Untitled

It's just the Redhead thing, I swear it, Mommy...

Ohhh...

The Keyholder

"Coochie-coochie-coo!! Ahh-coochie-coochie-coo!! Whose da most adorwable widdle man-baybee in da whole wide world?? Who is it?! Huh?? Who is it??"

She dangled the stupid ring of rainbow plastic keys right in front of my burning face, letting them swing like a taunting pendulum. Each jingle felt like a slap to whatever scraps of adult dignity I had left. She knew exactly how much the infantilizing tone shredded me...and she loved watching it happen.

“D'awww!! look at youuuu! Look at Mommy’s big, helpless, padded princess all squirmy and desperate in his crinkly diapee! Does my sweet baybee boy see something he wikes? Hmm? Does he?”

She swung the keys closer, letting them brush the tip of my nose before snatching them back with a playful giggle. Her eyes sparkled with pure, wicked delight.

“Ohhh nooo…is something wongg??" she gasped in mock surprise, pressing a manicured hand to her chest. "Are these not the keys you wanted, sweetie-pie? These silly, jangly baybee keys that go clickity-clack and jingle-jingle-jingle? Silly me! I thought my widdle locked-up loser only wanted pretty plastic toys to play with!” She tilted her head, batting her lashes like she was genuinely puzzled. “You’re...you're not still thinking about these big, scary metal keys Mommy’s keeping nice and warm between her boobies, are you? Because those are for real grown-up boys! Not for silly little diaper messers like you!”

I whimpered, the sound coming out high, broken, and pathetic. The real keys—the ones that could finally free my aching, denied cock—were tucked right there in her cleavage, glinting just enough to torture me. My hips twitched uselessly, my cage throbbing inside the padding in protest.

“P-please, Mommy…” I tried, but she cut me off with a theatrical gasp.

“Uh-uh-uh!" She tutted, wagging her finger "No big-boy words, princess. If you want these special keys soooo badly, you’re gonna have to earn them the only way a baybee like you can. I want the most ridiculous, drooly, adorable baybee babbles you’ve ever made. I want raspberries. I want goo-goo ga-ga’s so silly they make me laugh till I cry. I want you waving those useless little mitten paws like you’re trying to fly to the moon. I want drool running down your chin, legs kicking in the air, the whole nine yards! Show Mommy how pathetic her locked-up diaper boy can be, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll think about it.”

My face burned hotter than the sun. But the ache between my legs and the way her voice wrapped around me like warm honey made resistance impossible. I hesitated at first, clinging to my last shred of dignity, but eventually the throbbing ache in my balls won out. I lifted my mittened hands and started flapping them wildly in front of my face like a little bird.

“Goo goo! Ga ga! Ma-ma! Ba-ba-baaa!” I whimpered in the highest, most ridiculous pitch I could manage. Spit flew from my lips as I blew the wettest, longest raspberry I’d ever made—ppppppbbbbbtttt!—right into the air. Drool immediately started sliding down my chin in a shiny trail. I didn’t wipe it. Just let rain across my chin and cheeks instead.

I rolled onto my back, kicking my padded legs up high in frantic bicycle kicks. The diaper crinkled so loudly it echoed off the nursery walls. “Ah-goo! Ah-goo-goo! Pwease pwease pwease, Mommy! Bay-bee need keys! Wittle baby so hawny in his diapee! Pppppbbbbbtttt! Goo-goo-ga-ga-goo!”

In a desperate attempt to earn more performance points, I flopped over onto my tummy, shoved my face into the mat, lifted my bottom high in the air and wiggled it back and forth like a happy puppy while still babbling nonsense. “Ma-ma! Ba-ba-ba! Wuv you Mommy! Pwease keys! Pwease unlocky!! Drooly bay-bee! Cage so tight! Wahhh-wahh!!!”

When I finally looked up, panting, drooling, chest heaving, my stomach plummeted. Mommy had her phone raised the whole time. The white light shining like a bright sign to show she'd been filming the whole thing.

Mommy clapped her hands together in delighted, mocking applause, her voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness. “Oh my goooodness gracious! Look at that wittle tushie shaking! And those silly mitten waves! Who’s Mommy’s most ridiculous, drooly, desperate little diaper dumper, huh?? Is it you? Is it youuuu? Awww, you’re making such a big mess of yourself! Look at all that drool! Look at how pathetic you look!!”

I cringed in shame, head hung low, but despite it all, I was proud of my little performance. I looked up at her hopefully, drool still dripping down my chin.

She tilted her head and her eyes danced across the ceiling, she even tapped her lip to show that she was pretending to think. "Hmm...that was pretty good..." she mused, then shrugged. “But…i'm afraid it wasn’t quite good enough, sweetie." Her eyes twinkled with mischief. "Not for the real keys. I think Mommy needs to see even more desperation next time.”

My heart sank. A pathetic whine escaped me, like a dog denied its treat.

“Awww, don’t cry, my precious little padded prince!” she cooed, stroking my hair with one hand while still dangling the plastic keys with the other. “Mommy’s got a special consolation prize for her brave little babbler. Here… you can try these keys instead. Go on, take them, honey. Show Mommy how you’d unlock yourself if you were a big boy.”

Before I could even process it, she reached down, popped the tapes on my diaper with two quick rips, and peeled the front down. The cool air hit me instantly. My diaper was absolutely drenched, the entire front was dark yellow and sagging heavily. And there, completely exposed, was my steel chastity cage. My balls were swollen into large, purple plums. The tip of my denied cock was pressed hard against the end of the tube, leaking a steady, humiliating ropes of clear precum that ran down the cage and soaked into the already-wet padding beneath me. It glistened obscenely under the nursery lights. I looked so completely broken, purple, throbbing, and utterly helpless.

“Awww, would you look at that leaky little mess!” Mommy cooed, voice dripping with fake sympathy, then she pressed the plastic keys into my mittened hands. "Here, why dont you try to unlock yourself, sweetie! You never know...maybe one of these silly keys will actually work!" She inclined her head and gave me a firm look. One that told me I better play her little game for her amusement if I knew what was good for me. She lifted her phone again, and aimed it at me once more.

With a defeated sigh, I fumbled with the keys as much as my useless mittens would allow. Eventually, I managed to press one against the tiny lock with a clack. Nothing, of course. But I did it again anyway, more out of frustration than anything. Clack clack clack.

“Awww! Looks like that wasn’t the one…” she tsked, lips pursed in exaggerated disappointment. “Maybe try another, baby. Mommy’s rooting for you!”

I whimpered and whined pathetically as I performed another pitiful display for her. Fumbling the stupid plastic keys until i had one pressed between my mittens so I could pretend to give it an honest shot at unlocking me. Even with how futile the exercise was, my caged cock still twitched and bobbed in anticipation each time I pressed the plastic against it. Like it was too dazed to even understand. It just wanted out. But instead it had to endure this cruel torture.

Every clumsy attempt made the cage bounce and more precum ooze out in a fresh drip. I looked utterly ridiculous, drool still on my chin, soaked diaper open like a flag of surrender, mittens flapping as I poked at my own locked-up, leaking genitals.

Mommy’s giggles bubbled up brighter with every futile clack. “Ohhh, listen to that little symphony! Clack-clack-clack… drip-drip-drip… Poke-poke-poke! Look how swollen those poor balls are! So purple and tight and so full. And still nothing opens. Isn’t it just the cutest thing?? My big strong husband, reduced to drooling and leaking while he pokes his own cage with baybee toys… poor widdle guy!!"

She leaned in closer, the phone still rolling, her tone dipping into something sharper, sweeter, more cutting.

“Maybe if I hadn’t found a key to another woman’s apartment on your ring, we wouldn’t be in this little situation now, would we?? Hmm? Maybe if my husband hadn’t been sneaking around into someone else’s front door… Mommy wouldn’t have had to take away the only key that really matters. The one to your pathetic, leaky little pee-pee!”

The words landed like a slap. My stomach twisted. Heat flooded my face anew. The plastic key I’d been fumbling slipped again, landing in the sodden landscape of my diaper. My cock gave one last helpless throb, another thick rope of precum sliding free, but the shame burned hotter than the ache.

I couldn’t hold it back anymore. The babbling spilled out before I could stop it. High, broken and desperate.

“Pwease… Mommy… pwease…” My voice cracked into that humiliating infantile whine, mittens flapping weakly. “Pwease… pwease open for bay-bee… I sowwy… I so sowwy… no more bad boy… just Mommy’s bay-bee… pwease unlocky… pwease pwease pwease…”

The words tumbled faster, wet and garbled around the drool still coating my chin. “Goo goo… ma-ma… bay-bee need keys… weal keys… no more secwets… pwease Mommy… I be good… I be good widdle bay-bee fowevew… pppbbbttt… pwease open cage… pwease…”

I kept poking anyway. Clack, clack, clack. Each useless jab punctuated by another whimper, another plea, another fresh drip. The mittens slapped against my thighs, the keys kept sliding, and my whole body shook with the effort of debasing myself further, trying to erase what I’d done with sheer, ridiculous surrender.

Mommy’s smile widened, slow and satisfied, like she’d been waiting for exactly this collapse.

“That’s it, princess,” she cooed softly, almost tenderly. “Let it all out. Tell Mommy how sorry you are. Keep babbling, keep leaking, keep poking like the pathetic little diaper boy you are. Show the camera what real remorse looks like.”

I didn’t stop. The words kept coming. Goo goo's, pweases, sowwy's, ma-ma's, all mixed with wet raspberries and broken sobs, until finally the last key slipped from my useless mittens and clattered onto my wet, throbbing balls with a final, pathetic tinkle.

She tapped the screen her phone a few times, and I heard the unmistakable swoosh of a message being sent.

“We’ll see what my girlfriends decide. Maybe they will think your pathetic little baybee babble and apology is enough” she said sweetly. “Or maybe your little followers on Tumblr will have mercy on you. But judging by the last few polls… I wouldn’t get your hopes up, princess.”

She snapped the same cold, wet diaper back up tight over my still-leaking, still-throbbing cage with a few rips and crackly crinkles. "But until then..." she scooped the plastic keys back up, going right back to giggling and cooing once more.

Marcie had rolled her eyes. Dina had had her when she had been Marcie's age. Her mom never showed it but Marcie knew being a young, single mom hadn't been easy, a fact that she brought up whenever she'd had enough of her mom's fantasies. "Really mom, you want sleepless nights, spit up, tantrums, dirty diapers?" she'd ask. Every time she brought that up a smile and faraway look would cross Dina's face.

Her mom was single so Marcie wasn't worried about becoming a big sister. Shortly into her sophomore year her mom casually mentioned that she was taking in a young man, Miles. Apparently he was some second cousin twice removed or something. Marcie couldn't really care being so far away. He'd apparently hadn't had luck finding work after he graduated and had moved to the city and would be staying at their house while he got his footing.

Marcie didn't think anything of it. She'd occasionally get a brief update at the end of the phone call, "oh your cousin's been having such a hard time getting a job, poor thing." One time she called her mom to catch up but couldn't hear a word she was saying. "Sorry for the background noise hun, running some sheets. Poor Miles has had a tough time lately." Marcie had just moved on once the din of the laundry machine had gone down.

Finally, Marcie's school work was wrapping up for the year. She hadn't been home in a while but work or internships had failed to materialize that summer so she was heading back home to try and get work there.

She got dropped off at her house in the afternoon. She opened the door but no one greeted her. The house seemed normal for the most part but something felt strange, maybe it was just that it'd been so long since she'd been home, but there was a lingering energy that Marcie couldn't put her finger on. She left her bag in the foyer and called out for her mom. "Up here!" she heard her mom's voice coming from the guest room.

The guest room door was wide open. Marcie assumed the grown man in the diaper was Miles, her distant cousin. The shock of seeing a grown man using a pacifier and wearing the thickest diaper she'd ever seen was almost as great at seeing the smile on her mother's face. Marcie wondered if she looked as shocked as Miles. "Hello," she finally managed to say.

Dina stood up, lifting Miles's pj's over his bulging bottom as she did. "See Miles," she cooed into the man's ear "I told you your cousin wasn't going to make fun of you. Now you had a big day today, so we definitely need a nap. I'll come get you when it's time for din din, kay baby?" The young man nodded sharply then crawled into bed, snuggling his head into the pillow, his thickly diapered bottom rising above his back.

Dina quietly closed the door, put her finger to her lips, then beckoned Marcie down stairs, leading her to the dining room.

Sitting at the dining room table Dina explained how the past few months had affected poor Miles. What started as occasional bedwetting soon became a nightly habit that started to spill into the mornings, then afternoons, then evenings. "I've had to buy the poor boy new pants, the one he brought with were too smelly before I convinced the silly thing that he needed to wear diapers until we figured this out."

"So out of the blue this guy just started peeing himself?" Marcie had her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. "Hun, the poor boy has been beside himself. You don't think I'd have a hand in that?" Marcie didn't want to believe that, but she also wondered how much of her mom's help was aimed at stopping these accidents.

Dina continued, "no doctors have found anything wrong with him, physically. I've talked to a therapist who says that it's an issue of compounding reinforcement on self image. Miles feels like he's failed as an adult by not living on his own and not jumping in to a career. The stress of that likely started his bedwetting which further reinforced his image as immature which led to pantswetting, which led to diapers, which led to messy accidents-

"Mom he's shitting himsel-!" Marcie didn't mean to say it so loudly and cut herself off as her mom shushed her.

"One morning a month ago I came out of the bathroom to see Miles with a thoroughly overused pull up. He didn't know he was going back to diapers anyway. He'd leaked through too many pullups. Poor thing." Marcie saw the look of concern on her mom's face. It looked genuine enough, she thought, she probably isn't poisoning him or anything.

"So he's back in diaper now mom, for good?"

"I talked to his mother, and the therapist. Miles is now... having his self-image radically readjusted. We don't know where it will stop, but when it does we may be able to build him back from there." Dina stood up straight and looked Marcie straight in the eyes. "What we can do, will do though, is make sure Miles knows he is loved and supported throughout. Yes dear, I know how strange it is, but his mother and the therapist agreed, this is the best place for him now. They're both providing the support they can, but altering his life more, like moving him again, will only accelerate this process and make recovery more difficult. So he's here for the foreseeable future and I'll need your support."

Marcie's head spun. Coming home she was worried if she'd get a summer gig, now she was looking at being a big sister to a baby bigger than her. "Mom I-"

"Hun I'm not asking you to be his nanny. I don't know how much help he'll- I'm just asking for now at least, be kind."

Marcie gulped and nodded. "Yeah mom, of course."

Dinner that night was mostly silent. Miles shuffled downstairs after his nap. Marcie could here him crinkling even as she set the table. She tried her best to smile at him, then spent the rest of the meal staring at her plate. Her mom took the empty dishes to the kitchen when she heard the crinkles again, then the whimpering. She looked over to see Miles looking panicked as he fidgeted in his seat. He looked around the table frantically then shoved his thumb in his mouth, still fidgeting.

"Hey, uh Miles, do you want to um take your thumb out, or uh, where's your pacifier?" Marcie tried her best to sound sympathetic. She scanned the table too, seeing the pacifier right by his elbow. She picked it up and held it in front of him. "Here, use this." She felt ridiculous offering a pacifier to a guy in his 20's. Miles continued to fidget and whine behind his thumb that he was sucking faster and faster.

Marcie gently took the thumb out of his mouth and slid his pacifier in. Miles eyes went wide and dulled, his fidgeting slowed, and he started to pee his diaper. Marcie heard the hiss and stumbled back into her chair, watching the grown man let loose into his thirsty padding. He wasn't even done when Dina walked back in the room.

"Ah did Marcie help you find your paci Miles, isn't she sweet? Oh and I think I know where all that juice you had before your nap went too!"

Dina moved to stand Miles up and prodded the slightly sagging padding around his waist. Marcie took that as her chance to leave back to her room.

The rest of the week Marcie spent as much time as she could looking for work. She needed to find a job, not just for money but to have an excuse to be out of the house. Dina had said that Marcie would always have opportunities to earn money by helping with Miles. Marcie did eventually find a job, at a restaurant, working mid week lunch shifts.

She wasn't pleased that she managed to find such a meager money flow but at least she was earning something and by staying at home she was keeping her costs close to nothing, and by having a job she had an excuse to get out of the bizarre world her home was turning in to.

Every day she came home from work that world crept further into the house. Sippy cups and bottles started appearing in the dishwasher. She saw more and more toys strewn across the living room. A stack of diapers and changing supplies appeared in the corner next to the sofa one day. Marcie looked at them, thick, crinkly, some plain white and others adorned with cute patterns.

Miles was changing too, rapidly. After her third day at work she was setting the table for dinner when Miles came down as shy and bashful as her first day back. Marcie looked at him wondering where her mom had found a diaper to match his t-shirt before realizing what he was wearing.

"Doesn't Miles look adorable in his new onesie darling?" Dina said as she put an arm around him. "These help keep his diapers from sagging, we don't want them falling off him after all!" Marcie forced a smile, "Yeah Miles, uh, looking sharp." Marcie doubted she delivered the line with conviction but chose to take his increased pacifier sucking as a sign that she'd mollified the young man. His pacifier is on a ribbon! She thought, only to be further surprised when her mom snapped a silicon bib around his neck and put a plastic plate of finger food in front of him.

"Now Marcie, I know you have tomorrow off, in the morning I'm having a few things delivered for Miles's room, can you help us set it up?"

Marcie looked between them for a moment. "Uhm yeah, sure mom, happy to help." Her mom beamed and turned to Miles. "See baby! I told you she'd be a helper!"

The next morning after breakfast the three of them brought a half dozen boxes up to Miles's room. Marcie had avoided the space since her first day and was surprised at how much had changed. All the posters of cars and skateboarders had been taken down and toys ranging from legos to giant ring stacks were piled up in a corner by Miles's bed. She saw the shelf in the small closet was stacked practically to the ceiling with bags of adult diapers. How long does she expect this to go on, Marcie thought.

The three of them got to work opening the boxes with Dina directing where to put what. It was a familiar pattern to Marcie. Just like Ikea she thought and she slid another plank over a row of dowels. She stood back and realized what it was. "Mom are these, crib bars?"

She turned to the corner where her mom and Miles were working. "Yes dear, Miles has had a few spills at night lately, probably trying to get to the potty. I'm surprised you haven't heard. We don't want him getting any big boo boos and this will help keep him snug and safe!" Dina walked over to the assembled bars and motioned to Dina to lift with her. They carried the piece over to Mile's bed and set it on the frame, where Dina moved around clipping the base onto the frame. The two stood back. Marcie figured that if Miles stood the bars would be at his belly button. She turned back to Miles, who was looking at his new bed with what Marcie thought may be wonder, or confusion. Marcie pieced together what he and Dina had been working on too. It resembled a massage table with shelves built in. A changing table, Marcie realized.

"You two have been so helpful, Marcie why don't you and Miles play in the living room for a bit. I can put on some finishing touches up here." Dina looked at her daughter and nodded slowly as she spoke. Marcie sighed, she'd been avoiding Miles and she knew it, Miles probably did too. The man wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, and it looked like he'd be like this for at least the rest of the summer. You don't buy a guy a changing table if potty training is in the cards.

"Oh look, race cars, these look like fun!" Marcie dumped the box of toy cars on the rug and sat on the living room sofa with her phone. She watched Miles get on his knees and crawl to the toys and start to play. She scrolled aimlessly for a minute before she heard the sound of playing stop and she looked to see Miles on his knees facing her. He had a blank look on his face. not the blank look he sometimes got when watching a cartoon or peeing. He looked like he might be presenting a project to a class, if he weren't wearing a t-shirt and a diaper, Marcie thought to herself.

"I-I sowwy," he began and cleared his throught. "I'm sorry- about all this, being here like this," he began to sniffle.

Marcie leaned forward, feeling sympathy for hadn't felt for the man a few years older than her. "It's ok Miles, this all must be, a lot like a lot for you."

Tears were brimming Miles's eyes. "I don't wanna be a big baby but it's better dan, is betta dun..." He looked at the ground around him for a moment before putting his thumb in his mouth. Marcie saw his face relax and his shoulders slacken.

"I dun wanna be a big diapie baby, bu being a baby is betta dan bein scawed." Marcie nodded, this was the most she'd heard Miles talk in the nearly two weeks she'd been home. Miles took his thumb out of his mouth, took in a big gulp of air and continued.

"Like before it was like I was falling, all da time, and now I'm like gliding? Or like dere's a big fluffy thing I know'll catch me, and your mommy... Your mommy's really nice and pretty and I know I'm safe and she's happy." Miles trailed off and put his thumb back in his mouth.

Marcie put her phone down, slid off the sofa, and looked at Miles. "Miles baby, it's ok, my mom is definitely happy. I'm glad she's able to help you. I'm glad we're here to help you." Miles nodded and smiled. "Wanna show me some of your cars?" Marcie asked.

She lost track of time playing with Miles. They barely spoke, mostly giggled, as they ran toy cars over and into thing on the living room rug.

Marcie went to the dining room to grab a car Miles had manage to slide under the table. When she turned around she saw Miles on his feet in a deep squat, with one hand on his stomach and a thumb in his mouth.

As Marcie slowly walked to him Mile's grunted and strained as he loaded the seat of his diaper. Marcie watched his diaper droop closer to the ground. She heard his diaper crinkle as it expanded. Without thinking she reached down and grabbed his hands. He took them and shakily pulled himself up, stopping briefly to push more mess into his bloated diaper.

Marcie stared mouth agape at the man in her living room pooping his diaper. She'd been dreading this, she'd tried to ignore the scents creeping over the house. The sweeter scents of baby powder and skin lotions were easy to ignore, but she'd refused to name the lingering scents of Miles's accidents that had been creeping out of his room and around the house. She knew that if Miles was really regressing that'd mean wet and messy diapers would be a daily fact of life. Now she was awash in the stench of Miles's soiled diaper. It hung in the air like a fog. As gross as I suspected it would, she thought. She stared and him, looking down at him as he stood there bowlegged, his face still red from straining, a bit of snot beneath his nose.

"P-po-poopy." Miles said as he stood up with his legs bowed.

Marcie laughed. Her laughter surprised Miles, and herself. Her first experience, one of many to come she realized, of looking at this man in his poopy diaper. "Yeah baby, definitely poopy, and stinky!" Seeing a frown start to form on his face Marcie continued. "Miles, it's ok. That's what your diapers are for, remember? You're in diapers so using them is what you're supposed to do." She said it flatly, as much for herself as for the young man in front of her.

The stood staring at each other silently for a moment before another stinky waft reached Marcie's nose. She waved a hand in front of her nose "Pee-yew Miles! Are all your diapers this stinky?"

That got a giggle out of him. I'm joking with a man about his poopy diaper, she thought. This stinks, it literally stinks so bad, but that's it? Marcie pondered, the diaper was here, yucky and smelly, but it's manageable, not a car crash level disaster she'd been making it out to be. It really was smelly though.

"Ok, let's get my mom to take care of this." Miles nodded and walked towards the stairs. Marcie looked at the back of his diaper, plastic stretched and drooping. Watching the slightly discolored seat sway with his waddling steps. They stood next to each other back in the doorway of Miles's bedroom, though bedroom didn't do the space justice, Marcie thought. This was a nursery. The room had changed so much she forgot for a moment how much Miles reeked.

The crib's sheets were light blue and adorned with ducks and sheep, the changing table had a plastic cover as well, similarly adorned with cartoon animals. Beneath the cover Dina had filled the shelves with diapers and changing supplies. A play carpet covered center of the room.

Dina stood proudly in the center of the nursery and her smile grew bigger when her nose started to twitch. "Miles, did you know I just finished putting your changing supplies away? Is that why I'm smelling a dirty diaper?" She embraced the young man and pulled back the back of his diaper. Marcie winced as the stench increased.

"Oh my! I'll say this is the right diaper to christen your new changing table! What do you say we get you out of this yucky thing?" Miles nodded his head against Dina's breasts. Marcie briefly caught her mother's eyes as she left the room making sure to close the door behind her.

That evening, after Miles had been tucked into his new crib, Marcie and Dina sat on the sofa with a bottle of wine. Dina, Marcie noted, was glowing.

"Thank you so much for your help today with Miles dear," Dina rested a hand on her daughter's arm. "Today could have been a tough one. I'm so proud of how you both handled it."

"And how are you handling it Mom? It seems like you're in it for the long haul." Marcie watched her mom's expression as a smile settled, left, then returned.

"Well the poor boy is likely to be like this for some time. We're supposed to wait for his regression to settle, then look for signs of growth again, similar to a toddler." Marcie noted Dina's frown as she said 'growth.' Dina perked up again. "But until that happens we'll keep Miles will be safe, happy, and clean. Speaking of which, let me know if you want to help with changing any diapers." Dina chuckled and Marci rolled her eyes.

Three days later Marcie changed her first diaper. She didn't have a shift that day so she was helping feed Miles his lunch while her mom picked up more groceries. She was spooning some fruit into Miles's open mouth, trying to tamp down on how adorable she thought he looked when she heard a familiar hissing. She was used to that sound but was startled by the sound of liquid on plastic, then the drip of liquid on the floor.

She looked down underneath the highchair tray and saw a staned onesie straining over a saturated diaper. Miles's accident had broken containment and his seat was filling, with his pee overflowing onto the floor. Miles had tears flowing down his cheeks and Marcie quickly pushed his paci between his lips. She didn't know when her mom would be back so Marcie removed the tray and avoiding the puddle hugged Miles's face to her chest. "Sshhh baby, I'm sorry you got a leaky diaper. Let's take care of that ok?"

Marcie stood the young man up, carefully stripped off his clothes leaving him in just a yellow, squishy, saggy diaper, and walked him closer to the changing supplies.

On a changing mat on the living room floor Marcie untaped Miles's bloated diaper. With her encounters with penises at this point, few had been flaccid. Marcie marveled at how smooth Miles's crotch was. The smell wasn't too bad she thought as she wiped him down. It's about as bad a typical port-o-potty she thought. As she finished wiping him Miles's penis started to twitch. She was quick with the powder and taping him up. Dina came home a minute later, assessed the scene, and instructed Marcie to feed Miles a bottle on the sofa while she cleaned up. Marcie felt a strange serenity looking down at Miles's closed eyes as he lay in her lap nursing his oversized baby bottle.

Two days later she changed her first messy diaper. Work had been rough. The kitchen was less competent than usual and the customers, the few that there were, were more miserable and miserly than ever before. Marcie felt her spirits lift when she was greeted home with a bear hug from Miles as soon as she walked in. She'd grown used to the smell of his shampoo and the ever lingering sweet scent of baby powder that clung to him. She breathed the smells in and felt the stress start to leave her. After a moment though she felt Miles stir, his head sliding down slightly against her collar bone. She was confused when it felt like Miles was bucking against her, then she heard the squelching sound of his diaper expand and the soiled smell wafted up to her.

She pulled back and looked at Miles with his goofy, mouth agape grin and wide eyes. Her nose wrinkled and she waived a hand in front of her nose. "Really couldn't wait to see me could you buddy?" Miles let out a small laugh and blushed. "Where's Dina?" Marcie asked calmly but the stench was getting stronger. "She's in da showa," Miles said as he stood up with a wide stance. Shit, Marcie thought, her mom took her time in the shower and she didn't want to have to endure the dirty diaper stench that long, or have Miles stay in a poopy diaper that long. "Ok buddy, let's get you changed." Marcie grabbed Miles's hand and took him to his nursery.

He's better behaved than an actual baby during a diaper change, there's that at least, Marcie thought to herself as Miles lay still holding his legs up on his changing table. That's about it though. Cleaning him up stunk, it smelled worse than a port-o-potty on the last day of a music festival. Still, she made progress, wipe after wipe, until Miles was cleaned, lotioned, powdered, and diapered again. Marcie held the offending diaper at arms length and dropped it in the diaper pail. She knew it wasn't even a particularly full one. From the way she'd seen his diapers sag and stain she put it on the lighter side of medium. Still, she was glad to have it gone. She turned to see Miles sitting up on the changing table wearing just a shirt and new clean diaper. He smiled behind his paci as it bobbed between his lips and he swung his legs back and forth. Marcie's first adult baby poopy diaper change had been gross, probably the grossest thing she'd ever done. It still wasn't the worst part of my day though, she thought.

The house changed after that. Marcie no longer tiptoed around the adult baby in her midst and Miles didn't seem to feel any more trepidation around Marcie either. He was always about now, no longer holed up in his room. Marcie would see him playing on his own or with her mom when she woke up and when she got home.

Her mom was overjoyed when she heard about Marcie's first dirty diaper change. Marcie didn't think Dina had been holding back but she certainly wasn't after that. Her joy shone bright as she nuzzled, cuddled, cood, and pampered her adult baby man. Marcie herself enjoyed playing with what she was growing to view more and more and her big baby brother. His happiness was infectious.

As she grew more comfortable she stopped treating Miles like he was going to break at any moment. Growing up an only child she found herself enjoying the chance to tease the man a few years older than herself.

"Mom, careful before you come in here, Miles just dropped an absolute bomb in his diaper."

"Miles, you need another diaper change, your not getting paid for this are you?"

"I know bigger boys make bigger boom boom but seriously dude what has my mom been feeding you?!"

Her comments usually got a giggle out of the adult baby, and if she saw his lip start to quiver a quick ruffle of his hair or peck on the cheek got him smiling again.

She still relegated more diaper changes to her mom but Marcie did handle more adult baby care. Dina, to her credit, never pushed for Marcie to babysit but with most of her friend's away Marcie didn't have much reason to go out and spend money on the weekends when she could stay in and earn it. So Marcie spent more time playing with Miles, feeding him, giving him his nightly baths, and reading him stories.

Miles was less reluctant to leave their house when Marcie and Dina could both go. So the three of them tried to make it out at least twice a week, Miles holding their hands in between them, to parks, the zoo, and the movies.

Occasionally Marcie would stop and think about how strange it all was, how it must look to the neighbors who'd caught glimpses of the adult baby boy living on their street, but those quickly faded away as everyday life demanded more attention.

The day Marcie left to go back to school Miles had been a wreck. She'd quit her job the week before and had spent her free time with him. She was so happy she'd got him to laugh when she read him a story before his afternoon nap. Her mom and her had agreed that it'd be best if she left when he was asleep. She'd lingered in the doorway of his nursery and watched his chest rise and fall as he slept softly in his crib.

Down in their doorway Marcie hugged Dina. Marcie knew Dina would do fine on her own with Miles. That was something that concerned her actually. Miles was a young adult, and cute as he was waddling around in diapers he probably would want to become an adult again, sooner rather than later. Marcie knew her mom loved Miles, probably as much as her mom loved her, and she knew how much joy her mom got from having someone need her.

"Mom before I go... with Miles... don't forget..." Don't forget he's a grown man and this is all really fucking weird. Don't forget that as much as you love changing diapers and spoon feeding him he needs to grow up as soon as he can. Dina thought all that, and also held the last image of him, sleeping and snuggling his teddy.

"Yes hun, what shouldn't I forget?" Dina said with a knowing smile.

"Don't forget to check the baby during naps more often. He's been going poo poo more and more often when he sleeps, and don't forget to send me pictures of him too. I want to show my friends at school what a cutie he is." Marcie gulped and grabbed her bags. "And don't forget to tell him that his big sister Marcie loves him and I'll be back sooner than he can shake a rattle."

Imagine being a baby at home with the caregiver(s) everyday.

Wake up in the same crib, with the same plushies, in the same wet diaper.

The same diaper change.

Getting put in the living room on your tummy to watch TV with Mama or Dada as they rub your back and shake stimulating toys in your face. Maybe they even bottlefeed you while you watch.

Can you already feel the sun from the 10 am morning shining down on you from the window as you crawl to the sunspot to your caregiver?

Maybe they'll even play with you! Will they tickle you? Play peek-a-boo??

Maybe they'll even take you outside or to the park!! You can go in the baby swing or sandbox or play with bubbles!!

And they'd definitely take photos for your baby album!

Imagining the sweet way they'd talk to you, with encouraging, developmentally healthy language for babies. "Can you say ma-ma?" "Do you see the blue butterfly?"

Except for there's no expectation to grow up. Only getting younger or staying the same. And always with your caregiver.

Ending every night with story time and lullabies and cuddles to sleep.. and maybe a few hypno tapes..

Seen And Not Smelled

“So we just finished up dinner at the restaurant," Tessa explained, "and we get back in my car—because of course I had to drive— and what does he do?? He pulls out a fucking strap-on and asks me if I’ll peg him!”

*gasp!*

“Noooo!”

"Stahhp!!

“He had it with him the whole time?!”

“Yup. Full harness, dildo, veins and everything. Just chilling in his bag ready to go, apparently.”

“And what did you say?”

“Oh, I was PISSED!”

“I know, right? I would be too! I mean, this was y’all’s first date and y’all had been talking for—what? Two days?? And he asks you to PEG him?!”

“Oh, I wasn’t offended by that.” Tessa said, waving it off and taking a sip of her wine. “I was offended that he brought one that was so goddamn small.”

“WHAAAT?!?!” The girls shrieked in surprise.

“So what did you do??”

Tessa crooked an eyebrow like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “I grabbed mine out of the trunk. Three sizes bigger. Then I drove around to the back of the restaurant, bent him over that same trunk, and fucked his ass right then and there.”

The girls howled with laughter. Hands smacking their thighs as they rolled around on the cushions of the couch.

“He swore up and down that he couldn’t take it. That it was ‘too big’…” Tessa continued, smiling victoriously. “but I made it fit. Made him squeal like a pig, too. Fucked him so hard he jizzed all over the concrete like a little bitch without me even touching his little dick!”

Priya almost snorted wine out of her nose.

Lauren wheezed. “And then what?”

Tessa shrugged, taking another sip. “I drove off. Left him by the dumpster with his pants down and his asshole gaped open. That’s what he gets for making me split the tab!”

The room lost it. Maeve wiping tears of laughter from her eyes before her mascara ran, Lauren doubled over clutching her stomach, Sara fanning herself like she might faint from secondhand glee.

“God DAMN, you’re ruthless! I love it.”

Priya tried to speak through giggles. “Okay, well my story isn’t that good, but I did have one guy last week that—”

She stopped cold. Nose wrinkled.

“Uhh… do you guys smell that?”

Lauren sniffed, face twisting. “Oh! God…yeah. That’s poop.”

Tessa’s eyes flicked down. “Uh… Maeve?”

They all collectively turned their attention from her, to the middle of the floor.

Noah had been there the whole time, kneeling quietly among his Lego bricks, thick cartoon-printed diaper crinkling faintly with every tiny shift.

Maeve sighed, small and resigned. She set her glass down.

“Noah,” she said sweetly, “honey…” she leaned forward and dropped her volume, as if she was about to have a discreet conversation even though all eyes and ears of the girls around could very much hear. “Did you make a stinky, sweetie?” She asked, “Did you have a little…accident?”

Noah didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His face flushed deeper than crimson, eyes glued to the half-finished Lego structure. A tiny, involuntary whimper escaped.

The girls exchanged glances.

Maeve let out a long exhale, then stood up slowly, smoothing her skirt. She walked over, and crouched behind him. Without ceremony she lifted the hem of his t-shirt, exposing the waistband of the diaper. One manicured finger hooked inside the back elastic and tugged it open just enough to peer in.

A pause. Then a low, tired groan.

“Yup,” she muttered, letting the elastic snap back. “Full load. Great timing, babe.”

She stayed crouched there for a second, rubbing her temple.

“Noah...didn't I tell you that tonight you were supposed to be seen and not heard? Did you not thinking that included smelled as well?” She exhaled hard through her nose. “Did you really have to do this right now? In front of my friends?”

Noah’s lower lip trembled, tears welling up in his eyes. "I'm s-sorry, Mommy. I had to go but I didn't want to interwupt and I didn't know what to do so I...I..." A soft, choked sob escaped...then another. His whole body shook with quiet, humiliated crying.

Maeve’s face softened immediately. All exasperation and frustration vanishing instantly.

“Oh, baby…” she whispered, wrapping her arms around him from behind, pulling him back against her chest in a gentle hug.

“I’m s-s-sorry, Mommy,” he choked out between sobs. “I’m so sorry. The girls are mad at me now. They’re mad and they hate me. I’m gwoss. I’m so gross and I ruined everything! I ruined girls’ night. I didn’t mean to!! I tried to hold it but I couldn’t and now everyone’s mad and the night is ruined because of m-m-me…”

He was having a full-on meltdown. So used to constantly being in Little Space that he forgot what it was like to hold back and save a little dignity. He cried and blubbered and let it all out.

Maeve immediately wrapped her arms around him and rocked him slowly, one hand cradling the nape of his neck, the other patting his heavy, sagging diaper in steady, comforting rhythms. “Shhh!! It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s sorry. I didn’t mean to be so hard on you. You couldn’t help it, could you? I know, sweetie. I know...”

She pressed a kiss to the top of his head, rocking him until the sobs eased into sniffles, until his breathing slowed and he leaned into her like he always did when he felt small and safe.

But the room was dead silent. Several long, awkward, heavy beats passed. No laughter, no quick quips, just the faint crinkle of Noah’s diaper as he curled tighter, shoulders shaking with quiet, mortified sobs.

Then Tessa—bold, unflappable Tessa—leaned forward, voice dropping into that warm, deliberate tone she used when she was about to take charge of an awkward moment.

“Hey…" she said softly, leaning forward on the couch, locking eyes with Noah, "...I heard someone has a poopy diaper,” a small smirk creeping up the side of her lip.

Noah's sobbing stopped with a hiccup, panicked.

“And it smells pretty yucky, huh?" Tessa continued, "Like...really gross. Big, stinky, full-on messy load.” She paused, letting the words settle without flinching. “But you know what?”

Noah braced for a brutal remark, something to scold and humiliate him, but it never came. Instead, Tessa smiled.

"It's okay." she said simply.

Noah’s sobs hitched. He lifted his head just enough to peek at her, eyes red-rimmed and incredulous, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Slowly, hesitantly, he leaned his head off Maeve’s chest, still sniffling, still clinging to her shirt with one fist.

Priya, catching on, smiled and leaned forward. "Aww! Is somewon embarwessed of that big lumpy load in their diapee? Hmm?" She didn’t wait for an answer, just tilted her head, letting a small, knowing smile creep in. "Did you really think we don't know what you do in those things?" she scoffed lightly, teasing but warm "Please! We know all about your pamper-pooping habits. Your mommy's told us all the stories!"

“Yeah…” Lauren joined in, softer, almost conspiratorial. “Did you think a little stink would scare us away? Come on… Like we haven’t heard about the blowouts in the park… or that time at the coffee shop when you two had to duck into the family restroom for an emergency change. We’ve been briefed, baby.”

Noah’s breathing slowed. The tears still slipped down his cheeks, but the frantic edge had dulled. His wide eyes moved from face to face, searching, waiting for the judgment that never came.

Tessa leaned forward reaching out her hand to beckon him. “Come here, little one." she said "Let me check you.”

He glanced at Maeve for reassurance, who smiled and nodded. She gave him an encouraging squeeze before letting him crawl over until he was close enough for Tessa's reach.

"Well go on..." she said, spinning her finger, "turn around so I can see your diaper."

Noah flushed a fresh fuchsia color on his cheeks, hanging his head a bit in shyness as he crinkled around in a circle, exposing his bottom.

There was only a hint of hesitation as Tessa reached out, her palm resting lightly against the thick, sagging seat of Noah's diaper. Lifting it and testing the weight of the heavy load before letting it plop back down.

"Mmm-hmm," Tessa murmured, giving the padded bottom a gentle pat, "That's definitely full!" She leaned in a little bit, giving a sniff, then recoiled. "Oof! Yea! And stinky too!!"

Noah whimpered, flipping back around in shy embarrassment. But Tessa still smiled. “See?” she said. “Still here. Not running. Not grossed out. Nothing scary about that. Just means the diaper did its job. And you did yours.”

Priya mirrored her, extending a finger to poke the side of the bulge, testing the give, like she was checking ripeness on fruit. A soft crinkle-squish. She raised an eyebrow at Maeve.

“Your mommy thinks we’ve never smelled a dirty diaper before. As if we don’t know exactly what kind of boyfriend she’s got.”

Lauren leaned in last, giving the padded bottom a single, affectionate squeeze, enough to make Noah squeak and bury his face deeper, but the squeeze lingered warm and steady.

“We expected you to dookie in your diaper eventually,” she murmured. “It’s what diapers are for, silly! That's why you wear them. No one’s mad. Promise.”

Noah’s lower lip quivered once more, but this time the tears that fell were slower, quieter. He sniffled hard, wiped his nose on the back of his wrist, and—almost against his will—a tiny, wobbly smile flickered at the corner of his mouth.

Maeve exhaled a long, shaky breath of relief. She rubbed slow circles on his back and looked around the circle at her friends, eyes shining. “Thank you,” she whispered. “All of you.”

Tessa just shrugged one shoulder, still smiling down at Noah. “Told you. We’re not going anywhere.”

Maeve swallowed, nodded, thanked them again for their understanding, then stood up straight. “I’m going to take him to the bedroom and change him real fast. I’ll be right—”

"What?"

"No way!" Priya waved her off. "Don’t hide the fun! He’s right here. Change him on the floor. We want the full show!”

Lauren nodded eagerly. “Yeah, come on. Live entertainment. We’ve seen the meltdown, might as well get the rest.”

Tessa leaned closer. “Please? It’s hilarious. And...kind of hot. In a weird way.”

“Okay, well… I dunno about ‘hot,’" Priya said, "but it definitely is… cute. Intimate.” She gave a small, reluctant smile.

The other girls murmured agreement, “Totally cute.”

Maeve exhaled. “Fine. But if anyone makes him cry, you’re all out.”

The girls squealed and clapped their hands in excited victory.

Maeve paused, hand still resting on Noah’s back. She looked down at hi, brushing a thumb across his damp cheek. “Baby?” she asked, voice low and private despite the audience. “You okay if Mommy changes you right here? Let the girls see how I take care of you when you have a big accident?”

Noah hesitated, eyes flicking toward the circle of faces. None of them mocking, all of them waiting with quiet patience. He swallowed hard, then gave the smallest nod. His voice came out tiny, cracked but steadying. “…Okay, Mommy.”

Maeve pressed a kiss to his head. “Alright then.”

She reached for the changing pad she kept folded nearby (always prepared), shook it out across the center of the rug, and smoothed it flat. The faint plastic crinkle seemed louder in the hushed room.

“Come here, sweetie. On your back for Mommy.”

Noah moved slowly, still shaky from the crying, still flushed, but he crawled the short distance and lay down without protest. Knees came up instinctively, arms resting stiff at his sides like he was bracing himself. The diaper sagged heavily between his thighs, the faint earthy smell still lingering in the air.

Maeve knelt beside him, putting a pacifier in his mouth to soothe him. Then ripped the tapes open one at a time with soft, sharp pops. The front panel fell away slowly, revealing the thick, messy contents. The smell bloomed stronger for a moment, no one flinched, but their noses did wrinkle.

Tessa leaned in just a fraction, voice warm and low. “Look at that… you really packed it in there, huh? Such a big, messy boy!”

Priya’s eyes widened, not in disgust, but in something closer to quiet awe. “Wow. That’s… a lot. You didn’t hold anything back, did you, sweetie?”

Lauren rested her chin in her hand, smiling softly. “It’s okay that it’s yucky. Diapers are made for yucky. You did exactly what you were supposed to!”

Maeve reached for the pack of wipes, pulling one free with a soft rustle. She started at the top. Slow, careful strokes across his lower belly, then lower still, folding the wipe and using fresh sections each time. The cool cloth made Noah twitch and suck in a small breath.

Tessa noticed. “Awww, cold wipey? Brrrrrr!!! Poor baby! Hold still!”

Maeve worked methodically, lifting his legs gently by the ankles to get underneath, wiping between cheeks, folding, wiping again. Every motion calm, practiced, loving. She didn’t rush, she let the moment breathe.

Priya watched, voice soft. “Your mommy’s so good at this. Look how gentle she is! You’re in good hands. We’re all right here!”

Maeve’s fingers moved to the creases of his thighs, cleaning the last traces with tender precision. As the wipe glided over the sensitive skin just beside his groin, Noah winced.

“Uh oh! Looks like someone’s getting hard!”

Priya leaned in a fraction, grinning. “Awww! Are you getting a boner??”

“Someone’s winkie likes the attention!” Tessa giggled, "Even when it's messy time!"

Noah’s face ignited scarlet from forehead to collarbones. He slapped both hands over his eyes with a mortified squeak, legs instinctively trying to close even as Maeve gently held them parted to finish the wipe-down. A tiny, embarrassed whimper slipped out from behind his palms.

Maeve didn’t miss a beat. She simply gave his tummy a soft, reassuring pat. “Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” she murmured, voice low and soothing. “Nothing to be shy about. You can't help it. Just a little excited from all the love and attention. That's all.”

She finished the last gentle pass with the wipe, then set it in the dirty diaper below, balled it up, put it aside, and reached for the baby powder. A generous puff of sweet-scented cloud drifted down, she rubbed it in with slow, circling palms over his bottom, between his legs, across his pelvis, careful and thorough, never lingering too long on the now-prominent erection but never shying away from it either.

Priya inhaled deeply. “Mmm… there we go! From super stinky to super fresh. Magic.”

Lauren smiled. “See? All better now. You’re our clean, sweet boy again.”

Maeve slid the fresh diaper under his hips, same cartoon pattern, thick and crinkly. She pulled the front up snug between his legs, taped one side, then the other, smoothing the waistband with her palms. Two final pats on the padded front, firm, reassuring.

“All done,” she said softly, helping him sit up.

The girls clapped like they just saw the most amazing Broadway show.

"Bravo!"

"Amazing!"

"Impressive!"

"Why don't you thank your Mommy for changing such a stinky diaper?"

Noah’s voice was clearer now, though still small and shy. “Thank you, Mommy.”

Maeve ruffled his hair. "You're welcome, sweetie." She said with a genuine smile, then glanced at the circle of women. “Now how about you apologize to the girls for pooping your pampers in front of them and interrupting girls’ night?” She followed it with a smirk and wink to let her know she wasn't too peeved.

Noah looked up at them, eyes still a little glassy, cheeks still pink, but he managed. “I’m sorry… for pooping my diaper and making it smell. And for… ruining the fun.”

Tessa shook her head immediately. “You didn’t ruin anything, sweetie. You made the night more interesting. We’re glad we got to be here for it.”

"No apologies needed,” Priya cooed.

Lauren grinned. “We think it’s cute.”

Maeve held up the balled-up soiled diaper.. “Can you be a big boy and go throw this away for Mommy, please?”

Noah nodded meekly, took it with careful fingers, and toddled off toward the kitchen, crinkling softly with each step, head a little higher despite the lingering flush on his cheeks.

The room exhaled collectively. Maeve sank back on her heels for a second, then climbed onto the couch beside Priya. She picked up her wine glass, took a long sip, and let out a quiet, grateful laugh.

Lauren spoke first, voice dreamy. “God… I want that."

Tessa snorted lightly. “Girl, you don’t even want real babies. What makes you think could handle a grown one?”

“Oh no, not that!” Lauren clarified quickly. “I don't know how you make it through more than one of those dirty diaper changes, Maeve. What I mean is… the way they look at each other. The bond they have. The connection. The trust. The intimacy. It’s...beautiful.”

Maeve sighed affectionately, a soft, genuine smile spreading. “It’s pretty great…”

Noah returned a moment later, empty-handed, cheeks still flushed but calmer. He resumed his spot on the rug without a word, picked up a Lego brick, and snapped it into place. The familiar click-click-click filled the quiet like a heartbeat.

Maeve ruffled his hair once more, then returned to the couch, picking up her wine glass.

Priya cleared her throat, grin returning. “Okay… so, back to my Tinder disaster. Where was I? Oh, right, the guy who thought that opening a door for me meant I owed him a blowjob…”

Laughter bubbled up, soft at first, then fuller. The room warmed again, the awkward spike smoothed over.

Girls’ night rolled on, Noah played with his blocks, and Maeve watched him with that quiet, loving look only she could give, knowing the night wasn’t ruined at all. It was even better now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’ll be just a minute, Mom! Your husband needs his dirty diaper changed! I’ll come and join you after I’ve got him in a clean pair of baby pants, okay?

Awww, what’s the matter widdle guy? You don’t wike it when your meanie step-daughter talks about you wike dat? You don’t wike it when I talk about your diapees? What, would you rather I call them your ‘incontinence briefs’ or something? Sorry mister, but they’re diapers. You know, like babies wear because they’re too immature for toilets? Now lift your bottom up so I can get this disgusting thing off you.

He was so timid, even when we first met. That was part of the reason I was so enamored with him; he was such a sweet and caring guy, which was such a refreshing change of pace from the hyper-masculine posturing of the typical guys I dated.

The first few months of dating were a totally refreshing experience. He was bashful and adorable. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed “wearing the pants” in the relationship. I found that I relished in taking the initiative and taking care of this sweet boy. My sweet boy.

When he told me about this… little side of him some time after moving in together, I couldn’t not melt from cuteness overload! You’re telling me the cutest guy I’ve ever dated wanted to wear diapers and suck on pacifiers? It was almost too adorable to handle!

Regardless, he still seemed really shy about it, even after telling me. Even after hearing me gush over my new baby boyfriend. That’s why I had to be extra supportive!

And that’s what this was, showing my support. Transforming the spare room to a nursery complete with crib, diaper drawers, and everything should make it impossible for him to pretend he’s not a little baby boy anymore! This was all to show him that I support his little life, and I’m excited to take care of my new little baby boyfriend!

That brings me to the here and now, changing another of my baby boy’s diapers. He’s so cute and so silly. He still blushes every time even though I had changed his diaper countless times before. He still has shyness about his new role despite the childish nursery surrounding him, yet somehow that shyness was adorable.

“Why are you blushing baby?” I teased, “I thought you’d be used to Mommy changing your diapers by now?”

His only response was to suck his pacifier faster and hide his tomato-red face behind his bear. Adorable.

I smiled at the childish display as I wiped his most intimate parts.

He really was so silly. He was blushing as if he didn’t sleep in a crib every night, as if I hadn’t changed a countless numbers of his diapers, as if I didn’t dress him in the toddler-ish shirt he wore right now, as if he wasn’t used to sucking his pacifier or hugging his teddy. He just needed a little bit more encouragement, encouragement I would happily give him.

“It’s okay, baby. I know you’re just a little baby, and that’s okay! Look around; you live in a nursery, little one! Mommy is here to take such good care of you! ”

Sure my baby boyfriend was shy, but I was so proud of him for telling me about his little side. Now all I had to do was continue to show my support of my silly little one.

——————————————

As always, all characters depicted are 18+

You never thought it would come to this. Of all the humiliations you’d endured since being reassigned to Second Toddlerhood, being forced to sleep in a crib, drinking from a sippy cup, having your "big boy" privileges revoked one by one, this was the moment that truly broke you.

There you sat, perched on the edge of the changing table in your childhood bedroom, the same room where you’d once hung posters of rock bands and dreamed of freedom. Now, the walls were adorned with cartoon animals, and the air smelled faintly of baby powder and plastic. Your high school girlfriend, the same girl who used to sneak you kisses behind the bleachers and laugh at your terrible jokes, stood over you with a smirk. In her hands, she held up the most degrading symbol of your new existence: a diaper, its bright colors and juvenile pattern a mockery of your former dignity.

"You know," she said, her voice dripping with amusement, "I always thought you had a little problem, but this is just sad." She dangled the diaper in front of your face, her eyes flicking down to the space between your legs. "I mean, seriously. Does it even work anymore?"

Your face burned. You wanted to retort, to snap back with some witty comeback like you used to, but the words died in your throat. What could you say? You were sitting there butt-naked, your legs dangling like a child’s, while she, your ex, stood there, fully clothed and utterly in control.

She wasn’t wrong, either. The transformation had been gradual at first, but undeniable. Your body had regressed along with your status: your muscles softer, your bladder smaller, your voice higher. And yes, even your penis had changed. The last time you’d dared to look, you’d barely recognized yourself. Now, the way she was staring at you, her head tilted like she was examining a curious specimen, made it all too real.

"You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?" you muttered, your voice cracking slightly.

She laughed, a bright, cruel sound. "Oh, come on. After everything you put me through? She shook her head, unfolding the diaper with a snap of her wrists. "Consider this my revenge. And honestly? You deserve it."

You flinched as she stepped closer, the plastic backing of the diaper crinkling ominously. The sound alone was enough to make your stomach twist. You’d heard it so many times now, the rustle of a fresh diaper being pulled from the pack, the tear of the tapes, the way it squished when you moved. It was the soundtrack of your new life, a constant reminder that you were no longer an adult, no longer in control.

"Lift," she ordered, tapping your hip with her free hand.

You hesitated, but the look she gave you brooked no argument. With a shuddering breath, you obeyed, letting her slide the thick padding beneath you. The material was cool against your skin, the polka-dotted print absurdly cheerful. She pulled it up between your legs, her fingers brushing against you with deliberate slowness.

"Pathetic," she murmured, more to herself than to you. "Absolutely pathetic."

You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. But all you could do was sit there, rigid, as she fastened the tapes with an efficiency that spoke of far too much practice. When she was done, she stepped back, admiring her handiwork with a satisfied nod.

"There," she said, clapping her hands together. "All done. Now you look just like the baby you are."

You didn’t answer. What was there to say? She was right. You were a baby now, in body, in status, in every way that mattered. And as she turned to toss the empty packaging into the trash, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror across the room: a grown man, shrunk down and swaddled, his expression a mix of shame and resignation.

She paused at the door, looking back at you with a smirk. "Try not to wet yourself before bedtime, okay? Or do I need to add stuffers next time?"

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You shifted slightly, the diaper crinkling loudly in the silence. It was official. You had hit rock bottom.

Taking Care of It

“Oh, quit your whining…” she said, her voice firm as she pulled several wipes from the package. “If you didn’t want me treating you like this, maybe you should’ve acted like a grown man when you had the chance.”

He broke down harder, shoulders shaking, tears running freely as he dragged his forearm across his eyes. “I-I can take c-care of myself!” he whimpered, voice cracking.

“Take care of yourself?” She gave a soft laugh, shaking her head while unfolding the wipes with unhurried precision and readying them next to her.“You flunked out of college, remember? You lost your job because you couldn’t even show up on time. Tell me, how exactly were you taking care of anything?”

Her fingers found the tapes of his diaper and ripped them free one by one, the sharp rrrip rrrip cutting through his whimpers. The swollen diaper peeled away under her hands, sagging heavily, the padding dark and bloated with his accidents. Cool air rushed in against his exposed, clammy skin, and his face burned hotter than ever. She held the bloated diaper up by the front, its weight pulling it low, dripping with his shame.

“You sure took care of this thing, didn’t you??” she mocked, shaking the sodden bulk until it flopped heavily. “Soaked your widdle diapy like a champ! Finally, something you’re actually good at!”

He let out a pitiful sob, voice cracking.

“Oh don’t you dare start!” she cut in, her tone slicing through his cries. “This is what you get. You’ve proven you can’t take care of yourself, so step-mommy will take care of everything for you!”

She reached for the wipes she’d pulled out. “And don’t think I have a problem with it, either. I’ll change your pissy diapers. I’ll change your poopy ones, too. I’ll decide what mush goes in your mouth, how many ba ba’s you get, when you go to bed, what you wear, and when you wake up. If you can’t control your life properly, then I will!”

The first wipe pressed down cold against his skin, her strokes slow and unrelenting as she worked with calm precision.

“Hold still.” she warned. “You think this is embarrassing? Too bad. That’s the point. You’ve been an embarrassment to us for too long! You lost the right to privacy when you proved you couldn’t be trusted.”

His stomach twisted as she gripped his ankles and lifted his legs high. The angle left him utterly exposed, his butthole catching the cool air, his cheeks burning as the cold wipe traced down his crack. Each pass was efficient and unhurried, her movements detached, all business.

She dropped his legs and spread them out again, saving the most awkward part for last. His spine clenched, already dreading what was coming. Then the wipe slid across his penis, and his whole body jolted. A strangled sound broke from his throat as heat rushed to his face, burning him alive. The most private part of himself exposed and handled by the very person he hated most. To her, it was nothing. Her strokes were steady, detached, no more personal than scrubbing a dish or polishing silver. Her indifference colder than the wipe gliding over his balls. She continued her work in silence, efficient, unbothered, while he writhed in shame.

“Speaking of privacy…”she purred at last, her voice suddenly sharper, the wipe still moving with clinical precision. She gave a little, knowing hum. “I put a nanny cam in your room the other day...”

His eyes went wide, a hard gulp catching in his throat.

“Wanna know what I saw?” Her words came slowly, savoring his dread. “You, on your tummy, grinding away in your crib. Humping your diaper like a desperate little pervert. And then, in the morning, you reached right into your wet widdle pamper and 'took care of yourself' again.”

She let the words hang there, her gaze dropping to the open diaper spread beneath him. With an arched brow, she dragged the wipe across him one last time, then gave a soft, mocking chuckle. “Hmm… and what do you know. Looks like step-mommy caught you red-handed… or should I say sticky-diapered?”

His mouth worked frantically, words spilling out in broken fragments. “N-no, that’s not…I wasn’t…you don’t understand. I’m a man! I have needs! I’m—”

“Enough.” Her voice snapped, sharp and final. She leveled her gaze at him, cool and cutting. “You really think of yourself as a man? Sweetheart, you’re in diapers now.” Her lip curled in contempt. “And even in those, you still can’t help yourself. The way you were going at it, it was almost like you liked the feel of that soggy pamper. Pathetic. Absolutely disgusting. But that ends today.”

She reached into the pastel diaper bag at her side, rummaged for a moment, and drew out a small, gleaming device with the same calm indifference she might use to find a pacifier. She held it up between two fingers. “This will take care of your little problem.”

His eyes went wide. “No! Please, not that! I’ll stop! I’ll stop!! I promise!!!”

Her lips curved in a humorless smile. “Hush. Unless you want me to tell your father what I’ve caught you doing in these diapers.” She let the words hang, watching his face crumple. “He already thinks you’re pathetic, waddling around in Huggies at your age. Remember how disgusted he was when you pooped your pampers the other day? How did you feel getting changed right in front of him? Imagine what he’d say if he knew you couldn’t even keep your hands out of them.”

He whimpered, twisting against the mat. “No, don’t tell him—”

“Then stay still.” Her voice was flat, final.

With no regard for his bodily autonomy, she gripped his balls and looped them through the steel ring. He squirmed, whimpered, whined, but she pressed on with calm indifference, her fingers working with the same efficiency she’d shown wiping him down. She pinched the head of his penis with two fingers, and pressed it inside the tube. Except it wasn’t much of a tube at all, more like a little metal dome.

“It’s too tight!” He sobbed pathetically, wincing in the new confinement. It’s too tight!!”

“Oh please…” she scoffed, finally showing a bit of amusement, “you really think you would need one bigger than this for your tiny little thing?”

The tube pressed in where it met the ring, he still begged and pleaded, but she pressed on, driving the point deeper: this was non-negotiable.

At last, the final clasp snapped shut with an audible click. She sat back, folding her arms, eyes never leaving his. “There. That’s finished. No more rutting in your crib, no more sticky stains, no more tugging on yourself inside your soggy diapers. You don’t get to decide anymore. Step-mommy decides. And if I ever hear a peep of protest, your father will know exactly what kind of messes his son has been making!”

He broke. The fight drained out of him all at once, his chest heaving as sobs tore through him. His face crumpled, tears streaming freely, his words dissolving into incoherent cries.

Without comment, she balled up the swollen diaper and pressed it into his shaking hands. “You hold onto that. Look at it. Smell it. That’s your handiwork.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, almost bored.

His fingers curled weakly around the sodden bundle, the stench smacking him in the face. His sobs were softer now, broken. Tears still streaking down his cheeks while she calmly slid a clean diaper beneath him, utterly unmoved by his misery. A cloud of powder puffed into the air, cool and fragrant as she dusted his freshly caged cock, which would metaphorically be “collecting dust” in the coming weeks. Her fingers worked with brisk efficiency, tugging the thick padding into place, taping him up snug and tight as his whimpers filled the room. It was a rhythm for her. Neat, efficient, routine, as if she’d done it a hundred times before—which she may be true at this point.

When she was finished, she reached back into the diaper bag and pulled out a warmed bottle of milk. Without ceremony, she pressed the rubber teat against his lips, steady and unyielding. “Drink. And no, this one doesn’t have alcohol. Not like the bottles that got you in trouble in the first place. Just warm milk and formula to settle you down.”

Pinned on his back, his hands occupied with the soggy bundle she’d forced on him, he had no choice. His lips closed around the nipple, sobs shuddering through him as the warm milk flowed into his mouth. It was slow, pitiful work. Half swallowing, half choking on tears, but she held the bottle in place until every drop was gone.

When it was empty, she took it away with the same indifference she’d shown through the entire change. Standing, she smoothed her skirt and nodded toward the door.

“All right.” She sighed, as if she’d finally gotten all her chores done for the day, “Go take that diaper out to the curb.”

His head snapped up, eyes wide, panic flooding his face. He hadn’t noticed until now that she had neglected to button back up his onesie. “B-but… people will see—”

She didn’t even glance at him. “That’s not my problem.” Her voice was cool, dismissive. “You made it. You carry it. Let them see exactly what you are.”

He tried to stammer out another protest, but she pressed a pacifier firmly between his lips, silencing him with a final, humiliating gesture. His muffled whine barely made it past the rubber bulb.

She gave his freshly padded bottom a brisk pat. “Off you go, champ. You said you could take care of yourself, right? Well, now’s your chance. Go take care of your pissy pamper, big guy!”

Many different fluids streamed down his face as he shuffled toward the door, clutching the swollen bundle to his chest. Each step was noisy, awkward, and exposed, the sound of his fresh crinkling diaper was so loud his paranoia worried it might get a noise complaint.

That's why you wear diapers to bed, right kiddo? Look at you in your big, thick, crinkly diaper. You can't even hide it under your pajamas. Everyone who sees you will know that you have accidents at night, and that you need the extra protection. No honey, it's not "just in case." You wet the bed every night, so really no one expects you to wake yo dry. That's why I call you a bedwetter; it's your permanent state of being. No one could ever mistake you for potty trained.

I mean, come on, you're in full fledged diapers at night with cute designs and everything, but we both know you're in pull-ups during the day, too. And you wear those pull-ups during the day because sometimes you just can't make it to the potty on time, can you? You're so helpless and pathetic. It's honestly a wonder why we ever tried treating you like an adult in the first place; clearly you weren't ready for it.

“Face me.”

He turned slowly, whimpering, eyes low.

“Now,” she said, voice even. “Pants down.”

He hesitated, not to defy her, but because that familiar heat was already creeping up his neck. His fingers fumbled at the waistband of his pajama pants, the shame almost thicker than the fabric. But she didn’t move, didn’t blink. Just waited, calm and unwavering.

With a shuddering breath, he eased the pants down to his knees, revealing the soft training pants beneath. An added layer of humiliation he hadn’t earned the right to remove. Not after all the soaked sheets. Not after the couch incident.

“Mm,” she murmured, stepping closer. “Such a heavy wetter, they had to double-wrap you. Isn’t that right?”

He whimpered, eyes fixed to the floor.

She gave a quiet scoff through her nose. “And you’re still trying to act embarrassed, like it’s not routine by now.”

Her fingers tugged the training pants down with deft swiftness, letting them pool at his ankles along with his jammies. Then her hand pressed firmly against the front of his diaper, fingers splayed, gripping the swollen bulk.

Still dry. But stiff.

She went still, then gave a slow, almost amused exhale through her nose.

“Well. Isn’t that pathetic.”

He whimpered.

“Dry diaper, but your wittle winky can’t even behave for a check?” Her fingers shifted slightly, just enough to feel the twitch. “You get hard for this? Being inspected? Standing here like a loser getting his pampers felt up?”

His cheeks burned. He couldn’t speak, just shook his head in tiny, panicked denial.

“Oh, don’t insult both of us,” Riley said, standing slowly. “It’s obvious. You’re lucky I’m not pulling down your pampers too and putting you over my knee right now.”

He looked like he might cry.

But her eyes stayed fixed on his, unreadable.

“You hesitated when I told you it was time for a diaper check” she said. “Next time, I won’t wait. If you need help remembering that, I’m happy to provide it.”

He exhaled shakily, cheeks flushed. The sting of that near-threat lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken. She didn’t offer praise. No smile, no gentle rub on the back. That wasn’t how this worked. She let the silence speak instead. Firm, expectant, humiliating silence. The kind that filled the space between them like a wall, and reminded him exactly where he stood.

“Next time I ask,” she said, voice low, deliberate, “I expect you to drop those pants without hesitation. Clear?”

He nodded quickly. “Yes, Mommy.”

It wasn’t just about obedience. It was about surrender.

“Pants up,” She ordered. “And get in bed.”

He bent down, fumbling with the waistband, pulling the thick training pants back up over the diaper. The extra layer made it crinkle audibly as it settled back into place. Then he paused, glancing toward the window.

“But it’s still bright outside…”

She didn’t even turn around.

“Bed.”

He hesitated again, just barely lifting his head. “I… I don’t think I’m tired…”

Her voice didn’t rise. It didn’t have to. Just a slight turn of her head, her eyes meeting his like a slap to the ego.

“You don’t get to decide that.”

He wilted.

“Your bedtime is when I say. Not when it’s dark. Not when you feel sleepy. When I decide. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered.

She pointed toward the bed.

He obeyed, the crinkle of his diaper and the rustle of the training pants loud in the quiet room. The crib loomed beside him—oversized, adult-sized, with high white railings and a padded mattress dressed in pale blue.

“Inside,” she said.

He climbed in awkwardly, the bulk between his legs making every movement clumsy. The mattress gave a soft squeak beneath him as he lowered himself down, laying flat on his back like she’d shown him.

“Hands on your tummy.”

He placed them there, trembling slightly.

She reached down and took the pacifier from the corner of the mattress, brushing his lips with it.

“Open.”

He whimpered but obeyed, his lips parting just enough for her to slide the paci between them.

“Good,” she said.

She pulled the blanket up tight and precise. Then raised the crib rail with a hard clack that echoed like a warning. She latched it shut with a sharp, metallic snap, final and inescapable.

“If I hear you humping your diapers,” she said, coolly, “there will be hell to pay.”

His eyes widened over the shield of the pacifier. He nodded faintly, flushed and silent.

Without another word, she turned to the wall and flicked the light switch. The room dimmed slightly, but only a bit. Sunlight still filtered in through the slats in the blinds, casting pale stripes across the bars of his crib.

She didn’t care. He didn’t get blackout curtains. He didn’t get comfort.

She paused at the doorway, glancing back just once.

“Eyes closed. No whining. No squirming. Be a good boy.”