A Little Fantasia

Because some people have been asking for it, here's the second part to my little cuckold ABDL story.

The plastic crinkled beneath him as Ethan shifted his weight in the crib, the sound echoing in his ears. His fingers trembled against the crib rails—he could climb out right now, rip this stupid onesie off, and storm out. But something kept him rooted in place, his thighs pressing together against the thick padding between them. Curiosity? Desire? Jared’s words looped in his head: "Soaked. Messy. However you wanna get there." The humiliation burned, but deeper still, a traitorous heat coiled low in his stomach and in the spreading blush across his face.

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, grinding his teeth around the pacifier. It shouldn’t feel this good—the way the diaper bunched between his legs, the way Jared’s hands had lingered on his hips like he was something precious. He wasn’t supposed to like this. But the thought of Jared’s approval—his deep, rumbling praise—sent a jolt through him. What would it look like, to be a good boy for another man?

A tear slid down his cheek, and he hated himself for it. He was crying—actually crying—like some over-tired toddler. He sucked harder on the pacifier, the rhythmic motion steadying him against the storm in his chest. The crib smelled faintly of baby powder, and god, why did that make his throat tighten?

The diaper rustled as he pressed his thighs together, testing the sensation. Thick and undeniable. He could almost hear Jared’s voice again, that teasing lilt: "You’re being such a good boy." Ethan bit down on the pacifier, a whimper escaping him. He hated how much he wanted to hear that again.

His stomach twisted. Was he really considering this? He could feel himself teetering on the edge—one moment away from giving in or bolting. Fine. Fine. He’d do it—just to see. Just to know. His stomach clenched as he let go, the warmth spreading between his legs slowly. The scent hit him immediately—earthy and his—and he buried his face in the crib mattress with a choked noise. He was a baby. A baby with a messy diaper.

The diaper sagged heavier now, clinging to him in ways he couldn’t ignore. He shuddered, pressing his thighs tight together as the humiliation—and something darker, hotter—settled deep in his belly. His pacifier bobbed as he swallowed hard. Jared would know, immediately. He’d come back and see—and god, Ethan didn’t know if he wanted to die or melt into the crib.

Footsteps echoed down the hall—heavy, deliberate. Ethan’s breath caught. The doorknob turned with a soft click. Jared alone filled the doorway, his expression unreadable for a heartbeat before his lips curled into a slow, approving smile. "Well, well," he murmured, stepping inside. "Look who chose right." His fingers brushed Ethan’s cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "Good boy." The praise sent a jolt through Ethan’s spine, his toes curling against the crib bars.

Jared’s hands slid under Ethan’s armpits, lifting him from the crib with effortless strength. The diaper felt heavy between his thighs, the scent of powder doing little to mask the sharper, more intimate smell beneath. Ethan squirmed, but Jared just chuckled, adjusting his grip like Ethan’s resistance was nothing more than a kitten’s fussing. "Shh, shh," Jared murmured, his breath warm against Ethan’s ear as he carried him to the oversized rocking chair in the corner. "Daddy’s got you."

The chair creaked under their combined weight as Jared settled in, pulling Ethan onto his lap with a firm hand on the small of his back. Then—deliberately, inexorably—Jared pressed down, forcing Ethan’s weight fully into the filled diaper. The squish was immediate, the mess pressing back against Ethan’s skin in a way that made his stomach flip. He gasped around the pacifier, his face burning. Jared’s arm curled around his waist, holding him close. "There we go," Jared rumbled, his voice vibrating through Ethan’s chest. "Feel that? That’s what happens when Daddy’s little boy... just... let's... go."

The words shouldn’t have sent a jolt of heat through him—shouldn’t have made his fingers curl into Jared’s shirt. But they did. Jared’s thumb brushed over Ethan’s lower lip, nudging the pacifier aside just enough to see his mouth. "You’re blushing," Jared observed, amused. "Cute." He tapped the front of Ethan’s diaper, making the plastic crinkle. "But this? This is proof. Proof you’re just a baby. My baby." His hand slid up Ethan’s spine, possessive and warm. "And babies need their daddies to clean up their messes. Don't they?"

The rocking chair swayed gently, the rhythm almost soothing despite the humiliation simmering under Ethan’s skin. Jared’s fingers trailed down to the waistband of the onesie, popping the snaps open one by one with agonizing slowness. Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, but Jared tutted, tilting his chin up. "No. Look at me." Ethan’s eyelids fluttered open, meeting Jared’s dark, knowing gaze. "Good boy," Jared murmured, and the praise settled in Ethan’s chest like a brand.

Jared’s fingers traced idle circles over the soaked padding, pressing just enough to make Ethan squirm. The rocking chair creaked beneath them, a slow, rhythmic sound that somehow made everything feel more intimate. Jared leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Feel that mess in there?" he murmured, his voice thick with something between amusement and tenderness. "That’s because you belong in diapers, little one. Your body knows it, even if your big boy brain hasn’t caught up yet."

The mess between his legs was impossible to ignore now—every shift in Jared’s lap sent a fresh wave of humiliation through him. Jared chuckled, low and rich, as if he could hear the frantic pulse of Ethan’s thoughts. "Oh, sweetheart," he sighed, palming the front of the diaper with deliberate pressure. "You’re so embarrassed, aren’t you? But you’re also hard as a rock."

The observation landed like a slap. Ethan’s hips jerked involuntarily, and Jared’s grin widened. "There it is," he crooned, fingers dipping under the waistband just enough to tease. "That’s the part of you that gets it. The part that knows you’re mine."

Ethan whimpered as Jared’s hands settled on his hips, guiding him forward until he straddled Jared’s thick thigh. Jared’s grip tightened, fingers digging into the softness of Ethan’s onesie-covered hips. "Giddy-up, little cowboy," Jared murmured, his voice a dark rumble that sent shivers down Ethan’s spine.

Jared shifted, lifting his knee just enough to press it firmly against the soaked padding between Ethan’s thighs. Ethan gasped, his hands flying to Jared’s shoulders for balance as the motion forced him to rock forward, the friction sending a jolt of heat through him. Jared’s grin was wolfish, his eyes glinting with amusement as he watched Ethan squirm. "That’s it," he coaxed, his voice dripping with false sweetness. "Ride Daddy’s leg like a good little buckaroo."

Ethan’s face burned, his breath coming in short bursts as Jared’s knee nudged him into a slow, rhythmic grind. The diaper bunched with every movement, the mess inside pressing against him in ways that made his stomach turn with humiliation—and something else, something hotter and far more shameful. Jared’s hands slid up his sides, thumbs brushing the underside of his ribs. "You’re gonna love your new life, baby boy," he purred, his breath warm against Ethan’s ear. "Huggies, bottles for bedtime, and Daddy’s lap for whenever you need a little… attention."

The words sent a fresh wavethrough Ethan, his hips stuttering forward despite himself. Jared chuckled again as he pressed his knee up harder, the pressure just shy of unbearable. "See?" Jared murmured, his lips grazing Ethan’s temple. "You’re made for this. Made to be small and helpless and mine. And Daddy’s gonna take such good care of you."

Ethan's thighs trembled as Jared's knee nudged insistently against his padded crotch, forcing him into a slow, rhythmic rock. His onesie hung open now, the snaps undone, exposing the swollen front of his diaper. Jared's thumb traced the wet plastic "You're gonna wake up like this every morning," Jared continued, his voice a dark purr. "Diaper soaked and full, cock aching for Daddy's attention." He tilted Ethan's chin up, forcing him to meet his gaze. "And you know what happens then?"

Ethan shook his head, his pulse hammering in his throat. Jared grinned. "Daddy changes you," he said, punctuating each word with a sharp upward thrust of his knee. "Cleans you up nice and gentle. Then…" His fingers trailed down to the waistband of the diaper, hooking under the elastic. "Maybe rubs a little lotion on that pretty little cock of yours. Just to take the edge off."

Ethan’s breath hitched as Jared’s fingers teased the waistband of his diaper, the plastic crinkling with every slight tug. The mess between his legs was warm and inescapable, but worse—so much worse—was the way his body arched into Jared’s touch, betraying him completely.

Ethan’s hips stuttered forward helplessly, his fingers clawing at Jared’s shoulders as the pressure built. Jared’s smile was all teeth. "Go on, baby boy. Ride it out." His hands slid down to grip Ethan’s waist, guiding him into a relentless rhythm.

Ethan's vision blurred at the edges, his body moving on autopilot as Jared's hands steered him through each humiliating rock of his hips. The pacifier muffled his whimpers, but nothing could hide the way his thighs trembled or how his cock twitched against the wet padding with every grind. The smell—warm and intimate—filled the space between them.

"Almost there," Jared murmured, his palm pressing flat against Ethan's stomach as if he could feel the tension coiling inside him. His other hand slid down to cup the swollen front of the diaper, fingers kneading the plastic just enough to make Ethan's breath hitch. "Daddy knows. Daddy always knows."

The words shouldn't have unraveled him. But when Jared's thumb pressed down in one firm circle, Ethan's back arched violently, his toes curling as pleasure ripped through him. The diaper grew damp in a whole new way, warmth spreading in sticky pulses as Ethan shuddered, his fingers gripping Jared's shirt like a lifeline. "DADDY!! OH!!"

Jared rocked Ethan through the aftershocks, his touch gentling but never stopping. "There's my good boy," he crooned. "Daddy's perfect little mess."

The rocking chair stilled as Jared cradled Ethan against his chest, his heartbeat steady and slow beneath Ethan’s ear. The pacifier slipped from Ethan’s slack mouth, landing with a soft plop. Jared didn’t seem to mind—just pressed a kiss to Ethan’s sweat-damp forehead and murmured, "Daddy’s got you."

Ethan’s limbs felt boneless, his thoughts syrupy and slow. He should’ve been scrambling away, should’ve been furious, but all he could manage was a weak fist against Jared’s shoulder. Jared caught his wrist effortlessly, bringing Ethan’s fingers to his lips for a teasing nibble. "Uh-uh," he chided. "No hitting. Babies use their words."

Ethan’s cheeks burned. Words. Right. He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a hoarse, "Why?"

Jared’s smile was indulgent, like Ethan had asked why the sky was blue. "Because you need this," he said simply, his thumb tracing the waistband of Ethan’s ruined diaper. "Because deep down, you’ve always needed someone to take care of you. To own you." His fingers tightened possessively around Ethan’s hip. "Lucky for you, Daddy loves taking care of his playthings."

The diaper sagged between Ethan’s thighs, warm and heavy, as Jared lifted him effortlessly from the rocking chair. Ethan’s legs dangled, toes brushing the carpet, his onesie hanging open where Jared had unsnapped it earlier. Jared’s hands spanned his waist like he was something delicate—something precious. "Time for a change, baby boy," Jared murmured, his breath hot against Ethan’s temple.

Ethan’s stomach flipped as Jared carried him to the changing table, the vinyl crinkling beneath him as he was laid out like an offering. The overhead light was too bright, too clinical, casting Jared’s shadow over Ethan’s body in a way that made him feel impossibly small. Jared’s fingers hooked under the waistband of the ruined diaper, peeling it back with a slow, deliberate drag that sent a shiver up Ethan’s spine. The cool air hit his damp skin, and he twitched, his cock lying half-hard against his stomach.

Jared hummed, running a thumb along the inside of Ethan’s thigh. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice dripping with approval. "All messy for Daddy." His fingers trailed higher, brushing the crease of Ethan’s hip, and Ethan’s breath hitched. Jared’s smile was slow, predatory. "First time a man’s touched you like this, isn’t it?"

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, but Jared’s fingers caught his chin, forcing his gaze up. "Uh-uh. Eyes on Daddy." Jared’s thumb pressed against Ethan’s lower lip, dragging it down just enough to expose the pink beneath. "You’re gonna watch. Gonna learn." His other hand slid down Ethan’s stomach, fingers tracing the outline of his cock with feather-light touches that made Ethan’s hips jerk involuntarily.

Jared chuckled, wrapping his fingers around Ethan’s shaft in a firm grip. "There it is," he murmured, his thumb swiping over the head, smearing pre-come in slow circles. "Daddy’s gonna teach you how good it feels." His strokes were steady, relentless, each one sending jolts of pleasure.

Jared leaned in, his lips brushing Ethan’s ear. "You’re gonna come a second time for Daddy," he whispered, his voice rough with promise. "Gonna let Daddy see how pretty you look when you fall apart in your mess." His thumb pressed against the slit of Ethan’s cock, twisting on the upstroke, and Ethan gasped, his back arching off the table.

Ethan’s vision blurred as the tension snapped, his body shuddering as he came with a broken cry, stripes of white painting his stomach. Jared’s hand didn’t stop, milking him through it until Ethan whimpered, oversensitive and trembling.

Jared peeled the useddiaper away, tossing it into the waiting pail with a wet plop. He didn’t seem to mind the explosion of poop against Ethan's skin—just grabbed a wipe and began cleaning with slow, methodical strokes. "There we go," he murmured, his fingers lingering in the crease of Ethan’s hip. "Daddy’s got baby all nice and fresh."

Ethan shivered, his skin pebbling under Jared’s touch. The cool air bit at his damp flesh, but worse was the way Jared’s gaze lingered—like he was memorizing every twitch, every flush of Ethan’s skin. Jared reached for a fresh diaper, unfolding it with a practiced flick. Ethan’s stomach dropped when he saw the print: Lion King characters frolicking across the padding, Simba’s cartoon face grinning up at him like this was some adorable joke. HUGGIES.

"You know how I've been coming home late from the gym lately?" Marianne said, swirling her wine glass absently. The ice cubes clinked softly, melting into the dark red.

Ethan glanced up from his laptop, fingers pausing over the keyboard. "Yeah? Thought you found a new trainer or something." He hadn’t paid much attention—just assumed it was another one of her fleeting fitness obsessions. Spin classes last year, kickboxing the year before.

Marianne took a slow sip, her eyes steady over the rim of the glass. "Well. It’s not just the gym." She set the glass down carefully. "There’s someone else."

The words hung there, simple and weighty. Ethan blinked, waiting for the punchline. She didn’t joke like this, but— "What?"

Ethan's laugh came out brittle, cracking halfway. "Okay, sure. April Fools is months away, Mar." He closed his laptop with a soft click, as if the conversation deserved its own punctuation. But Marianne’s expression didn’t shift—just that faint tilt of her head she used when she was about to explain something obvious to him. Like how the dishwasher needed loading a certain way, or why his mother’s birthday gift was all wrong.

"He’s here right now, actually," she said, glancing toward the hallway. "In the guest room. Thought it’d be easier if you met him first before… well." She shrugged.

The floorboards groaned underfoot before Ethan even registered the sound of footsteps. Then he filled the doorway—broad-shouldered, tall enough to duck slightly under the frame. "Ethan," the man said, voice warm as if they were old friends. "Marianne’s told me so much about you."

Ethan stood abruptly, chair scraping back. "What the hell is this?" His pulse hammered in his ears, but the man—Christ, he had to be six-four at least—just smiled, stepping fully into the room. Behind him, Ethan caught a glimpse of the guest room’s transformation: pastel pink walls, a crib where the bed used to be.

Ethan's fingers dug into the edge of the dining table, the wood creaking under his grip. "Mar, what the fuck is—"

The man—Jared, Marianne had called him, hadn’t she?—crossed the room in three strides, his hand settling on Ethan’s shoulder with the weight of a sandbag. "Easy, little guy," Jared murmured, squeezing just enough to make Ethan's knees wobble. The nickname sent a jolt of humiliation straight to his gut. Little guy. Like he was some kid throwing a tantrum.

Marianne sighed, swirling her wine again. "Jared’s got this… thing," she said, like she was discussing a quirky hobby. "He likes taking care of people."

Jared’s thumb rubbed circles into Ethan’s collarbone, the touch oddly soothing despite the situation. "We’ve got your room all set up," he said, steering Ethan toward the hallway with terrifying ease. "Pacifiers, onesies—the whole nine yards. Even got you those extra-thick Huggies, the ones with Winnie the Pooh." He chuckled, deep and warm, like this was some adorable inside joke.

Ethan dug his heels into the hardwood floor, but Jared’s grip was immovable—his fingers like steel bands under Ethan’s shirt. "Stop," Ethan hissed, but the word came out thin.

Marianne trailed behind them. "You’ll adjust," she said. Jared’s chuckle vibrated through Ethan’s back. "Course he will. Deep down, he's just a Daddy's boy." The casual ownership in his tone made Ethan’s stomach twist. Boy.

The door at the end of the hall—formerly Marianne’s home office—was ajar, revealing a frilly canopy crib and a dresser stacked with pastel onesies. A changing table, stocked with wipes and powder, sat under a framed print of cartoon giraffes. Ethan’s pulse thrashed in his throat. "This isn’t—"

Jared nudged him inside with a hip, the motion effortless. Ethan’s knees hit the edge of the crib, its bars pressing into his thighs. Jared’s hands settled on his waist, thumbs hooking under his belt. Ethan’s belt buckle jingled as Jared’s fingers worked it loose with a mechanic’s precision. "Wait—" Ethan grabbed at Jared’s wrists, but the man didn’t even pause, just adjusted his grip like Ethan’s resistance was part of some script they’d rehearsed.

"You’re gonna love these," Jared murmured, nodding toward an open pack of Huggies on the changing table. Ethan’s jeans slid down his hips before he could process the movement—Jared’s hands were everywhere, efficient and unyielding, like he’d done this a thousand times before.

Marianne crossed her arms, watching with detached interest as Jared guided Ethan onto the padded changing table. The vinyl crinkled under Ethan’s back, the sound grotesquely infantile. "Stop—" Ethan bucked, but Jared simply pressed a palm to his sternum, holding him down with infuriating ease. "Shh. Almost done." The man’s voice was syrup-thick, the kind of tone reserved for skittish animals or, well, babies. Ethan’s cheeks burned.

The diaper unfolded with a rustle in Jared’s hands. Ethan thrashed again, but Jared just chuckled, lifting his legs with one arm like Ethan weighed nothing. "There we goooo," Jared cooed, taping the sides with a few brisk motions. The fit was snug, humiliatingly so—Ethan could already feel the padding between his thighs, the way it shifted when he tried to sit up.

Ethan’s hands flew to the waistband, but Jared caught his wrists, pinning them to his chest with one hand while the other reached for a pastel-blue onesie hanging nearby. "Ah-ah. No touching." The fabric slipped over Ethan’s head before he could protest, the snaps between his legs clicking shut with finality.

Ethan’s breath came in short, sharp gasps as the onesie settled over his shoulders, the soft fabric clinging like a second skin. The snaps at the crotch pressed against the thick diaper beneath, a constant, undeniable reminder of his new reality. Jared stepped back, admiring his handiwork with a satisfied grin. "Look at you," he murmured, ruffling Ethan’s hair like he was a toddler. "Perfect fit."

Jared’s hand returned to Ethan’s shoulder, steering him toward the crib. "Nap time," he announced, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Ethan dug his heels into the plush carpet, but Jared’s grip was unshakable. "Come on, little guy. You’ve had a big day." Ethan’s face burned, his pulse roaring in his ears.

Jared lifted him effortlessly over the side. Ethan scrambled to his knees, clutching the rails, but before he could even think of climbing out. But then Jared's thumb brushed his lower lip, and without quite meaning to, Ethan parted his mouth. A pacifier slid between his teeth with a soft pop, the taste of sterilized rubber flooding his tongue. He almost gagged—almost—but Jared's fingers curled under his chin, tilting his face up. "Good boy," he murmured, and then his lips pressed warm and firm against Ethan's forehead. The kiss lingered just a second too long to be casual. "You're being such a good boy for Daddy."

Ethan's stomach lurched. Daddy. The word slithered under his skin, settling somewhere deep and shameful. He sucked reflexively on his pacifier. Jared chuckled, ruffling his hair. "See? Natural." Behind him, Marianne leaned against the dresser, her wine glass abandoned now, arms crossed. Her expression was unreadable—somewhere between satisfaction and clinical curiosity, like she was watching an experiment unfold.

Jared straightened, his shadow swallowing Ethan whole as he loomed over the crib. "Now, listen up, sport," he said, his tone shifting—still warm, but edged with something darker, something that made Ethan's toes curl against the crib mattress. "When Daddy comes back to wake you from your nap, those Huggies of yours better be used." He tapped the thick front of Ethan's diaper with two fingers, the plastic crinkling obscenely loud in the quiet room. "Soaked. Messy. However you wanna get there. Or—" He leaned down, his breath hot against Ethan's ear. "There’ll be consequences."

The word consequences landed like a stone in Ethan's gut. His pacifier bobbed as he swallowed hard, hands clutching the crib rails. Jared straightened with a grin. The casualness of it all was worse somehow—like this was just another Tuesday for him. Marianne uncrossed her arms. "If you want to make a good impression," she murmured. "You should choose messy." Her fingers lingered at his shoulder, the touch almost tender. Almost.

INTERVIEWER: "I really just have one more question for you. So, where do you hope to see yourself in, say, four or five years?"

Uh oh. So this is a thing that happened to me today that I thought I was never going to have to deal with. Absolutely true. The diapers I ordered were accidentally (on my part) sent to my mom's house and she opened the box.

Between midterms and everything else, I started waking up in wet sheets. Not cool when you're in a dorm. After a few mornings of me shamefully pulling off my soiled sheets, my roommate told the RA.

All gone! That's all the milky that Mommy has for you, babe. In fact, I think I'm going to start expressing from here on out. That way Daddy can bottle feed you.

Goodbye toddler bed, hello crib. Well, YouTube, we successfully sold our big boy bed yesterday. And hubby spent the night in his new crib without any major issues.

Well I can't say I ever thought I'd be having to deal with nighttime accidents in my marital bed, but here we are. This is the last time, Buster. I just spent the morning at our neighbor Amanda's house, asking her what, if anything, can be done.

I just can't believe it. You know I don't answer to Cara from you. It's been "Mommy," but I think you've been getting a little big for your britches. Too big for a little man who cries when his favorite stuffy isn't in his crib for night-night.

So I pulled some strings and got us onto the field. I gotta admit I felt a little bad for the dude. I had to sit him down earlier that day and tell him I was gonna be marrying Sarah. I mean, it ain't like she was really his wife anymore, though. Right?

When my boss asked me if something was wrong, I told her that I just wasn't keeping up with all the diaper changes and bottle feedings.

"Wait. Did you and John adopt?"

"No, I decided that John would make a better baby than husband."

"Are you ready for 'Here comes the airplane' on the real airplane, Buddy?"

Hi, everybody. I want to say thanks to everyone who has liked and reblogged. I really appreciate it. It's neat to know people have similar interests and fantasies.

And to clarify, because I'm getting a lot of DMs, as it says on my profile I am not a mommy. I'm just a dude in his 20s from Washington state. I'm an AB/DL little, and these are things I want to happen to me: regression, humiliation, etc.

You know the drill, babydoll. Let's get you up on the changing table and take a look at that droopy diaper. What's that? You're embarrassed? Babies have nothing to be embarrassed about when it comes to their diapers. Nobody expects someone like you to keep them dry.