Nothing matters to her but the warm, soggy diaper rubbing against her princess parts.

The anxious, success driven woman she used to be is long gone. She lost her job, her autonomy, her continence, and every facet of adulthood.

Every plan she had for her life abandoned for the sake of the next orgasm.

All the knowledge she worked so hard to get is as useless as her old panties rotting in some landfill.

And she has never been happier in her life.

Doesn’t that silly little squeal prove it? She doesn’t even care that her silly, infantile display has an audience. It’s the sound of someone in love with her pampers and their life. Exactly where they belong.

If Daddy recognized the look, he didn’t show it. His warm, tender smile remained stubbornly steadfast.

Just as you were about to give up and resign yourself to your bottle of milk, Daddy guides your hands to your bottle for you to hold.

His hand drifts down your body, tracing your curves until it rests on your diaper.

The corners of Daddy’s mouth twist with the suggestion of mischief in response to your shiver of anticipation.

It didn’t matter that Daddy’s hand merely rested motionless on your diaper. Just the pressure of his hand, so tantalizingly close to your princess parts, was enough to fog your brain with jolts of electric pleasure.

Your suckling loses its rhythm as you imagined the pleasure Daddy’s hand could provide.

By the time his hand reached for your onesie snaps, even your breathing became scattered and disorganized.

Your soft, gasping moan reflects the truth and triumph of the years of denial as his hand slid into your diaper.

His fingers slowly, meticulously danced on the edges of your princess parts, teasing and taunting with the promise of more. You moan involuntarily whenever his fingers seem determined to find your throbbing button, only to retreat at the last second.

You squealed the moment his finger delicately brushed your throbbing lips, glistening with your eagerness.

But just as suddenly as it started, Daddy’s hand pulls away, leaving you whimpering and deflated with another unfulfilled disappointment. He reached over and grabbed your buzzy wand.

Doing your best to hide your disappointment, you flash Daddy your sappiest puppy dog eyes. With any luck, Daddy will use his fingers. Or better yet, your old vibrator.

Anything but the same magic wand on top of your diaper.

It’s been so long since anyone played with your princess parts without a soggy diaper in between.

So very long.

You deflate like a popped balloon when Daddy lifted you off his lap—until you noticed the devious grin etched on his face. He guides your hand to his belt.

“These things don’t unbuckle themselves, you know.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice.

You practically ripped his belt off, as if Daddy might change his mind if you waste any time.

“Baby, have you already forgot how to be a big girl? Why are my pants still on? Or maybe you prefer the wand to Daddy now, is that it?’

“Wha-?! Daddy no! I want you, please!” you bluster in terror at the possibility of losing the moment with Daddy.

Your knees nearly buckle when you see proof of Daddy’s excitement for the first time in two years.

Without taking your eyes off Daddy, you toss his pants and greedily lunge at him, determined to show him how grateful you are.

Completely forgetting about the swollen diaper between your legs.

Daddy laughs at your clumsy, squishy thrusts against him.

“Did you forget you’re a diaper girl, silly?”

Embarrassed and consumed by lusty desire, you reach for your diaper tabs. Daddy’s hand stops you.

“No, your diaper stays on, babygirl.”

“Bu-but…”

Daddy reaches down and pushes your diaper to the side.

“You need to remember who you are.”

He pulls you towards him, your body trembling in anticipation. The culmination of countless nights imagining this very moment.

Every millisecond feels like an eternity as you lower yourself down to Daddy, needing him inside of you.

A booming, animalistic scream interrupts the silence the moment Daddy’s head splits your eager lips.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sheer, mind-shattering ecstasy rippling through your body.

As Daddy slid himself deeper and deeper inside you, you lost yourself to your feral, carnal hunger, writhing and screaming in an uncontrollable, untamed frenzy.

After two long years without Daddy, it almost hurt to have him inside you, though for some reason that only made you hungrier for more.

Every sensation, every wince, every moan was proof of Daddy’s presence.

By the time you slid all the way down, with every inch of Daddy inside you, there was no more delaying the inevitable. You lost all sense of being and identity. Time and space.

The unbearable, erotic tension accumulated from years of deferred orgasms suddenly explodes out of you in a rush of pure, orgasmic bliss. Waves of warm, tingly energy ripple through your body.

Your world is intense—unfathomable—pleasure.

There is only you and Daddy, bonded by bliss. Though the ecstasy is already starting to recede.

Once you catch your breath, your eyes meet Daddy’s, pride etched in his eyes. You wiggle around, still feeling him inside of you.

“D-did you ma-make cummies too, Daddy?”

He giggles at the question. “No, babygirl, I didn’t even know we started. Most women don’t cum in 5 seconds—I don’t know whether I should be proud or disappointed.”

“O-oh…w-well, I ummm…s-sorry…”

“Don’t be, babygirl. You’re still gonna show me how thankful you are to have Daddy inside of you! So go on, show me!”

“Okay, Daddy!”

You slide up Daddy, immediately overwhelmed by the intense overstimulation of the post-orgasm bliss. A whimper accidentally escapes your lips—the opposite of what you wanted.

As overstimulated as you were, you knew this was for Daddy. It wasn’t his fault you made cummies so fast!

Gritting your teeth, you gyrated your hips the way you used to—it was like riding a bike. As your confidence grew, you began to enjoy the dull pain from your overstimulation.

You were so wet there was almost no friction, making it even easier to bounce on Daddy.

And then Daddy moans—the greatest gift he could ever give you.

Faster and faster you gyrate, intoxicated by the growing tension in Daddy’s body, seeing the indelible signs of an orgasm building in Daddy’s eyes.

A tremor ripples through Daddy’s body—you know he was close. But so were you. Your pain is pleasure. His pleasure is your pleasure.

Everything was pleasure.

Finally, Daddy’s hands wrap you in a deep embrace, pulling you deeper into him, grunting in undeniable ecstasy.

The moment his hands pulled you in and you felt the warmth of his seed deep inside you, you screamed with your second, even stronger, orgasm.

For a moment there was only the sounds of two lovers climaxing with each other. Groans, moans, and the satisfied breathing of post-orgasm bliss.

After a few seconds, or maybe even days, Daddy’s hands brushed the hair out of your face, smiling contentedly.

“You were amazing, babygirl.”

“Th-thank you, Daddy!”

Daddy winces as you stand up. You fight back a laugh at his dramatic face, knowing you did far more than that for him.

But it didn’t matter.

His hand slid back into your diaper, a sly smile on his face.

“Looks like my babygirl is leaking, huh? Does Daddy’s diaper girl need a new diaper?”

Had your cheeks not already been flushed with two orgasms, they would’ve been beet red.

“Dadddyyyyyy!”

“What? You’re a leaky girl! And it’s Daddy’s job to get his dirty babygirl clean and ready for nini.”

You were so lost in the moment with Daddy, you forgot you were still his silly diaper girl. The diaper drooping between your legs feeling as silly as ever.

Yet, that only made you enjoy it more.