kinkyberen

Latest Posts by kinkyberen

Kayla:  Ummm…Julie what is that sticking out of the waistband of your shorts? And don’t say those are panties, because they’re not like any panties I’ve ever seen before.  Plus, every time we were practicing our cheer routine I kept hearing a crinkle coming from you.

Julie:  Oh, that. That’s my diaper. (says it nonchalantly as she lifts her shirt up to expose the waistband of her diaper to her friend and fellow cheerleader Kayla) 

Kayla:  Your DIAPER! Why are you wearing diapers Julie?

Julie:  Well it’s a long story, but basically when I was young I was difficult to potty train.  I mean super difficult.  I would pee or poop my pants all the time, and would run away from my parents when they tried to take me to the potty, I pooped and peed every pair of big girl panties my parents tried to make me wear, and was only truly happy when I was wearing my diapers.  So my parents kind’ve gave up and just decided to let me stay in diapers.

Kayla:  Wow! Really?! And you don’t ever use the potty or try to be potty trained?

Julie:  I mean my parents tried throughout the years by suggesting that other girls my age used the potty, but I just never wanted to give up my diapers, so eventually they gave up and let me just stay in diapers 24/7.

Kayla:  And it doesn’t bother you to pee or poop your pants while the rest of us girls go and sit down on the potty?

Julie:  Nope, in fact I love it!  I love being able to pee and poop wherever I am and whenever I want.  I don’t have to worry about having to rush and find a bathroom worried I’ll have an accident like so many girls our age.  And my activities don’t have to be cut short or interrupted because I have to pee or poop.  I just go in my diaper.

Kayla:  But what about changing your diaper?  That still takes time doesn’t it?

Julie:  It does, but I don’t change my own diapers.  When my parents let me stay in diapers they said that part of the deal was I wasn’t ever allowed to change myself.  So they change me, the school nurse changes me, my babysitter changes me, even Coach Mullins changes me.

Kayla:  No Way!  Coach Mullins changes you too!  OMG!  I always wondered where she was taking you when we would have water breaks during practice or halftime during the games we cheered at.

Julie:  Yep, she was taking me to have my diaper changed.

Kayla:  Well, I think that’s pretty cool Julie that you’re brave enough to wear diapers.  I bet it’s kind’ve convenient.  Wish I had a diaper right now…I’ve really gotta pee.

Julie:  Yeah, it’s pretty great!  And you’re more then welcome to wear one of mine anytime.  But for now, you better go to the bathroom before you wet yourself.  As for me, I need to go see Coach Mullins.

Kayla:  OMG! Julie!  I thought I smelled something…  

My little one starts to wake from his nap under the shade of our tent, warm and flushed from sleep, with his paci still gently bobbing between his lips. He stretches, bunny clutched tightly to his chest, and makes the softest whimpery noise — like he’s not quite ready to give up his dream but knows Mommy’s here.

I reach down, brushing a few grains of sand from his cheek. “There you are, sleepyhead,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss his forehead. He opens those big, sleepy eyes and blinks up at me like a confused little duckling — soft, dazed, and so precious.

As I lift him into my lap, I feel it right away. That heavy, soggy squish between his thighs — warm and unmistakable. “Mmm… baby,” I hum teasingly, running a hand over the swollen front of his diaper. “Looks like someone had a big nap-time accident, huh?”

He lets out a shy little whimper and hides his face in my chest.

I lay him back on the towel with a kiss to his temple, grabbing the wipes and a fresh swim diaper. As I tear the sides on the old one, I can't help but giggle. “Oh sweetie, you really filled this one up, didn’t you? Poor squishy bum.” His cheeks are rosy now, squirming just a little, but I know he secretly loves this part — being totally bare, soft and exposed, right where Mommy can take care of every little need.

But there's another problem. Sand. It’s everywhere — sticking to his thighs, between his butt cheeks, clinging to every spot on his body.

“Alright, baby,” I say gently, helping him to his feet, his bare bottom catching the sun. “Let’s get that sandy bum rinsed off.”

He toddles beside me toward the outdoor shower, one hand clutching my fingers, the other still gripping his bunny. His steps are slow, and his head stays ducked down as we pass a few other beachgoers. His face is bright pink by the time we get there — bashful little thing, trying to hide behind me even though his bare cheeks are on full display.

“Aww, are you blushing, sweetheart?” I tease, brushing his hair from his eyes. “It’s okay. Everyone knows you’re just Mommy’s baby.”

I guide him under the warm water, holding him steady as the gentle spray hits his skin. He squeaks a little at the first touch, wiggling in place while I crouch down behind him. My hands move carefully — rinsing the sand from his back, his legs, and then finally down to his bottom. I take my time with that part, using slow circles to make sure every bit of grit is gone.

“Can’t leave any sand in those cute little cheeks,” I murmur, watching his blush deepen. “Gotta keep my baby all clean and comfy.”

By the time we head back to the tent, he’s clean, damp, and even more bashful than before — but there's a smile peeking out around his paci.

Back at the towel, I lay him down again, his bare skin warm from the sun and smelling faintly of saltwater. I powder him slowly, thoroughly — soft clouds puffing in the breeze as I work it into every fold and crease. The fresh swim diaper has little sea turtles on it, soft and puffy, and I stand him up to have him step into the swim diaper. “There,” I coo, smoothing it over. “Snug, crinkly, and ready for round two.”

Instead of a swim shirt, I decide to leave him bare-chested — his skin is just too soft and kissable to hide. His belly’s still a little round from lunch, and the way he giggles when I blow a raspberry on it? Irresistible. I slide his tiny swim trunks up his legs, tugging them over that thick diaper. They don’t quite hide it — the waistband of the diaper pokes out over the top, white and crinkly under the bright blue trunks.

“Too cute for words,” I say softly, adjusting the trunks just a little so the diaper still peeks out. “Let everyone see how well Mommy takes care of you.”

Then comes the sunscreen — cool and creamy against his warm skin. I rub it gently over his arms, his chest, his soft round tummy, down his legs and even the tops of his feet. He wiggles and giggles through it, squealing when I get to his ribs. “Almost done, silly goose,” I tease, planting a kiss on his nose.

That’s when Daddy walks over, towel slung over his shoulder and a smile already on his face. “Hey, there’s my sunshine boy,” he says, crouching next to us. “You all ready to go splash with Daddy?”

Our little one lights up immediately, wriggling up into his arms. Daddy scoops him up, patting that thickly diapered bum with one big hand. “Looks like Mommy got you all set. You're such a lucky boy,” he says, kissing his cheek and leaning down to give me a kiss.

They’re halfway to the water when it happens.

A flash of movement in the surf — slow, graceful — and our baby gasps. “Tuh… tuh… turtle!” he squeals, eyes wide, pointing frantically.

Daddy stops in his tracks, cradling him close. “You see the turtle, buddy?” he whispers, turning so they can both get a better look. The sea turtle bobs gently in the shallows, paddling calmly while the waves roll in around it.

Our little one is absolutely enchanted — slack-jawed with wonder, clutching Daddy’s neck while his legs kick excitedly in the air.

I watch them from the tent, hand resting over my heart, completely full. My sweet, squishy, sun-kissed baby boy — safe in his Daddy’s arms, dressed in nothing but his swim trunks and a diaper, thrilled by the simplest magic of the ocean.

💩 DIAPER TRAINING : How to get used to pooping in your diaper ?

You don't have to be truly fecally incontinent to live like someone who is fecally incontinent. Being able to consciously poop on yourself anywhere and anytime is truly liberating! (No need to be disabled) In this post, I'll give you tips on how to successfully poop in your diaper whenever you want!

💩 Step 1 : Poop sitting on the potty, as usual, but wear a diaper (your poop will go in the diaper instead of the potty) this will get you used to the feeling of poop smearing in a diaper

💩 Step 2 : From now on, you are banned from sitting on the potty to poop... permanently. You will learn to push while standing, first do it in front of the toilet, then move away from the toilet until you are no longer in it... At first, I recommend spreading your legs and leaning forward slightly to help you push. (Don't squat)

💩 Step 3 : Now practice pooping in your diaper while sitting on a chair, on the couch, in an armchair, etc.

💩 Step 4 : At this stage, you are able to poop in any room of your house and also while sitting on something other than a toilet. From now on, the toilet is truly forbidden to you. Now learn to push while standing but in a natural position, and holding yourself up straight.

💩 Step 5 : For your first poop in public, I advise you to go to a forest where there is no one, poop on yourself while standing in front of a beautiful landscape, really let yourself go...

💩 Step 6 : Now you have to learn how to poop while walking... At first it's strange but it will take you several weeks of daily practice to get there... This step will be easier for a woman.

💩 Step 7 : Once pooping while walking has become easy, then go to a popular park and fill your diaper with poop in front of everyone... When you become comfortable, do it in a store... You really have to repeat this as often as possible...

💩 Step 8 : Poop lying down in bed. It's easier to poop while walking than while lying down, on your back or stomach... Because when you walk, gravity helps...

💩 Step 9 : Go fill your diaper with poop, during a cuddle, while you work... In any situation, it's so simple when you understand how it works!

You can help yourself with a laxative if you have difficulty at first, but don't overdo it; you shouldn't take laxatives every day. Avoid doing an enema, your goal is to be able to poop on yourself often... so don't empty your bowels of your poop, it wouldn't make sense...

Game Over

Author's Note: This story is for readers 18+ only. All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

Parker slapped his bedwetting rewards sheet on the glass countertop like he’d played a royal flush.

My stomach tightened into a knot.

The clerk glanced at the paper, then up at Parker, then through Parker and into the middle distance. “Reading rewards are redeemed at the pizza barn,” he said in a monotone. “One personal pan pizza with a single topping, excluding sausage and bacon. Not redeemable for anything from the prize counter. Not redeemable for cash. Not—” 

“Do I look like I’m in elementary school to you?" Parker interrupted. "I’m not in the reading program.” He turned around and shot a ‘can you believe this guy’ face at me because somehow being part of a diaper rewards program was less embarrassing than a reading program in his mind.

Parker jabbed his finger on the logo at the top of the sheet. A diaper with a crown on it. Then he pointed at a vinyl banner with the same logo on it that hung, half-obscured by poorly stitched elephant and zebra stuffies, on the wall behind the counter. “Royal Rumps Rewards,” it read in a blocky font. 

When I heard the words ‘Royal Rumps Rewards’ I wished my hoodie was the Big Daddy suit from Bioshock, insulating me from judgments and the sneering laughter of those in earshot. Or at least what I’d imagined they’d say. Not Parker. This was his superpower: he was fundamentally incapable of feeling shame or embarrassment. I suspected he’d done some arcane ritual that transplanted all his anxiety and self-consciousness into me at birth. 

I scanned the room, ears perked up for half-whispered laughter and pearl-clutching questions.

“Royal Rumps? Is that the diaper brand for adults?” 

“You must suck at games to wear diapers for prizes.”

“Is he wearing one now? I think I see some extra padding in his jeans.”

I didn’t hear anything like that. Not out loud, at least. Hearing them in my head was bad enough. 

The clerk turned and looked at the Royal Rumps banner as if seeing it for the first time. “Oh, right. Forgot about that.” He turned over his shoulder. “Clara, we have a couple of guys here for the weird diaper thing.” 

I drew my hoodie strings tight again. 

Clara was a senior citizen by Slice Shak staff standards. Early 30s with a smattering of 1990s pop culture buttons on her vest. She wore a strained smile. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail so tight it served as a facelift. She took a laminated sheet out of a drawer. “Diaper Partner Program,” it said simply at the top. 

“You’ll have to excuse Aden. It’s his first week. We’re proud of our partnership with Royal Rumps, aren’t we, Aden?” 

Aden grunted. I preferred Aden’s response to this whole thing. Wearing diapers when you didn’t have to, strictly speaking, was kinda weird. Dancing around it just felt patronizing. Condescending. 

“Show her your sheet, man,” Parker said. 

I slid my sheet onto the counter and stepped back. Parker could serve as the spokesman. I would’ve been happy—thrilled, even—to stay home and let him bring my sheet in with his, but that was against the rules. Or so Parker said. He was probably telling the truth; he didn’t hesitate to break a rule if he could get away with it. But he also hated doing anything alone. It was like he’d cease to exist if he didn’t have an audience. 

“Alrighty, let me look at these,” Clara said. She pulled out a calculator and ran her finger down Parker’s sheet, noting the unbroken rows of crescent-moon-with-a-raincloud stickers set against the night-sky background. She flipped the sheet over and continued to run her finger down that side, punching numbers into the calculator. “Wow. A perfect two months. That’s 500 points. Nice work, sweetie.” 

‘Sweetie.’ Was that part of the script as stipulated by Royal Rumps? Or was it impossible to look at someone who proudly admitted they woke up in a wet diaper every morning and not call them sweetie, cutie, or baby?

Parker snorted. 

“And do you solemnly swear, as a Knight of Castle Crinkle, that your account of your adventures in bedwetting is the truth?” Clara asked. 

‘Adventures in bedwetting.’ Royal Rumps loved that phrase. They plastered it all over their website and marketing materials. They even had an app—a mobile game of sorts—with that title. You filled in this cartoony map of a medieval fantasy land, accruing XP as you used your diapers. 

Parker stared at Clara, then he looked behind himself meaningfully. The line of impatient patrons grew by the minute. I could sense annoyance that we were taking so long. “Of course we did. I’m not a liar.”

Clara peeled a sticker off the Diaper Partner Program sheet and pressed it against Parker’s chest. A stylized diaper with a golden crown and “Nappied Knights,” with the ‘k’ tilted off at an angle. “Thanks for sharing your journey back into bedwetting with us.” 

She turned to me. “Now, let’s look at yours.” She ran her finger down my sheet, flipped it over, and did the same thing. “Excellent. 497 points. Great job.” 

“Wait, what?” Parker said. “There should be 500 points. Check again.” 

Clara’s strained smile faltered for half a second. “Yes, well, if you look here, there’s a day missing.” She pointed at the blank spot on the chart. A tiny blue-black square in a sea of stickers. 

“Bro,” Parker said to me. 

I shrugged.

He turned to Clara. “I’m sure it was a mistake. Can’t we just put a sticker on there and call it good?” 

Clara shook her head. “‘fraid not. That’s specifically forbidden in our agreement with Royal Rumps.” 

“See, but the thing is, we need 1,000 points for the drone. What if we throw some tickets in the mix?” He leaned forward and rested his fists on the countertop, favoring Clara with his cockiest grin. “I’m a wicked shot at skee ball.” 

“No combining offers,” Aden interjected.

Parker shot him a withering glance. 

“What about the boombox,” Clara said. She pointed at the dusty box. “That’s only 750 points. Or the MP3 player. That looks nice, right? You can put a bunch of songs on that thing.” 

“I have an Iphone. I don’t need a fucking MP3 player, Clara.” He spat her name like it was a curse. 

Clara’s professional smile evaporated. “Then I suppose you’ll need to come back tomorrow. Oh, wait. The half-off discount ends today. That’s a shame. I guess your ‘adventures in bedwetting’ will need to continue for another two months. Give or take a few nights.” She stared down Parker. He looked like he was ready to vault over the countertop and strangle her.

The chatter behind us had dropped to a low, whispery murmur. We were moments from brazen snickers. Pointing fingers. Frantic, emoji-laded texts to friends about the freaks holding up the Slice Shak line. 

I elbowed Parker’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go. ” 

He snatched his sheet off the countertop and stormed off, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘uptight bitch.’ 

I grabbed my sheet. I considered apologizing to Clara. But that’d mean another few seconds in line. 

She beat me to it with a “Thank you for sharing your journey back to bedwetting with us.” She mashed a sticker onto my chest. A diaper with a pirate hat and a saber floating off to one side. Beneath it: “Sailing the Soggy Seas.” 

I gave her an awkward smile, mouthed ‘sorry,’ and walked away.

Check out Ream to read the rest of this story, along with a TON of others, including my other brand-new story: Letting Go. I also have two long, ongoing stories that get weekly updates.

Nursery School Graduation - Complete Story!

Author's Note: This story is for readers 18+ only. All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

I eyed the plastic potty for the hundredth time since waking from my nap. 

Set off in a corner by one of the old diaper genies they didn’t use anymore. Unused except for Friday afternoons. It was white and aquamarine with a comfy foam seat. At least Ruby told me it was comfy when she graduated last year. Stickers were plastered all over it: princesses, Transformers, Pokemon. Even a few Diaper Dan stickers. I was gonna add mine today. I’d already decided on a castle.

I looked around the room. There were a bunch of us here in Back to Basics Nursery School. Some crawling around, some toddling, some sitting together with their favorite toys, lost in their own little worlds. The teachers moved from one student to the next, checking diapers, adjusting clothing, offering gentle words of encouragement. One of the teachers, Miss Becca, was bent down, her hands hovering near the waistband of a diaper. She leaned back and waved a hand in front of her nose.

I smirked. Craig wouldn’t clog up the potty line today. And he wasn’t the only one. I spotted more than one saggy, soggy diaper. 

I sat at one of the little wooden tables, crayons in hand, sketching a picture. I’d asked for colored pencils—more precise, better for details—two years ago. Miss Susie gave me some. Then Hansen swiped a handful and dropped them in the fish tank. Mr. Goldy almost died cuz his filter got messed up or something. They took the colored pencils away after that. So, back to crayons I went. 

I set down the blue crayon and picked up the forest green. I was sketching the block tower that Rosie and I had been trying to build all year. The tower in my drawing soared to the ceiling, little people below smiling up at it. Each block was neatly stacked. Stable. I knew it was possible. The blunt tips of the crayons made it hard to tell, but each block in my sketch matched one in the big box of blocks. 

Rosie sat by herself, a concentrated look on her face as she stacked a few blocks at the base of the tower. She was always so eager, so determined, and yet… something always got in the way. Today, it looked like she’d reached that moment again—she’d built a decent base, but the tower’s height had stalled out. I could see her eyes flitting between the blocks and the taller stacks around her, frustration starting to cloud her face. 

She glanced over at me and, after a second of hesitation, got up and wandered over. Her diaper crinkled louder with each step. “Pete,” she said, her voice soft and hopeful. “I can’t make it go higher... Could you help?” She smiled hesitantly. Hopeful. The kind of smile she gave me when she wanted to remind me of the fun we had building together. “You always make it work, and it’s more fun when you help.”

I scanned the room again. I wasn’t scoping out the potty competition this time. I was looking for him. 

Hansen. If I so much as thought the words that came to mind when I saw his piggy little face Miss Roberta would soap my mouth and then spank me till bubbles popped out. He was making a show of building something of his own—a half-hearted effort at a block tower, probably. He didn’t have any ideas of his own. His hands were all over it, awkward and flailing, like he was making a mess on purpose. As always, he was loud and disruptive, knocking into anyone who got too close. 

“I’d like to, but…” I glanced over at Hansen again, feeling a tightness in my chest. “You know how it is with Hansen. He’ll just wreck it like he always does.” I shook my head, giving Rosie a half-hearted smile. “Sorry.”

My stomach grumbled, a deep, low sound. It had been like this since lunch, a gnawing reminder that I hadn’t been able to hold my stinkies all the way from nap time until the end of the day since…well, ever. My attention flicked back to the picture I was drawing, focusing on the tower I could never build. 

“Besides, I’ve got other things to focus on,” I muttered quietly, my hands gripping the crayon tighter, trying to ignore the discomfort.

“You’re going to remember me when you graduate and go to preschool, right?” Rosie asked. Her gaze flicked to my diaper, still clean and dry for the moment. 

“Of course,” I said. “I’m dry, see?” I looked around the room, glancing at the other students who were playing, some of them rolling around in their diapers, others chatting with the teachers or distracted by toys. Most of them seemed so carefree, so comfortable. None of them had been stuck here as long as I had. Hansen’s eyes met mine. 

Dangit. 

He sauntered over. He also looked dry, I noted. “Oh, look,” he sneered, making sure the room heard him. “Petey Pampers. I’m surprised they haven’t named the nursery after you yet.”

“You’re in diapers, too!” Rosie shot at him. Hansen ignored her. “How long’s it been? Two years? Three?” He let out a mock laugh. He leaned close, his breath smelling like apple juice and Cheerios. “I’ll send you a postcard from preschool. They let you use markers there.”

Miss Maryam looked up from putting away the tubs of playdough. Her face scrunched in disapproval. “Hansen, that’s enough. Don’t be mean.” 

“But it’s true!” Hansen said. “He’s been here longer than anyone ever. He’s never getting out of diapers.” 

Miss Maryam chuckled. “Every little diaperboy and diapergirl graduates when they are ready. I’m sure Peter will too, someday.”

My heart dropped into my stomach. 

Hansen rolled his eyes at me and wandered off. 

The other students in the coloring area had quieted. A few looked my way. I wanted to defend myself, to shout, to lash out and tell them I’d seen their saggy, stinking diapers too. But I swallowed my words. I didn’t have to justify myself to them. After today, I’d never see any of them again.

Rosie smiled softly at me, brushing a strand of black hair from her face. “I don’t care if we build the tower or not. We can just hang out. Wanna play cars instead, Pete? We can make a loop and a jump this time. Or something else?” 

I sighed. Set down my crayon. “Maybe we can work on the tower for a few minutes. I have an idea for—” I stopped. 

Hansen had sidled up behind Rosie’s tower, that grin of his stretched wide. He nudged the base with his foot, sending the blocks tumbling in one swift, careless motion. 

Rosie gasped, her hands going to her mouth as she stared at the collapsed structure. “No!” 

I opened my mouth to say something, to defend her. Before I could, Miss Susie called out to the whole nursery. “Everyone, line up. It’s diaper check time.” 

My eyes were on Miss Maryam. They were always on Miss Maryam during the Friday afternoon diaper check. She picked up the training potty and carried it into the middle of the open play space.

Students started to shuffle into the play space, looking expectantly at the plastic training potty in the middle of the room. The excitement in the air shifted, the playful atmosphere transforming into something more serious, more pressing.

I got in line next to Rosie. She was still looking at the remains of her tower. Tears welled in the corners of her big brown eyes. 

I squeezed her hand. “You’ll get it next time.” 

She didn’t respond. 

The teachers worked their way down the line. Pulling back waistbands. Squeezing. Poking. Sniffing. Making their little remarks. 

“Looks like someone got a visit from the sog-monster.” 

“That’s one saggy diaper there, sweetie.” 

“Pee-yeew!”

The ones who weren’t clean and dry—most of them, I was encouraged to see—were led away by teachers. Some cried. Most didn’t care. They were shuffled over to the row of changing tables with soft reassurances about how ‘they could try again next year’ and how ‘a fresh, dry diaper would make them feel right as rain.’ 

I wouldn’t miss this one bit. Checks and changes. Sitting in soggy diapers—or worse. Smelling like baby powder and pee. Preschool had pull-ups, and pull-ups were practically big boy underwear. 

Just a little longer. 

Miss Susie stepped in front of the few of us who remained. “Does everyone remember what today is?” 

“Bromsday!” Lily shouted. She had a big, dopey grin on her face.

I rolled my eyes.

Susie chuckled. “Good try, sweetie. Today is Friday, which means you get a chance to prove you’re ready to graduate and move on to preschool. But this Friday is extra special. It’s the last Friday of the session. Your mommies and daddies need to renew tonight or sign you up for preschool. So if you haven’t proven you’re ready to use the potty, you’ll get to spend another year with us. Yay!”

I could feel the weight of her words. I knew how important today was. I didn’t need any reminders. I just needed to hold my stinkies a little longer. The discomfort in my tummy was 

growing harder to ignore, though.

Miss Susie held the list of names on a clipboard. They assigned the order randomly. At least that’s what they said. I was always at the back. Well, nearly always. It’s why I hadn’t graduated.

“Lily,” Miss Susie called. 

Lily jumped up, brown braids flopping around like she’d won the lottery. Which she basically had. She stood so close to the plastic potty her bare toes touched it. 

“Derek,” Miss Susie said. 

With each voice she called out, my hopes sank. 

Finally, they called Rosie. Then me. And then, at the very back of the line, there was Hansen. He was fidgeting, clearly impatient, his hands on his hips as he muttered to no one in particular. “This is so unfair,” he complained. “I should’ve gone first! Why do I have to wait behind all these losers?” His words drew a few eyes, but the teachers only smiled politely and ignored him, focusing instead on the rest of the students. 

I wished I could be happy Hansen was last, but all I could think about was the number of people in front of me in line. I’d never make it. Never. Rosie was beside me, her eyes bright with optimism, her hand brushing against mine just briefly. 

“Alright, get ready to start the timer for five minutes,” Miss Susie said to Miss Quin. Miss Quin nodded and held up the stopwatch so everyone could see it. 

I groaned quietly. “We know, we know. It’s always five minutes.” 

Hansen leaned close. “Not everyone has been here a million years, Petey Pampers.” 

I stared straight ahead, doing my best to ignore him.

“Lily,” Miss Susie said.

Lily stepped forward, her face bright with excitement. Miss Susie pulled the tapes off her diaper and removed it. The room was silent as she gave the diaper one last check, then nodded. Lily plopped down on the potty, and everyone cheered. Everyone except me and Hansen. 

Lily leaped up when the timer dinged five agonizing minutes later. She beamed with pride, pointing at the potty. “I peed like a big girl!” 

Miss Susie peered down into the potty and nodded appreciatively. “Good job, Lily! Preschool is gonna be so lucky to have such a sweet, clever girl. Now pick out your sticker and show the class. That way, they can all remember what a big girl you were every time they see it.” 

Lily plucked a sticker from the sheet and showed it to the classroom. “A Zoonicorn!” 

Hansen snickered. 

“That’s a very cute unicorn,’ Lily,” Miss Susie said. “Now run on over to Miss Peggy for your very first pull-up.” 

Lily scuttled off, half running, half skipping. Her proud daddy greeted her, gushing over her new, pull-on undies. 

Come on, let’s keep it going. No one liked Lily, anyway. She ate the playdough. 

Next came a diaperboy named Derek. He was tall. Tall enough I thought if we ever got our tower almost to the ceiling, we could ask him to reach up and put the last few pieces on. He had been in the nursery school for a while. Always quiet. But nice enough. 

He froze halfway to the potty. 

“Derek?” Miss Susie asked. “Did you just wet your diaper?” 

He shook his head vigorously, his messy blonde hair flopping all around and covering his face. 

Miss Susie approached and gave the front of his diaper a squeeze. His face turned red, tears welling up in his eyes as he hunched over. “I—I couldn’t hold it,” he stammered through his sobs, his hands shaking. Miss Susie hugged him. “Aww, that’s alright. Run along to your daddy. He’ll help you get your pants on.” 

Derek ran off crying.  

At least it was only pee, I thought. At least he hadn’t pooped. That was something, right? The tension in my gut was still building, gnawing at me as I watched the boy being led away, tears still falling. 

Hansen, of course, couldn’t resist a jab. “Pathetic,” he sneered loudly. “Can’t even make it five minutes. Maybe you should just go back to nursery school.” 

I turned around to give him a dirty look and stopped. His face was all screwed up. His jaw clenched. Fists balled. 

He has to go, too, I realized.

I turned around and smiled to myself. I was going to make it. Not only that, I was going to make it and Hansen was not. Maybe Mommy would get ice cream tonight to celebrate. Cookie dough! 

They let Derek’s timer run the full five minutes. Those were the rules. They were dumb rules, but I’d stopped sharing that opinion a couple of spankings ago. Besides, every second longer was a second Hansen would have to squirm, too. I was going to watch him when they sat me on the potty. Make sure he saw me relaxing and doing my business like a big boy. Comfy. Confident. On the way to preschool.

Marta was next. A petite girl with a shy smile. Her diaper was clean and dry, and there was a momentary hush in the room as Miss Susie planted her on the potty. She looked back at the rest of us, ready to prove she could do it. 

Rosie would be next after Marta, her usual chipper energy still intact despite the failed tower. She leaned toward me, her voice soft. “It’s okay, Pete,” she said, giving me a warm smile. “You’ve got this. I know you do.” 

Appreciation washed over me even as the pressure in my stomach was growing unbearable. My mind kept returning to the tower, to the fun we could have, but the thought of the potty made everything feel more pressing. I shuffled a little closer to her, feeling a connection between us. “You too. We’re gonna have so much fun in preschool together. I bet they have even better blocks there. Legos!”

As the timer continued ticking, the tension in the room grew thicker. My stomach churned again, and I let out a toot. It was louder than I thought it would be. Hansen snickered. 

I shifted, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. Not that I didn’t toot in my diapers all the time, but not when the room was quiet and we were all lined up. Not when Rosie was right next to me.

Rosie turned to me. 

“Sorry,” I winced. 

She waved it away. “I pooped my diaper this morning, right before snack time. Remember?” 

I giggled. I did remember. It was really stinky, too. 

“Can I see your sketchbook,” she asked. 

“Why?”

“I wanna see your tower drawing. So I know what to do after you’re gone.” 

I hadn’t shown it to anyone yet, not really, but I didn’t hesitate. I handed her my sketchbook, and it flopped open to a different page with a picture of a sailboat. 

She started flipping through the pages the smile on her face growing. “These are amazing, Pete. You’re so talented!” 

My face flushed with heat. “Just go to the tower one. It’s on the last page.” 

She stopped, her fingers hovering over a page with a different tower drawing. This one was the two of us building a tower that stretched all the way to the ceiling. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Is that… me?” she asked, her voice small, almost a whisper. “You made me look really pretty.”

My face flushed. I snatched the book back, a wave of embarrassment flooding over me. “It’s nothing.”

Rosie opened her mouth to say something.

Tiinnggg

I heard the gentle ding of the door chime. Mommy. She was still in her work clothes: a long brown coat and a blue skirt, her long blonde hair flowing behind her. Her heels clicked on the tile as she walked over to the other parents and the teachers. She exchanged a few words with Miss Becca, their voices low and friendly. 

Our eyes met, and she gave me a wave. Miss Becca said something to her. I could barely make it out. “...really trying…another year...potty dance.” They both chuckled.

I realized I’d crossed my legs at some point and was holding my tummy. My stinky-diaper dance, as my Mommy called it. I felt a pang in my chest, hearing them talk about me like that, as if my failure was inevitable. 

Hansen’s potty dance was worse than mine, at least. He clutched the back of his diaper, his forehead all scrunched up. He was getting desperate. He was on the verge of messing himself. Hansen didn’t say anything now; for once, his arrogance had faltered. 

Marta’s timer dinged. 

I nudged Rosie. “It’s almost your turn.”

She looked up at me, sad. 

“What’s the…oh.” I saw the sagging, yellow front of her diaper.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. Her eyes shimmered with the threat of tears. “I—I tried. I really did.”

“It’s alright. You’ll get it next year. You won’t be stuck here in diapers forever.” 

Rosie shrugged. “I like it here. Teachers are nice. There’s loads of fun toys and activities. I like feeding Mr. Goldy.” 

“So…what’s the matter?” I asked. 

“I really thought we could get the tower all the way to the ceilin’.” 

“Come on up, Rosie,” Miss Susie called out. 

Rosie suddenly wrapped her arms around me and squeezed tight, her head pressed against my chest. “Have fun at preschool,” she whispered. 

She thinks you’re going to make it. She’s certain of it. 

She let me go and walked up to Miss Susie, who checked her diaper and found it wet. She consoled her, offering the usual assurance of ‘that’s what diapers are for,’ not realizing the real reason she was so sad. Then Rosie shuffled over to her daddy as her five minutes ticked away. 

I was sweating now. My stomach a hurricane of cramping pains. Time crawled. 

Finally, a light ding. 

“Come on up, Peter,” Miss Susie called. 

I shuffled forward slowly. Carefully. Hands on my aching tummy. 

The teachers and remaining parents gave a half-hearted cheer, their voices soft, polite, but without the energy I’d seen them give to the others. 

A few of the students chuckled, including Hansen, who made no effort to hide the amusement on his face. “Look at Petey doing his little potty dance,” he teased, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Bet he won’t make it.” 

Mommy didn’t laugh. At least, I didn’t think so. But some of the other mommies and daddies did. 

My eyes met Rosie’s. She dabbed away the tears in them and was smiling. Hopeful. Happy for me, even though she knew it meant we wouldn’t hang out anymore. Wouldn’t finish our tower together. 

I glanced over at the jumbled pile of blocks. I wanted to finish that tower together. Desperately. And maybe, if Hansen were gone, we finally could. 

We didn’t get to make many choices in nursery school. Not like preschool. They told us when to have snacks and when to take naps and how long to wash our hands after we fed Mr. Goldy. But I could make this decision. 

I stopped right in front of the potty. “Sorry, Miss Susie,” I said. 

“What for…?”

I dropped into a squat and let the stinky mess push out into my diaper like I had a million times before. Like I probably would a million times again.

“Oh, sweetie,” Miss Susie said. She sighed. 

I stood up when I was done. Everyone was silent. Even Hansen.

Miss Susie put her arm around me. “It’s alright, Peter. We will love to have you for another year. Run along, now.” She gave the back of my diaper a light swat, smooshing the stinky mess I’d deposited there. 

I didn’t care. Not really. 

Mommy’s smile tugged at the corners of her mouth like it did when I spilled juice on the floor or forgot to empty out my diaper pail. Soft, patient love mixed with exasperation. She didn’t look surprised, though. She pulled me tight against her and kissed the top of my head. “It’s alright, sweetie. There’s always next year.” 

I nodded. 

“Ice cream?” she said. 

I smiled. “Can I get cookie dough?”

“Of course.” 

I looked over at Rosie, whose daddy was helping get her coat on. 

“What’s the matter, babycakes?” Mommy asked. 

“Can I have a bit more time?”

She patted my diaper. “I’m sure they’ll let me change your stinky britches before we go. Let me just get your diaper bag from the car.” 

I shook my head. Glanced at Rosie, who was almost out the door now. “Somethin’ else.” 

Mommy looked at Rosie. Nodded. “Of course. Take your time. I’ll talk to Miss Susie about getting you signed up for another year.” 

I ran over to Rosie. 

She stared at me, her eyes wide in shock for a moment. Then, as realization dawned on her, she smiled softly, the corners of her lips curling in understanding. She didn’t say anything, but I saw it in the way she looked at me—there was no judgment, just quiet support.

“Do you want to finish our tower?” I asked her.

She looked up at her daddy, who nodded. “Of course, darlin’. I’ll catch up with the other mommies and daddies for a bit. Have fun.”

I took Rosie’s hand in mine, and we crossed the room.

“Sorry I’m stinky,” I whispered.

She squeezed my hand. “I don’t care.” 

We’d just started the third level of the tower when Hansen screamed. “Yes! I’m going to preschool!” he shouted, the noise grating in my ears. “You see that, Petey? That’s how you do it!”

I ignored him, slotting a big blue block into place. He could have his pull-ups and his Lego blocks. 

I had my friend. 

---

Big thank you to my friends @diapergirlstories and @batarangaroo for their feedback on this story!

If you enjoyed this short tale, you'll love my full-length stories - check 'em out on Ream! There are 42 stories there, several of them novella or novel length, and I add more every week.

I love being diepered

going full toddler part 5

Marie froze.

The soft ding-dong of the doorbell still echoed in her ears, but it was nothing compared to the thud-thud-thud of her heartbeat pounding in her chest.

She sat there, trapped in her playpen, still dressed in just her oversized T-shirt and a clearly visible diaper, her bib still snug around her neck. The highchair beside her was undeniable proof of what she had just been doing. There was no hiding, no chance to run. Whoever was at the door was going to see her just like this.

Her stomach flipped.

Steve, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed. He didn’t even hesitate as he walked to the front door, his stride casual, his smirk still lingering as if he wasn’t about to let a stranger see his little girl in the most embarrassing state possible.

Marie curled into herself, gripping her bunny tight, barely daring to breathe as she watched the door swing open.

And then—

The woman stepped inside.

Marie’s breath hitched.

She was stunning.

Tall, confident, and impossibly graceful, she carried herself with an air of effortless authority. Her honey-blonde hair was swept back into a perfect, elegant ponytail, not a single strand out of place. A flowing white sundress draped over her frame, accentuating the soft curves of her figure, and her lips curled into a knowing smile the moment she laid eyes on Steve.

“Steve,” she purred, stepping forward with open arms.

Marie watched in horror as Steve smirked—as if this was completely expected—and met the woman halfway, wrapping his arms around her in an embrace so natural, so intimate that it made Marie’s stomach twist.

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

She knew what that hug meant. The way he pulled her close, the way his hand rested on the small of her back—it was the same way he touched her whenever he brought her in for cuddles, the same warmth she thought belonged to just her.

But before she could even begin to process that, Marie’s breath caught as the woman pulled away and turned her gaze directly on her.

Her golden-brown eyes lit up at the sight.

“Oh,” she murmured, her voice rich with amusement. “Well, isn’t she just precious?”

Marie’s entire body locked up.

She wanted to disappear. Wanted to shrink into the floor, wanted to dive into the plush blankets of the playpen and vanish before this elegant, beautiful woman could get a better look at her.

But it was too late.

The woman was already stepping forward, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor.

Marie barely registered the movement beside her—only now noticing the boy standing just behind the woman.

He was dressed in shortalls—light blue, soft-looking fabric with an embroidered dinosaur peeking out of the pocket, revealing the unmistakable bulk of a thick diaper beneath. His T-shirt was a matching green, the cartoon dino on the front grinning happily. His cheeks were slightly flushed, his lips pressed around a pacifier as he suckled quietly, but his eyes were wide and curious as he stared right at her.

Marie’s stomach plummeted.

Another little.

Another diapered little.

Watching her.

Her hands gripped her bunny even tighter, her toes curling as her crinkly padding reminded her of exactly how little she was right now.

And then—

A warm hand slid under her chin.

Marie squeaked, her whole body stiffening as the woman crouched down, tilting her face up with gentle but unshakable authority.

“You must be Marie,” the woman murmured, her tone soft but full of something deeper—something that made Marie’s tummy flip. “Stevie’s told me so much about his little princess.”

Marie’s lips parted, but no words came out.

She was stunned.

Trapped in the woman’s gaze, frozen under her touch.

And then—before she could even process what was happening—the woman leaned in, brushing a kiss to her forehead, the soft floral scent of her perfume surrounding her, making Marie feel impossibly small.

It was warm. Maternal.

And then…..

Squish.

Marie gasped.

The woman’s other hand had drifted down—trailing over Marie’s tummy, her bib, and lower—before pressing gently against the front of her diaper.

Marie whimpered, her entire body going rigid as a wave of shame crashed over her.

“Oh, sweetheart,” the woman cooed, tilting her head as she gave the damp padding another deliberate squeeze. “You’re already a little soggy, aren’t you?”

Marie whimpered softly, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps as the woman’s warm palm lingered on the front of her diaper, pressing just enough to remind her exactly how little she was.

She felt utterly exposed.

And yet, the woman looked completely unbothered—like checking Marie’s diaper was the most natural thing in the world.

Steve’s chuckle sent another wave of heat crawling up Marie’s neck. “She’s a little damp, but I changed her just before lunch,” he mused, his voice rich with amusement. “Had to—this little princess had her first messy diaper right before I put her in her highchair.”

Marie’s heart stopped.

She squeaked, her entire body jolting as if she could somehow take back the words that had already been spoken. Her breath hitched, her hands clamping down hard over her bunny as shame crashed over her like a tidal wave.

No.

No, no, no.

Why—why did he have to say that?!

It was one thing for this woman to see her in a wet diaper. But this—this was worse. This was humiliating.

This woman—this stranger—who’s name she didn’t even know yet, now knew one of the most intimate, most embarrassing things about her. That just an hour ago, she had completely filled her diaper like the helpless little baby she was.

Marie could barely breathe, her entire body trembling with shame.

She chanced a glance up—just a tiny one—only to find the woman’s eyes twinkling with warmth and amusement.

“Oh, sweet girl,” the woman purred, her thumb gently stroking Marie’s cheek as if she could feel her embarrassment. “You really are just Daddy’s little baby, aren’t you?”

Marie whimpered, her face burning, but she couldn’t look away.

And then—

“Well,” the woman continued, still cupping Marie’s cheek with one hand while giving her diaper one last firm squeeze with the other, “I suppose you and Tim are more alike than I thought.”

Marie blinked, confused, her lip still trembling.

Tim?

Slowly, her wide eyes flickered past the woman’s shoulder—to the little boy still standing quietly behind her.

And before Marie could even process what she meant—

“Oh yeah,” the woman added casually, as if she were talking about the weather. “Tim already had his poopy Pampers first thing this morning.”

Marie’s jaw dropped.

Her stomach flipped.

Did she—did she really just—

Her gaze snapped back to the little boy in horror.

And what did she find?

Tim, grinning behind his pacifier, completely unbothered.

No blush. No shame. No embarrassment at all.

Just… a tiny giggle.

A tiny, amused, carefree giggle, like this wasn’t even a big deal.

Like he knew exactly what he was, and he didn’t care.

Marie could barely breathe.

How—how was he so okay with this?!

She felt like she was dying from the sheer humiliation of Steve mentioning her accident. Meanwhile, this boy had just admitted—completely casually—that he’d messed his diaper hours ago, and he was giggling about it?!

Marie couldn’t handle it.

Her hands flew up to her face, pressing her bunny tight against her burning cheeks as she squirmed helplessly in the woman’s arms.

“Oh, don’t be so shy, sweetheart,” the woman teased, bouncing Marie slightly as if she were just a fussy little baby. “It’s just part of being a little one, isn’t it?”

Marie squeaked.

She wanted to disappear.

But the woman just chuckled, as if Marie’s flustered state only amused her more.

Steve, of course, looked thoroughly entertained.

“I tried telling her that earlier,” he mused, crossing his arms as he leaned lazily against the doorway. “She’s still getting used to it.”

The woman hummed, clearly pleased. “Well, I suppose that’s what this weekend is for, isn’t it?”

Marie swallowed hard, her stomach twisting.

What—what did that mean?

She couldn't believe it. Her dream has come true.

Since Abby was a little girl, she liked to be in diapers. But unfortunatly, everyone has to grow up and potty train. But now it was diferent.

Of course Abby was a diaper girl and a member of the ABDL community, but she never had the courage to become really incontinent and never could really have a 24/7 diaper period longer than 2 months. But recently, the gouvernment wanted to make a new law, where some criminales would become incontinent by surgery, and they were searching voluntiers for the first tests. And thats when Abby saw her oportunity. She aplied for thats reaserch, where she would be compensated so she never had to worry about money.

And now, after the surgery. She was finally happy. Incontinent and happy

Fertility rates had been plummetting for decades. It wasn't only because people wanted fewer children, it was also because sperm quality had reached a critical low point. Children were still born here and there, but nothing approaching a global replacement rate. Fortunately, we'd fixed aging. Bodily and mental decline were things of the past which prevented society from collapsing.

Of course, in a society of only adults, having children became highly prized. To fix that issue, every year the people turning 21 were offered to go through state-sponsored regression. Using the same technology used to keep the rest of the population young and able, the minds of the volunteers were youthened to that of a two-year-old while keeping all their personality and memories intact.

Maggie had always wanted to be a princess ever since she'd been a little girl. Growing up, she didn't mind telling people that she wanted to be regressed once she turned 21. But then came beer and boys and various interests like painting and reading and psychology and suddenly getting regressed seemed a lot less interesting. By the time she turned 21, she was in a serious relationship. The boy in question was very open to her ABDL tendencies and babying her. They had talked at great lenghts about the possibility of Maggie being adopted by him. But, they agreed, they needed someone to be the mommy. Maggie was anxious about how enthusiastically her boyfriend seemed to search for a romantic partner that wasn't her and how quickly she came into the picture. She was a long-time friend of both of them and very soon the dynamic was put in place and an appointment for Maggie's regression was scheduled.

It was quick and painless, a few injections here and there that would only need upkeep every week until her situation became stable.

Losing her continence was wonderful, but slowly getting dumber felt a lot scarier. Thankfully, Mommy and Daddy were there to take care of her. They loved each other very much, but most of all, they loved her. Nothing can be scary when Mommy blows raspberries on your tummy! Getting picked up and carried everywhere, wearing pretty dresses and pink all the time, Maggie definitely felt like a princess.

Photo credit: @sophiexxlittle

For more stories by me: https://reamstories.com/babywriter

El otro día pasé más de 20 horas en este pañal y fue realmente increíble (después de pasar más de 3 días en pañales).

Ya quiero hacer un buen rato en 24/7. En serio fue increíble

Lolette has broken the rules regarding patient contact

The regression clinic has strict rules. For example. All staff have to wear diapers. Another rule is that Nurses must not force patients to ejaculate unless this is required by their treatment program

Nurse Lolette broke this rule and now is to be punished

She is first gagged with the thick pacifier and strapped to the table

Next the nurses force her to listen to the powerful hypnosis tapes they use on patients to get them to lose their bladder control and to forget their potty training

Lolette struggles but can’t escape it won’t be long before she too is a drooling vacant incontinent little baby girl

The nurses remove Lolette’s thick diaper for the other punishment she is to suffer

Matron is kind enough to force a muscle relaxant/sedative into Lolettes mouth to loosen her up and reduce her ability to struggle so much

Lolette drifts off to sleep as the hypnosis tapes kick in

And all that is left is for Matron to insert a large butt plug deep into Lolette’s ass. She will wake up wet and uncomfortable. And then her nightmare really begins…

Image credit AB Dreams

Morning Comforts (18+)

Written by @cradle-quill, feat. images courtesy of @starryprincxss

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, revealing bits of dust particles floating through the air. Tara, already awake, sat upright in bed with her legs crossed. Her boyfriend, Leo, slept soundly beside her, laying on his stomach with his head turned toward her. Tara studied every inch of his face. The ways his lips curled as he slept, the way his nose curved toward his brow, sculpting the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on. As she watched him breathing gently in his sleep, she wondered how she had gotten so lucky.

Their bedroom was quiet and still, and had been for several hours now. It was as if the whole room were asleep, now being gently stirred awake by the encroaching sun. Whereas the previous night had been cool enough for Tara to get all bundled up, the sun brought with it bits of warmth as it brushed against the little skin Tara left uncovered. The sensation was pleasant, but it wasn’t enough to draw her out of her pink hoodie just yet. She was far too cozy for that, and she wanted to cling to the last moments of early morning while she still could.

She wanted to watch the sunrise, but didn’t want to wake Leo up before he was ready, so she gently lifted herself off the bed and tiptoed out of the room, careful to open the door extra slowly, so as not to make any noise whatsoever. When she closed the door behind her, she was proud of her stealthiness and gave herself a little smirk. Satisfied, she went out to the kitchen, opened the curtains that faced the rising sun, and set to work fixing herself a morning cup of coffee.

It was an almost perfect morning, but there was one small… problem. Except she wouldn’t call it a problem, not exactly. It was more of an… inconvenience. Or really, it was just something new to her. Something she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about yet. With each step she took, each turn of her waist or adjustment of her hips, she felt the unusual sensation of extra padding hugging her body, and heard a light crinkle to match.

Falling asleep in her newfound “underwear” had been… interesting, to say the least. She tossed and turned for a bit, unable to get settled until Leo rubbed her back until she fell asleep. The pull-ups she was wearing, really just glorified diapers with a bit of extra dignity tacked on, had been his idea. Well, mostly. She’d worn them when she was younger, not having fully grown out of wetting the bed until she was in her early teens. But it had been years since then, as she was well into her twenties by now, and thought she had put that vestige of her old life behind her. But when Leo confessed he had a diaper fetish, she had to admit she found the idea intriguing.

She never really disliked the goodnites. She remembered them being form-fitting and soft, kind of like wearing a light pillow while she slept. When Leo told her she’d still fit in them, she didn’t believe him, but low and behold, here she was no, wearing glorified diapers for older kids who still haven’t quite gotten the hang of potty training at night. That was embarrassing enough on its own, without including the fact that her bedwetting had been making a return appearance as of late. It wasn’t anywhere near as often as it used to be, but having to wash the sheets a few times a month was still enough to be a recurring annoyance. So when Leo brought up the subject of trying goodnites again, Tara had to admit there was some practical benefit.

That practical benefit had come in handy overnight. As much as she didn’t want to acknowledge it, she couldn’t help but notice the slight wetness of her padding each time she moved. The pull-up wasn’t soaked; it had more room to wet, but anyone looking at her would immediately know she wasn’t dry. Knowing that not only did she feel like a little girl, but she looked like one, sent her synapses firing with all kinds of conflicted feelings.

Still, she wanted to give it all a fair shot, so she stuck it out and waited for Leo to wake up before she would change, as they had agreed. Which meant Tara had plenty of time to finish making her morning coffee. Once it was done, she poured two shots of creamer and let three sugar cubes dissolve in it, stirring her drink while she watched the sun crest over the canopy of trees on the horizon.

The sight absorbed her, taking in every inch of her being and soothing it as her thoughts melted away. She stirred her coffee, then took a gentle sip, careful not to burn her lips, before mindlessly going back to stirring once again. This continued for some time, until the sun had fully risen over the trees, and the morning dew glistened in its beaming rays.

A sense of fulfilling peace spread through her chest as she took a deep breath in through her nose, holding it there and letting it linger, as if all time around her stopped with it. The only other sense she noticed was a sudden twinge in her bladder, the same one she remembered learning to listen to all the way back when she was potty training.

Everything in her, every piece of who she was now as an adult, told her to go take the silly pull-up off and use the toilet like a big girl. But one small sliver of a dissenting voice whispered in the back of her mind, telling her not to move an inch. It told her to stay there, to bask in that wonderful moment she was experiencing, and to let all her worries wash away, to let go of them and release them into the void. Against her better judgment, Tara let that voice win.

As she exhaled, letting go of that long-held breath, she let go of something else, too. She relaxed all her muscles, letting go of all the tension she’d been holding onto, all the stress and worries of adult life. The fear of being judged, the illusion that she had to live up to the invisible expectations of an ever-judging society, one that she knew couldn’t even see her in that moment. She gave it all up, and let it wash away, just like the voice had told her. And as she did, it all flowed right between her legs and into her diaper.

As she felt the warmth spreading all around her, cutting through the stillness of the cool morning air, she recognized that voice from before. One that had been lost to her for so long, one that she had forced down into a place she would not allow herself to hear. It was her, her truest, most innocent and pure self. A child with no cares, no worries about living up to a version of herself she didn’t even have in her head back then. For the first time in years, she let it come free, and against the backdrop of that beautiful morning, she was at true peace.

That’s when she heard another voice come from behind her, though this one was far more familiar. It was Leo’s, asking her what she was doing. And right as he said those words, all the fear and tension welled back up inside her again, like a ball of flames that she had to force back with her own hands.

“N-nothing,” she said as she placed her coffee mug on the counter and quickly covered herself with her hands, pulling her hoodie down to hide the obviously wet diaper.

Leo looked back at her and just smiled. He approached her gently, like a man offering his hand out to a doe, and when she didn’t startle, he reached out and stroked his hand across her hair. “It’s alright, honey. You don’t have to hide anything from me.”

Her breath had caught in her throat, but with those words, she breathed again, tentatively. But with each stroke of her hair, the panic that had risen inside her melted away once more.

“Are you absolutely sure? We can just... pretend this never happened. Like we never had the idea, and we can just go about our normal lives.”

Leo’s smile further softened, and he reached his hand down to the bottom of her hoodie, where it hid her diapered state. A little jolt flew through her body, and she clutched her hands tighter against her one piece of clothing, to her one piece of dignity. Leo loosened his grip.

“I won’t you to do anything, my love. If you want me to let go, and you want to head upstairs and change out of it, and never acknowledge it again, then that’s what we’ll do. You get to set the pace here, and there’s no wrong answer. I will respect your wishes either way, and I won’t be upset with you if that’s what you decide. But just know that I’m okay. We’re okay. I’m not ashamed of you, or embarrassed to be with you. You aren’t disgusting, and there’s nothing wrong with you. I’m right here with you, every step of the way. So whatever you want to do, I’ll be right here, with a hand ready to hold and a shoulder ready to lean on.”

Tara thought about it for some time. She trusted him. She knew he was being honest with her, that he would never shame her or make her feel like a poor excuse for a partner for whichever decision she made. But despite knowing that, it was still so embarrassing to be seen the way she stood there before him. What if there was no going back? What if he never saw her as an actual adult ever again? But worse than those things, what if she liked it? What if she wanted him to see her this way? Like a helpless child who’d had an accident, and who needed to be cleaned up and taken care of. She had to decide one way or the other. But as she looked into Leo’s eyes, his gentle, loving face smiling back at her, she knew it would be okay. That no matter what she picked at this time, he wouldn’t hold her to it. She could always change her mind later, and he would be there for her, to love and support her no matter what.

Tara took one final deep breath, and then slowly lifted her hoodie up to reveal her now soaking wet pull-up. Her pee had stained it all up the front and the back, and while it wasn’t leaking, drops of condensation dripped from the front of the cloth-backed material. Her heart pounded, and her face burned with a blazing heat.

Leo just kept smiling. He moved his hand forward, gesturing at her diaper, and Tara gave an embarrassed little nod. When he felt the front of her diaper with a squish, Tara couldn’t help but let out a small moan. He pressed his hand harder between her legs, and felt the padding give way as trickles of pee fell down her legs, running across his fingers and palm.

“It looks like somebody had quite the accident, isn’t that right, sweetie?”

Tara nodded once more, unable to find any words.

“That’s alright honey, you don’t need to speak,” Leo said, as if reading her thoughts. “You can just stand there and be my pretty little girl while Daddy checks your diaper. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Tara offered a little whine of approval, and Leo’s smile grew into a condescending but sweet smirk. “That’s what I thought, kiddo. Now, do me one favor before Daddy takes you upstairs to change you.”

“Wh-what’s that, Daddy?”

Leo lifted her almost finished mug of coffee and handed it back to her. “Hold this and turn around again. I want to see that perfect image one more time.”

She did as she was told, half-turning her body and popping her hip for him while she looked back toward the man she loved, her eyes inviting him to continue. That feeling of serenity and calm was gone now, but a burning desire deep within her had replaced it. It longed for him; it needed him, every bit of him, to be with her.

As he smiled at his beautiful little diaper model, he smiled even wider than before and said, “There we go. That’s my good little girl.”

And from then on, she was.

A whiff of powder. The quiet chorus of crinkling plastic. The shiver-inducing sensation of her fingertips grazing his most intimate regions. And then, amid this incongruous sensory medley came her voice: sweet, loving as ever, but with a new note of amused condescension.

"Honey, you know the rule. You made it yourself, remember?" Blair was smiling softly as she tugged at the cotton-and-plastic layers beneath her husband's naked groin. "Oh, don't think I blame you. You're absolutely right that sheets are pricey, and mattresses more so. So it only makes sense that we take care not to ruin them..."

Felix groaned softly, but there was no way he could deny the truth of her words. He had been a bit of an ass about her periods when she'd had her first few nocturnal leaks. He might have been half-joking when he'd first grumbled about how the bloody stains wouldn't ever come out, and how she really ought to wear something more protective than a flimsy little pad. But the joke had taken on a life of its own when he'd happened to notice that pack of "adult briefs" in the supermarket and impulsively thrown it into the cart with a chuckle. "Dare you to wear them," he'd chortled when she'd protested at how unfunny his joke was. "I mean, if you can't control your own bodily fluids it only makes sense, right?"

It was Blair's turn to giggle now as her hands slipped dexterously down over his vulnerable crotch, pausing to linger affectionately on his respectably-sized cock. "Sure, I admit it. I guess it was a hard ask at first when you said I ought to wear some better protection during my periods. But you know, you ended up being so right, honey! If we can't control our own bodily fluids and keep from damaging the sheets and mattress, we just need to use a bit of protection, don't we? And just like we're not going to ruin our mattress through my periods, we're also not about to ruin them through your, ahem, wet dreams..."

"But- but- they don't stain as much-" "Staining isn't the problem, honey," Blair reminded him, her smile widening as she felt his vulnerable cock stirring into life under her rhythmic ministrations. "It's the principle of the thing! Why should I have to waddle off to bed in a diaper for a week every month, while you get to lay there in your boxers and spurt jizz into our sheets with no protection whatsoever – and no consequences?" She smirked and tweaked his nose playfully. "And here I thought you believed in gender equality, honey!"

It was all very well to joke about it. She didn't need to tell Felix how she'd begun to feel the oddest attachment – attraction, even – to these bulky undergarments. She didn't need to confess to him that, horny as she often got during the latter days of her period, she now felt more excited than ever when she felt that thick bulk tucked between her thighs and cupping her pussy. And she definitely didn't need to tell him that she was already getting wet now: aroused by the irreplaceable sight of her tough husband hiding his face in shame at the powdery humiliation she was gently forcing upon him...

No, of course not. All she needed to do was laugh and tease him into blushing submission.

"What's good for the goose is good for the gander, they say!" she laughed, and was rewarded with a groan of mingled arousal and embarrassment as she forced his involuntarily stiffening member down into the powdery padding beneath him. "Don't worry, babe – you can dribble and cum all you want to now! You'll be wrapped up safe and snug, just like me...

"Now isn't that great?"

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Rian's New Sister

For mature readers - 18+ only!

Mommy was gonna be so frickin’ proud.

I clicked the final gray block into place on the castle wall and stepped back to admire the scene: the perfect, complete medieval village with castles and knights and wagons and a dragon. Just as I’d imagined it as a kid. My eye caught the blank patch of green LEGO base on the sprawling table. Well, nearly complete. I’d almost given up on finding the King’s Castle, the only set remaining from the 80s and 90s ones I’d grown up with.

“Mommy,” I called out.

The house was silent but for the ticking of the clock downstairs. “Mommy!” I called again, louder this time. Then I remembered she was out. With him. At a new Italian restaurant or something like that. Or were they going to Rogers Park? I looked up at the clock. Either way, she should be back by now. She couldn’t be spending the night at his house or she would’ve sent Lisa over to babysit me. And more importantly, it was Saturday: we always watched a movie together on Saturday. I felt a flutter of anxiety. Had she forgotten?

I heard footsteps on the stairs, then Mommy was standing in the doorway to my nursery, a glass of red wine in her hand. She was dressed up in a long black evening dress that sparkled a bit in the light. Her dark hair was up in an elaborate hairdo with a long pin stuck through it, and she wore bright red lipstick and strappy high heels. “Hey, sweetstuff.”

The tension dissipated. “I finished it!” I said, pointing at the newest addition to my little city.

“Will you look at that,” she said. “Nice work.”

She smiled, and I felt that warm glow in my chest.

“Have you come up with a name for it yet? For your little town, I mean.”

I shook my head. I’d name it when it was complete. When I added the King’s Castle.

She walked across the room, her heels clicking on the wood floor, and stood next to me. She smelled like lavender perfume and alcohol. Like date night. “This is the new one, right?” she asked, pointing at the castle I’d just finished.

I nodded. “This was the first set I ever got. For Christmas when I was six.”

“Lots of good memories, I bet.”

I grabbed the two sides of the castle and opened it wide, displaying the interior rooms. “The dungeon has a secret entrance right here. And you see this? It’s the armory.” I pointed at the rack of swords and halberds on the wall of the armory. I’d had to buy those separately, as they were missing from the set I found on eBay.

She reached down and squeezed the back of my diaper. “Looking a bit droopy there.”

I shrugged. “I’m not leaking.”

“Famous last words,” she said with a chuckle.

I surveyed the LEGO table and the row of coastline base pieces I’d just added. “Gonna start adding pirates now, I guess.”

“Still no luck online with the King’s Castle?”

I shook my head.

“Maybe we can try the flea market by David’s house this weekend. What do you think about that, David?”

I startled. “He’s here?”

I heard the bathroom door open down the hall, and a moment later, David stepped into my room. He always reminded me of Ted Danson. Younger Danson, like when he was on Cheers. He even had the same smirky smile. He held a tumbler of something dark brown in one hand. The other hand was tucked behind his back. He was tall and lean. Strong, but not all bulgy like those guys that live at the gym. ‘A swimmer’s body,’ Mommy called it. When I reminded her I was a good swimmer, she’d called me her ‘seal pup.’ I knew I’d put on some weight over the last three years and worried that might be part of the reason she called me that, but I liked the nickname anyway. Seal pups were cute.

“Hey, bud,” David said. “Looks like you’ve had a fun evening.”

I turned to Mommy. “He’s not staying, is he? You didn’t say he was spending the night. I thought we were gonna watch Inside Out and have popcorn and Sour Patch.” Movie night was my favorite. We always had snacks and cuddled in Mommy’s bed. Sometimes, I even spent the night in there with her if I fell asleep during the movie. And tonight felt like an extra celebration after finishing the castle.

“Don’t be silly. I wouldn’t miss out on movie night with my favorite baby boy,” she said.

I glared, still feeling annoyed that no one had told me he’d be coming over. Mommy gently pinched my chin and brought my gaze around to hers. Her light blue eyes stared into mine. “Hey, remember your manners, okay?”

Just a few feet behind me in the nursery was my spanking bench and row of paddles. I nodded. “Hey,” I said to David.

Mommy smiled. “There’s my good boy. Now, I think he has a little something for you.”

For me? He’d brought Mommy plenty of gifts. Especially when they first started spending time together a couple of years ago. Roses. A necklace. Boxes of clothes I never saw her wear, which made me wonder if they were for the bedroom. But he’d never gotten me anything, aside from a hot dog and ice cream at the Badgers game that one time. And tickets to the zoo. And the aquarium. And that remote control car last Christmas.

“Is it a teddy bear?” I asked warily. Everyone who knew about Mommy and me, about our special relationship, thought I needed a teddy bear. Mommy said that was the template they had to work with—little ones like teddy bears. And I did like teddy bears. And plenty of other stuffies. But I only needed so many. David should know better, though, right? He had his own little girl. And Mommy would’ve told him I had plenty of bears.

David chuckled. “I saw that massive pile of stuffies last time I was here. Looks like you’re all set on the ursine front.”

“Last time?” I didn’t remember him coming into my room…ever.

“Your mommy was all tuckered out after a, uh, long night.” They both shared a glance, and he chuckled. “I knew she hadn’t changed you when we got back from dinner, so I decided to make sure you weren’t leaking while she rested.”

“What? I didn’t know that!” He’d come into my nursery and checked my diaper? What if it had needed to be changed? That was Mommy’s job and no one else’s. Not even the other mommies at playgroup would change me. Had he touched my diaper? Stuck a finger in the leg hole like Mommy did sometimes?

“You were a bit soggy, but nothing that couldn’t wait until morning.”

“No one else changes me,” I said. I glared at Mommy.

“Your babysitter, Lisa?” Mommy asked.

I shrugged. That was different. She was a babysitter. That was half her job.

“And Miss Karoline that time you had a blowout at the park? Or how about Miss Meredith when you slept over at Tim’s house? Or—” I blushed. “Okay, but, I didn’t know he did it. You should’ve told me first.”

“What do I always say?” Mommy asked.

I looked at the floor.

“Rian?” her tone had an edge to it. She rarely got angry with me. Not really angry, at least.

“Little boys in diapers don’t get to say who checks and changes their diapers,” I mumbled.

“That’s right,” she said. “You’re lucky to have a loving mommy. But we’re also lucky to have friends that support us. Friends like David.” I looked at him again. He stood patiently, the hint of a smile on his face. He wasn’t my ‘friend.’ And I’m not sure he counted as Mommy’s ‘friend,’ either. Not without something else tacked on to that word. But at least he hadn’t actually changed me. That’d just be weird.

“So, do you want your present, or should I give it to someone else?” he asked.

“I’d like it,” I said. “Please,” I added a moment later.

He pulled his arm from behind his back and held out a LEGO set.

“Woah! Skull’s Eye Schooner!”

He chuckled. “Indeed. Your mommy deserves the credit for telling me about it, though. You’re a lucky lil’ fella.”

“Where did you find it? How?” It was nowhere near as rare as the King’s Castle, but still one of the harder sets to find. While looking for the King’s Castle, I’d been watching for this one, too. I knew it’d be hard to find, so every time I pawed through musty old junk at yard sales and flea markets I kept an eye out for it, hoping I’d see the telltale yellow box under a pile of tupperware or beneath a stack of flannel shirts.

“My friend Chris owns a company that organizes estate sales. He put the word out, and sure enough, it popped up in Des Moines. This old guy had copies of almost every set LEGO ever put out, he said. Bit of a hoarder.” He held the box out, and I took it.

It was opened but in mint condition, which probably meant all the pieces were there. Anyone who took such good care of the box probably didn’t lose pieces. I brought it over to the table and carefully opened it, admiring the bags of bricks—taped closed with blue painter’s tape—and minifigs. The assembly manual was as thick as my thumb, with page after page of glossy, full-color instructions. I flipped to the first page.

Mommy put a hand on my back. “Maybe don’t put that together quite yet, okay? Why don’t we save it until tomorrow? Or maybe after…”

“Right,” David said. “After might be best.”

“After what? It’s 878 pieces,” I said. I held up the manual, showing her how thick it was. “I need to get started or it’ll never be done.”

“Bud,” David said. He walked over to my other side and put a hand on my shoulder. “We have some exciting news.”

I shrugged his hand off and pointed at the bag of minifigures and weapons. “See all these cannons? Some of them sit on little turntable things that slide around. It’s frickin’ awesome.”

“Rian,” Mommy said, “did you hear David? We have some exciting news.”

I reluctantly set the bag down and turned to face him. “Are we going back to the zoo? The monkeys were hiding last time, remember? Maybe this time they’ll be out.”

“No, not the zoo.”

“Oh.” I turned to look at the set. Maybe I could start working on it while he was talking.

“There will be plenty more zoo trips together, I promise. But that’s not what this is about.”

A knot of anxiety formed in my stomach. I turned to Mommy. “What’s going on?”

She smiled, but I could see the worry on her face. She squeezed my hand. “Rian, David and I have decided that it would be best, if, um…”

“What?” I asked. “Just say it.”

“I’ve decided that you and Amara are going to move in with Gwen and me,” David finished for her.

“Move in, like…out of this house? What about my LEGOS? And all of my other stuff? I like this house.” We’d bought it together back when I was working. Almost our whole life together had been here.

“Oh, sweetness, of course, we will move all of your stuff with us. David and Gwen’s home will be your home, too, and you can make the space your own.”

Daddy cleared his throat.

“You’ll be sharing a room at first,” Mommy added, “but we’ll get you settled in your own room soon enough.”

I frowned. “I thought you liked sleeping in your own space and having the whole bed to stretch out and not get kicked. And not having the plastic cover on the mattress. That’s what you always say.”

David chuckled. “She’ll be sleeping with me, bud. And I don’t think we’ll be needing a bedwetting cover on the mattress. You and Gwen will share a room. She has a big nursery. I’m sure she’ll love the company.”

I knew he was sleeping with Mommy, of course. I’d reluctantly agreed to that years ago. She’d made it clear she had grownup needs I couldn’t meet anymore. And I was okay with it. Mostly. Usually, I didn’t have to think about it. But if we were all living in the same house, that’d be different. I’d have to see him touching her. Kissing her. Squeezing her butt, like that one time in the entryway when they didn’t know I was watching.

And then there was Gwen. I’d only met her once, but she’d told me I had pudding on my shirt. That was the first thing she’d said. Not even hello. She was right; there was a big glob of chocolate pudding on my Transformers shirt, but what was I supposed to do about it? And why did she care?

“I don’t want to share a room,” I said. “I like my room. I like my stuff.”

“I know you do,” Mommy said. “But this will be best for everyone. David has a big house with lots of fun stuff. And I know you and Gwen are going to get along famously. Please just give it a chance, for me?”

She had that look on her face. Eyes kinda wide. Lips pursed. Like she was worried I’d say no or throw a fit or something. I wondered what she’d do if I did say no. Would we move anyway? But I couldn’t do that. I’d at least try. I owed her that. And we’d agreed long ago that she made the big decisions. And most of the small ones, too. I nodded.

The worried expression disappeared, replaced by her biggest smile. The kind that dimpled her cheeks and made her eyes shine. She wrapped me in a big hug and whispered in my ear. “Thank you, baby. I love you soooooo much.”

“I love you too,” I said back, “more than anything.” I meant it, of course. I’d do just about anything to make her happy. But saying the words—and feeling them—did nothing to loosen the knot in my stomach.

Everything was going to change. This is the first chapter of an ongoing story I'm releasing on Ream. Check out my Ream site to read more of this story, plus the ongoing The Good News, and tons of other completed stories!

A Fair Trade

“I want to go to the bookstore,” Brynn said. Well, she didn’t say it as much as she whined it–she had a tendency to enunciate all of her requests as if she was a spoiled toddler. But, seeing as how this usually worked in her getting her way, it made sense why this trait stuck after toddlerhood.

“Why?” sighed Lia. “You’re going to wander around there for two hours, read the back of every book you pick up, and then leave without buying anything.” Lia wasn’t this blunt with most of her friends, but she had learned that this was really the only way to deal with Brynn. And even then, it didn’t always work.

“I know,” Brynn whined. “But Fi wants to go to the shore next weekend, so I really should have something to read on the beach. Come on. I’ll be quick.”

A louder-than-expected laugh burst from Lia’s mouth like a bark, causing her to blush a little. “S-sorry, but… We both know that’s not going to happen.”

“C’mon,” Brynn said. “What else did you have to do today?”

Lia glanced further down the street–the plant store, the record shop, and a used clothing store were all within view, and they all sounded better than watching Brynn shrug at thousands of books she knew nothing about. Still, she was a good friend. And she supposed, albeit begrudgingly, that it was more important she stick around for Brynn during this trying time.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Lia finally said. “Let’s look at some books.”

For the first few minutes in the store, Lia tried to hover in Brynn’s vicinity, doing her best to sound engaged when her friend read from the back cover of a book aloud to get Lia’ s opinion on it.

“...and that’s when everything goes wrong. Suddenly, Cynthia finds that her perfect life might not be so perfect after all–and her boyfriend may not be the man she thought he was,” Brynn read. “Does that sound good?”

“That sounds like every single book and movie ever made,” Lia sighed. 

“Really?” Brynn asked. “I think it sounds kind of good. This one’s a maybe.”

 “Alright,” Lia shrugged, holding back any comments she was tempted to make about Brynn being the most basic woman in the world.

From the corner of her eye, Lia spots a sign denoting the “Art & Design” section. The art bug had been biting again lately, and she was feeling eager to pick up a paint brush again for the first time in a while. Maybe, she thought, flipping through some of the art books might stir up some inspiration.

“Hey,” she said to Brynn, who was picking another book from the shelf to glance over. “I’m going to go check out some of the books over there, alright?”

“Sure,” Brynn said. “I’ll narrow it down to, like, four or five books and you can tell me which one I should buy.”

“Uh, sure. Can’t wait.” Lia briskly walked away from Brynn and into the art section, letting out a little sigh of relief when she could no longer smell her friend’s vaguely peachy body spray. She loved Brynn dearly, but Brynn could also be…a lot.

It was a book about Japanese woodblock prints that caught her eye initially, but while the art featured in the book was undeniably gorgeous, it couldn’t have been further in tone from the swirling psychedelic style that Lia preferred when making her own art. Next, she grabbed the book on Jean-Michel Basquiat. Again, her own painting style had little semblance to Basquiat’s (though, whose did?), but she often found his use of color and small details worked as a nice springboard for ideas she’d try to implement in her own work.

“Did you happen to see the Basquiat exhibit in town a few months ago?” a voice somewhere off to her side asked. Lia turned to see a woman standing near her, pulling books from the other side of the same shelf that she was currently looking at. 

“I, uh, didn’t know there was one,” Lia said.

“It wasn’t very big,” the woman shrugged, pushing her blonde hair back behind her ears. She had a brownish-red sundress on that seemed to hug her slender body in all the right ways. God, she was tall. The woman continued: “They just had a handful of pieces on display at the art museum downtown. I’ve seen them before, but it was nice that I didn’t have to travel as far to see them this time.”

“I wish I knew,” Lia sighed. “I suppose it’s over now?”

“‘Fraid so,” the woman shrugged. “But you never know, they might do something like that again.”

“One can hope,” Lia said, craning her neck a little to see if Brynn was still scanning through books. It looked like she was.

“Are you just a fan of the arts?” the woman asked. “Or are you an artist yourself?”

“Both,” Lia smiled. This stranger was fucking beautiful. The kind that she just wasn’t used to seeing in person. The woman looked like a model. Or an actress. And she definitely wasn’t used to people who looked like this talking to her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she carefully considered how she should act. Was it better to seem cool, collected, and unphased by this goddess in her midst? Or did people who looked like this enjoy it more when they were more obviously worshiped?

Lia opted to start with cool and collected–thinking this was the better choice if they were talking about art.

“Is that so?” the woman asked. “What sorts of mediums do you work in?”

“Painting,” Lia said, feeling her cheeks warm a little. “Acrylics, mostly. I’ve always been kind of abstract, but I’m thinking that I kind of want to try my hand at something more–I dunno–impressionist?” She surprised herself at how she offered this much to the stranger. She never liked talking about her art. The last thing she wanted was to sound full of herself–she didn’t think she was talented enough for that.

“I wish that I had that sort of talent,” the woman smiled, showing her perfect teeth. “I think that’s why I enjoy art as much as I do. I can’t make it, so I enjoy using the work of others as gateways into worlds that I couldn’t imagine myself.”

“I like that too,” Lia blushed.

“I’m Agnes, by the way,” the woman said, extending her hand towards Lia. Lia shook it automatically, noting the softness of her skin.

“Lia,” she replied. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You don’t happen to have any pictures of your art, do you?” Agnes asked.

Lia briefly bit her bottom lip. “Eh, well, I do have an Instagram where I share my work with some friends but…”

“I’d love to see them, if you’d be willing to share.”

Were this anyone else, at any other time, she’d probably try to find excuses as to why she couldn’t share her art. She’d probably fumble at her phone for a few moments before commenting on how her damn phone doesn’t have a good enough connection for her to access her account. But for Agnes–with her big eyes, perfect smile, and voluptuous tits that were gift wrapped in her tight dress–she thought she could probably be convinced to do just about anything. 

“S-sure,” she said. “Let me just, uh, pull it up here.” Lia tapped at her phone and brought up the app, quickly scanning through her last few posts to make sure there was nothing incredibly embarrassing. She quickly deleted one of the photos–a piece she hadn’t ever been particularly happy with. The rest seemed good enough for now. Had she advance knowledge of this interaction, she probably would’ve culled her feed further. “Here you go.”

“Did you go to art school?” Agnes asked as she slowly scrolled through the photos. 

“N-no. Self taught, actually.” 

“That makes sense.”

“Oh, uhm…” Lia wasn’t sure if she should be offended by that or not.

“I mean that in a good way,” Agnes laughed, as if realizing how confusing that might have been. “Your style doesn’t seem bound by rules. There’s something very liberating about it. There’s something almost…” But Agnes doesn’t finish that thought, instead laughing a little to herself as she smiles. “I really like it.”

“Thank you,” Lia said. If she didn’t think it’d make her sound the opposite of cool and collected, she’d gush about how that was one of the nicest things that anyone has ever said about her work.”

“You wouldn’t mind if I follow your art, would you?” she asked.

“Not at all.”

“And…” Agnes tapped her chin for a moment as she passed the phone back to Lia. “Well, I know we just met and this all seems rather sudden and all–but I’m already thinking about how I’d like to own a piece of your art.”

“Really? I mean, uhm, I suppose any of my pieces are for sale if you see any that you really like.”

“What if I commissioned a piece?” she asked. “A new piece. Something that was only ever mine?”

Lia nervously swallowed. It was sometimes hard enough to sit down and make art that she was happy with herself–hence the little break she had taken from art in recent weeks. But she couldn’t even imagine the added pressure of creating art for someone else. Someone who was paying her. Someone who looked like Agnes.

But, again, Agnes was the kind of person that Lia didn’t think she could say no to. 

“Sure. Of course. Did you have anything in mind, or…”

“Oh, if I had ideas I’d be painting them myself,” Agnes smirked. “But if you’re not doing anything else right now, maybe you’d let me buy you a cup of coffee and we could chat about it a little?”

These things never, ever, happen to me, Lia thought. But, again, she glanced in the direction of Brynn, who was amassing a small stack of books in her arms as she continued to make her way through the shelves. 

“That sounds really nice,” she said to Agnes. “But I’m here with my friend, and…”

“Ah, of course,” Agness nodded. “I’ll tell you what–I’m going to friend you on Insta. And when I do, I want you to reach out to me there and tell me what your availability is like so we can meet again, okay? I’m very serious about wanting to commission some art from you.”

Lia’s face felt red and hot, and she had no doubt it was obvious to Agnes. Still, she managed to keep her tone good and steady as she replied: “That sounds great. It was really nice meeting you, Agnes.”

“Likewise,” Agnes said.

Lia briskly walked back towards Brynn, feeling like she was in a little bit of a daze. Had that just happened? Had one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen approached her at random and asked for some of her art? 

“Oh cool,” Brynn said, “you found a book for yourself?”

Lia realized she was still tightly clutching the Basquiat art book in her hands. She remembered setting it down when she was showing Agnes her phone, but she had no recollection of picking it up again. Had she been that distracted by run-in with Agnes?

“Oh, uh, yeah. How about you? Find anything good?”

“Ugh,” Brynn groaned. “So many books. You’re going to have to help me whittle these choices down, okay?”

“Sure,” Lia said, though she already knew she’d be far too distracted to be of any help.

***

Agnes Van Lars followed her account about two hours later. Lia noticed right away–the notification came up on her phone while she was cutting into her lunch as Brynn sat across from her. She was sure her cheeks had turned bright pink again, and she quickly stowed her phone in her purse in an effort to not distract herself anymore than she already had been.

It’d be a few hours later, when she was in her apartment’s bedroom again, that she opened the app and clicked on Agnes Van Lars’ profile.

“Oh shit.”

As it turned out, Agnes was a model–though not the sort that Lia was imagining. Lia was picturing swimsuits and fur coats. Instead, Agness was wearing skin-tight leather ensembles while holding paddles and riding crops. Her bare feet rested on a man’s very happy face in one photo, and in another she was sliding a rubber glove over her hand while a different nude man was bent over a table. 

Kink–BDSM in particular–were always a curiosity to Lia, though she felt like it was a space she was grossly uneducated on. She liked the photos on Agnes’ feed–the juxtaposition of power with good looking (and well hung) men making themselves vulnerable to her power and control. 

None of the photos were too explicit–there was an artsy tastefulness about them, she thought. They often hinted at darker scenes and situations, but without actually showing them. Agnes had been wrong when she said she wasn’t an artist–this was art. She could look at any of these photos and find herself getting sucked into a world of shameful depravity. She could hear the crack of a whip as it lashed against a bare bottom. She could smell the sweat. She could almost taste salty skin on her tongue.

The minutes melted away as she continued to scroll down Agnes’ feed. Every picture was an entirely new trip for her. Then, hundreds of posts into the past, she saw an image that made her audibly gasp. 

Whereas most of the photos–with a few exceptions–had featured Agnes exercising power over men, this one featured a young woman on her hands and knees and looking into the camera as Agnes stood tall in the background with her hands on her hips. The young woman’s makeup was running down her face. Her cheeks were bright pink and her hair was a mess. Sticking out of her mouth was a pacifier–like the things a parent would stick in the mouth of an infant. And the girl didn’t seem to be wearing much, though she did seem to be wearing some sort of undergarment that was far too thick and big to be panties.

A diaper, she thought. That girl is wearing a diaper and sucking on a pacifier.

The caption for the photo read as follows: “Poor little StephyLoo. After a particularly long session with Mommy, she couldn’t help but fill her diapers. See that sag between her legs? It’s even heavier than it looks.”

“What the fuck,” Lia said aloud. No, she wasn’t disgusted. She was almost angry. Angry that she had no idea that this was a thing that people–adults–did with each other. Why did nobody tell me about this?

But maybe she had known. Maybe it was one of those weird things that felt like a punchline to a joke whenever someone talked about it. “Yeah, well, at least you’re not one of those freaks who dresses up like a baby.”

She stared at the photo longer, taking it in and trying to imagine what that scene must’ve been like in person. What had happened to make this girl look like this? That look of pathetic vulnerability, coupled with shameful contentment. And when Agnes said that ‘StephyLoo’ had filled her diaper…what did she mean by that? Had the girl been made to piss herself? Had she…done even more than that in her diaper? That’s what a diaper–an adult diaper at that–was made for, wasn’t it?

Lia let out a little moan, not realizing that her own hand had slid between her thighs as she stared at the photo. She rubbed at her pussy through her pants, not sure how committed she was to completely getting off right now. But then she thought about herself and Agnes, back at the bookstore, and how she might’ve reacted if that conversation had gone a little differently.

“I want to put you in a diaper,” Agnes might’ve said. “I think you’d look just perfect in one.”

“R-really?” Lia would respond. “You think I’d be a good baby?”

“Oh yes,” Agnes would smile. “I think you’d be the best baby.”

“Okay, fuck it,” Lia said aloud, casting her phone aside as she pulled down her pants and panties. She was going to cum right now, and she was going to do it while imagining pissing into a diaper at Agnes’s command.

With her eyes closed, she was back at the bookstore with Agnes again. Somewhere on the other side of the store, Brynn was there too. This would be part of the fantasy, Lia thought–the idea that whatever happened, she could potentially be exposed to Brynn. She’d have to tread lightly.

Now, instead of just talking about wearing diapers in the future, Lia was actually wearing one. Fantastical-Agnes would know this too. 

“How is your diaper holding up?” she’d ask Lia.

“Shh,” Lia would nervously say. “Not so loud…I can’t let my friend know about these.”

Lia wasn’t sure what it was like to wear a diaper. She imagined the thick padding felt bulky between her thighs, and so she pulled her comforter from under her and tucked a wad of it between her legs until it was so thick that she couldn’t close them. Maybe it’s something like this?

Back in her fantasy, Agnes was grinning while looking down at her–it was very easy for her to do that when she was so much taller than Lia. 

“I need to check your diaper,” she said to Lia.

“B-but…here?” Lia asked.

The very thought of this caused her to bite her bottom lip and slip her fingers into her wet pussy. Adults–most of them, at least–weren’t supposed to be wearing diapers. They weren’t supposed to be getting them checked by other people–especially not while in public.

“You don’t want to get a rash, do you? Come here. Let me see.”

Lia wasn’t even sure what a diaper check looked like for an actual infant, let alone an adult. She can only make it up as she goes. She imagines Agnes’ hand sliding between Lia’s thighs, feeling the bulky padding of the diaper through her pants. A wet diaper, she thought, would feel different than a dry one. StephyLoo’s diaper was ‘filled,’ and hung from her hips like a sack. Maybe it was something like that. Maybe Agnes was groping Lia’s crotch in the middle of the book store in an effort to see how heavy it was.

“Young lady,” Agnes would say in a stern, motherly, tone. “Why didn’t you tell me that your diaper was this dirty?”

“I…I…” Lia stammered. Her cheeks in her fantasy were as bright pink as they were in real life.

“We’re going to have to do something about this right now,” Agness would say. “Come on. We’re going to find a public restroom, and I’m going to have to change you there.”

“But,” Lia would plead, “what if there are other people in there? They’ll see!”

“There’s nothing I can do about that now,” Agnes shrugged, grabbing Lia’s wrist. “I’m changing your diaper regardless.”

Fuck, that was good stuff. One hand pushed the wadded ball of her comforter tighter against her pussy, while she continued to finger herself with the other. 

But this scene was missing something. She considered it for a moment or two, trying to imagine what would make this even hotter. She thought of the photo of StephyLoo (whoever that was) again, wondering if there were any other details she needed to import into her fantasy. The pacifier? Maybe. It was certainly a step in the right direction. 

It suddenly dawned on her. It wasn’t what was in the photo–it was the photo itself. Someone else had to take that picture. Whatever humiliating events had transpired in that room with Agnes Van Lars, someone else had been there to witness it and capture it with a camera. 

That was what she needed in her fantasy–to be witnessed in such a state.

“I–I don’t need to be changed right now,” Lia would protest. She knew she was wrong about this, but she wanted to see Agnes react to this defiance.

“Silly girl, you don’t know anything,” Agnes would sigh. With a firm tug on either side of the waistband of Lia’s pants, Agness would pull them down to her knees–right there in the middle of the bookstore. Her diaper was completely on display. “Look at yourself, Lia. Your diaper is completely soaked! And you’re going to try and tell me that you don’t need to be changed right now?”

The other patrons of the bookstore were tittering and snickering. Whispering to each other. People were pointing. Lia’s heart pounded faster, and her fingers went into overdrive as they caressed her wet skin.

And then Brynn would approach. Brynn, of all people–who was practically a giant whiny toddler herself–she’d be the one to see Lia in a dirty diaper. “Oh my god!” she’d shout. “LIa…did you pee yourself like a baby?”

“Yes, she did,” Agnes would say. “But…”

Lia would have to wait until another time to hear what Agnes would say, as it was at that moment that she came. It was an epic climax–the strongest she had had in recent memory. She felt herself squirting into the comforter–no doubt leaving an embarrassingly large wet spot that she hoped would dry sooner than later.

It would take a few minutes for her to recover. And when she finally sat up, the very first thing she did was send a message to Agnes Van Lars.

***

When Lia went to a bar, it was always a very particular kind of bar. She wasn’t really sure how to describe them. ‘Nice?’ They were either very clean, or made to look artificially dive-y while still actually being quite clean. The kind of place with a long list of craft beers on tap and a bearded guy behind the bar wearing a t-shirt with either David Bowie or Debbie Harry’s face on it.

This was different. This wasn’t a ‘nice’ bar.

Everything here felt kind of aggressive. The electronic music. The sneering face of the pale-looking bartender. The complete lack of a cocktail menu to offer easy choices. Even the lighting seemed both too dark and too harsh. It wasn’t her kind of place, which was what made it kind of exciting.

“Thank you for meeting me here,” Agnes said as they both took a seat in one of the booths. “I know it's a little loud here, but I think these are some of the best bartenders in the city.”

Lia looked over to the bar again, where two or three ghostly barkeeps were in the process of either shaking or stirring drinks for other patrons. She could sit and watch this place all day, trying to imagine the types of conversations people had here.

“No problem at all,” she said.

“Have you been here before?”

Lia laughed. “N-no. Never.”

“Where do you like to go?” Agnes asked.

“Uh… Boot & Barrel? Main Street Brewing?”

Agnes shrugged. “Never heard of them.”

Once more, Lia took some delight in how different their worlds were. If it wasn’t for their chance run-in at the bookstore, Lia wondered if there would’ve ever been any overlap in their lives. It was a strong argument for fate. 

“So, uhm, you were interested in commissioning some art?” Lia asked.

“Indeed,” Agnes nodded. “You know, after we parted ways the other day, I went through your entire profile to look at all of your work.”

Lia blushed. Once or twice, she had considered further pruning her feed and culling the weaker pieces, but ultimately decided that was a slippery slope to go down. By the time she was done, she might’ve only been left with one or two photos on her feed. “What did you think?”

“I’m even more excited to work with you than I was before,” Agnes said. “There’s this quality about your work that I can’t quite put my finger on, but I feel like it’s always there. This sort of…energy. It’s very unique. Very special.”

“Wow,” Lia said. “Thank you so much.” Nobody has ever spoken about her art like this, so far as she knew.

“Well deserved, I assure you,” Agnes said. 

“I, uhm, took a look at your profile too,” Lia said. She wasn’t sure if she was actually going to admit this or not, but she needed to change the subject from herself, and this was the first thing she could think of.

“Is that so?” Agnes asked, smiling. “And what did you think of that?”

“It was a little surprising,” Lia said sheepishly.

“How so?”

“It’s just…you know…” She paused and thought about how she actually wanted to respond to that. “It was different. I don’t know much about, you know, that kind of stuff. So it was very eye-opening.”

“You didn’t find it distasteful, I hope.”

“Not at all,” Lia said. “Quite the opposite, really. I thought it was all pretty fascinating.”

Agnes smiled. “I’m delighted to hear that, Lira. Really. I was nervous that you’d see my content and judge me pretty harshly.”

“No,” Lia said. “I liked it.”

They ordered some drinks and the injection of alcohol helped to steer more natural conversation. While neither seemed to have much in common with the other, on the surface, they quickly found that they had more subtle similarities. Just like Lia, Agnes confessed to having insecurities about her content. And, just like Agnes, Lia thought the act of creating was often more important than the finished product. They were getting along much better than Lia anticipated.

“Now then,” Agnes said. “I want you to make me some art. What do we have to do to make that happen?”

“This is a good start,” Lia smiled. “Maybe just tell me more about what you want and when you want it?”

“What about compensation?” Agnes asked.

“Oh, uhm… I mean, we don’t really have to make this, like, a transaction or anything.”

“Stop that,” Agnes smiled. “I’m going to compensate you for your time. I’d just need to know how much.”

The closest that Lia had ever come to assigning value to her art was when she had donated a piece to her mother’s nonprofit for a fundraiser–and even then, it wasn’t her who benefited from the sale. She didn’t make art for the money. She had a job that covered her expenses. The art was just about passion. 

But she had an idea.

“So,” Lia said, taking one more sip of her cocktail for good measure, “I just wouldn’t feel right accepting money for my art. But…maybe we could, uhm, barter?”

Agnes’ eyes widened as she laughed. “Interesting. What did you have in mind?”

“Well… I could paint something for you. And then, maybe, you could take some photos with me? Like…the kind on your profile?”

Agnes nodded approvingly. “I like this idea, Lia. What kind of photos were you thinking? Did you want to stomp on some pathetic man’s face? Did you want to peg someone? Maybe you’d like to give someone a spanking. I could arrange for any of that.”

“A-actually…I was thinking that you’d be doing something to me.”

“Naughty girl,” Agnes said, shaking her head and laughing. “It’s always the ones you least expect, huh? What do you think you’d like? Need to feel a paddle on your backside? Nipple clamps? I just got this amazing straightjacket and…”

“I saw this picture on your profile that I’ve been thinking a lot about,” Lia said. 

“Which?”

It was tempting to show it to Agnes, though she knew she probably didn’t have to. All she had to do was say ‘diapers.’ Of course, she couldn’t imagine saying that out loud in a place like this–even if she was sure that the loud music would make certain that nobody else would hear her.

Instead, she offered a name: “StephyLoo?”

“Oh,” Agnes said, looking genuinely surprised. “Really?”

Lia nodded. 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think that sounds like a lot of fun. But I didn’t expect you to say that.”

Lia shrugged. “What can I say? It stirred something in me.”

“Actually, you know what?” Agnes laughed, rapping her knuckles on the table. “That actually does make a lot of sense, now that I think about it.”

“How so?”

“Do you remember how I said that there was something about your art that I liked, but couldn’t put my finger on why?”

“Yes,” Lia nodded again.

“See, I think that’s exactly what it is–it’s this sense of childlike whimsy.”

“Childlike?” Lia asked, momentarily dumbfounded. She’d never once considered her art to be childish in any way. She wondered if this was how people actually saw her art. Because if so, she’d probably share a lot less of it moving forward.

“Don’t take offense to it,” Agnes said. “I don’t mean that it looks like a child painted it. I mean that your approach–your color choices and even the movement of your brush strokes–gives your art a sense of uninhibited freedom. The same sort of freedom that I may attribute to, say, a child–as opposed to an adult who’s had all the whimsy drained from their body by the world.”

The longer Lia sat with Agnes’ words, the better she felt about it. She could see where Agnes might be coming from, and now she was feeling kind of silly for not seeing it sooner herself. She always felt like her art came from some part of herself that didn’t get expressed otherwise, and she now had words to describe that part.

“Thank you,” Lia finally said, her cheeks turning pink again.

“So, here’s what I’m thinking,” Agnes said, leaning back a little in her chair as she sips from her martini glass. “What if I give you your, uhm, payment first? I’ll give you whatever experience you want, yes? And then, after, I’d want you to paint something for me. It can be anything you want, so long as it’s inspired by the time you and I spent together.”

Lia considered this for a moment. She liked the idea of it, though she always knew that the hardest paintings to finish were the ones she went into with any sort of purpose. It just felt easier to create when she could just follow whatever whim–however momentary–she was feeling. Then again, maybe this was the shake-up her process needed. 

If nothing else, it seemed like a good idea to at least try.

“Yes,” said Lia. “I like that idea.”

“Well, that’s settled then,” Agnes laughed. “And with plenty of time to spare. Another round?”

Lia downed the remnants in her glass and nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

With the details of their arrangement settled, any remaining tension and uncertainty felt by Lia seemed to fade away. Despite her concerns that she and Agnes had little in common, she found herself having a good time with her new friend. They talked. They drank. Agnes even convinced Lia to dance with her–something that Lia never did in public.

And when it seemed like they were winding down and about to call it a night, Agnes gently tapped on Lia’s shoulder while smiling.

“Hmm?”

“I was wondering,” Agnes said. “You don’t have to go home right away, do you?”

“N-no,” Lia said. “But…where else would I go?” Only after the words had exited her mouth did she realize what Agnes was asking. “Oh…”

“I won’t be offended if you decline my offer. But I’m feeling pretty good right now, and I don’t think I’m ready to call it a night just yet. You could come over to my place. The drinks are cheaper. And…I have diapers.”

Just hearing the word made Lia feel a little smaller. She bit her bottom lip, thinking about StephyLoo’s pathetic face staring into the camera, and she nodded.

***

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Stupid Baby Story Club: Locker Room Trash

Hello, hello. I've recently started a new story series on my Patreon called Stupid Baby Story Club. It's about a young woman named Sasha and her recent admission into a secret club of college students who tell each other stories about diapers, ageplay, and humiliation. Each chapter of the story is split between the life of Sasha, and then a smaller story-within-a-story, as told by one of the members of the Story Club. Today, I thought I'd share one of those stories-within-stories with you.

This particular story is being presented by one of the club's members, Chuck. He's on the university football team - which is why he's especially paranoid about anyone else finding about his kinks. Here, he shares the tale of the one time these two separate worlds collided.

And if you want to read more of this series, c'mon down to my Patreon. Part 3 of this series just posted today! A membership in Tier 2, for only $6 a month, will get you access to the current chapters, as well as a boatload of other stories exclusive to my Patreon.

Locker Room Trash

I don’t know–have any of you ever spent time in a locker room before? And I’m not talking about high school gym class either. I’m talking about the locker room of a team. It can be a crazy place. Everyone just feeds off of everyone else. 

Like, before a game. We’re all excited, individually. We want to win. We want to show off everything we’ve been practicing. We want our family and friends and school to be proud of us. We want to defeat the opposing team so badly. And each of us just amplifies the emotions in everyone else. Crazy things start happening when you get twenty-something guys pumping each other up. Songs break out. There’s cheering. Chanting. Sometimes things get broken.

And the inverse is just as possible. If we’ve had a particularly grueling practice or, god-forbid, we lose a game–the locker room is like a funeral. Everyone’s bitter and dejected. Everyone wants to blame everyone else. Again, some crazy things can happen when you get twenty-something guys acting miserable around each other. I’ve seen fist-fights erupt over some guy’s water bottle falling off a bench.

I was new to the team two years ago, but I wasn’t new to football locker rooms. I knew what to expect.

Sure, there was a little bit of hazing. Nothing too bad. People get whipped with towels in the shower. Your face gets drawn on if you fall asleep on the bus to a game at another university. Whatever. Just brush it off.

There’s a few ways to make the experience easier. For one, you can just prove yourself out on the field. Make a few good plays–score a few points if you can–and suddenly the team stops giving you as much shit. 

But also? It helps to just not be a baby about it. The guys who get picked on the most? The ones who let everyone know how much it bothers them. The ones who try to run away and hide. The ones who try to say something to the coaches. The ones who plead for people to leave them alone.

We had a guy like that on the team last year. Andy Dimpton. He was a wide receiver from some high school in, like, Rhode Island? Fast as hell, and I had never seen the guy drop a ball–we were lucky to have him on the team. Of course, he was also built like a scarecrow and the wind could blow him over. The most timid guy I’d ever met, too. 

As you can imagine, he quickly found himself in the role as the team’s favorite punching bag. Some of the guys on the team–the ones who had been around the longest–they were merciless with him. They’d break into his locker and hide his clothes on him. They’d pull his towel off from around his waist whenever he came out of the shower. They started calling him Big Baby because he perpetually looked like he was about to start bawling at any moment.

And me? Well, you know, it was my first year too, and I wanted to fit in. I didn’t want to be another Andy Dimpton. So, you know, I…played along. Did a little teasing when I could.

I fucked up one day. Pretty badly, too.

So, I like…diapers. I mean, that shouldn’t come as a shock, considering that we’re all here right now, right? Some people say that they don’t know how they got into their kinks–they just stumbled into it and it just fit, right? But not me. I know where the diaper thing came from.

I used to wet the bed when I was a kid. My mother did her best to have patience with me when I was younger, but the older I got, the more pissed off it made her. By the time I was 12, if I wet the bed, she’d immediately empty my underwear drawer and get me a pack of those Goodnights training pants. Then, I’d have to wear those–and only those–until I could keep them dry overnight for a week. This went on for a few years…longer than it should’ve, probably. The most goddamn humiliating years of my life too. Can you even imagine being 13 and going to school in a pull-up because your Mom hid all your underpants?

Later in my teens, it stopped being as much of an issue. I was doing my own laundry, and I think Ma realized she couldn’t keep me in diapers while I was in high school. We never talked about it. She never asked if I was still having issues, and she never apologized for how she used to treat the situation. It was just…out of sight, out of mind.

But…diapers. They were the naughtiest, most shameful, thing in the world. Exactly the kind of thing that a sexually-awakening teen needed to jump start some fucked-up kink. 

Anyway, I’m in college. I’ve graduated from pull-ups to, like, the real deal. The big diapers. I know you know the ones. 

I kept a stash in my dorm room. Still do, too. I don’t get a chance to wear them all that often, though. Between football practice, games, and…well, having a social life, there’s really never a time when I’m by myself to piss in a diaper and masturbate.

Maybe you know the feeling–that one where you’ve been away from your kinks and private time for so long that they slowly become the only thing you can think about? Weeks had gone by without me touching my stash, and I had diapers on the fucking brain. All I wanted was just enough time to crawl around in one and, uh, you know…use it. 

The more desperate I got, the more chances I was willing to take. Normally, I’d never wear a diaper out in public. The absolute last thing I needed was to have the top of a diaper peaking out over the top of my pants. University Athlete Charles Stone Wears Diapers–I could just imagine that being the headline on the campus newspaper. But I needed to wear a diaper.

So one afternoon I took a chance. I put on a big thick diaper, pulled up my pants, and went to class. And for a while, it was good. I had wet myself once or twice and I had a little bit of a waddle as I walked around. I was extremely self-conscious of it, but the thrill of strolling around in my wet diaper was worth it.

But then I met up with some guys from the team. They were going to head over to the field and run some drills and they wanted me to join them. I tried to get out of it, saying I had other places to go or be, but… These guys, you can’t really say ‘no.’ Remember, it was my first year on the team and I didn’t want to be Andy Dimpton. So I went over to the field with them.

All my gear was in the locker room, so it wasn’t like I had to go back to the dorm room. As terrified as I was of getting caught, I thought I had a pretty good plan: Once we got to the locker rooms, I’d duck into the adjoining bathroom, take off the diaper, and toss it in the trash before getting changed in the locker room. 

And that worked. Flawlessly. Soon, I was on the field with the guys, and nobody had any idea that just a few minutes before, I had been a pissy little bitch.

I honestly had forgotten about the diaper. After a few hours of running around, it was the furthest thing from my mind. The diaper was gone, and I knew that I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

Of course, things didn’t exactly go to plan. Kyle Wallace–this massive bear of a guy, and a senior–he was all hyped up after running all those drills. And, of course, you get one guy riled up and suddenly the whole locker room gets riled up. Everyone’s just being especially rowdy. People are playfully throwing things at each other. Calling each other names. Lots of laughter. 

Andy Dimpton is there too, and he heads off to take a shower. And Kyle’s got this shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Watch this,” he says to the rest of us. 

We watch. He goes to the bathroom and returns a minute later with the trash can. The whole fucking trash can.

And we can all guess what he’s going to do. He’s probably going to dump the trash on Andy while the guy is in the shower. Even if I didn’t know what was in the trash can, I’d have probably thought it was a bad idea. It felt like a step over the line between hazing and just being a complete fucking dickhead. 

But, also, I know what’s in that trash can.

Now, I can’t just tell him to stop. I mean–I should. I know I should. And in the thousands of times I’ve replayed this moment in my head since, I truly wished that I had said something instead. But at that moment, I didn’t want to be that guy. I didn’t want to be another Andy Dimpton.

So I said nothing, and let it play out.

It went about exactly as you’d have expected it to. Kyle went into the showers and tried to dump the trash on Andy. It wasn’t all that successful, honestly, the trash just kind of fell on the floor around Andy instead of on him. But there, among the wads of paper towels and energy bar wrappers, was a giant balled-up diaper.

I thought to myself: It’s just garbage. Nobody cares what’s in the garbage. They’re not going to look at it. Study it. Analyze it. Because who would do that, right?

But Kyle sees it, and for reasons that I still can’t quite figure out, he goes in for a closer look.

I’ll never forget his words, hearing them echo off the tiled walls of the shower as we watched from the locker room: “There’s a fucking diaper in here.”

Everyone rushes to see it. I don’t know why people need to see this diaper so badly–maybe it’s just the absurdity of it. Maybe it was just the way Kyle had said it. He could’ve said “There’s a fucking banana in here” and we’d all have come running, just because of how surprised he sounded.

There it is–my bloated diaper, isolated on the floor of the shower, kicked away from the rest of the trash.

Everyone is laughing. It’s obvious that this isn’t a baby’s diaper. There are no babies on campus, and this thing is huge. There’s only one question everyone has now: Who wears diapers?

Everybody huddled in that shower is looking at each other suspiciously. Me too–I’m glancing at everyone wildly, as if I was just as confused about where that diaper came from.

“Is it yours?” Kyle asks Andy. He picks it up–he literally picks up the dirty diaper in his hand and holds it near Andy’s face as he asks. “Do you piss yourself like a little baby?”

“Fuck you,” Andy says. “I don’t wear diapers.”

“Are you sure?” taunts Kyle. “Is that why you don’t like to hang with anyone? Because you’re afraid that we’re going to smell your dirty pampers?”

But, for once, Andy isn’t backing down: “How do we know it’s not your diaper? Maybe that’s the reason you’re always a dick–you need to get your diaper changed!”

It’s a pretty good comeback, and it summons an epic “Oooooooooh!” from the other guys.

It escalates into a fight. Very quickly, it’s not even about the diaper anymore–it’s about a guy who is sick of being picked on and a guy who isn’t about to back down while thinking he’s the alpha. 

There’s not much to say about the fight. You see one locker room fight and you’ve seen them all. They barely even touch each other–there’s a horde of sweaty guys between them, trying to keep the peace. 

The aftermath is pretty ugly, though. When the coaches demand explanations, Kyle’s seniority has most of the guys taking his side, insisting that it was actually Andy who had instigated the fight. Andy ended up getting a thorough tongue-lashing before being made to do a deep clean of the shower. 

I felt for him. I felt guilty. Even if I wasn’t the one who had gotten in his face, it was my diaper that threw the locker room into chaos. Still, I wasn’t about to say anything to anyone–including Andy. I just hoped that, in time, we’d all forget about it and move on.

But nobody forgot about it. People started calling Andy ‘Baby.’ They’d tape baby diapers to his locker. They’d steal his water bottle from the sidelines and replace it with a baby bottle. 

Heaven forbid the guy made a mistake on the field–as it would cause the rest of the team to mock him with questions about whether or not he needed his diaper changed before the next play. 

I could tell that he wanted to let it roll off his shoulders, but it was wearing him down. 

One night, as I sat all alone in my dorm room in a diaper…

One night, as I sat alone in my dorm room in a diaper, I realized what I had to do. I had to come clean to Andy about where the diaper had come from. I needed to let him know that it was my fault.

I had no idea what was going to happen after that. It wasn’t going to fix the problem with everyone else making fun of him–and I certainly wasn’t going to tell the truth to the rest of the team. But maybe Andy and I would have a good conversation about it and we could figure something out together.

In hindsight, it wasn’t a good plan. It was barely a plan. But I was so overcome with guilt that I felt like I had to do something.

One night, after practice, I asked if he wanted to grab some food with me. He agreed, and honestly, I think he was pretty thankful that anyone was giving him the time of day without teasing. We went out and grabbed some fast food burgers and went back to my dorm room. My roommate, at the time, was out off campus and it seemed like a good place to have a private conversation.

Things were actually going well. We were hitting it off, and I think we were both in need of some friendship. The more we talked, the more we seemed to have in common. We could’ve actually been friends. If it wasn’t for the fact that he brought it up himself, I had been thinking I’d skip the entire diaper conversation.

“So, hey,” he says. “What’s up with the whole baby thing? Why can’t anyone just let it go?”

“You know how the guys are,” I say. “They get something in their head and… Well, it’s like a fucking hive-mind. Nobody thinks for themselves and they just go with whatever someone like Kyle says.”

“I just…I’d love to know where that fucking diaper came from,” Andy says. “Because it doesn’t seem fair that it’s my problem now.”

I took a deep breath, not sure if I was actually going to go through with this conversation or not. 

“Andy, I, uhm, need to tell you something.” The words just sort of popped out of my mouth before I was even ready.

“Oh, okay.” He looked a little worried. I guess, if I was in his shoes, I wouldn’t know what to think either. 

“I, uh, know where the diaper came from.”

“What? You do? Where?”

“I… Well. It was my diaper.”

“Wait, what? Did you try to set me up with the diaper?”

“N-no,” I say. “I didn’t know Kyle was going to throw a trash can at you. I mean that I…”

“Oh,” he says, the truth suddenly clicking. “It was your diaper. You wear diapers and you had just…thrown that one away.”

I nodded. I had no idea what else to say. 

We sat there in complete silence for a minute or two, though it felt like an hour. I kept hoping he’d say something, but he just stared off into space.

Finally, he did speak: “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Huh?”

“When Kyle got in my face in the shower? Or when Coach was talking to everyone after. Or…in all the days since while people have been harassing me and calling me a baby. You knew that it wasn’t my diaper and you never said anything.”

“I mean…it’s not like I could tell everyone it was my diaper.”

“But you didn’t have to,” he says. “All you had to do was have my back. All you had to do was stand up for me. Fuck. I mean, now that I think about it, even if it wasn’t your diaper, it’d have been cool if you were on my side.”

He was right. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Why the hell were you wearing a diaper anyway?”

It’s another one of those moments that I’ve come back to countless times since, trying to think if there was a better way to have handled it. But as I sat there in my dorm room with him, I felt like I owed him the truth. I thought, maybe, if he knew the real reasons why I wore the diaper…he’d forgive me.

I told him the truth: “I sometimes like to wear diapers.”

The look on his face was simultaneously of surprise and disgust. Of all the reasons that he might have guessed, me liking diapers was clearly not one of them.

“You like diapers?”

I immediately knew I had said the wrong thing. I couldn’t have told him it was for a medical reason? I wanted to go back and try again, but the cat was already out of the bag.

“You’re, like, one of those guys who get off on acting like a giant baby?” he asks.

The question feels like a punch to the gut, it’s so full of judgment. And he’s right, but not completely right. I’ve never been an ‘adult baby.’ My kinks tend to start and end with just diapers. But I wasn’t going to try and explain that to him.

I decided to try taking the conversation in a different direction. “Maybe you and I can talk to Coach about this. Like, we don’t have to tell him the entire truth…but we can team up and see what we can do about the harassment you’re getting from the other guys.”

He shakes his head, still stuck on an earlier part of the conversation. “You like wearing diapers?”

“Yeah…”

“Are you wearing one now? Is that why you brought me up here? To, like, show me your diaper or something?”

“N-no way, man. I just wanted to talk. I just wanted to–”

“Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me your diapers.”

“I’m not wearing them right now.”

“Wherever your diapers are, take them out and show them to me.”

Of all the possible outcomes, this was the one I had expected the least–Andy revealing himself as just as much of an alpha as any of the other guys in the locker room.

Look, I’ve been playing sports all my life. I’ve been on all sorts of teams and I’ve been around a ton of guys. I’ve managed to never be the guy getting picked on–so I thought that made me one of them. One of the alphas. But the truth, as I learned in that moment, was that I wasn’t one of them. I had just been lucky. Lucky that there was always some guy on the team who was a bigger target. 

And now, in a room with just me and Andy, I was the biggest target.

I went and fetched my diapers from the box I kept under my bed. I didn’t keep many on hand–just two or three. But that was more than enough.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” he spit. “I’m the guy getting baby bottles thrown at me, and being asked if I shit myself, and yet you’re the one who has actual adult diapers under their bed?”

I didn’t dare answer that question.

“Put one on,” he says.

“What?”

“You heard me, Chuck. Put one of those fucking diapers on, right now.”

“But, Andy, come on. I just…”

“It’s the least you can do for me. After all the humiliation and bullying I’ve endured, the least you can do is show me what a real diaper-wearing baby looks like.”

In the moment, that made sense to me. In hindsight, I’m not really sure why it would’ve. But, there in that room with him, I believed that I owed him that much. To show him what it looked like when I wore a diaper.

I tossed all but one of the diapers aside, tucking that last one under my shirt so I could leave my dorm and go to the bathrooms down the hall. I figured I could change into it in a stall and then come back and lower my pants for him.

“No,” he says, holding a hand out to stop me. “Do it here. I want to see.”

I can’t explain to you what I was scared of. I didn’t think he was going to hurt me, nor did I even think he was going to run and tell everyone else what he had seen. But I was terrified of him nonetheless. And, too, I wanted to do right by him. I felt I owed him this–no matter the discomfort to me.

So. I do it. I pull down my pants and boxers, and I awkwardly try to put a big diaper on myself while standing up. I’ve seen–both of us have seen–plenty of naked men in our lives. Such is life on a team. But I’ve never felt so ashamed of myself, fumbling with the thick padding as my dick just dangled helplessly between my legs.

He didn’t laugh. He didn’t smile. He just sat there and stared at me. It was like he was studying me, you know? Analyzing me. I almost wished that he would start laughing or calling me names. Anything would’ve been better than the cold mysterious quiet.

Somehow, I got the diaper on. It wasn’t straight, it wasn’t tight enough, and it probably looked like a literal toddler put it on himself, but it was on.

“There,” I say to him. “You happy now?”

“Not really.”

“What else do you want me to do then?”

“Get on your hands and knees,” he says. “Crawl like a baby.”

I lowered myself to my hands and knees. There wasn’t much vacant space in the dorm room to crawl around, but I took a few awkward and shaky strides forward. 

Still, he didn’t look amused. He didn’t look like he was enjoying this. He looked angry. It almost looked as if my eagerness to do as he asked made him lose even more respect for me.

“Do you like that?” he asks.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. I still wasn’t going to point out that this wasn’t the sort of thing that I did when I actually was enjoying a diaper–let alone the added scrutiny of him being in the room with me.

“I just wanted to see what a real baby looks like,” he says. “So that when the other guys start mocking me and putting goddamn baby diapers in my locker, I’ll remember that this is what an actual man in a diaper looks like.”

“What can I do?” I ask. “Do you want me to talk to the guys? Talk to the coach?”

He shook his head. “What for? Unless you crawl around the locker room in a diaper so that they can all see you as I see you right now, I don’t think you’re ever going to get me off the hook.”

“Well, I could–”

“Don’t bullshit me me,” he spits. “Don’t pretend you’re actually going to do that. Because you’re not, right? You’re not going to go and show the whole team that you’re a little diaper-wearing infant.”

“Okay,” I say. “So what do you want?”

He responded by unzipping his pants, opening them up. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to–it was clear what he wanted and what I was expected to do.

I’ve never sucked a man’s cock before. I’ve never touched another man’s cock. I’ve never even considered it. I’m not, like, homophobic. I just… Well, I just never thought that I wanted any of that. 

In that moment though, watching him reach into his boxers and pull out a cock that was easily bigger than mine–I didn’t bat an eye. I still thought that I deserved whatever comeuppance he believed I was owed. And if he wanted me to suck on his cock, while I was on my hands and knees–diapered–I was willing to do it.

I’m not gay. I’m not bi. I’ve never craved a dick since that moment. It wasn’t some sort of transcendent experience that made me rethink everything I knew about myself.

At that moment, though, I just knew what I had to do. And I was willing to take one for the team–even if the team was pretty much just me in a diaper. I thought about telling him that I didn’t know what I was doing, and that I had never done anything like this before. But he knew that already. The point wasn’t that I was to sexually please him–well, at least not primarily. The point was that I was to be humiliated. The point was that he was proving to me that even though he was getting teased in the locker room, I was the pathetic loser actually wearing a diaper and doing whatever it took to be respected.

I wrapped my mouth around his cock and tried my best. The first few minutes were pretty awkward. He took my head in his hands and guided me up and down his shaft, occasionally slapping the side of my face when my teeth were getting too close to his skin. But eventually we seemed to be in sync. He didn’t even have to guide my head anymore–I had found the right series of movements and the rhythm to pleasure him on my own.

And I was pleasing him. I knew this because of the way he moaned. The way he shoved his cock as deep as he could into my mouth–often until I had to pause and try to catch my breath. I knew it from the things he said.

“Are you sure you’re not some sissy little princess, diaper-boy? I’ve never had a girl suck cock as good as you’re doing it right now.”

I won’t say I hated it. I won’t tell you that I liked it either. But. I won’t say that I hated it.

He finished on my face. When it became clear that he did intend to keep me on his cock until he climaxed, I grew increasingly nervous about how that would go down. I was terrified of him pumping his load right down my throat. I just…I couldn’t even imagine doing that. But at the last minute, he shoved me off of him so that he could erupt directly onto my face.

And that was how he left me–sitting on my dorm room floor in a diaper, with my face covered in his cum.

I’ll tell you this now, since I told you everything else–and because I know that what we say in these stories doesn’t leave the group: I pissed myself in that diaper after he left. And after that, with my face still a mess, I jerked off in my diaper.

If he had stayed, I’d have done it in front of him, too.

Andy stayed on the team for the rest of the season. The bullying slowly diminished until it finally stopped. I heard some guys say that they had just gotten tired of the joke, but I don’t think that’s what killed it. I think Andy Dimpton was a different guy after that night in my dorm room. He started walking with his head held up a little higher. When people made jokes about them, he looked them right in the eyes–seeming to challenge them to say something else. 

In the locker room after our last game of the season, I watched him and Kyle Wallace give each other a hi-five. Andy had done it–he had managed to turn around his reputation and become one of the alphas. 

And I was still in the absolute middle of the hierarchy–mostly ignored.

Andy never said a word to me again. He didn’t so much as look at me. It was like that night never happened. Or, that night–and me–was so insignificant that he never bothered thinking about it afterwards.

He transferred to a different school last year. I couldn’t tell you why. As far as I know, he’s never told a single person about that night. Certainly nobody else from the team. 

Meanwhile, the team has forgotten him and moved on. There’s new freshmen on the team to tease and pick on now. I like to help out with the hazing when I can. It’s important to let the new guys know where I believe I am on the food chain. And, too, I like to remind the other guys on the team that I’m not on the bottom of the barrel. I’m not a baby.

So, no, I probably haven’t learned a damn thing. Except that I can’t ever let my interest in diapers come anywhere close to my life on the team. 

Maturity Test Part 2

Chapter 1

Anna had been away for three years, throwing herself into work and life, the memories of her last visit to the regression school nursery and her friends there fading into the background. But now, it was time for her reclassification, and she found herself once again driving the familiar road back to the place where her friends had been left behind. She wondered how much had changed. How much had Rebecca and Olaf changed? How much had she changed?

Arriving at Olaf's place first, Anna hesitated before knocking on the door. She had kept in touch with Olaf and his girlfriend, Lilly, over the years, but hearing stories and actually seeing the changes were two very different things. Taking a deep breath, she knocked, the sound echoing loudly in her ears.

A moment later, the door opened, and there stood Lilly, a bright smile on her face. "Anna! It's so good to see you!" she greeted warmly, pulling Anna into a quick hug before stepping aside to let her in. "Olaf’s been looking forward to your visit."

Anna stepped inside, her eyes immediately drawn to the subtle yet significant changes in the apartment. The living room had transformed into what could only be described as a preschooler’s haven. Bright colors adorned the walls, and scattered toys filled the floor. A large playmat with a road map pattern lay in the center of the room, and in one corner stood a small table with coloring books and crayons.

But what really caught Anna's attention was the large potty chart on the wall, covered in stickers—mostly clouds with only a few suns scattered here and there. It was clear that Olaf’s potty training had regressed significantly. The sparse suns stood out like sad little beacons amidst a sea of rain clouds.

Lilly noticed where Anna’s gaze had fallen and chuckled softly. “He’s had a bit of a rough time with his potty training lately,” she explained, her tone both affectionate and slightly teasing. “But he’s doing his best, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Anna turned to see Olaf emerging from the hallway. The sight of him was both shocking and heartbreaking. He was wearing a pair of blue pull-ups, the childish design visible beneath his t-shirt. His once-confident demeanor was now replaced with a more subdued, almost shy, expression as he shuffled over to greet Anna.

“Hi, Anna,” Olaf said softly, a pacifier hanging from a clip on his shirt. He didn’t seem to notice it as he absentmindedly popped it into his mouth after saying hello, sucking on it softly as he stood there, fidgeting slightly.

“Hi, Olaf,” Anna replied, trying to keep her voice light and not show how surprised she was at how much he had changed. She could see the subtle influence Lilly had over him—his behavior, his clothes, even his posture all screamed little boy. “It’s good to see you again.”

Olaf nodded, his cheeks flushing a little as he tugged on his t-shirt, which didn’t cover his pull-ups. “Yeah, it’s good to see you too. We’ve been having lots of fun, haven’t we, Mommy?” he added, looking up at Lilly with a small smile.

Lilly beamed, reaching down to ruffle his hair affectionately. “We sure have, sweetie” “I’ll go get us something to drink,” Lilly announced suddenly, giving Olaf a quick peck on the cheek before disappearing into the kitchen.

The moment she was out of earshot, Olaf’s demeanor changed. His shoulders slumped, and he let out a heavy sigh, pulling the pacifier from his mouth and dropping it onto the table with a soft clatter. He looked up at Anna with a mixture of shame and desperation in his eyes.

“Anna,” he began quietly, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Lilly wasn’t coming back yet. “I need to talk to you. I—Lilly—she signed me up for Unpotty Training III,” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur.

Anna blinked in surprise. “Unpotty Training III? What’s that?” she asked, leaning in closer.

Olaf sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. “It’s not like the first two levels. Unpotty Training I and II were about getting you to have accidents, you know, just losing control sometimes. But this… this is different. It’s not about accidents anymore. It’s about not using the potty at all. They teach you how to… just let go whenever, wherever. No more control.”

Anna’s eyes widened as she processed his words. “And you’re the only one in the class who’s not… fully regressed?”

Olaf nodded, looking down at his pull-ups. “Yeah. It’s so embarrassing, Anna. All the other guys are in diapers, and here I am, still in pull-ups but being told I need to stop using the potty entirely. Lilly says it’s for my own good, that it’s part of accepting who I’m supposed to be, but… I don’t know. I want to grow back up, at least a little.”

“And that’s not all,” Olaf interrupted, his voice tense with frustration. “She signed me up for pacifier dependence too. I can’t go anywhere without it now. If I don’t have it... I just get so anxious, Anna. I don’t know what to do.”

Anna reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Olaf, why didn’t you tell her? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I tried,” he muttered, his eyes darting toward the kitchen again. “But she doesn’t listen. She thinks this is what’s best for me, but... I don’t want this. I want to grow back up, Anna. I don’t want to be stuck like this forever.”

Before he could finish, Lilly’s cheerful voice cut through the air as she returned, carrying a tray with two steaming cups of coffee and a sippy cup filled with juice. Olaf quickly popped the pacifier back into his mouth, his frustration hidden behind the plastic shield.

“Here we go!” Lilly said brightly, setting the tray down on the coffee table. “Two coffees for the grown-ups and a nice sippy cup of juice for my little man.”

Olaf forced a smile, taking the sippy cup in his hands. “Thanks, Mommy,” he mumbled, his previous frustration buried under a veneer of obedience.

Lilly beamed, clearly pleased with his response. “Oh, and Olaf, I don’t think we need to worry about you drinking from a cup anymore. Those days are long gone, aren’t they?”

Anna watched as Olaf’s grip tightened on the sippy cup, his knuckles turning white. He didn’t respond, just brought the cup to his lips and began to drink, his eyes focused intently on the table.

As they sipped their drinks, a faint hissing sound reached Anna’s ears. At first, she thought it might be coming from outside, but then she realized it was much closer—too close.

Olaf was wetting himself.

She glanced at his pull-ups, noticing the way the material was gradually swelling, the childish design fading as it absorbed the wetness. Olaf’s face remained calm, his eyes focused on the sippy cup in his hands as he continued to drink, completely unaware of what was happening. He looked so small, so helpless—more like a toddler than a preschooler.

Lilly, who was casually sipping her coffee, noticed Anna’s concerned expression and followed her gaze to Olaf’s pull-ups. A knowing smile spread across her face.

Lilly glanced at the clock on the wall, her eyes widening slightly as she realized the time. "Oh, look at the time," she said, her voice tinged with both excitement and a hint of urgency. "We need to get ready for the reclassification, Olaf."

Olaf looked up from his coloring, his brow furrowing in mild confusion. "Already?" he asked, sounding a bit unsure. The thought of the reclassification had clearly been on his mind, but he hadn’t expected it to come so soon.

Lilly nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. "Yes, sweetie. We don't want to be late. Why don't you get up and stretch your legs before we head out?"

Obediently, Olaf pushed himself up from the floor, his movements a bit clumsy as he shifted his weight. Then, with a soft sigh, she stepped closer to him, her hand reaching out to gently pat the front of his pull-up.

"Uh-oh, Olaf," Lilly said, her voice laced with gentle teasing as she placed her other hand on his padded bottom. "Looks like someone’s a bit soggy. Did you forget to tell Mommy you had an accident?"

Olaf's cheeks flushed a deep red as he looked down at himself, his eyes widening in embarrassment. "N-No..." he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling the dampness of his pull-up now that it had been pointed out.

Anna couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him as she watched the scene unfold. She could see how much it bothered him to be caught off guard like this. Lilly gently guided Olaf over to the corner of the room where his potty chart hung on the wall. “Come on, sweetie,” Lilly said softly, her tone warm but firm. “Let’s put another cloud on your chart, okay?”

Olaf’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as he nodded, clearly embarrassed by the ritual. He hesitated for a moment, but under Lilly’s gentle guidance, he picked up the blue marker and drew another cloud in the appropriate square. The marker squeaked slightly against the chart, a sound that seemed to echo in the room, making Olaf cringe a little.

“There we go,” Lilly said with a soft chuckle, ruffling Olaf’s hair affectionately. “Such a good boy.”

As Olaf stood there, looking up at the chart with a mixture of embarrassment and resignation, Lilly couldn’t resist adding a bit of teasing to the situation. “You know, Olaf,” she began, her voice playful, “if you keep this up, maybe this will be your last pull-up. If you get reclassified as a toddler today, we will switch to diapers full-time. Wouldn’t that be something?”

Olaf’s eyes widened in surprise and mild horror at the idea, but before he could protest, Anna, who had been quietly watching the interaction, decided to join in.

“Or,” Anna chimed in, trying to help Olaf smile, “maybe this will be your last pull-up because you’ll be allowed to grow up, Olaf. Maybe they’ll finally let you wear big boy underwear again.”

Olaf face showed a mix of confusion and hope, the idea of being allowed to grow up again clearly appealing to some part of him that still clung to his former sense of independence.

But before he could latch onto that hope, Lilly gently shot it down with a playful smirk. “Oh, Anna, you know Olaf’s too incontinent to ever go back to normal underwear. Even if they let him grow up, it’ll probably still be in pull-ups,” she said with a lighthearted laugh. “I mean, we wouldn’t want him having too many big boy accidents, would we?” Olaf shifted again, this time more awkwardly, caught between the two women’s contrasting views of his future.

Anna couldn’t help but smile at Lilly’s fierce defense of Olaf’s regression, though she knew better than to push the subject further. It was clear that Lilly had a vision for Olaf’s life that involved a lot more clouds on that chart, and perhaps even the inevitable transition to diapers full-time.

"Well," Anna said with a light shrug, "we’ll just have to see what the reclassification decides, won’t we?" She winked at Olaf, who gave her a small, uncertain smile in return.

Lilly gave Olaf’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Alright, let’s get you into a fresh pull-up before we head out, okay?” she said, her voice softening again. “We can’t have you going to your reclassification all soggy.”

Olaf nodded quietly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as Lilly guided him over to the changing area. She moved with practiced ease, quickly removing the damp pull-up and replacing it with a fresh one, giving Olaf a suppository for his nerves. The crinkling sound filled the room as she snugly fastened the sides, her hands gentle but efficient.

“There we go,” Lilly murmured, smoothing out the front of his pull-up before giving him another reassuring smile. “All set. Now, you’ll be nice and comfy for the big day.”

Once Olaf was dressed, the three of them made their way to the door.

My Strange New Job, an ABDL story, chapters 4-6

Chapter 4

After arriving back to your meager apartment, stripping your pants off and feasting on your well deserved leftovers in just a shirt and diaper, you went to your room to decompress in the most appropriate manner possible…

Dinosaur fights!

Dinosaurs had become the obsession of your little side. A step into your room revealed a setting fit for an overgrown 4 year old boy. You had a shelf stuffed full of plastic dinosaur toys, and another shelf proudly displaying multiple stacks of the same Stone Age diapers by Poof Pants that Mommy changed you into earlier. You had a few stacks of other diaper designs as well, sure, but the majority were Stone Age diapers. In one corner sat a giant orange t-rex stuffie that was multiple feet tall, who you had affectionately named Terrisaurus Rex. (Terri was great for other purposes, too, but not tonight. Mommy had taken care of that earlier with her buzzy wand). You also may or may not sleep with a small green stuffed dinosaur every night.

After an hour or so filled with exhilarating dino battles on the floor of your room, you climbed into bed, feeling quite tuckered out. Sleeping came easy that night, as the diaper that Mommy changed you into seemed to be taped on perfectly, allowing you to easily drift off to sleep once you popped a pacifier into your mouth. That’s one thing you noticed right away today: Mommy J was an expert at changing diapers. You had never been able to get a diaper to fit as snugly on yourself as she had, despite years of regular diaper wearing.

Upon waking up the next morning, your bladder screamed for relief. You emptied into your diaper without a second thought, relishing in the warming sensation. You instinctively stretched and yawned, during which your paci slipped out of your mouth, off the bed and onto the floor.

Ugh, how unfortunate. You begrudgingly arose from your bed, and upon bending over to pick it up, you became aware of how heavy your diaper was. Between the beverages you drank with dinner after work, and the morning pee that was still settling, your diaper was clearly at risk of leaking if you were to wet any more.

You looked at the clock. 9:25 AM. May as well shower, work was soon. In the bathroom, you untaped your diaper and let it fall to the floor with a loud and heavy thump. You balled it up and deposited it into the tiny trash bin by the toilet, which it almost didn’t even fit into. You made a personal vow to take home one of the full-size, odor proof diaper pails that were stocked at work, but the asking price of those would require some saving up.

After showering, you debated diapering up again, but decided against that, as showing up to the store already padded could mean missing out on a masterful diaper change from Mommy before work.

After breakfast, you caught the bus and soon arrived at work. As you approached the store, you noticed that one of the windows had its security bars removed. You could see two full body mannequins laying on the floor behind said window. Inside, you greeted Mommy good morning and were promptly brought to the office to begin the uniform process. Today’s diaper was a Little Learners by Poof Pants, a popular cloth backed option that sported a colorful pattern of ABCs and 123s.

As you watched Mommy J sprinkle powder onto your open diaper, you asked, “Mommy, what’s with the mannequins?”

Mommy J lifted the front of the diaper into place, and taped it closed as she answered, “I'll explain once Ava gets here.” Once again, you were dressed into the Duckie clothing line, as modeling it for customers seemed to drive up sales. You still couldn’t fathom how the denim shorts seemed to make your diaper feel even more exposed than wearing no shorts at all.

As you and Mommy walked back out to the main area of the store, the door beeped and Ava skipped in. “Good morning everyone! What’s with the naked people?” Ava pointed to the pure white mannequins. Mommy J led her to the office to get changed, explaining to Ava that all would be revealed after her uniform was on.

Ava soon emerged, dressed in the same arm warmers, pigtails, thigh highs, pink top and diaper-revealing purple skirt as yesterday. Mommy J also emerged from the office holding a stack of something. “Listen up, little ones! You’ll notice that some mannequins have arrived. They were delivered here this morning. I went through the trouble of unboxing and assembling them, but I would like you two to help out by playing dress up!” Mommy J handed you a folded set of the same Duckie clothes you wore currently, followed by a plain white diaper. She handed Ava her own matching outfit and diaper.

Mommy J continued, “Once you’re done, could you place them so that they’re visible from the outside window? Don’t worry, they’re surprisingly light. Tell you what, do this for me and I’ll worry about the stocking this morning. Finish that before we open, would you please?” You and Ava responded with a collective ‘yes, Mommy’. She smiled a warm smile and left you and Ava to it.

Ava turned to you. “I’m practically an expert at this. I dress up my dollies at home all the time!”

“Oh really? Are any of your dollies 6 feet tall?” You asked, putting extra emphasis on ‘dollies’.

Ava sighed. “If only. I do have a bunny stuffie who’s big enough to fit into a pull-up, but no plastic dolls taller than a foot seem to exist. Still, I bet you don't have any experience putting clothes on plastic bodies, so PTTT!” Ava blew a raspberry at you.

You turned back to Ava. “For your information, I play with dinosaurs, who don’t need any clothes unlike your lame dollies!” You blew a raspberry back at Ava.

Ava chuckled. “Whatever, Dino Dork. Let’s get these mannequins diapered.”

There were two blank faced mannequins, one with a male figure and another with a female figure. Both were laying on their backs, seemingly in preparation to be diapered. You and Ava both began the diapering process by fluffing your respective diapers. You got on your knees and, with some lifting effort, slid the diaper underneath the figure’s butt. His legs were a bit close together, making it difficult to get the diaper pulled up into taping position.

“Stupid legs!” Ava said as she struggled with the female mannequin, “they’re scrunching up the padding!”

“Mine too,” you agreed, “it’s not gonna be easy to make this fit well.”

“Have you ever changed another person’s diaper before?” Ava asked, “because this is much more difficult.”

You thought for a second. “Hmm, come to think of it, no I haven’t. I’ve only changed myself.” You definitely didn’t imagine your first time as a changer would be with a mannequin. “I take it that you have?”

“Yeah,” Ava answered as she finally got around to taping her mannequin’s diaper. “Me and my roommate Randy change each other sometimes. She’s not an adult baby at all, but she’s absolutely obsessed with diapers. She even owns her own changing table and diaper pail!”

You smiled. “Heh, perks of finding a roommate on Fetlife.”

Ava nodded, now putting the clothes onto the mannequin, “Oh absolutely! I was beyond stoked about that when we moved in together. I was admittedly less stoked about her smoking habit. I can’t figure out what stinks more, her cigarettes or her diapers! But hey, I think the table and live-in changing partner make up for it.” She turned to you. “Hey can you help me lift my dollie onto the stand? She’s all dressed.” You helped Ava lift the mannequin and place it onto the stand, displaying it in the front window.

“Looks great! Now, can you help me with these shorts, Ava?” After the two of you practically wrestled with your mannequin to get the denim shorts on, you and Ava mounted and displayed the male figure next to his female counterpart. Even when worn by fake bodies, the Duckie clothes proved to accentuate thick diapers.

Ava pointed at the male mannequin. “I think I found a bigger dork than you!”

You pointed at the female mannequin. “Oh yeah? I bet that her diaper will be cleaner than yours by the end of the day!”

++++++

Mommy J eventually came to the front to activate the sliding door, and praised the two of you for doing such a good job ‘playing dress-up’, which involved a pinch on the cheek to both of you.

Within an hour of opening, there was a steady flow of customers. Some knew exactly where to go, whether it be the Duckie clothing or restocking on changing supplies. Some people, though, asked for directions or your recommendations for products. You even used your experience from yesterday’s ‘buzzy time’ to help recommend a magic wand to some guy!

“Does it work on folks with, you know, guy parts?” He asked rather meekly.

You raised your eyebrows, “Speaking from experience, sir, I can assure you that this pairs VERY well with a wet diaper. You won’t be disappointed.”

The man picked up the box and went over to the checkout. “Uhh, thanks, dude, if you say so.”

You added ‘talked with a stranger about cumming in diapers’ to your brain’s list of things you never pictured yourself doing, right after ‘giving a mannequin a diaper change’.

The most notable visitor today was a woman wearing green running shorts and a sports bra. She was a proclaimed yoga instructor who was looking for the optimal diaper to wear during long yoga sessions. She claimed to be starting a section of themed yoga classes in response to the recent surge of ABDLs popularity. An odd request to be sure, but you and Ava were up to the challenge. You both recommend a cloth backed diaper.

“What does cloth backed mean?” The yoga instructor asked. “I’m new to all this stuff.”

“Allow me to explain!” Ava beamed. She turned to you and pointed at your diaper. “That’s a Little Learners, right?”

You tilted your head. “Yeah, why?”

“Ok, pull your pants down.” Ava said.

“What? Why?” You got nervous.

“Just go with it.” Ava said. You complied and pulled your shorts down to fully reveal your diaper, albeit with the reddest face you’ve ever had.

Ava gave you a thumbs up and turned back to the woman. “So, there are two types of diapers.” Ava lifted her skirt revealing a diaper with fairies printed all over, “mine is plastic backed, meaning the outer shell is plastic. His is cloth backed,” Ava gestured to your diaper, “which is a lot more breathable. Better for an athletic woman such as yourself.”

The woman’s next request took you by surprise. “May I feel them?”

Ava nodded, skirt still lifted. “It’s fine by me!”

You certainly had no objections to a pretty woman feeling your diaper. “Fine by me, too.” The woman reached down and felt your diaper with one hand and Ava’s with the other. You felt her fingers glide across the padded surface. How embarrassing and exciting it was!

“Ohh yeah, I’ll definitely need a cloth backed diaper! I would burn up in the plastic ones!” The yoga lady selected some cloth backed diapers from a medical brand and went to checkout.

Like the engaged woman from yesterday, the yoga lady took up Mommy J’s offer for a ‘private diaper application tutorial’. She later waddled out from Mommy’s office, her neon shorts doing her no favors in regards to hiding her diaper. She expressed her approval and gave the three of you her business card, with the promise of discounted yoga lessons. (She also bought a pacifier that she clipped to her sports bra prior to leaving.)

+++++

All in all, with the addition of a midday diaper change and nap, it was a pretty eventful day!

Much like yesterday, you and Ava were leaning on the conveyor checkout line upon the last customer’s departure. You were desperate for release by this point, and as soon as the last customer walked out you squatted down and released a monster fart, followed by a sizable mess that caked the inside of your diaper.

“What, no toast this time?” Ava asked. “Oh well, I don’t have to poop right now anyway. No denying you’re the yucky one today!”

You shrugged, “Hey, all in a day’s work. Oh, by the way, I think I’ll check out that Boosters joint tonight. That is, if the direct deposit has gone through.” You got your phone out to check.

Ava checked her phone as well. “It should have, normally does by now… yep, I got mine.”

Your bank app opened to reveal that your deposit hit as well. Not a bad payout for only 2 days of work! Five days worth of that pay rate every week seemed to be the cherry on top of an already amazing job. “Yeah, I’ve got enough to go out. Why not, I’ll go!”

Ava clapped her hands in excitement, “Ooh! How fun! You can meet Randy and I can show you what’s good there! Let’s take the bus after our change and buzzy!”

“Buzzies? Is it that time already?” Mommy overheard the conversation and approached you two. “Smells like someone is going to have a messy buzzy today!” Mommy J pulled back your waistband. “Pee-yew! You know things are bad when a mannequin has a cleaner diaper than you!”

“I already made that joke, Mommy!”

Mommy took you by the hand into her office, “Regardless, I think you need to be taken care of first! Come, little one!”

You took one last look back at Ava. “Once I’m done, I’ll wait for you!”

“Sounds good,” Ava called, “we can take the bus there!”

Chapter 5

You were on the changing table getting the buzzy time you had earned after such a long work day. Mommy J stroked the side of your head as she pressed the magic wand into your padded crotch. “Who’s a good baby boy who earned his buzzy time?”

You couldn’t even say so much as ‘I am, Mommy’, as the buzzing throughout your full diaper proved to be too intense. All you were capable of vocally was a series of gasps and grunts.

“Aww, is the baby boy shy?” Mommy cooed. “Maybe this will get you talking.” She pressed a button on the wand and the vibration became even more intense. That adjustment certainly made you say a few things. Well, ‘say’ was a bit of a stretch. I was more like a series of moans. You could feel the climax building up rather quickly at this point. Between the mess caking your bottom, the wet and squishy diaper vibrating intensely against you, and Mommy’s hand stroking your head, you didn’t last much longer and could feel yourself shoot off multiple sticky strands into your already maxed out diaper, coating it and yourself in warm, ooey-gooey cum. With how loud you were, there was no way Ava didn't hear something from outside the nursery office.

Mommy J put the buzzy wand away, and went to a nearby mini fridge, retrieving an amber-nippled bottle full of water. “My, my, you worked up quite a sweat! Drink up while I take care of your diaper, little one,” Mommy placed the bottle in your mouth, which you held up and suckled as Mommy removed your shoes, stockings, and shorts. “I overheard that you and Ava were going to Boosters after this. You should hydrate a bit before having some drinks. I just want my little ones to be safe.” Mommy J placed the stockings and shorts into a nearby hamper, and pulled out a mint green diaper from the changing table. This looked to be the same diaper Ava wore yesterday. “Alcohol can cause accidents, you know, so I can change you into a Magnum as well, if you'd prefer to have some protection for tonight. I already have a pack open anyway.”

Magnum was the top diaper from DryCare, which despite being a medical diaper brand, was popular among ABDLs for having a wide range of solid color diapers with insane liquid capacity. Still drinking your bottle, you nodded at Mommy’s offer to change you into one. There was no way you could pass up the opportunity to experience such a premium diaper.

Mommy J smiled, pinned her nose, and got to work changing your exhausted diaper into a fresh one. Only a seasoned Mommy could make changing a diaper that well-used look so easy. The speed with which your boss was able to rip open your tapes and wipe away any and all yuckyness from your bottom was still impressive to you. Before you knew it, the old diaper was removed, and you could feel the luxurious softness of a Magnum diaper beneath you, followed by a dusting of vanilla scented baby powder on your most sensitive areas. Using the utmost precision, she expertly lifted the front of the diaper up to your belly button before tucking the sides down into place and taping it securely shut. She checked the leak guards on either side, the sensation of her manicured nails on your inner thighs was always a highlight of changing time. The finishing result was a fit that was undeniably secure, while still being comfortable.

By now, you had drained your bottle, which Mommy took from you in order to remove your Duckie shirt to begin dressing you back into your casual clothes. Your normal length shirt and drawstring shorts did a decent job of concealing your padding visually, however the rustling was still quite noticeable as you walked back into the main area of the store, where Ava was leaning on the nearest wall. Ava looked up from her phone at you and smiled mischievously. “Have fun in there?”

You looked away and scratched the back of your head. “Uh, it was alright. Looks like it's your turn, I’ll wait here for you. Mommy heard about our plans and offered me a DryCare Magnum, by the way.”

Ava lit up. “My favorite! BRB, Dork!” Ava took off into the office, and you waited where she stood before. For the record, Ava didn’t seem to be any quieter than you during her own buzzy time.

A short wait later and Ava emerged in her street clothes. Her peach Cinnamoroll shirt and purple lounge shorts proved to be more revealing in regards to her diaper, which was a matching pastel green to yours. “Ok, let's head out!”

The bus stop was luckily only a few hundred yards away, and to the surprise of you and Ava, the bus that arrived displayed a giant ad for the Floofums product line of wipes, powder, and of course, diapers. “See that?” You pointed to the bus, “We’re even getting advertised to now!”

“I love that we’re finally getting positive mainstream attention,” Ava said as the two of you crinkled onto the bus and sat next to each other, “The world is learning that being in touch with your little side isn’t so bad!”

You nodded, “It’s starting to feel like I can finally express myself. Maybe I can wear my more toddler-y outfits out and about.”

Ava turned to you. “What would you wear?”

“I have this one shirt with stars and swirls on it. It looks like it was drawn by crayon. I also have dinosaur shirts. What about you?”

“Lots of pink! And purple! And peach!” Ava gestured at her current outfit. “Bonus points if something has snaps!”

“What’s your little age, by the way?” You inquired.

“I’m definitely a baby. Twenty-one, going on one is how I would describe it. I’ve even been looking into buying a crib. You sound more like a toddler, would I be correct?”

You nodded again. “I’m twenty-four, going on four! I sleep in a big boy bed, and play with plastic big boy toys.”

Ava put her hand up to her open mouth to appear shocked. “For the record, my dollies are much more sophisticated than you might think. They’ve even crowned me as their princess, so it's legally official that I’m royalty. You must refer to me as Princess Ava.”

“Ok, Princess Ava,” you chuckled, “where's your tiara then?”

Ava raised a finger. “At home, actually. No, I’m not kidding either.”

You continued your teasing. “Well, until I see that tiara, I’ll still call you ‘Ava-lanche’. Don't think I forgot about that.”

Ava crossed her arms in protest. “Meanie.”

You gestured to yourself. “If you are the princess, then I am the mighty king, and therefore superior-er than you. King T-Rex if you don’t mind.”

“Well, until I see your crown, you’re still Dino Dork.”

You paused. “Er…Fair enough.” You slumped down in defeat.

Ava changed the subject. “Hey, when we get to Boosters, I recommend ordering the Toddler Tots. Great appetizer. I also get this drink called a Change on the Beach.”

You tilted your head. “Is it like a Sex on the Beach?”

“Yeah, but served in a sippy cup!” Ava pointed out the window, “This is the stop!”

You and Ava ventured off the bus, and a few blocks later you arrived at a black and blue building. The Boosters logo, which had two baby bottle nipples in place of the O’s, was clearly visible. You and Ava walked in to be greeted by the hostess at her podium: a short girl with long blonde hair and a black top that was rather exposing of her chest.

“Welcome to Boosters,” the hostess welcomed, “home of pad-packing portions and bladder-bursting beverages! Table for two?”

Ava waved her hand. “No, just the bar tonight.”

The girl gestured deeper into the restaurant. The bar was at the back wall. “Of course! Right over there!” The two of you waddled past the hostess and into the dining area. On the way, you passed a few members of the wait staff, who wore similar busty black tops with Boosters logos and tiny blue compression shorts. You initially did a double take, as upon closer inspection, the waitresses were all wearing thick diapers that their tight shorts did little to hide.

As you and Ava got close to the bar, Ava yelled out, “Yo, Randy! Time for your diaper check!” A girl in her late 20’s looked up from behind the bar. She had a pixie undercut that was dyed green, black lipstick and fingernails, and an assortment of piercings and tattoos on her face and arms respectively.

“Give me a diaper check, and I’ll return the favor with a gut check!” Randy sneered, before walking out from behind the bar. She was wearing the same outfit as the other waitresses, bulging diaper and all. “Wassup girl!” Randy gave Ava a quick hug, “How was work?”

“Exhausting, just like every Saturday. But hey, I brought the new guy! His name is Dork. Short for Dino Dork.” Ava pointed to you.

Randy looked over to you and gave an upwards nod. “Sup. I’m Randy,” she extended her hand, which you shook. “Short for Miranda. Ava mentioned that the baby store hired someone.”

You introduced yourself to Randy, including your actual name. “That would be me, yes.”

She eyed you up and down. “Don’t look like much of a baby to me. You're just dressed like some guy. For your sake I hope you're padded if you plan on ordering anything here.”

“Oh, don't worry, I got a Magnum on.” You lifted your shirt with one hand and pulled the front of your shorts down with the other, exposing the landing zone of your diaper.

Randy nodded and smiled. “Alriiiiight! Legit! We’re twinning! DryCare is my go-to, although I usually go black.” Randy pulled down the front of her own shorts and gave you an eyeful of her black padding.

Ava piped up, “Tripleting, actually!” She exposed her own diaper.

“OK, looks like we all got good taste.” Randy waved back to the bar. “Now let's get some drinks goin’!”

Chapter 6

“Yeah, I had a really rough time with toilet training. Fucking loathed it, actually. I had accidents well into elementary school. Took even longer for me to start wiping my ass properly.”

Randy was in the middle of explaining the history of her kink from behind the bar as you and Ava enjoyed your oversized, alcoholic sippy cups. An empty plate that once held a serving of loaded Toddler Tots sat between you. Even though it was only the first round of drinks, Ava was correct about Randy making them extra strong, as both you and Ava began sharing quite personal details due to your lowered inhibitions.

You set your first empty cup down. “Yeah, I remember getting in trouble for skid marks a lot as a kid,” you explained. “I think I always secretly liked getting my underwear checked.”

“I wore Goodnites for multiple years,” Ava said as she finished her drink, “I remember I also liked getting them checked every morning. I started wetting on purpose when I started, you know, getting funny feelings down there.”

Randy took the empty sippy cups and began preparing a second round of drinks. “I remember when puberty started, I got the recurring urge to wet my pants. I finally did it one day and that seemed to open Pandora's Box. I kept wanting to pee myself, again and again. Eventually, that led to pooping myself, then stuffing towels into my underwear.”

“I did that too!” You exclaimed. “Man, those were desperate times.”

Ava nodded. “I used up so many rolls of paper towels doing that. My mom somehow never figured out why she ran out of them so fast.”

“Did you ever make one with paper towels and garbage bags?” You asked. Most uncomfortable thing in existence.”

“Worse,” Ava explained, “I cling wrapped it over and over around myself. Removing that after it was wet was absolutely disgusting.”

“I used bath towels,” Randy said as she set down the next round of drinks, “It starts to get really hard to explain the spike in laundry to your mom after a while, especially if it smells like piss or shit. Soon, though, I got my license. I started off with drugstore diapers, yech!” Randy pretended to gag. “Lame ass excuses for diapers! Couldn’t even hold one bladder full! But yeah, by then I figured that whatever fixation I had wasn’t going away. I did some research and found out about omorashi from there.”

Ava giggled mid-sip, “I remember I searched for ‘boys peeing their pants’ online! I didn’t know how to delete my history, either! That was SO embarrassing!”

“My first porn was girls farting compilations,” you said.

“I offered to fart in my first boyfriend’s face.” Randy said, “Didn’t have a boyfriend after that.”

“That’s nothing,” You said, “I asked a girl if I could call her Mommy on the first date.”

“Ohhh!” Randy and Ava both cringed.

“Ok, but anyway,” Randy explained, “I made a profile on an omorashi website. Heard about FetLife there, and joined that, too. That’s when I found out about DL.”

“Are you an AB?” you asked.

Randy shook her head. “Not at all. Just DL. Really, I have a thing for any and all bodily functions. Diapers are just an extension of that.”

“I heard you met Ava through FetLife.”

“Yeah, I made a posting on there about having an extra room in my apartment available. Rent was getting too expensive alone.”

“Why ask on FetLife, though?” you asked.

“Because I didn’t want to hide my fetish at home. It’s the only website where I could reasonably expect to find someone who’s fine with a roommate who’s pants are always soiled in one way or another.”

Ava smiled and held up a peace sign. “That’s where I come in! I needed somewhere to stay after getting a job at an ABDL store that just opened, and Randy was in the same city! I even offered her to work with me!”

“I could never work at Julia’s store,” Randy sighed. She was the first person you knew of to refer to her as Julia instead of Mommy J. “I know all about diapers, but nothing about adult baby stuff. I do get my diapers from there, though. Julia is a wizard at changing diapers, by the way.” You and Ava agreed in unison at that last sentence. By now your second round of drinks were drained, and you half-mindedly let your bladder empty into your diaper.

Randy started a third round of drinks as she continued. “Besides, I found this gig on FetLife not long after. I love drinking, and I love diapers. They naturally complement each other. Oh, hold up,” Randy paused in the middle of mixing drinks and let loose a series of several short farts, “Give me one second, guys, I gotta shit. Here, I’ll let you sickos watch.” Randy faced away from you and squatted slightly, bracing herself on the back shelf that displayed the bottles of liquor. Another fart roared from her butt, however this one was multiple seconds long. The stink filled the bar area quickly. “Hmmmmm-AUGH!” Randy grunted as you got the perfect view of her diaper expanding under the blue spandex shorts. She grunted a few more times, her diaper expanding more and more with each push. Finally, she stood back up and, without missing a beat, continued mixing drinks. “But yeah,” Randy continued, “I like my job as a Boosters Girl. I noticed that I get bigger tips when I’m messy, so I basically get paid to fill my pants with shit and stay in it. Not that I mind.”

“Well, I think my job is cool, too!” Ava argued. “I have to play with pacifiers and cute clothes all day! Plus I have a dork to keep me company now.”

“Why do you keep calling him that?” Randy asked as the third round of sippy cups was served.

Ava stifled laughter. “Oh, well get this! This guy proposed a toast to celebrate loading his diaper.”

You felt yourself turning red, half from the alcohol and half from embarrassment. “Nu-UH! You’re exaggerating! All I did was say ‘cheers’ before I messed myself.”

“Sounds like a toast to me.” Ava teased. “And a dorky one at that.” You blew a raspberry in response.

“Well, hey. How about we raise a real toast?” Randy offered. She poured herself a shot and held it up. You and Ava held your sippy cups up.

“Ok, to what?” You asked.

“Uh… I don’t know. I just wanted an excuse to take a shot.” Randy shrugged.

“I know!” Ava exclaimed, visibly buzzed. “To your SUPER DUPER new job working with the local princess!”

+++++

Later, after the evening had concluded, you and Ava said goodbye to Randy, and took the bus back to your respective apartments. Your stop was earlier than Ava’s, so you said goodbye to her after exchanging numbers. “Text me when you’re home safe” You said as you exited the bus.

Eventually Ava reached her stop, and immediately squatted down upon leaving the bus. Moderately intoxicated and lacking any shame, she filled her diaper, which was already soaked from the multiple rounds of drinks, in plain view of the other passengers exiting behind her. Ava stood back up. “Whew! I was lucky I could hold it for THAT long!” She fanned her nose. “Sorry, folks!” Ava announced with slurred speech, “I should have gone easy on the Toddler Tots! Those always make me potty!” Ava completed her messy walk home. Upon arriving at her apartment, she sent a text declaring her safety, and then promptly collapsed on the couch.

An unknown amount of time had passed before Ava was awoken by the lights in the apartment being turned on. “Oh, hello there!” Randy greeted, “Sorry to wake you. Just got out of work. Couldn't even make it to your bed this time, huh, you lightweight?”

“I know you make those drinks stronger on purpose!” Ava yelled. “You looove getting me drunk for some reason.”

“Well, I hope you’re not too drunk to help me change,” Randy slid her shorts off. “I’m still in the same diaper that I was wearing when you left. If you change me then I’ll change you, because I know the food at Boosters makes you shit yourself, and I can smell it.”

“Deal, hop on.” Ava groggily rose up and over to Randy's changing table, which was strategically set up in the living room next to a window and in view of the TV. Randy waddled over and opened the nearby window before climbing up to get changed. She reached into a side compartment and withdrew a cigarette and lighter.

Ava shook her head. “Why do you insist on smoking every time I change your diaper?”

“I know, I know, I should really quit,” Randy sighed as she lit her cigarette and took a drag while laying on her back. She held it between her index and middle finger, and blew a puff of smoke out the window. “But for your information, this helps to mask the stink of dirty diapers.”

Ava rolled her eyes. “Yeah, masking one stink with another.” She untaped Randy’s diaper and her eyes went wide. “Wow, Randy! You pottied a ton!”

“Pottied? Why do you never swear?” Randy asked before taking another drag. “The worst I’ve heard from you is ‘hell’. Just call it shit like everyone else.”

“Little girls do not swear, Randy! We’ve been over this,” Ava said as she wiped her roommate’s mess away. “As for you, you are both a pottymouth AND a potty pants!”

Randy took another drag. “Easy there, hotshot. The liquor’s gotten you riled up huh? Oh, by the way, blue DryCare Magnum, and extra powder, please.”

“Ok, lift up.” Randy lifted her bottom up, and Ava slid the sky blue diaper under her roommate’s lifted rear before rolling up and depositing the soiled black Magnum into the nearby diaper pail. “Ok, you can place your bum down now.”

Randy settled herself on the fresh diaper. “That’s another one, see!” She took another drag off her cigarette as Ava clouded her crotch with powder “I do not have a ‘bum’! I have an ASS!” She put extra emphasis on the swear.

Ava lifted the front of the diaper up to Randy’s bellybutton. “I know you’re trying to get a rise out of me, and I’ll tell you now that you’re not gonna get it.”

Randy took a long drag. Ava was correct, Randy liked playfully stirring up her roommate whenever she was under the influence. It was just too cute. If cursing wouldn’t get under skin, Randy would have to try something else. She blew another cloud of smoke out the window. “Say Ava, does that new little boyfriend of yours ever swear?”

Ava looked up from fastening the tapes of Randy’s diaper and made eye contact. “Nice try, meanie. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s a major Dork! He’s twenty four and plays with dinosaur toys!”

“Ava please, it’s BITCH, not ‘meanie’. And he likes dinosaurs, so what?” Randy smirked. “You’re twenty one and play with dolls. Seems like the perfect match.”

Ava stamped her foot. “Not the point! He’s not my boyfriend! And your diaper is done.”

“OK, if you say so, he’s not your boyfriend.” Randy took a final drag of her cigarette and looked down. “Hey, not a bad tape job from someone who’s hammered!” She put her cigarette out into a nearby ashtray and patted her fresh diaper. “Man, that was overdue. Ok, your turn!”

The two switched places, as now it was Randy’s turn to change Ava.

Randy pulled off Ava’s shorts. “Ok, but before I take your diaper off, humor me. Do you like him, though?” She asked.

Ava sighed and stared at the ceiling. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“Yep.”

“OK, fine! I think that he’s adorable, Randy! I can tell that he's so in tune with his little side, and it’s fu- freaking adorable, OK? I just wanna pin him down and grind our diapers together!” Ava got up from the changing table and drunkenly waddled over to her room.

Randy called out, “Hey, where are you going? I haven't changed you yet.”

Ava closed her door. “I’m having too many big girl thoughts! I need to make stickies, and THEN you can change me!”

“Fine!” Randy answered. “But it’s called CUMMING, not making stickies!”

“I really enjoyed going out with you tonight.” you said.

“Me too.” she replied. “And thanks for the lift.”

“You’re welcome.”

As the two of you stayed silent in the car, you were thinking of going for a kiss. Something to sweeten the evening and complete the perfect date.

“Would you like to come in?” she asked. A surprise to be sure, but a welcomed one. Suddenly, your hopes became a bit more ambitious than a kiss.

You two went inside. It was a sparsely decorated, but clean apartment. 

“Make yourself at home. I just need to feed the fish. Fishy! Fishy! Fishy!”

You thought it was cute how she would bend over and coo and talk to the fish as if they were kittens. As you looked at her, you saw that her shirt had pulled a bit. And that, because she was bending, her jeans had slipped a tiny bit. All that to say, you could see her underwear. Pristine white, surprisingly big… and Oh. My. God. That’s a diaper. You were dating a diaper girl. Now you were really getting your hopes up. It was such a thick diaper. Worst case scenario must be that she’s incontinent or something. 

You were so busy trying to calm yourself down and reel yourself from the discovery that you hadn’t realized that she’d gone quiet. She wasn’t cooing at the fish anymore, she was straining to relieve herself. Letting out, every so often, a low-pitched moan that meant the was putting in some effort. No need to worry, you were going to find out her present for you soon enough.

Photo credit: Alyssa from DiaperedOnline.com

For more stories by me: https://reamstories.com/babywriter

Table of Contents

My stories tend to be long and multi-chaptered, so I figured it would be helpful to put together a quick way to find them here. If you are looking for all of the parts of a particular story, I always tag them with their title, so you can search that way. There are also links in each story to previous and next chapters (if they exist). Otherwise, the links and a little summary of each longer story is below.

Just so it's clear, although it should be obvious, all of the characters in my stories are 18 or over.

The Birthday

A husband, a prolific AB/DL writer who focuses on dark DD/LG, comes home in his birthday to find his wife has discovered his hobby and is ready to give him a birthday weekend that he'll never forget.

TW: Sexual, Forced, Breastfeeding, Wetting, Hypnosis

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

Lindsey's Big Little Day

Lindsey decides to have a 3rd birthday party instead of a 30th. She invites all of her friends to come in character. Various shenanigans and adventures ensue as everyone at the party undertakes a quest of age play and self discovery.

TW: Sexual (less than my other stories though, so far), Spanking, Wetting, Messing, Humiliation

Note: Consent is a bigger deal and much more obvious in this story than my others.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

New You Gym

Kylee and Michael, young professionals, join a gym to get in better shape. Kylee begins struggling with accidents, and she is slowly blackmailed into regressing further and further.

TW: Sexual, Blackmail, Messing, Wetting, Forced, Public Humiliation

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

Babysitting for the Neighbor

Mads is an undergrad with a huge crush on his neighbor, a doctoral student who has taught a number of his classes named Erica. He's struggled to build the courage to ask him out, but feels he'll get his chance when Erica's friend Sarah lets him know about a babysitting job Erica is looking to fill.

Co-written by @baby-erica! Check out her awesome blog!

TW: Sexual, Messing, Wetting, Humiliation, Orgasm Denial

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Sarah's Playground

Sarah is a timid, closet AB/DL who was tortured by her neighbor and babysitter growing up for being a bedwetter. She finds a magical amulet at a garage sale that allows her to reshape reality at her whim. While things go great initially, things deteriorate quickly as the magic of the amulet gets out of her hands, literally.

TW: Dark, Sexual, Messy, Wetting, Humiliation, Orgasm Denial, Breastfeeding, Lack of consent

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Playing House

Bruce and Sandy, spouses, have been living out Sandy's DD/LG AB/DL dream for years. But, today, she wants to switch places. Bruce obliges, but what Sandy wants to feel like a switch in the dynamic feels more like she's a little girl playing House with her Daddy.

TW: Sexual, Messy, Wetting

Chapter 1

The Playdate

Mia the Middle and her girlfriend/mom, Lisa, go over to Lisa's best friend's house for a playdate with her little. Mia is certain that her Mom's friend is trying to turn her into a Little, rather than a Middle. She's right.

I swear I'm trying to keep this one to three chapters, max!

TW: Wetting, Messing, Lack of Consent, Bullying

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Short Stories

These are my one-shot stories.

The Baby Doctor (TW: Forced, Messing, Wetting, Public Humiliation)

Accidental Regression (TW: Forced, Messing, Wetting, Sexual, Cucking, Humiliation)

Safe and Sound, an ABDL Story by CradleQuill (Reupload)

Disclaimer: All content is fictional, consensual, and intended only for mature audiences. All characters depicted are adults aged 18+ _

You woke up in a wet bed next to your partner. You were so ashamed. You hadn't wet the bed since you were a little kid. Your cheeks burned hot as you shook your partner awake, and he looked at you with sleepy, confused eyes.

"What is it, baby?" He asked.

You couldn't meet his gaze. Each time you glanced at him for more than a millisecond, your eyes darted away and looked toward the bed in shame. He placed his hand gently beneath your chin and drew your eyes to meet his. "Baby, whatever it is, you can tell me."

That was when he noticed the wetness. You'd soaked the sheets completely, his side of the bed included. He patted the bed, feeling the dampness left by your little accident. He offered a half-smile.

"It's okay, honey," he told you. "These things happen. There's no need to be embarrassed; it's really not a big deal." You leaned into his shoulder, and he pulled you into an embrace. He was so kind, so understanding. He was always such a prince.

You both undressed the sheets together, and he threw them in the wash while you tended to the stain. You knew he was right. It was just a one-off occurrence, and these things happened sometimes. You probably had too much to drink the night before. It wasn't like it was going to happen again.

And it didn't, at least not at first. But a week went by, and then another, before you woke up with wet sheets once again. He was just as understanding as the first time, but you were even more embarrassed. And you swore you could hear a hint of concern in his voice. He probably thought there was something wrong with you. He even asked if you were having nightmares, to which you responded no, you hadn't been.

Over the following month, the bedwetting became a more and more common occurrence. At first, it was just once or twice a week. But then, slowly, it progressed to three or four times. You were waking up wet more than half the week. One day, you came home from work and found a mattress protector on the bed. Your boyfriend was kind, he didn't mention it. And you didn't either because you knew it was for the best. You really did need it.

But the bedwetting didn't stop, and the mattress protector could only help so much. You could see it on your boyfriend's face; he was growing tired of waking up to a soggy bed and a sobbing girlfriend. If he even saw you that way anymore. Lately, he hadn't wanted to be sexual with you, and you couldn't blame him. Who would want to sleep with a bedwetter?

Each night, you grew more and more depressed, knowing you'd wake up with wet sheets once again. Until one night, your boyfriend stopped you as you were getting ready for bed. "Honey, we need to talk," he said. Those words struck fear in your heart and sent a sinking feeling through your chest.

You immediately began apologizing. "I'm sorry," you said. "Please, I know the bedwetting has been a huge problem. I'm sorry. I'll get it under control, I promise! Please just don't break up with me…"

He looked stunned at your sudden outburst. "Honey, nobody's breaking up with anyone, I promise." He guided you to the bed and sat you down next to him. "You're right that the bedwetting has been a problem, baby girl, but I won't leave you over it. I just need you to trust me. Can you do that for me, love?"

With tears fighting to escape your eyes, you simply nodded. He entered the closet and returned with a bright pink package of something you didn't initially recognize. Until he tore open the back and pulled out what was unmistakably a pull-up, like the ones for potty training. You couldn't keep the tears from flowing.

"I know, baby," he said. "I know it's embarrassing, but I think you need them. They'll help keep you dry. And look, these ones aren't for little kids; they're for bedwetters just like you. I promise this doesn't change how I feel about you. You just need some protection at night."

It took several minutes for the tears to subside, but you knew he was right. You needed this, and you did trust him, now more than ever. You stood up and slid down your pants and panties while he held the pull-up open at the sides. You stepped into the childish undergarment, and your boyfriend pulled it up nice and snug around your hips. At first, you felt a hot pang of shame hit your cheeks, but that sensation soon faded into something else. You felt… safe.

That evening, your boyfriend tucked you into bed and held you all throughout the night. You were the little spoon, and you felt his crotch rub up against your padded bottom. Each time it did, you felt that same pang of embarrassment wash over you as chills ran down your spine, but he didn't seem to notice. Eventually, you fell asleep.

When you woke, you immediately felt the back of your pajamas and all around your sides, but there was no wetness to be found. The pull-ups, or "Goodnites" as they were called, worked perfectly. You slipped your hand down the front of your pajamas and felt the soaked padding beneath your private parts. When you felt the padding, a jolt of electricity hit you, and your legs quivered. You were… turned on by this. There was no way you could ever admit it, but you knew it was true, no matter how much you didn't want it to be.

Quietly and slowly, so as not to wake your boyfriend, you began rubbing the padding between your legs. Little sparks of pure bliss tickled along your spine, and your mouth fell agape as you breathlessly wanted to moan. You didn't want to wake your boyfriend, but you couldn't stop. You just kept rubbing, and soon enough, you began arching your back and tensing your legs.

As you finished in your soaking wet pull-up, you looked over at him, still sleeping, unaware of how naughty and pathetic his girlfriend was behaving right next to him, all while sharing his bed, no less. He stumbled awake a few minutes later while you sat there in your shame. He found you there, still in bed, still in a puddle that was at least contained to your diaper this time.

"How did it go, sweetheart?" He asked. You looked at him with sad eyes but didn't answer. He felt around your butt and found no wetness, so without even asking, he checked the front of your pull-up with his large, stern hands. The moment he gripped the front of your diaper and gave it a good squeeze, you let out a little gasp as you heard the padding squish in his grip.

"It looks like these held up well," he said while rubbing the front of your padding. He had no idea what he was doing to you, but he was turning your brain into absolute mush. You wanted to say something, anything to make him stop. But then, when he finally did, you found yourself desperate for more. You'd already made yourself cum in your soaked pull-ups, but something ached within you to have him rub you until you arrived once again.

That was the beginning of your new, babyish routine. The few dry nights a week you had dwindled into nothing until you were soaking yourself every day. Each night, he'd help you into your pull-ups. And each morning, you'd wake before him, giving you just enough time to rub yourself in your squishy diapers. The danger of having him catch you and seeing how pathetic you truly were only turned you on more. You were losing yourself in your padding, and the worst part was you didn't want it to stop. It was consuming you, and all you wanted was to sink deeper.

The longer this went on, the more you'd wet, until your pull-ups couldn't hold all your pee anymore. Waking up in a soaked diaper and a wet bed made you feel even more like a helpless baby. And your boyfriend didn't stand for it long. Over the weeks, he'd started talking down to you like a child. So when he showed you your new thick, tape-on diapers with a silly design all over them, you couldn't even act surprised.

The thicker padding kept your sheets dry, even with your larger accidents. But they posed their own problems. Your boyfriend wasn't just helping you step into them anymore. Now, he was laying you on the bed, pulling the padding up between your legs, and taping you into your glorified baby diapers. And every time he changed you into one, you couldn't help but get wet in a different way. You knew he noticed it, but he never said anything, which confused you even more.

And with how thick these diapers were, you couldn't make yourself cum in them just by rubbing the front anymore. You would have had to slip your hand down the front. But your boyfriend taped them up so tight, and they were so crinkly, you were too afraid to try it. So each morning, you'd just sit in bed humping against your hands and not even finishing before he began stirring awake.

One day, while he was changing you into your diaper, your boyfriend stopped with your diaper still untapped. He looked at you, gazing lovingly into your eyes, and you could tell he wanted to say something. "What is it?" You asked.

"Honey," he said, taking a second to pause, as if to carefully consider his words. "I've noticed that your diapers… turn you on." There was no hint of judgment in his eyes, but the shame washed over you all the same. You hid your face in your hands and started crying as he hushed you and cooed at you.

"Baby, baby, it's okay. I don't mind it. I think it's kind of cute, honestly."

"Y-you do?" You managed to squeak out between sobs and sniffles.

He nodded. "Don't get me wrong, I didn't know what to make of it at first. I caught you rubbing them a few times, but I pretended to sleep through it. But lately, I've seen the way you hump your diapers in the mornings, and it's been turning me on, too, seeing you look so desperate like that. I never thought this would be something I was into… or that you'd be into. But here we are."

You couldn't speak. You kept asking yourself if you were in a dream as the world around you began to bob as if stuck in the current of a river. It was like you were a part of the world but distinctly separate from it at the same time. He smiled at you, seeing how desperate you were for him, how every inch of you begged him to come closer.

He left your diaper untapped and crawled into the bed and on top of you. He took the opportunity to slip inside you, and as he did, a burst of pee escaped your bladder and squirted all over him. He didn't turn away. He began thrusting repeatedly into you, and your eyes rolled almost into the back of your head. It was the best sex you'd ever had, and when he was done, he finished inside you and taped you up into your diaper. You could feel the mess he left there leaking out into the padding, along with a few more dribbles of pee.

He laid down next to you and pulled you into his arms. Every sensation in your body was euphoric. And as you stared into his eyes, they looked more soft and tender than they ever had before. "There there, baby girl. You did such a good job for Daddy, little one." The moment the words left his lips, that familiar static shock ran throughout your body, and you slipped further into a place that had been long lost to you, a headspace of complete comfort and quieted thoughts. You knew you wanted to be his little girl forever if you could, and as Daddy held you that night, you knew that the dynamic of your relationship had changed forever, but also for the better. _

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The big mistake story

The Little Injection

Dr. Harper smiled warmly at the prospective parents gathered in the observation room. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our facility. Today, you'll witness the latest in regression technology."

Behind the glass, two Littles, Emma and Jake, were strapped to padded examination tables, pacifiers in their mouths, eyes wide with fear. Nurses prepped the injection devices, filled with a glowing blue serum. A man in the audience pointed. "What does the injection do exactly?"

Dr. Harper's smile widened. "This serum targets the neural pathways responsible for potty training. Within minutes, these Littles will no longer have control over their bladder or bowels.“n Emma whimpered around her pacifier, struggling futilely against her restraints. Jake's eyes darted around, panic evident.

A nurse gently patted Emma's leg. "Now, now, sweetie. This will be over before you know it."

The nurse inserted the needle into Emma's thigh. Emma gasped, her body trembling. Moments later, a loud hissing sound filled the room as Emma's diaper swelled. The nurse smiled, patting the now-soaked diaper. "There we go, all done.“ Jake watched in horror as the second nurse approached him with the syringe. "N-no," he mumbled through his pacifier, tears streaming down his face.

Dr. Harper turned to the audience. "As you can see, the serum works almost instantly. These Littles are now fully dependent, just like babies.“ Jake's injection followed, his diaper quickly swelling and sagging. The prospective parents murmured amongst themselves, impressed.

A woman in the front row raised her hand. "How long does the effect last?“ Dr. Harper chuckled. "It's permanent. Once administered, these Littles will never regain their potty training."

Emma and Jake sobbed quietly, their humiliation complete as the audience observed their helplessness with fascination and approval.

Another adopter chuckled, "They look so helpless. Perfect for what we need."

Art by Rocket Manatee!

Find more exclusive captions on my Patreon

Getting laid

In the dimly lit living room of the frat house, the smell of pizza and stale beer lingered in the air. The walls were adorned with posters of rock bands and scantily clad women, typical decor for a fraternity. Two frat boys, Jack and Mike, lounged on the worn-out couch, half-empty beer cans in their hands.

"You just need to get laid, dude," Jack said, a smirk on his face. He took a swig from his beer can, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Mike chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, easier said than done. Did you see how Professor Collins looked at me today? Like I was some kind of bug she wanted to squash."

Jack laughed, a harsh sound that echoed in the room. "That old hag? She’s just mad because no one wants to bang her. I mean, have you seen her? She’s got that permanent scowl."

"Yeah, true," Mike agreed, his voice dripping with disdain. "But did you catch a glimpse of Sarah in class? Man, those tits... they’re like... gigantic. I can’t even focus when she’s around."

Jack nodded, his eyes gleaming. "I know, right? It’s like she’s got a couple of melons under her shirt. She probably uses them to get what she wants. You know how girls are."

Mike snorted. "Yeah, always playing the game."

Jack leaned back, his gaze turning thoughtful. "You know, we could always mess with her a bit. She needs to be taken down a peg or two."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Jack’s smirk widened. "You’ll see. Just follow my lead."

As the two boys plotted, they didn’t notice the figure standing in the doorway, a small, discreet smile playing on her lips. Professor Collins had overheard their entire conversation, and she had plans of her own.

A few evenings later, the frat house was alive with the sounds of laughter, music, and clinking bottles. Jack and Mike moved through the crowded rooms with a sense of purpose. Their mission was clear: get laid. The air was thick with the smell of cheap cologne and sweat, mingling with the ever-present scent of pizza and beer.

Jack nudged Mike, pointing to a group of girls by the makeshift bar. "Target acquired," he muttered, a sly grin on his face.

The two boys sauntered over, their swagger exaggerated by the alcohol coursing through their veins. "Hey ladies," Jack said, leaning against the counter with what he thought was a charming smile. "You girls look like you could use some company."

One of the girls, a petite brunette, rolled her eyes. "We’re fine, thanks."

Undeterred, Mike leaned in closer. "Come on, don’t be like that. We’re just trying to have a good time. How about a dance?"

The girls exchanged glances, clearly unimpressed. "Maybe later," one of them said dismissively, turning her back to the boys.

Jack scowled, but before he could say anything more, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Sarah, the girl with the 'gigantic tits' they had ogled in class, smiling at him.

"Hey, Jack. Hey, Mike," Sarah said, her tone warm and inviting. "Enjoying the party?"

Jack’s eyes lit up. "Sarah! Yeah, it’s great. How about you?"

"I’m having a good time," she replied, her smile widening. "In fact, my roommates and I are throwing an after-party at our place. You guys should come."

Mike’s eyes widened with excitement. "Seriously? We’d love to."

Sarah laughed, a sweet, melodic sound. "Great! Let’s get a taxi."

The boys followed her outside, practically tripping over themselves in their eagerness. They piled into a taxi, squeezing in beside Sarah, who gave the driver her address.

As the taxi sped through the city streets, Jack and Mike exchanged triumphant glances. This was their chance. They were sure of it.

A few evenings later, the frat house was alive with the sounds of laughter, music, and clinking bottles. Jack and Mike moved through the crowded rooms with a sense of purpose. Their mission was clear: get laid. The air was thick with the smell of cheap cologne and sweat, mingling with the ever-present scent of pizza and beer.

Jack nudged Mike, pointing to a group of girls by the makeshift bar. "Target acquired," he muttered, a sly grin on his face.

The two boys sauntered over, their swagger exaggerated by the alcohol coursing through their veins. "Hey ladies," Jack said, leaning against the counter with what he thought was a charming smile. "You girls look like you could use some company."

One of the girls, a petite brunette, rolled her eyes. "We’re fine, thanks."

Undeterred, Mike leaned in closer. "Come on, don’t be like that. We’re just trying to have a good time. How about a dance?"

The girls exchanged glances, clearly unimpressed. "Maybe later," one of them said dismissively, turning her back to the boys.

Jack scowled, but before he could say anything more, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Sarah, the girl with the 'gigantic tits' they had ogled in class, smiling at him.

"Hey, Jack. Hey, Mike," Sarah said, her tone warm and inviting. "Enjoying the party?"

Jack’s eyes lit up. "Sarah! Yeah, it’s great. How about you?"

"I’m having a good time," she replied, her smile widening. "In fact, my roommates and I are throwing an after-party at our place. You guys should come."

Mike’s eyes widened with excitement. "Seriously? We’d love to."

Sarah laughed, a sweet, melodic sound. "Great! Let’s get a taxi."

The boys followed her outside, practically tripping over themselves in their eagerness. They piled into a taxi, squeezing in beside Sarah, who gave the driver her address.

As the taxi sped through the city streets, Jack and Mike exchanged triumphant glances. This was their chance. They were sure of it.

The taxi pulled up to a quaint, two-story house in a quiet neighborhood. Sarah led the way inside, where they were greeted by her roommates, a group of equally attractive young women. The living room was cozy and tastefully decorated, a stark contrast to the frat house.

"Welcome to our humble abode," Sarah said, gesturing for the boys to take a seat on the couch.

Jack and Mike plopped down, their eyes scanning the room. "Nice place," Jack commented, trying to sound suave.

"Thanks," one of Sarah’s roommates replied with a smile. "We like to keep it comfortable."

Sarah disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a tray of drinks. "Here you go, guys," she said, handing them each a glass. "Drink up."

Jack took a sip, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spread through him. "So, what’s the plan for the after-party?" he asked, leaning back into the couch.

Sarah’s smile turned mischievous. "Oh, we’ve got something special planned for you two."

The boys exchanged excited glances, their minds racing with possibilities. They had no idea what was in store for them.

The boys downed their drinks, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spread through them. They relaxed into the couch, exchanging excited glances and chuckling softly. Jack turned to Sarah, his eyes slightly glazed. "So, what's the special plan?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Sarah's smile widened. "You'll see," she said, her voice sweet but with an edge that sent a shiver down Jack's spine.

Minutes passed, and the boys started to feel strange. A warm, tingling sensation spread through their bodies. They shifted uncomfortably, realizing too late that something was very wrong. Jack felt a sudden, uncontrollable urge and before he could react, he heard a faint hissing sound. He looked down, horrified to see a wet stain spreading across his jeans.

"Mike!" Jack gasped, his voice shaky. "I think I just... wet myself."

Mike's eyes widened in panic as he felt a similar sensation. He looked down to see his pants darkening with wetness. "What the hell?" he muttered, his voice trembling.

The girls around them burst into laughter, their mocking giggles filling the room. "Looks like our big, tough frat boys can't even keep their pants dry!" Sarah teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Jack's face turned crimson with humiliation. "This isn't funny, Sarah!" he snapped, his voice cracking.

"Oh, but it is," Sarah said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "You guys wanted to get laid, right? Well, the only way you're getting laid tonight is on a changing table."

The girls' laughter grew louder as they surrounded the boys, their mocking words stinging like venom. "Looks like you two are nothing but big babies," one of Sarah's roommates taunted.

The boys, overwhelmed and humiliated, could do nothing but sit there, their soaked pants clinging to their skin. Sarah and her friends pulled them to their feet, guiding them through a doorway and into another room. The sight that greeted them was both surreal and terrifying.

The room was a giant nursery, complete with oversized cribs, a changing table, and shelves stocked with diapers and baby supplies. The walls were painted in soft pastels, decorated with cartoon characters and playful patterns. The scent of baby powder hung in the air.

Jack and Mike stood frozen, their minds struggling to process the bizarre scene before them. Sarah and her friends moved with practiced ease, leading the boys to the changing table. They were too stunned to resist as the girls began to strip them of their wet clothes.

"Welcome to your new home, boys," Sarah said, her voice a mix of amusement and authority. "From now on, you'll be treated like the babies you are."

The boys watched in a daze as the girls produced large, fluffy diapers, decorated with childish prints. Their hands trembled as they tried to cover themselves, but the girls were relentless. They gently but firmly laid the boys down on the changing table, their teasing voices a constant backdrop to the humiliating process.

"Don't worry," one of Sarah's roommates cooed. "We'll take good care of you."

Jack felt a mixture of fear, shame, and a strange, inexplicable sense of surrender as he was powdered and diapered like a baby. The thick padding crinkled as he was helped off the table, his legs wobbling slightly.

Mike, equally overwhelmed, found himself in a similar state. The soft, bulky diaper felt foreign and embarrassing, but he was too shaken to protest.

Suddenly, the door to the nursery opened once more. Professor Collins, the very woman they'd been deriding just days ago, stepped inside, her presence commanding the room.

At the sight of her, both boys felt an involuntary release, the warmth spreading through their diapers as they wet themselves in sheer terror. The professor's lips curled into a cold smile.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Professor Collins said, her voice dripping with mockery. "Two big, tough frat boys reduced to helpless little babies. How fitting."

Sarah and her friends giggled, their laughter echoing in the room. Jack's face burned with humiliation, his earlier bravado shattered. Mike looked away, too ashamed to meet anyone's gaze.

Professor Collins stepped closer, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "It seems you boys have learned a valuable lesson. But we're not done yet. In fact, your reeducation is just beginning."

The boys exchanged horrified glances, their confusion evident. "Reeducation?" Jack stammered.

Sarah stepped forward, a confident smirk on her face. "Yes, reeducation. You see, Professor Collins has been working with us on a special project for her research in feminism. We're going to turn frat boys like you into good little babies, and then raise you to be better men."

The professor nodded, her gaze unwavering. "You've been chosen as our new research subjects. We'll be documenting every step of your transformation. From arrogant, misogynistic boys to respectful, well-behaved men."

Jack and Mike were too stunned to respond. The realization of their predicament sank in slowly, bringing with it a wave of dread. This wasn't just a humiliating prank. This was a complete, enforced regression.

Professor Collins leaned over Jack's crib, her voice a low, mocking whisper. "Think of this as a second chance, boys. A chance to learn respect, empathy, and humility. Traits you clearly lack."

Mike's eyes filled with tears of frustration and shame. "You can't do this to us," he said, his voice trembling. "We didn't agree to any of this."

Sarah's roommate, the one who had cooed at them earlier, patted Mike's head patronizingly. "Oh, but you did agree, the moment you stepped into this house. And now, you're ours to care for and mold into better people."

Jack clenched his fists, his anger bubbling beneath the surface. But he was powerless, trapped in a diaper, surrounded by women who held all the control.

Professor Collins straightened up, addressing the group. "Sarah, let's make sure our new 'babies' are comfortable. We'll begin their first lessons in the morning."

The girls nodded eagerly, each taking a turn to coo and tease the boys. "Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it," one of them said. "And who knows, you might even start to like it."

As the reality of their situation settled in, Jack and Mike felt a profound sense of defeat. They were no longer the cocky frat boys who had strutted into the party, thinking they could conquer anything. They were now just two scared, humiliated boys in diapers, facing an uncertain future in the hands of those they had once looked down upon.

Professor Collins turned to leave, her final words lingering in the air. "Goodnight, boys. Sweet dreams. Tomorrow, your real education begins."

The door closed behind her, leaving Jack and Mike in the oversized cribs, their minds racing with fear and confusion. They could hear the soft hum of a lullaby playing from a speaker in the corner, adding an eerie touch to the surreal nursery setting.

Sarah leaned over Jack’s crib one last time, her expression softening slightly. "You brought this on yourselves, you know. Maybe after this, you'll learn to treat people with respect."

With that, she turned off the lights, plunging the room into a soothing darkness, illuminated only by the soft glow of a nightlight. The boys lay there, their thoughts a chaotic mess, knowing that their lives had irrevocably changed.

As the lullaby played on, they realized there was no escaping this new reality. They were now the subjects of an experiment designed to reshape their very identities, and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

WARNING: DIAPER MESSING/PEEING, DIARRHEA, ALCHOL MENTIONED

Aaron woke to a wet feeling around his bottom for the second time that morning. The first time he had woken up, he had been too hungover to do anything about the fact that he was urinating. Going out for drinks the night before had been a bad idea for so many reasons, but mostly because his bladder simply could not handle that much alcohol.

Now, he groggily sat up in bed and pulled the wet sheets off himself. He didn’t have the energy to get mad at himself or the brand of diapers he was wearing for the huge wet stain that spread to the far reaches of his bed. He reached down to feel the waterlogged diaper that sat between his legs. It was soaked yellow and leaked a little when Aaron touched it. It was as if he had started peeing as soon as he fell asleep and hadn’t stopped until he had just woken up. And oh gosh, it smelled awful. He was lucky for the mattress cover, or he would have had to throw the whole thing away. Today was definitely laundry day.

Aaron removed his wet diaper and shirt and left them both on the bed. He walked naked to grab a trash bag, his hamper, and a new diaper. He knew he should shower first, but he wanted to rid the smell from the room asap, and he was unsure how long cleanup would take or if he was fully empty. Sure enough, as he dumped everything into the washing machine, he felt a trickle in his diaper. It wasn't nearly as much as before, but if he hadn't been wearing a diaper, he would have had to mop as well.

With everything in the wash, Aaron stretched and yawned as he made his way towards the shower. His diaper was wet again, so he smelled even more like urine than before. He barely got the bathroom door open when his alarm went off. He picked up his phone to silence it, then swore when he realized what it was for. It had been going off for 30 minutes to remind him that he had a Zoom class at 10. It was now 9:55. He rushed to his computer to log in before remembering that he was completely shirtless. He slipped into the first T-shirt he grabbed just as the class started.

This professor was, unfortunately, strict about having the camera on. She didn't care about being muted, but she wanted to make sure everyone was at the very least paying attention. The rule was that if you had to turn your camera off, it was only twice and for five minutes unless you had a good excuse. Aaron would have used one of his times to change when he realized the shirt he'd grabbed was an ABDL T-shirt with cute animals flying planes, but he didn't want to draw attention to it. Thank goodness it wasn't a more obvious one, but he made sure not to stand because this particular shirt doubled as a onesie. Halfway through the class, he felt something pressing against his bottom. He was glad he was muted because the gas that shot out of him just then was like a firecracker. He hadn't even eaten today, but the results of last night's disaster were finally making their way out of his colon. Aaron did his best not to make a face as he quickly switched off his camera. It was coming out, and he barely had time to stand up before something painfully snaked out of him. It stung as his bottom opened up to another solid mass of poop, warming the back of his diaper with another filthy release.

"Mr. Millards, I'm timing you," the professor said, referring to Aaron. But he could barely hear her over the sound of his diaper filling. It took three minutes before he felt like he was okay enough to stop, though he could tell he wasn't empty. It wasn't lost on him that he didn't have enough time to change, and he grimaced as he looked back at the bulging brown and yellow padding wrapped around his waist. He held his breath, carefully lowered his bottom into his seat, and cringed as he felt the hot oatmeal texture spread around his bottom. The smell was immediate and rancid. He wondered what the hell he ate last night and swore to avoid it the next time he was blackout drunk. He wiped away his sweat, prayed his diaper wouldn't leak during class, and returned to the Zoom session.

Aaron felt each minute of the rest of class drag on, each second making his stomach twitch. When it finally ended, he'd never turned his camera off so fast. His next class wasn't for another three hours, so he rushed to grab a new pair of clothes, deodorant, cologne, and opened up his ottoman to grab a fresh diap-

His face fell.

Aaron kept all of his diapers boxed up in an ottoman at the foot of his bed. He'd grabbed the last diaper from one of the boxes this morning, thinking the others were full. They were not.

He didn't know what to do. Aaron ordered all of his diapers online. Even with same-day shipping, they weren't getting here until tomorrow. His next class was in person; he didn't have time for that! His best bet was to head to the nearest store to buy some generic pull-ups, but there was still the problem of his full diaper. He'd worn diapers for so long now that going out in underwear wasn't an option. He could try to use the potty before he left, but with his stomach in turmoil, there was no telling if he'd still have an accident. His heart sank when he realized that not only was he going to have to go out in a filthy diaper, but he also needed to pee again.

The only outfit Aaron owned that was loose enough to hide his diaper bulge was a pair of loose joggers and an oversized T-shirt. They didn't really match, but more importantly, they were light-colored. There was no hiding it if he leaked. He checked himself in the mirror, hyper-focusing on his bottom. You really couldn't tell unless you were looking really hard...or if you smelled him. He tried his best to cover up the smell with cologne, but that almost seemed to make it worse. He was just going to have to not stand close to anyone.

He opted to walk to the store for obvious reasons. He couldn't focus on driving and not squishing his diaper. The walk to the store wasn't far, but it sure felt like it with every crinkling, squishy step he took. He hoped the sound of cars driving past would cover up the sound, and the nearby dumpsters could take the blame for any lingering smells. He couldn't stop thinking about how much his poop had spread around in his diaper. It was smushed into every crevice and felt like cold mud on his bottom. He knew his shirt was long enough to cover his bottom, but he felt like if his pants fell even a centimeter someone would catch sight of his toasted marshmallow bottom.

Aaron breathed a sigh of relief when he finally reached the store. Despite his anxiety,  no one had seemed to notice his predicament. Or if they did, no one had pointed it out. His mind began to calm as he walked the store aisles, and by the time he grabbed the pull-ups, he felt okay enough to change in the store bathroom, as long as it was empty. Maybe they had a family bathroom he could use? If that was the case, he figured he should grab some wipes. He blushed, thinking about how big of a mess he had made and how he couldn't wait to get clean.

As he walked out of the diaper aisle with his supplies, he felt his stomach drop. Instinctively, his hand reached back to cover his bottom, and a splortch echoed off the linoleum walls. He felt eyes on him, but he was too focused on holding back a flood, his body trembling as he strained. He had just let out a handful of mushy diarrhea into his diaper, and he could tell there was more to come. He stayed there until he felt safe enough to move, then carefully made his way to the checkout aisle. His tummy rumbled angrily and his bottom hurt from holding it in, but there was no way he could go right now. He approached the self-checkout and whined anxiously when he saw the line. It wasn't that long, but his stomach thought otherwise. People could hear it groan audibly, and he tried his best not to make eye contact with any of them. By the time it was his turn, he could feel the whole store staring at him, the anxiety making his situation worse. He tried to focus on scanning; he only had two items. He just had to scan them, pay, and then he could run to the bathroom and use his diaper in peace—

PHBLARTCH

It was so loud it caught Aaron off guard, and he was pushing out another load before he knew what was happening. He let out an involuntary grunt of pain and effort as muck poured from his bottom and joined his previous mess. His knees shook as he pooped, and he gripped the register to balance himself. His body took that as a signal to keep going, and his bottom let out another wave of diarrhea. Of course, it was too much for his diaper to handle, and he felt the explosion before he heard it. Liquid brown spilled out of the leg holes  of his diaper and ran down his legs, staining his light-colored pants. When he pooped again, everyone saw it bubble out of his diaper and travel down the sullied parts of the fabric. Aaron tried not to think of all the eyes on him as he painfully soiled his diaper for the second time that day. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, reminding him that he had a class in a bit.

He definitely wasn't going to make it.

They Grow Up So Quickly

“Which one is yours?” 

Lina glanced up as the thirty-something man settled onto the bench beside her. He was tall, almost lanky, with the vibe of a college professor or perhaps a mildly hip accountant: green sweater vest with an anti-Pebble Mine pin on the left breast, neatly trimmed beard with a few flecks of gray, chestnut hair just this side of untamed. He rested a leather messenger bag on the bench between them. English lit essays waiting to be graded, Lina guessed. Or maybe sheet music?

She pointed. “That’s my boy over there. Teddy.” 

“In the green jumper?” 

Lina shook her head. “No. Teddy’s the one, uh…pushing the dump truck in the sandbox.” 

Teddy was pushing more than just a toy dump truck. His bottom hovered an inch above the mounded sand. One hand rested on the yellow and black truck while the other was braced on the ground. He stared into space, lips pursed, his face red as an heirloom tomato. 

“Ah,” the man said. “The squat. I know that position well.” 

Lina sighed. “Indeed.” 

“Let me guess: you changed his diaper, what, an hour ago?” 

“I wish. Twenty minutes, tops. Right before we left home. And it was a messy one.” She shook her head. “How many times can one boy fill his pants in a day?”

The man smiled and extended a hand. His grip was firm but gentle. “Matt.” 

“Lina.”

“Nice to meet you, Lina.” He pointed. “That’s my girl over there. Ellie. Cute as a button, but she might give your little guy a run for his money in the stinky diaper department. I swear we can’t get through a week without a total blowout. On Tuesday, it was in the checkout line at Kroger.” 

Lina winced. “Yikes.”

“That’s what the cashier said.” Matt shrugged. “Comes with the territory, right?” 

“I guess it does. Seems like just yesterday I put Teddy back in diapers full-time. Those first few months were rough. He’d rip them off whenever I wasn’t home and use the toilet. Then he’d lie about it. As if I couldn’t see the fluff and beads all over the bathroom floor.”

“Not anymore, huh?”

She chuckled. “These days, I’m not even sure he knows he’s peed until I grab him for a change.” 

“Ellie was enamored with the idea of being my little forever-princess. She liked the cute stuff, at least. The clothes and the dolls. Pacifiers and storytime. And she loved not having to go to work anymore. The diapers were another story. But she’s adjusted.” 

Ellie rode one of the swings, pumping her legs slightly out of sync, blonde pigtails flipping back and forth. She kicked her white velcro sneakers out when she was partway through each arc, and then pulled them back in a half-second too late. 

“She’s adorable.” 

“She’s a handful, but I love her to bits.” 

They sat silently, watching their partners play in the warm afternoon sun. 

Ellie slid off the swing and walked over to the sandbox. She observed Teddy for a moment, then plopped down in the sand next to him and picked up a plastic shovel. She scooped a shovelful of sand and emptied it into the back of Teddy’s dump truck. He smiled at her. She smiled back. 

“Looks like Ellie might have made friends with your little guy,” Matt said. 

“Wouldn’t that be nice. I’ve been looking for a playmate for Teddy. We’ve been to a couple of get-togethers at the Bigs-N-Littles group on Market and Stuyvesant.”

Matt nodded. “We went once, too. Not really our vibe.” 

“Ours either. We met a boy and his mommy. They seemed nice. Until the biting.”

“The biting?” 

“No clue how it got started. Teddy still won’t talk about it. They were playing in the other room, then the next thing I knew, Teddy was screaming, blood running down his arm. I couldn’t believe it. They’re not actual toddlers, you know? And the worst part was, his mommy laughed it off, like it was no big deal.” 

“Baby boys will be baby boys?” Matt asked. 

“Pretty much. Teddy had the brat’s teeth marks on his wrist for two weeks.” 

“Some people,” Matt said, shaking his head.  

“You’d think with lifestyles like ours, there’d be some common values, right? Things all of us mommies and daddies just agree on without even having to talk about it.” 

“Like no biting.”

“Like no biting. Seems like a low bar when you say it out loud, doesn’t it? The vanilla world doesn’t get us. But sometimes, I don’t think I understand a lot of our people either.”

“I know what you mean.”  

They sat in silence, watching the two big babies play in the sand. 

Ellie wrinkled her nose and said something to Teddy that Lina couldn’t hear, but didn’t need to in order to guess the meaning. A moment later, she stood up and stomped over to the park bench. “He’s stinky!” 

Matt chuckled. “You sure that’s not you, darlin’?” He reached up and gave the sandy seat of her pink overalls a squeeze. 

She twisted away from him and glanced at Lina. “I use da potty.” 

“Sweetheart,” Matt said, “we’ve talked about this. Diapers are your potty. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Certainly not in front of Teddy’s mommy.” 

Teddy ambled over slowly. He stood a few feet back from the bench, eyeing the group suspiciously. Even the brisk, early-fall breeze and the scent of grilled onions and peppers drifting over from the hot dog stand across the square couldn’t cover the earthy stink of his freshly-loaded diaper. 

“Teddy, please come here,” Lina said, beckoning him closer with her finger.

He shook his head, his long, brown hair flopping around. “I’m playin.’”

“Teddy. Don’t make me ask you again.” 

He walked over with that awkward, bow-legged stance that Lina teasingly referred to as his ‘stinkypants shuffle.’ He scowled at her the whole way, as if his full diaper and subsequent embarrassment were her fault. At this distance, with his butt at eye level, the smell was overpowering. She glanced at Matt, wondering if she should apologize for the stench, then decided he must be used to these kinds of odors. 

“Smells like someone has stinky britches,” she said to Teddy. “Is that you, Sweet Pea?” 

“Just toots,” Teddy said with resolve.  

“It’s him, it’s him!” Ellie shouted, pointing. “He pooped his pants!” 

Teddy shot her a withering glare. 

Lina reached up and patted the sizeable lump in the back of his denim shorts. “Looks like someone left Mommy a big ol’ present in his diapie. Why don’t we go take care of that before you start leaking in your pants. Say goodbye to your little friend.” 

Teddy’s scowl deepened. “I don’t wanna. I’m playin’.”

Lina pulled his diaper bag onto the bench. Public bathroom changes were never fun, but at least Lil’ Park had a family restroom.  

“We should probably get going soon, too,” Matt said to Ellie.

“No! I wanna keep playin’ wif Teddy,” Ellie said. “We’re making a princess castle.” 

Matt and Lina exchanged a look. Matt shrugged. 

“You don’t care that Teddy is poopy?” Lina asked Ellie.

“I’m not poopy!” Teddy snapped. “I said it’s just toots.” 

“It’s okay, Teddy.” Ellie smiled at him reassuringly. “Sometimes I make stinky britches too.” 

Teddy’s cheeks blossomed into a vibrant shade of red, but he smiled hesitantly. 

“I suppose you can play for a few more minutes if it’s okay with Ellie’s daddy,” Lina said. “Matt?” 

Matt glanced at his watch. “Ballet doesn’t start until 6:00, so we can hang out a little longer if you two are having fun.” 

Ellie nodded her head vigorously.

“Alright,” Lina said. “Run along, then. Oh, and Teddy?” 

He stopped and turned around. 

“No backtalk when I have to change those smelly buns of yours, alright?”

“Okay!” he shouted over his shoulder as the two ran off toward the sandbox.

“Thanks for being flexible,” Lina said to Matt. “It’s nice to see him making friends. Especially ones that don’t care when he smells like that.” 

Matt smiled. It was a nice smile, Lina decided. Warm. Genuine. “Ellie doesn’t usually just click with people like this, either. Not everyone likes playing in the sandbox as much as she does.”

“Which is crazy, because sand castles are frickin’ awesome. Though mine were always for dragons and their heaps of treasure. No knights or princesses allowed.” 

“Want to build one now?” Matt asked. 

“A sand castle? Seriously?”

“Yeah, why not?” Matt’s sea-green eyes lingered on hers. “I bet it’s like riding a bike.” 

“You might be able to talk me into it. But only if I get the shovel. You can have the dump truck, I suppose.” 

“Deal,” Matt said. “But it’ll be a knight’s castle, no princesses and definitely no dragons.”

“Hhhhhmm. Maybe one big castle with two separate wings? One for the elegant, shimmering dragons and another for the boring old knights and their rusty armor.”

Matt rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “A compromise, eh?”

Lina shrugged. “Stranger things have happened than knights and dragons getting along.” 

An angry shout erupted from the sandbox, drawing her attention. Teddy stuck out his lip and kicked the dump truck away with his foot. Ellie looked at him in surprise, then down at the castle, which had collapsed into a pile of sand and a solitary, leaning turret. 

Lina sighed. “Here we go. Tantrum incoming.” 

Ellie stood up and yanked on Teddy’s arm. He looked as if he was going to resist, then shrugged and stood up, arms crossed in a childish pout. Ellie whispered something in his ear and then charged headlong towards the swing set. She dropped onto her belly on a swing, soaring with her hands extended forward like Superman. Teddy’s eyes grew wide, and a grin spread across his face. He ran after her and flopped down onto the swing next to hers. His legs flew too high and he nearly flopped forward off the swing, faceplanting in the sand. Then he corrected his balance and stretched out flat as she had, bellowing with laughter. 

“Or maybe not,” Lina said. “Huh.” 

Typically, this sort of thing would send Teddy into a spiral of pouting and fussing. Sometimes even name-calling. Once, during an epic fit at her mother’s house over Moose Tracks ice cream, Lina had nearly called the whole thing off. Told him they should return to how things were before. When he’d wipe his own ass and bring home a paycheck every two weeks. When a bad day meant an evening at Tio’s with Jeff and Luke. She’d loathed those evenings at the time. He’d stumble home reeking of stale sweat and tequila, expecting sex because it ‘helped him clear his head.’ She’d tolerate a few minutes of awkward groping and half-hearted thrusting followed by a couple of tepid spurts. Only the ear-splitting snoring that followed truly evoked a response from her body. But then that would be that. She’d put on her headphones, pour a steaming mug of yerba mate and forget all about Ted and his pissy attitude. The next day, all would be forgotten. 

That’s not how things were with Teddy. When Teddy was angry, or sad, or his tummy hurt, it was her problem until it was resolved. And on that particular day at her mother’s, it meant he was hucking Hot Wheels at the living room wall, screaming for more ice cream, while she gulped a glass of wine in the kitchen and tried to collect her thoughts. 

Then, in the middle of his epic ice cream shit-fit, he’d kicked the couch leg. At least, that’s what she pieced together later. He kicked it hard enough she heard the crack from the kitchen. He started crying. Wailing, really. A gasping, red-in-the-face howl that set off car alarms and made dogs bark three blocks away. When she rushed into the room, he’d looked up at her, eyes full of tears. All anger vanished. He needed her. Needed her comfort. Her support. Her love. All her doubts and second-guessing melted away. She wrapped him in her arms, and all was forgotten. Or nearly forgotten: she’d still spanked his bottom bright red when they returned home, but he’d known he deserved it and kept his complaints to a couple of yelps during the paddling and a lingering sniffle afterward. 

“I’m not sure what Ellie just did, but it seems like it worked,” Lina said. “Maybe she could teach me a thing or two about managing my boy’s moods.”

“You know, her ballet lessons have been a huge help,” Matt said. “It’s a mommy-and-me class with a bunch of other littles. Miss Kara stresses empathy and understanding. Turns out a lot of littles give up on manners along with their potty training. I’ve seen a big change in her behavior since we started going.” 

“Sounds fantastic.” Lina stared straight ahead and tried to keep her voice casual. “Does Ellie’s mommy enjoy the class too?” 

“No mommy,” Matt replied, his tone even. “It’s just me and the punkin’ these days.” 

Lina felt a surge of excitement at that answer, followed by an equally strong pang of guilt. Better than anyone, she knew how lonely this life could be. 

“Well. I’m sure you look stunning in a floofy tutu,” she said. 

“I do, in fact.” 

Lina turned toward him. “No way.” 

He was either telling the truth, or he had a killer poker face. Lina found herself hoping it was the former. The image of this handsome, confident man dancing around in a pink, glittery tutu made her smile. 

“What? You don’t think I can pull it off?” he asked.  

“Oh, I’m sure you could, I just don’t think you do. I might need to ask Ellie to confirm.”

“Go for it.” 

“I will,” she said. “You’re gonna be so embarrassed when she tells me what a big, fat liar her daddy is.” 

“Or…” Matt said.

“Or?”

“You don’t have to take my word for it. See for yourself.” 

“Nice try, but last I checked, those are Dockers you’re wearing, and I don’t think you’ve got a tutu hidden underneath them either.” 

He shook his head. “No hidden tutu. Join us at ballet tonight. Miss Kara takes walk-ins. First class is always free.”

Did he just ask her out? On a date? Couldn’t be. They’d just met. And most of their conversation had centered around dirty diapers and sand castles. “Thanks for the invite, but we need to get home and make dinner. Teddy skipped his nap today, so it’ll be an early bedtime.” 

“Ah,” Matt said. 

Was that disappointment in his voice? He didn’t employ any of the polite little lies you tell someone to let them off the hook easily. He just let the awkwardness hang in the air. 

Lina turned her attention back to Ellie and Teddy. Ellie had abandoned her Superman routine and was straddling one of the swings, rocking back and forth and shouting ‘giddyup!’ at the top of her lungs. One hand clutched the chain, the other whipped through the air. Teddy watched for a second, then started to climb onto the swing with her. 

“Wait!” Lina shouted. 

Too late. Teddy awkwardly lowered himself onto the swing with his new buddy, no doubt spreading and squishing the mess in his pants into something truly unholy. 

“And there’s your blowout for the week,” Matt said. 

Lina sighed. “No kidding. Looks like we’ll need to build in tubby time, too.” 

If Ellie minded the smell, or the extremely cramped quarters, it didn’t show. She threw her head back and laughed as they started to swing back and forth together. Teddy grinned and shouted ‘giddyup!’ whenever she did. 

“Sometimes I’m envious,” Matt said. “The way she can just be in the moment. Not a care in the world. Not worrying about emails or bills or whether she looks silly.” 

“I know what you mean,” Lina said. “Then again, I’m not sure I could give up espresso. Or true crime podcasts. Or Chilean Merlots.” 

“Or the toilet, for that matter,” Matt added with a chuckle. 

“There’s that,” Lina said, laughing along with him. 

Still, the joy on Teddy’s face made her wonder. He looked content. More than content, really—joyful. Rapturous, even. Almost like he was having a…

Lina leaned forward for a closer look. “Uh, Matt.” 

“What’s the matter?” Matt asked. He looked where Lina was pointing. “Oh. Huh.”  

The swing hung in place, Ellie and Teddy’s equestrian escapades forgotten. The two stared into each other’s eyes, all their attention on grinding their two diaper bulges against one another. 

“I am so sorry,” Lina said. “I let Teddy out of his chastity cage today so he could air out a bit. Honestly, it’s been so long since he’s been unlocked—or even asked about being unlocked—I thought maybe he’d just…I dunno, forgotten about all of that stuff?” 

“It’s alright. I’m sure Ellie instigated it. I’ve walked in on her having lots of vigorous one-on-one time with her dolphin stuffy lately.” 

Lina started to stand up. “We should break this up before—” 

“Before what?” Matt asked.

She looked away. “Before they, you know…” 

Matt shrugged. “Looks like they are both having a good time, doesn’t it?” 

Lina considered that for a moment. She settled back onto the bench. “I suppose so. After so many bubble baths and diaper changes, I guess I kind of forget about the grownup inside him, you know? I don’t see that side much anymore. I miss it sometimes, I think.” 

“I know what you mean.”  

The two had picked up the pace of their diaper humping. 

“I don’t imagine we’ll have to wait too long,” Lina said. “Teddy was always more of a sprinter than a marathon kinda guy.” 

Matt laughed. 

Lina giggled. “Sorry. You probably didn’t need to hear that.” 

“It’s okay. But looking at Ellie’s face, I’m going to have to disagree. I bet she’ll beat him there by a mile.” 

“No frickin’ way.” 

Matt raised an eyebrow. 

Lina felt that familiar flush of embarrassment. Were they actually betting on whether her boy would spurt in his diaper first? She decided to ignore that anxious, uptight voice in her head. If Teddy could live his life in the moment, following his instincts, why couldn’t she? At least once in a while. “Okay, you’re on. If I’m right, you have to change a positively toxic diaper.” 

“You think he’ll let me change him?”

“You think I’ll give the little stinker a choice?”

“Fair point.” 

“And if Ellie beats my boy there…” Lina struggled to think of a fair wager. 

“You’ll buy me a cup of coffee after ballet.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“If my girl gets there first, you two join us for ballet class, and then we get coffee afterward.”

Lina’s heart skipped a beat. “We have to get home. Teddy needs his dinner and his tub.” 

“Then come to my place instead.” 

“Your place?”

“I have all of the essentials: chicken nuggets, bubble bath, and an unopened bag of Ethiopian beans that’ll knock your socks off.”

Lina tried not to let the excitement show on her face. “I don’t know. It’ll be late. Besides, I thought I was supposed to pay for the coffee?” 

“The kiddos can play after their bath. Ellie has blocks and trains and a dollhouse and all kinds of fun stuff. We can sip some coffee on the balcony. Or Merlot, if that’s how the spirit moves.” 

Ellie looked at the two on the swing, lost in their own, sensual little world. They both looked happy. Present in the moment. Connected. Maybe she could have something like that too. Even if just for an evening. 

She turned back toward Matt. “You know, I think I’d like that.”

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