Diaper pats ❤️👶

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.”

"There's my little football star," an all-too-familiar, sickly sweet voice coos as my wife walks into the room, "Are you enjoying your day as Mama's special little man?"

I scowl up at her, frustration and embarrassment boiling in my belly as she approaches.

"Uh oh!" She coos as she catches my expression, "Is someone feeling like a wittle grumpy goose?"

I groan and roll my eyes at the childish treatment, absolutely hating being treated like a child.

"Hm," Sheila says, placing a thoughtful finger to her lip, "Are you cranky because you need a change?"

In a moment, her hand is between my legs, squeezing and massaging the crinkly padding between my legs.

She shakes her head in disappointment.

"No? In fact," I feel a carefully manicured finger slip under the leg band of the diaper, "You're bone dry! No, no, no! That won't do! You must be dehydrated! Give me a minute, big guy, and Mama will get you all fixed up!"

I whimper as my wife walks off and my bladder twinges.

Wearing the diaper for losing a stupid bet is one thing, but, wetting it?

I shudder.

It doesn't take long before my wife is back, a large bottle of what appears to be juice in her hand.

She smiles as she unlatches the gate to my pen and gently pats her thigh.

"Come on, big boy! Crawl to Mama! I've got some delicious num-nums for you!"

In a moment she stepping back, slowly backing away until she reaches the couch and sits down.

Sighing, resigned to my fate, I do as I'm instructed. I shift to all fours and crawl, diapered ass swaying behind me, to where my wife sits waiting.

"Good baby," she coos at me as she reaches down and helps me crawl into her lap, "Such an obedient little loser! Yes you are!"

I whimper at her sing-song at the reminder of why I'm in this position as she settles my head on her thighs. As I blush, looking up past her beautiful breasts to her grinning face, for a moment, I can't help but think this whole situation isn't too bad.

That thought is short lived, though, as Sheila reaches over and squeezes the bulge involuntarily forming in my diaper.

"Oh," she giggles, "Does my little football know-it-all actually like his little didi's? Just you wait until their wet! I hear that's when most silly little things like you learn to love them the most."

I kick my legs, blush, and moan as her hand works its way back up my body to the ring of the binky in my mouth, before she plucks it from between my lips.

"Now," she coos, "Let's get you fed."

In a moment, the rubber nipple of the pacifier is replaced by the nipple of the bottle. A single drop of sweet juice drips from the tip of it and hits the back of my tongue.

I make eye contact with my wife and shake my head no.

My bladder aches as I silently plead with her for some relief to this humiliation.

"No?" She hums softly, looking down at me with a raised eyebrow, "Someone wants to welch on his bet? He never wants to see this in that cute little cheerleader outfit he loves?"

I blush and avert my eyes in shame.

As humiliating as this is, am I really willing to give up any chance of retribution to avoid this?

I feel my cock press against the dry padding of my diaper again as I think of Sheila looking up at me with her mouth full, wearing an embarrassing outfit, instead of the other way around.

I shake my head, 'No,' again.

"That's what I thought," my wife clicks, "Now drink."

I do as I'm told.

Slowly, I start to suckle the sweet liquid out of the small hole in the nipple of the bottle.

Sheila brushes my hair back, cooing at me like an actual infant, while a drink.

"Such a good boy, such a good little boy," she purrs.

My bladder screams.

I know I'm on the verge of losing control.

I know there is no escaping my fate.

I close my eyes, slow my suckling, and give in.

HHHHHIIIIIIIIIISSSSS

The sound of urine splashing against the filling of my diaper announces my defeat.

Sheila grins.

"Oh! Looky here! Is my big, strong husband making tinkles in his didi?"

Her hand is back on my crotch in a moment, pressing the warm, swelling, sogging padding into me.

"Good boy! Doesn't that feel much better?"

I can't make eye contact with her as she begins to massage my growing member through my infantile pants.

"Oh, it definitely does! At least your no-no bits say so!"

I whimper into the nipple of my bottle, the juice nearly drained from it.

"You know what would make it feel better? I bet if you got to nurse a little straight from the tap? What do you think, little man?"

I don't have time to even comprehend what is happening before my wife is using her free hand to pull out a breast and replacing the bottle in my mouth with her beautiful, round areola.

Suddenly, I'm overwhelmed with sensations of pleasure, embarrassment, and submission all day once.

It takes what feels like seconds until I am bucking my hips into my wife's palm, squirting a sticky load into my already soaked diaper.

I pant around my wife's breast as the world slows down and the reality of what I've just done washed over me.

"Good boy," Sheila coos, brushing her fingers through my hair as I nurse on her chest like an infant, "I think you and I are going to have lots of fun for the rest of the day. This was the best bet I've ever made."

She kisses my forehead.

A rare emotion bubbles within you: defiance.

“N-no!! Don’twanna nap!”

You wield it clumsily, like a technical skill you haven’t used in years.

Because you haven’t.

Turning away from Mommy, you see the room that you once believed was the culmination of every fantasy you ever had.

Now it mocks you as a monument to the monotony of your life as her baby.

Dreadful silence blankets the room. Every second weakening your resolve as you wonder what she will do. Mommy never tolerates disobedience.

Will she spank you? Will she tell Daddy?  Will you spend the next 20 minutes in the corner with a bar of soap in your mouth?

You take a deep, steadying breath. It doesn’t matter what the punishment is. You’re sick of being a baby.

“I…I won’t!”

Mommy sighs.

“Jason, look at me.”

Whatever reaction you expected, this was not it. She hasn’t used your name or addressed you like an adult in well over a year.

Maybe she understands!

You stare into your eyes, searching for some hope.

“What’s gotten into you?”

Her question seems genuine. Inviting. This is your chance to tell her everything.

That you’re tired of living life as her baby, without any say in what happens in your life. Tired of the mind numbing baby shows and Fischer Price toys that turn your brain to mush.

That you’re tired of everyone in your life dismissing you like you’re some silly toddler, unworthy of respect or dignity. Tired of early bedtimes, daily naps, and boring, unspiced food.

That you’re tired of wearing diapers and having them changed whenever and wherever she decides. Tired of Winnie the Pooh overalls with snaps at the crotch, Bluey diaper shirts, and pastel onesies.

That you’re tired of diapers being the only place you’re allowed to cum—if Mommy gives you permission. Tired of listening to your best friend fuck your wife while you sleep in a crib.

It’s not cute anymore. You want to be an adult again.

“I want my old life back. No more baby stuff. I’m an adult—time you remember that.”

Mommy laughs.

“Oh, honey…no.”

The simple denial, unburdened by any explanation, feels like a slap in the face.

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean, no. Nothing will change for you.”

“Yes, it will! You can’t force me to be your baby!”

“You’re right.”

“So, you’ll stop treating me like a baby?”

“No.”

“Then…then I’ll leave!”

“The doors right there, baby.”

For a split second, you think about your freedom—until the reality hits.

Mommy smiles knowingly as you work through the situation.

You have no adult clothes. No cell phone. No money. No car. No driver’s license. Nothing but a stack of diapers and a closet full of onesies.

“Need help packing a bag?”

Her voice oozes with the same infantile cadence you hate. No different from how a parent would entertain a toddler threatening to run away.

“Mommy gave you everything you wanted, hun. You wanted ‘the real thing,’ remember? Not role-play, not a dynamic—no, you wanted authenticity.”

She pokes your diaper.

“Well, you got it! Why do you think I insisted that you give up your law license? Or close your bank accounts and credit cards? Let your driver’s license expire? Hmm?”

She tickles your tummy.

“See, being a baby isn’t just about poofy diapies, colorful pacifiers, and adorable onesies, kiddo. Nope! Real babyhood requires utter dependence on Mommy for your every need! Babies can’t survive without their mommies—and neither can you!”

The full weight of her words crashes down on you.

“You have no money, no job, no place to go. But, sure, if you want to leave, Mommy will put you in a fresh diaper and new onesie, pack you a diaper bag, and wish you luck.”

Her smile throws you off balance.

“I’ll…I’ll call m-my…my friends…”

More laughter.

“Sweetie, everyone knows you’re a baby. Who is going to volunteer to babysit you? You can’t pay rent, can’t help with groceries, and need someone to change your diapers. Nobody is letting you stay with them.”

“I don’t need diapers!”

“You’re incorrigible, kiddo. Your diaper is leaking, by the way. Did you know?”

“I…”

“Face it, sweetheart. There is no going back. Mommy made sure of that. You’re so far from adulthood that I claim you as a dependent on my taxes. Besides, what law firm is desperate enough to hire someone with a 3-year gap in employment? Your resume will be written in crayon…”

She giggles at the ridiculousness.

“Even if you did leave, you’re not leaving behind diapers. You understand you’re not potty trained, right? And, honey, do you remember your last stiffie?”

Her silence demands an answer.

“I-I-I-I…dunno…”

She pinches your cheek.

“Aww! That’s because I took them just like your potty training! Even if I played with it, begging you to get hard for Mommy…nothing would happen. No more stiffies…ever!”

Your heart sinks into your stomach.

“Last question, baby boy. What woman wants an unemployed, impotent man-child who isn’t even potty trained?”

You shrug, defeated.

“Oh, sweetie, don’t be sad! Mommy wants that, silly! Me! I worked hard to make all your dreams come true! And mine.”

“B-but you said you w-weren’t into being a…a mommy…”

“I wasn’t…at first. But now? Fuck it turned me on stripping you of every shred of masculinity and adulthood. Breaking you down into my helpless, docile plaything. You’re my itty bitty Play-Doh, waiting to be molded by my hands.”

“Th-that’s…y-you’re lying!”

“No, baby. You’re going to spend the rest of your life as my baby—all because it turns me on. You could never dream of doing that as my husband. Ugh, I’m dripping just thinking about it.”

She bites her lip, sensing your surrender.

“Now. Tell me you’re Mommy’s baby. My good boy…”

Your cheeks burn with humiliation of the truth.

“I…m’your…Mommy’s b-baby…and…and good b-boy.”

Mommy winces in pleasure.

“That’s right! Are you a big boy?”

“N-no, Mommy.”

“Mmmm,” she moans, “Tell Mommy why...”

“C-cause…I-I…’mnot potty trained a-and c-can’t g-get a…a…umm…”

“Say it, little one.”

“Getta…s-stiffie, Mommy.”

“Ahh! Will you ever, ever have sex again?”

You shudder in shame. “N-no, Mommy..”

“Mhm! You’re Mommy’s perpetually pampered, eternally mushy baby boy!”

You nod, defeated and broken.

“Now, naptime. Mommy needs to play with Daddy…”

You start grabbing your blocks.

“No. Crib. You can clean after.”

Mommy’s cheeks are flushed with anticipation as she hastily tucks you in.

“Be a good boy and listen to how happy your rightful place makes Mommy.”

You barely have time to register what the rest of your life was going to be before Mommy is screaming Daddy’s name. Your useless nub twitches but remains as steadfastly squishy as your diaper.

This is how you’ll spend the rest of your life.

Utterly and completely dependent on the woman who stole your adulthood, emasculated you, and relegated you to a lifetime of pampers.