Part Two

Easter is a time for celebration. For young 20-something Hester that meant going out with her friends for a wild night of reckless carefree partying since no one would have work or college to get up for in the morning.

The play bunny outfit had seemed like a brullent idea. Bunny ears at Easter time, it was sure to get a laugh, although the outfit was harder to finalise than she had anticipated. It came down to a question of commitment. At first she had been willing to wear bunny wears and dress. Then she swaped out for a shorter more hugging dress but it still wasn’t the right ‘look’. She just looked like a girl wearing bunny ears. What was it that made the playboy girls so eye catching? They were lingerie models. It was the most daring and exposing thing she had ever done in public but she steeling herself with the knowledge it was a ‘costume’, after all Wondermen essentially thought crime in a leotard. After getting her first 'up and down’ look from a grinning taxi man arrived to deliver her to the venue, she felt empowered by her bold choice and text her friends to let them know they’d soon get to see the outfit she’d been working on secretively.

Needless to say the next day was effectively written off with a horrendous hang over. She tried to sleep through most of it but while she lay in bed she frequently checked her social media feed which was ablaze with pictures and comments from the night.

The next day she had drive round to her Mom’s, it was a family tradition to get together and have a roast.

“Hi Mom. Hey am I early? We’re is uncle Stevie and his kids?“ she asked. Uncle Stevie lived just down the road and Mom was always babysitting his kids so it was surpprising they weren’t already here painting eggs.

Hester’s mother looked up from the breakfast counter with a troubled expression.

“No one is coming this year. I cancelled. Its just gonna be us this year.”

“Oh. That’s too bad. How come? ” Hester anxiously rubbed her arm. She could sense a subtle hostility, her mother was annoyed at something.

“Hester we need to have a talk. Let’s go sit in the living room. I’ll make some tea.”

Hester’s mind was reeling as she sat at one end of the sofa. She could hear the kettle froth and the tinkle of her mother stirring tea cups. She dreading hearing some bad family news but she thought it was stranger that her Mom hadn’t called her straight away.

It wasn’t too long before her mother returned with a tray and sat down beside her.

“Is everything okay Mom?“

"Not really hun.” her mother paused, exhaled and drowned. “Hester were you at a party on Friday night?“

"Yeah, all my friends went. Why?“

Her mother had taken her phone out and was peering down the end of her nose through her glasses as she scrolled and found what she was looking for. She passed the phone to Hester. It was the online version of the local paper. There was photo of Hester from the party. She hadn’t been named but she knew local people would recognise her. Hester felt her a lump rise in her throat as she read the defamatory comments in the article about how today’s youth were 'bad eggs’. The pun was bad but the rest of the visceral language effectively labeled her as a slut. It was really upsetting, all she had wanted was to have some fun, she hadn’t even gone home with a guy that night.

"Mom, I can explain.”

“No. Just drink your tea sweetie. I want to say something first.”

Hester’s mother rubbed her back but the lecture she rattled off was hard to stomach and Hester found herself in tears.

“Mum I’m sorry I disappointed you but its not like that…” she sobbed but her mother wouldn’t listen, she continued to berate her.

“… I love you and I know you’re a good girl at heart. Which is why i’ve decided you need a second chance. We both need a second chance. I’m going to be a good mother a re-raise you from the start.”

“Mom what does that mean?“ Hester asked but she noticed her words were slurred and she felt sluggish. "Mom, I don’t feel good.”

“Shhh sweetie. Just close your eyes. Why don’t you take a nap?“

By the time heavy eyelids opened again her mother had already carried her up to the spare room, now an adult sized nursery.

Hester didn’t need to repeat her earlier question about what her mother had meant. It was now obvious. As she flex her exhausted legs she heard a crinkle from the thick disposable diaper she’d been put in. She tried to protest but the blub of a huge pacifier sealed the words in her mouth. She couldn’t seem to think straight and simply spit it out.

Her mother smiled pitifully at the confused expression on her daughters face.

"I know this is confusing for you. How about we get you out of these adult clothes and into some of your cute new baby clothes. That’ll help you adjust to your new age sweetheart.”

A year of drugged regression passed.

To the outside world it seemed like Hester had had some kind of mental break down. There had even been a follow up in the local paper after she spotted at the supermarket being wheeled on a pushchair by her mother. Her close family knew the truth of course and so sometimes she received small kindness in acknowledgement that she was still an adult. Uncle Stevie for example would usher his kids and himself out of the room if Hester’s Mother decided to change her on the floor rather than up in the nursery. Her aunties however would usually just keep gossiping and talking over her even as she lay naked in front of them, limply kicking her legs.

Hester’s adult mind came in and out of what she thought of the 'fog’ the chemical concoction which made it hard to think straight and rendered her effectively incontinent.

Around Easter time, Uncle Stevie had come around with a present for her, a larges stuffed bunny to mark the season since she didn’t have the dexterity to sit patiently and paint eggs with her 'older’ cousins.

The easter period had stirred something of a rebellion in baby Hester. Over the course of the year she had gradually seemed to become more accepting and happy in her role as an adult baby, even when her adult thoughts surfaced, she deluded herself that she should continue to be a good girl and act like a baby for her Mommy. However with Easter came a clearer memory of what her Mother had done to her and a stronger sense of what she had lost.

Her mother had noticed her daughter sulked more, laughed less and refused her babas. She devised a solution.

On Easter Sunday Hester woke feeling particularly clear headed. She recalled that for whatever reason her mother had forgotten to feed her with her usual nightime bottle.

Her mother appeared shortly, lowering the crib bars and popping a couple of the snaps at the crotch of her onsie to feel the wetness of her soaked night time diaper.

“You look bright eyed today Baby…” she got to work setting out changing supplies. “Can you understand what Mommy is saying?”

Hester nodded behind the pacifier she rhythmically sucked on, whilst her mother wiped clean her mound and bare bottom with a cool wet wipe.

“Good… Do you remember what we talked about at Easter last year?“

Resentment burned behind Hester’s brown eyes. She remembered, that like now, it had been a onsided conversation. She nodded cautiously.

"Good.” her mother looked wistful maybe even reproachful but busied herself folding Hester’s clean nappy over her midrift and smoothing the strong adhesive tabs against her abdomin.

“You’ve been a good little girl. Mommy’s thinking maybe you are ready to be a good big girl again?”

Hester nodded vigeriously and moaned wordlessly behind her pacifier. Her mother smiled.

“First a little game to check that your not too far gone as my little baby girl to come back to being an adult again.”

Hester gulped.

The game was simple. All she had to do was find all the Easter eggs her mother had hidden in the room. Her mother even helped her out by reaching down any eggs from places Hester pointed at buy couldn’t reach because she wasn’t able to stand for very long without assistance.

“Hewy!“ Hester lisped as her mother cheekily ate one of her eggs in front of her.

"Don’t worry baby. It still counts as one you found. I think that must be all of them now. Why don’t you count them up for me?“

Hester’s mother changed the adult babys top, which had been drooled down the front, and left her to count eggs while she took the laundry basket down to the washing machine.

Hester frowned in concentration

'One. Two. Um?’

Her mind was clearer than it had been year but she was struggling to recount her numbers. Then she had a brillent idea. If she ate some of the eggs, there would be less to count.

When Hester’s mother returned after making a descreet trip to the bathroom. She found Hester has eaten only three of the laxative chocolate eggs but she seem could smeel the lumpy mess the adult baby had excreted into her diaper. The poor girl was in tears.

"Aww. I’m sorry little one, it looks like I was wrong about you being ready to be an adult again. Oh well, we can try again next year.”

Easter is a time of celebration. For two-year-olds like Hester that means being dressed in an adorable Easter dress and being fussed over by all the realitives at the Sunday roast.

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I hope you all enjoyed my caption and have a great Easter break!

Please reblog.

I’ll try to do more of these long muti-picture captions but they are likely to appear around holidays or on patreon because they much longer than usual to plan, gather images and to write.

Trick or treat

I was sitting on the floor of the nursery playing with my cars when mommy walked it smiling.

“Oh baby boy aunty rea rea and Brooke are with Ren. Time to get your costume on so we can all go trick or treating” she said.

It had been almost 4 years now since mommy and daddy turned me back into a diaper filling toddler so going out in public was nothing to me. As I sat there I watched mommy met a orange onesie out of the closest an some yellow costume I still couldn’t make out.

Mommy helped me stand up and patted the changing table. I didn’t realize but in the last 2 hours of playing I had almost soaked through my cloth diaper. With hundreds of changes precision mommy quickly had me out of the soaked confines and into a clean dry disposable. She sat me up and pulled the onesie over my head and then pushed me down to snap it at the crotch. Then she pulled my costume out. It was a hooded t shirt that looked like Pikachu. It stopped about mid diaper and did nothing to hide it.

Mommy helped me off the changing table and onto the floor. She took my hand and led me down the stairs to the living room. When we got to the bottom of the stairs aunty Rea Rea and Brooke were standing and talking. They both turned to look at me cooing and awwing at me as I blushed. Baby Ren was in the stroller dressed as a lion chewing on her toys. Mommy said all set as we made our way past the women to the front door. As we neared the door mommy stopped and keeled down to help me put on my shoes. Just as mommy was standing up I felt a large hand grab my diapered butt and pat it. I quickly darted my head around to see daddy standing behind me.

“Look at my cute little man, I hope this diaper can catch them all for you” He said.

I blushed again and bowed my head looking the other way. He kissed mommy as she opened the front door.

“Let’s go” Mommy said as she motioned for me to go out the door. Making sure to pat my diapered butt again as I passed.

As I walked onto the front walk I noticed all the parents and kids stare. Some making comments and others just pointing and laughing. I knew nothing I wore did anything to hide the fact I was diapered. Let alone the fact that I was 5’ 11” and 180 pounds of what was a man. The ladies take no notice as mommy gives me a trick or treat pail. Mommy takes my hand and starts walking. Before we even hit the end of the ten foot walkway I already feel my diaper getting warm. I slowly fall into a world of ecstasy as the warmth absorbs into the padding and mush of the wet padding puts pressure against my soft little clitte nestled in its white puff confines.

I’m suddenly broken from my world when I hear mommy say “go up there” as I see her point up the drive. I looked to see our neighbours sitting handing out candy to swarms of kids coming up. I make my way up the drive to them. As I reach them Miss Myers looks up with a big smile on her face.

“Well it looks like we have a wild Pikachu on our hands here. He might need some candy to keep him under control” she said. And with that she dropped a piece of candy in my basket. After she dropped it in she slid her hand onto my crouch and gave a little squeeze. “Little damp but your last” she chuckled. Miss Myers has watched me more than a few times and changed a lot of my diapers in the last 4 years. I blushed a little as I heard mommy call my name. I turned around and skipped back to mommy.

The rest of the houses on the next couple blocks went close to the same. Without the diaper check of course. I knew most of the people as mommy and daddy made sure that the people around us knew who I was and that I was in diapers. 99% of them thought I was mommy’s step brother who had a mental condition and she took care of me. Only miss Myers and a couple others knew the truth about my diapers.

We had hit 4 blocks and my candy basket was full along with my diaper. I had wet quite a bit more since we had left the house and it was puffing out. My diaper was bulging at its confines and if that didn’t make it obvious my cowboy waddle would definitely let anyone know my diapered status.

It was getting dark and most kids were going home and few were left. I was leading the pack as the women liked to watch me waddle in my diapers. We came up to one last house. I stopped at the front walk and looked down at my basket and then back at mommy. She motioned for me to go up if I wanted and so I did. I I waddled up the walkway to where the people were sitting. As I said trick or treat in my most childish voice the lady gave me a piece of candy and looked at me funny. I said “tank you” and turned to leave. Just as I stepped away the scarecrow in the chair next to her came alive and yelled jumping up. I jumped as I realized it was a person. But the jump did more than just scare me. I felt the front of the diaper grow warm and faster than normal and then just as suddenly I felt mushy mud enter the seat of my diaper. Instinctively I bent my knees and grunted. I filled my pants in only seconds as I felt the poopie nestle in the seat of my diaper and the front grow a little colder. I turned back to see the people just staring at me. Finally the lady talks.

“Did you just shit yourself!” she said as she reached out and grabbed the seat of my diaper. She squeezes the poopie parcel in my diaper and then reaches and turns me around and squeezes the front of my diaper. She looks up at me wide eyed and mouth open.

“OH MY GOD! YOUR WEARING A DIAPER! AND IT'S COMPLETELY SOAKED LIKE A BABY! I thought you were just a big kid and was walking weird. I didn’t even see your diaper, you little baby” She says.

Tears start to flow from my eyes as the scarecrow starts laughing, falling back in his chair. Mommy and the women are at the end of the walkway which is longer than most. Mommy called out my name and asked if her baby boy is ok. The lady stands up and takes my hand as tears flow from my face. The lady walks me to the end of the walk to mommy and aunties.

“I’m so sorry but my name is Marissa and me and my husband were scaring bigger kids that came up. Which we thought your, Baby boy? Was one of them. We might have accidentally made him accidentally dirty his diapers. We are sorry I didn’t realize he had such a weak bladder and was trying to hold it.” Marissa told them.

They all stood there in the silence with my muffled whimpers breaking it as I cried. This went on for 30 or so seconds before mommy and aunties busted out laughing. Mommy pulled a pacifier out of her pocket and pushed in my mouth to stop my whimpers. At the same time a wet fart escaped my diaper and I bent my knees again and pushed more poopie into the waiting seat of my diaper. Marissa stared down at me as I was still holding her hand and squeezed it as I filled my pants.

“Darling he has no control over any of that. He just goes when he goes. You two helped the process along this time.” Mommy said between laughs.

Mommy reached out and took my hand from Marissa’s and led me towards the house. When we reached home mommy led me straight to the changing table. Just like before she quickly had me changed out of the dirty diaper and into a fresh clean cloth one. She pulled my plastic pants up and a nice fleece onesie over me before helping me into the crib and locking the side closed. She leans down and kisses me goodnight before walking out of the room and flipping the lights off.

Every sales job I’ve worked has that one item. The white whale. The biggest ticket you can sell. The sale you brag about when you’re chatting with other industry people.

When I sold mattresses it was a split king adjustable base. That’s two twin extra long mattresses next to each other to make a king, but each side can move independently. They’re insanely expensive and honestly kind’ve impractical but it was the biggest ticket thing to sell.

When I sold sex toys though our white whale was the 20lb ass. It was a female pelvis, a cut out from the waist to the tops of the thighs. It was hyper realistic material and cost about $500. I definitely had bigger tickets but not in one item typically.

In my time at the sex shop, I sold three. Each time was completely different in terms of how the guy acted about buying it. The first man was a little embarrassed and shy about it. I was professional and supportive as I rang it up. Once I handed him the receipt he looked at the box. Then he looked at me.

If you’ve ever wondered how big a box has to be to fit a 20lb ass let me just tell you: it’s pretty damn big. It’s an uncomfortably large armful of box and every side has a picture of the sex toy inside on it. It’s not subtle.

“Could I get a bag….?”

There was no bag that existed that could possibly contain all that ass. “Hang on,” I told him.

I got scissors and tape and covered the box in cut up black bags. Looking relieved he picked up his purchase and left.

The next man to buy one carried it proudly to the counter; self assured and not embarrassed in the least. When I said I didn’t have a bag, but I could wrap it for him he gave a hearty shrug and hefted it into his arms, marching out the door with the butt on full display.

The last man to get one was just kind’ve an odd guy. Not creepy, but eccentric. We got along great, and as I rang him up I said, “Well one guy wanted his taped over, and one guy carried it out. What would you prefer?”

“There’s no bags?”

“No store bags. I think our jumbo trash bags in the back might fit it….?” It seemed rude to suggest putting a $500 item into a trash bag, but he wasn’t bothered.

He considered this then said, “Bring me the trash bag.”

When I delivered it to him he still managed to surprise me. Instead of shoving the huge box into it he opened the box. He took out his new $500 sex toy, and all the little things it came with, tipping them unceremoniously into the trash bag.

“There! Now I don’t have to deal with the box later!”

I was slightly stunned but agreed that I could easily deal with the trash. Then in a move I still think about with delight he flung the trash bag over his shoulder like a Santa with a sack full of ass and sauntered out the door.

If this or my other escapades made you laugh you could pop a tip into my Ko-fi! For more like this check my tag "ffs foibles".

Mummy's Girl - Part 1

Kimmy might be a twenty-two year-old-woman, but her potty skills have never been up to the level of her peers. Living firmly under the thumb of her controlling, condescending mother, she desperately wants to live an ordinary life of a girl her age, to make friends and go on dates and, above all, to say goodbye to dirty diapers for good. Unfortunately, her Mama has other ideas...

***

Kimmy hurried up to the front door as quickly and quietly as she could, praying her mother was preoccupied with something and wouldn’t notice her sneaking into the house so late – it was almost eight thirty in the evening, which meant it was past her bedtime. She tottered a little unsteadily up the drive, thanks in part to the half a dozen or so shots of vodka she’d had with her college friends at the bar after lectures. But there was another thing making her walk a little strangely; a thick pair of oversized Huggies pull-ups were pushing her thighs apart, and one of her hands was pressed urgently against her crotch as she fought desperately not to wet herself.

If it wasn’t for her babyish training pants and the childish clothes she was dressed in (a pale pink frock that could just barely pass for something a grown woman might wear), Kimmy would have looked the part of the archetypal blonde bombshell. As it was, her long golden hair looked more cute than sexy in braided pigtails, and her generous chest was hidden, crammed inside her tight blouse. Her bright blue eyes, plump lips, and perfect complexion were model-like, but at present her features were scrunched up with the effort of holding her aching bladder.

Nevertheless, there was no doubt that Kimmy was a beautiful, fully-grown woman. Although the toddler’s pull-ups she wore instead of adult underwear didn’t make her feel that way, she was actually two or three years older than most of her peers at university. It was her mother’s doing, of course. Mrs Jones had decided on three separate occasions that her daughter ‘simply wasn’t mature enough’ to move on to the next school year, and had insisted she be held back – once in kindergarten, then twice over the course of primary school, making her much older than her classmates. But she’d been the only one still toddling off to the nurse’s office at breaktime for diaper changes. At least she’d kicked her pants-pooping habit by the time she’d moved on to secondary school, even if she did still have to contend with wet training pants on a regular basis.

Now, though, the age difference wasn’t nearly as important as it had been, and even her pee-pee issues had almost completely dried up. At long last, Kimmy was free in a way she’d never been before, free from the humiliation of being a grown woman who still went to the bathroom in her own pants. She only wished she could be free from her mother’s constant coddling as well. She’d been worried her mum wouldn’t allow her to go to college at all, but with enough badgering, she’d eventually relented – on the condition that Kimmy choose a local university, and live at home rather than at a dorm. Unfortunately, that meant dealing with the same rules she’d had since the age of six.

“What time do you call this, Kimmy?!” her mother thundered the moment Kimmy entered the house. “It’s past your bedtime, little girl! Where have you been?!”

Kimmy let out a whimper and felt the familiar sensation of her bladder letting go in her pants. Warm pee flooded into her pull-ups at once, accompanied by a faint hissing sound. It had been a feeble hope, but there was a small chance she could have slipped in without her mother noticing if she’d been taking a bath or something. But she ought to have known better; her mum had never once failed to catch her breaking a rule in all her life.

Apart from being a little plumper, Mrs Jones looked exactly like an aged-up version of her daughter; the same golden blonde hair, only tied up in a tight knot behind her head rather than arranged in childish pigtails, the same large breasts, though in her case her assets were proudly on display in a tastefully tempting, low-cut top, and the same crystal blue eyes and full lips, perhaps a little less pouty than her daughter’s, but painted a deep, sensuous red. The most dramatic difference between them were their expressions, however. While Kimmy looked shy and sweet, her mother gave off an impression of severity and self-confidence.

“I was just out with my friends, Mama…” Kimmy said meekly, pulling a face at the icky feeling of the heavy, pee-soaked pull-ups squishing against her skin.

Her mother sniffed the air suspiciously and her eyes flashed. “Have you been drinking, young lady?!”

“I’m twenty-two, Mama!” Kimmy whined petulantly, looking down at her feet. “I’m allowed to drink!”

“As long as you’re under my roof, that decision is up to me, Kimmy! You know your bladder can’t cope when you…” She paused, sniffing the air again. “Oh, Kimmy…” she said in a disappointed, threatening tone. “You didn’t…”

Kimmy’s bottom lip trembled and tears welled up in her eyes as her mother reached out and lifted up the hem of her frock, exposing the faded wetness indicators on the front of her sagging pull-ups.

“Soaked!” her mother announced, as she inspected the discoloured training pants between her daughter’s legs. “This is exactly why you shouldn’t be drinking, Kimmy! I told you this would happen! Mama is very cross with you, little lady! I’ve been trying my hardest to finally get you potty trained, and you insist on going out of your way to make it as difficult as possible! Maybe you’re not mature enough for college after all…”

“No!” Kimmy squealed, eyes widening in fear. “Please, Mama! It was just an accident!”

“Two-year-olds have accidents, Kimmy, not twenty-two-year-olds. Perhaps daycare will suit you better than university…”

“I’ll be good!” Kimmy said desperately. Tears were spilling down her cheeks. “Please, Mama! Don’t make me drop out! I can be a big girl, I promise! I even have a date tomorrow with a guy from my class!”

Her mother said nothing for a few seconds. Then she sighed. “Alright, Kimmy. But you still need to be disciplined. Are you going to be a good girl and accept your punishment?”

“Yes, Mama!” Kimmy said at once, even though her stomach was twisting uncomfortably at the thought of what her mother likely had in mind.

“Then come me with, baby.” She took her daughter’s hand and led her to her bedroom. Kimmy’s heart sank as she watched her approach the closet, open the doors, and bend down to reach what Kimmy knew was sitting at the bottom. A moment later she straightened up, holding in her hand one of the enormous, custom-ordered Pampers that she used for her go-to punishment – diaper discipline.

“Mama, please…” Kimmy whispered, her bright eyes fixed on the huge nappy.

“Three days in diapers, Kimmy,” her mother said briskly, walking over to the large changing table that still sat in the middle of the bedroom and patting the surface. “Hop up. You know the drill.”

Her feet felt like they were made of lead, but Kimmy dragged them over to the table obediently and hoisted herself up.

“Good girl,” her mother said, quickly getting to work stripping off her clothes. “You just lie still and Mama will have that naughty bottom back in nappies in no time!”

Kimmy covered her face with her hands so she wouldn’t be able to see as her mother ripped off her pissy pull-ups and slid the bulky diaper under her bottom in their place. But she could feel the cool tickle of the baby wipe as the pee was cleaned off her skin, and there was no blocking out her mother’s voice. “There you go, Kimmy,” she said, pulling thick padding up between her legs and taping it into place. “Now you can wet yourself as much as you want, just like a baby. Do you remember the rules?”

“No toilets,” said Kimmy quietly. “No asking for a change. No touching my diaper.”

“Good girl.”

Kimmy took her hands away from her face and swung herself down from the table. Her gait was spread wide; as always, the Pampers felt absurdly thick between her legs – big enough to hold a full day’s worth of a grown woman’s pee.

“Mama,” Kimmy said hesitantly, “maybe I could just use them for number one, and then when I need to-”

“You’ll poop in them too, Kimmy,” her mother said firmly. “A full nappy will help you appreciate how immature you acted.”

Kimmy screwed up her face and tried not to cry. Wetting herself was one thing, but dirtying her diaper always transported her back to those awful days of her childhood when she still had poopy accidents. She wanted more than anything to leave that phase of her life behind forever. “Yes, Mama…” she mumbled.

“Now, brush teeth and straight to bed young lady!” her mother ordered, delivering a firm smack to her bottom to send her on her way. “No dawdling, or you’ll have a red bottom under your nappy by the time I tuck you in!”

***

The full story can be found on Patreon for those who want to read more.

Beast of Burden

You barely had time to pull up your pants to cover your diaper when she barged in. If she was surprised by your awkward position on the floor, she didn’t show it.

She walked straight to you. Her smile never faltering. She kneeled uncomfortably close, without any regard for the situation or your personal space.

You shivered as she got closer to you. The way she moved—the confidence in every movement—terrified you. It was like watching a tiger stroll through the jungle. She moved like her place atop the food chain was her divine right. Unquestionable.

She had nothing to fear. Unlike you.

It happened before you could react. Before you had any chance to stop her.

She reached down at your diaper, grabbing a handful of your soggy megmax and squeezing it, testing its fullness.

It was so casual. As if she had every right to check your diaper. As if your diaper was as much hers as the contents of her purse.

You were paralyzed by shock. Nobody knew about your incontinence or the diapers you’ve worn for the past 3 months.

“W-who…who are you?” you manage to say with great difficulty.

She just smiled, wordlessly pulling down your pants, exposing your soggy diaper.

“What the fu—!” you start yelling.

“Hush,” she chided, her tone leaving no room for disobedience. Despite every instinct telling you to argue, you stay silent.

“Good boy,” she purred, “you don’t need to be embarrassed. Now lay back and let me take care of this diaper for you.”

Her hand presses against your chest, forcing you down. She’s surprisingly strong. You couldn’t resist even if you wanted to.

She reaches into your bag, grabbing supplies without a trace of uncertainty. She pulls out a spare megamax, wipes, and powder, her gaze never leaving you.

Your first tab is ripped open, sending a wave of terror through you. Then the second. A terrible, horrible countdown to your embarrassing fate.

The third tab rips. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.

A final rip announces itself. You’re powerless to stop her. You close your eyes, hoping it’s a dream.

You feel the soggy diaper pulled away from you, cold air assaulting you. You wince in utter humiliation.

She giggles. A short, playful giggle. Barely audible, yet it hits you like a sonic boom.

A cold wipe is thrust unceremoniously onto your delicate areas. Nothing about her businesslike efficiency giving any hint of flirtation.

The wiping pauses. You hear your next diaper being expertly fluffed while the cold air assaults your exposed privates.

Your legs are suddenly thrust into the air. You squirm ineffectually as she wipes your bum clean. Your face burning violently in embarrassment.

You’re lowered onto a freshly fluffed diaper. Powder snows onto you before she diligently rubs it in, her hand showing no hesitation in rubbing your sensitive areas.

She claps her hands in finality, still smiling down at you, her condescending gaze drilling a deep hole in your ego.

Your diaper is pulled up. She quickly fidgets with the fit. Once satisfied, she gets to work taping you up.

“There. All clean, little one! You did such a great job for me! You weren’t fussy at all!”

All you can do is stare up at her. Somehow, the completely exposed diaper she taped on you is the least of your concern.

Why is she talking to you like that? You’re not some baby!

“Oh stop looking so surprised, cutie! Your soggy diaper was so obvious I couldn’t help myself. We both know you weren’t at this party to get laid. Diaper boys like you don’t get laid—they get diaper changes.”

“W-what?! These are my friends!” you whimper.

“They were! Well, before your diapers! They’re not your equals anymore, honey. They’re your superiors. You’re in diapers.”

“It’s just a medical condition!”

“Then why didn’t you tell anyone? That’s what I thought. Because you know what being in diapers means. You know you’re a diaper boy. And yet you had the audacity to show up and pretend you’re not a whiny diaper boy. That’s not okay with me, baby.”

“I was just waiting for the right time to tell everyone!”

“Well, don’t you worry about that. I’ll take care of telling the party about your diapers. You can either take my hand and follow me to tell everyone. Or, you can run away and I’ll still tell everyone anyway.”

“Or you can not tell everyone..”

“I could! But I won’t. You’re lying to everyone here pretending to be something you’re not—an adult. If you come with me, I’ll take care of you. I’ll make sure your diapers are changed and nobody teases my diaper boy. Maybe I’ll even give you diaper rubs when you’ve been extra good!”

“And if I don’t?” you say with a false bravado that she sees right through.

“You’ll be all alone. Your friends will know what you are: a diaper boy. You’ll stop being invited to parties because they don’t need some diapered baby bringing down the vibe. No girl will ever give you a second glance. You’ll be all alone in soggy diapers.”

You stutter randomly trying to comprehend your fate.

She gets up, heading towards the door. “Up to you, diaper boy.”

“I-okay! I-I’ll do it!” you plead.

“Good boy,” she coos, reaching out her hand, “you’re such a cutie. Mommy will take great care of you, I promise.”

“M-mommy?” you mutter as she pulls you out the door.

She ignores your concerns, squeezing your hand.

“Ready to start your new life, baby?” she whispers in your ear.

She’s already getting everyone’s attention before you can respond.

You stare at her captive audience, waiting for your life to change forever…

A perfect evening

All characters in this story are consenting adults well over the age of 18.

I’m in the bedroom with my LittleOne. The door is closed because baby boys are curious and I don’t want to be chasing him all over the house tonight. There’s a playmat on the floor with some stuffies and legos and other toys. My BabyBoy is playing quietly with his legos and it gives me a chance to do some ‘Mommy stuff’. I’m on the bed planning out the week on my iPad. As I start to fill in LittleOne’s chore chart I get a whiff of something stinky. Just a hint of it and it isn’t even enough to be sure what I smelled so I take another sniff of the air. Oh yes, I definitely smell poopies. Hoping I didn’t miss the whole show, I subtly glance over at my Babyboy. I can’t help but smile when I see him squatting and leaning on one of his toys for balance as he scrunches his face. It looks like this is quite a pushie and I make a mental note to make sure my littleguy eats some more fiber at his next meal. He is grunting and straining and struggling. Finally I see his diaper start bulging downward as I hear a big sigh. He takes in another big breath and bares down again. That’s when he notices me and catches my eye. Blushing, he diverts his gaze to the floor.

“Such a good boy” I coo wanting him to know this is what I want too.

He shyly smiles at me as he finishes his poopie with a big groan. He turns and goes back to playing. I can’t help but feel bad. My poor baby must have had quite the tummy ache. He looks like he feels so much better. Maybe I need to be pushing more water sippys throughout the day along with his fiber.

“Hey sweetie? Can you please come here?”

“But I’m trying to build my castle mommy.” He whines.

“What did Mommy just ask?” I say, so he knows there is no getting out of this.

Immediately he comes over looking at the floor. I stand up from the bed and motion for him to turn around. I cup the bulge in the back of his diaper and give it a firm squeeze up agains his bum and his head instinctively falls backwards, his mouth open. I love how much he loves that.

I turn him around facing me and run my hand over the bulge in the front of his diaper before sliding my hand between his legs and reaching around again to his bum to press his messy bulge forward towards his balls. He whines about getting messy.

“Honey, you don’t need to worry about that. Mommy is here and I’m the one cleaning your messy bottom. Mommy wants a nice messy boy to clean.” I say and I see his apprehensions disappear as he lets himself truly experience his desires.

I turn him around once more and give him a firm smack right on his poopy bulge as he lets out an involuntary moan. I lay him on the bed on top of the changing mat. It takes every ounce of self control I have to not rip off the diaper and mount his cock but I want to do this right.

I slowly untape the diaper and peel off the front. But my desire gets the best of me. Seeing my man so regressed and allowing me to take care of such an intimate moment of his makes me so wet and wild. His cock is standing straight up practically pulsing.

“Babyboy, do you want mommy to ride your chubby?”

“Oh yes Mommy, please.” He begs

I climb on top of him and guide his thick cock into my dripping pussy. He may be my little boy but, he has the most perfectly exquisite cock of any man I have ever been with.

“That’s my boy.” I say as I ease down on his cock. God he feels so good.

“Does it feel good being in mommy’s kitty? You make mommy feel so good baby boy. You did such a good job making a poopy for mommy in your diapers.”

When I feel both me and him getting close I can’t help myself and the words spill out of my mouth. “Does it feel good fucking mommy on top of your diaper with your big poopy pressing up against your bottom? You are mommy’s dirty dirty boy. Mommy loves how naughty you are.”

“Mommy I can’t…I’m gonna”

“Cum in your poopies for mommy Baby”

And with that my man erupts into me and I explode in a furry of pleasure.

We catch our breath and I hop off him grabbing the wipes and cleaning myself before tending to him.

I make sure to tell him what a good boy he is and how happy he made me by using his diapers while I clean and wipe down every inch, crack, and crevice. I roll up the dirty diaper and put a clean one under him sprinkling powder and taping him up.

“How bout some cuddles?” I say “grab a stuffie while I put this in the trash and wash my hands”

I discard the dirty diaper in the pail and wash my hands. When I return my baby has his favorite bear stuffie and is waiting for me on the bed. Sucking his thumb.

“That’s my SweetBoy. Come here” I say as he cuddles close. I take out my breast so he can nurse and I know we will both fall asleep this way shortly.

“I love you StinkyBoy” I say as I kiss his head. And my baby instinctively squeezes my breast as he falls into dreamland.

Pacifying the Party Girl (AB/DL Collaboration)

To celebrate her first year of HRT, Zoey decides to hit the clubs and party it up - and she can’t resist the temptation to do so in diapers. Meanwhile, Dianne is on the lookout for someone to care for - And when they find each other, sparks fly.

This story contains exhibitionism, praise, public diaper use, and chastity.

…

I wrote this story as part of a collaboration with three other wonderful creators - Ko, HofBondage, and FlashyFlesh! Once their respective sections are uploaded, I’ll update this post with links.

Ko created the original story concept and a lot of the outlining, and also wrote the other half of this story, told from the Baby’s perspective.

I wrote the section here - The PoV of the dominant, Dianne!

HofBondage and FlashyFlesh both did illustrations of several points in the story - They’re so freakin’ hot and wonderful, I can’t wait to share them.

…

Dianne didn’t believe in luck.

Everything in her life happened for a reason. The energy she put out into the world? It came right back to her. When life presented opportunities, she always did her best to take them while thanking life for the favor.

This philosophy had treated her well. Though she tried to remain humble, she’d had success in all her affairs, and that success bred confidence–as well as the ability to watch for further opportunity.

And tonight she certainly saw opportunity.

The club, “The Dream Mode”, wasn’t one she frequented often, but it could occasionally be a good spot for opportunity seeking, and she was friends with several people on the staff. The weekend DJ had been in her sorority, she’d seen the bartender at a few dungeon events, and many patrons were in Dianne’s sphere of friends, ranging from close colleagues to besties.

She’d felt the call to the bar that night and, trusting her instincts, sought out the place and ordered herself a little cocktail to enjoy while watching the dancers.

And, as she’d suspected, life had given her an opportunity tonight in the form of a precious young girl with more enthusiasm than sense.

Dianne noticed the girl as soon as she entered the bar, dressed up like a goth princess. Her clothes’ style screamed ‘You can’t tell me what to do’, but the color and her hair suggested a softer, cuter side, and the collar all but announced the antithesis–please tell me what to do.

Even so, Dianne didn’t make a move yet. She watched. There were other candidates that night, other possibilities that life may be pulling her towards.

As the girl began to dance, though, Dianne knew that this goth princess was the one she’d come for. As she jumped and spun and gyrated, the girl’s tripp skirt raised, showing off–to Dianne’s delight–the unmistakable outline of a diaper, and the unmistakable print of a Bunny Hop at that.

The girl was a Little, and that all but demanded Dianne’s intervention before she left the bar without a mistress to care for her.

She began their interaction with a subtle nod. A suggestion, of sorts, ordering the girl a drink. Without a name, Dianne decided to simply think of her as the Baby, until she learned otherwise.

And maybe, even after she learned otherwise, she’d still think of the Baby as such.

After receiving Dianne’s message, the Baby glanced back her way and smiled. She looked pleased and, perhaps, a little shy–but not so shy that she melted away and fled. Instead, she flounced past Dianne on her way back to the floor, wiggling her crinkling bottom as she passed.

It was as though the Baby wanted Dianne to notice, so it was just as well that Dianne had.

And if she was that confident in herself, Dianne really needed to provide for her a strong, guiding hand.

Stalking across the dance floor, Dianne approached the girl, who had begun dancing with reckless abandon, her eyes closed. Choosing a bold first encounter, she stepped in and looped a finger through the loop in the girl’s collar, pulling her a half step forward–not so forcefully that it’d hurt, just enough to jolt her.

Beaming with dominant energy, she sent her parting shot over. “Hello there, little girl. You sure are enjoying yourself tonight.”

“H-hello yourself,” the girl replied. Dianne’s heart leapt, this baby was adorable. Her attempt to sound confident rendered her down to a toddler, claiming she hadn’t gotten into the cookie jar without wiping the crumbs off her face.

Pulling her finger away, Dianne began to dance, reaching out to the baby’s hips and resting her hands on the poor girl’s diaper.

“Dance with me,” she said, not a request, a statement. She could call it, ‘Manifesting the world she wanted to see’, or she could just call it control, but the effect was the same. The baby nodded and obeyed, blushing brightly all the while.

Hands placed firmly over the baby’s diaper, with only a thin skirt between her and the crinkly padding, they danced. It wasn’t the right music for a slow dance with a lot of touching, but Dianne moved their bodies in a rhythm of her choosing, moving her hands up and down the baby, engaging in close contact.

She moved with an almost protective aura. She’d staked her claim on this little girl, and now they danced together, with Dianne warding off anyone who might come close in subtle ways, placing her body so that she was the baby’s whole world, her sole focus and the object of her attention.

When the time was right, in a lull between songs, Dianne moved behind the baby and wrapped her arm around the girl. She ran her hand up the girl’s thigh, finally pressing her palm into the front of the girl’s thick diapers. Leaning in to whisper in the baby’s ear, she stated, “Show me you’re a good little girl. Wet your diaper.” She didn’t say it in a condescending or mean way, but just as a statement–if the baby was good, her diaper would be wet.

The baby glanced back at her, anxious but pliable, biting her lip.

“What’s the matter? Did you not hear me?” Dianne asked, dropping her voice even lower. “Do I need to speak louder, sweetheart, so everyone can hear? Good girls wet their diapers.”

Shutting her eyes, the girl did what was only natural. She proved to Dianne that she was good, and obedient, and more than willing to obey. The warmth spread quickly as the baby followed instructions, flooding the padding thoroughly, urine wicking into the absorbent padding and making the diaper sag ever so slightly.

She’d stopped dancing. It was adorable. The baby was so focused on obeying, on being good, that she’d forgotten everything around her. To remind the girl of where she was, Dianne pressed her hand into the squelching diaper, giving it a squeeze. “Good girl, I knew you could do it,” she purred.

To Dianne’s delight, the girl squeaked in submission. Truly, the universe had given her a precious gift today, even if the baby tried to hide it and tamp down on any other little sounds.

“Tsk,” she warned, reaching down for the girl’s purse.

The girl resisted, but Dianne gave her a light swat to the thigh and she melted back into obedience. Going through the contents of the purse, she made a mental catalog–the baby had really come prepared.

“Enough pretending you’re big,” she stated, listing out what she saw as she came across it. “Miss Dianne wants to see what you have–powder, wipes, lotion, spare diapers. You’re a smart girl, right, you remembered to bring a change, and–ah, there it is.”

Before the baby could ask what she’d found, Dianne produced the baby’s pacifier and plopped it into the girl’s lips. She reached up, to cover the pacifier and remove it, but a firmer swat to her thigh and a dominant glance was enough to demolish the girl’s resistance.

“No no, sweetie, you keep that in. Nurse your paci, little girl, and Miss Dianne will take care of everything else.” To emphasize what ‘everything else’ meant, she gave the baby’s diaper another squeeze. “Don’t worry–nobody will know you’re a baby, they’ll just think you’re on molly.”

The girl nodded meekly. Putty in the hands of a strong woman, Dianne wanted to swaddle her up and protect her from the whims of the universe.

“Tell me your name,” she said.

“Zoey,” the girl mumbled, over her pacifier.

“Little Baby Zoey,” Dianne purred, letting the name float across her tongue. Running her fingers down the back of Zoey’s diaper, she decided to try something. This baby needed to be cared for, and Dianne had just the thing. “You flooded your diapers–we need to step aside to make sure you don’t leak.”

If Zoey even noticed the other dancers anymore, Dianne suspected it was only barely.

Moving her hand from the diaper to Zoey’s hand, Dianne walked off the stage and, as expected, felt no resistance. Baby Zoey followed with complete deference, off to a shady corner of the nightclub where no lights shone. It wouldn’t be private, but it’d be private enough.

Sliding the purse off Zoey’s shoulder, Dianne set it on the table by their side, turning the girl so that she faced the dance floor. “All you need to do is stand there and look pretty,” she promised.

The baby let out a squeak, the universal language version of, ‘I’m a helpless little girl,’ and Dianne proceeded with her plan.

“If you keep using your diaper–which a good little girl will do–you’re going to leak,” she explained, as her hands worked under Zoey’s skirt, feeling up her sodden diaper. With a sharp fingernail, she pierced the plastic shell of Zoey’s diaper, tearing a long slit from the front to the back. Zoey squeaked again, and Dianne whispered, “Shh, just hold still.”

Three more parallel slits into Zoey’s diaper created open channels, enough for fluids to easily drain. Now came the fun part, as she reached into Zoey’s purse–her diaper bag, really–and produced another diaper, unfolding it discreetly behind Zoey’s back.

In the dark corner, most onlookers would assume Dianne was just feeling her up, at least at a glance. Sure, there were some obvious tells that something more was going on, but Dianne was counting on the fact that, in a crowded nightclub, most eyes would be on the gyrating asses and dancing hotties on the floor, not the quietly meeping baby in the corner.

Sliding the diaper up beneath Zoey’s skirts, Dianne worked by sense of touch to wrap it around her waist. Zoey continued making little helpless squeaking sounds over her pacifier, but Dianne’s touch remained gentle as she smoothed out the crinkling plastic shell, pressing the diaper into Zoey, and smoothing out the tapes so that they stuck securely.

While she was doing so, she felt a bulge in the front of Zoey’s diaper. That settled one thing she’d been curious about, though she wouldn’t bring it up until Zoey did.

“Good girl,” she whispered from behind, into Zoey’s ear. “Now you don’t have to worry about leaks at all!”

Baby Zoey nodded meekly. Obediently. Such a good baby.

“You need to drink more water,” Dianne instructed. “Then come back to me. I want to dance again.”

Adorably, Zoe’s doubly-diapered waddle and choice of bottoms worked together to make her diaper poke out as she left, visible with every step beneath her flapping skirt. She was precious, with the sort of innocence that made Dianne’s heart melt.

While she was gone, Dianne steadied herself. She couldn’t get carried away, and wouldn’t push this girl too far. If the girl was that naive to how obvious her diaper was–and it really didn’t seem like she was choosing exhibitionism–then she truly needed a protector to shield that innocence.

Though, at the same time–the girl had chosen to come to a bar wearing a diaper, purely for her own gratification. She wasn’t that kind of innocent, and Dianne felt no compunctions about making Zoey helpless along that vector.

When Zoey returned, Dianne’s heart melted by another degree as she saw Zoey had brought back a sippy cup. Admittedly, it had lewd stickers and the bar logo printed on the side, and it probably came out for the Kandy Kid ravers fairly often, but in Zoey’s hands it just screamed, ‘I’m a little baby.’

“That’s cute,” she said, nodding at the cup with an amused smile. “The bartender could tell you’re still a little baby.”

Zoey responded by making a face, arguing her maturity in the most childish way possible. “Nuh uh, it was a joke an I…ummm…I though’ she knew…”

Dianne’s smile widened, though she wondered if Zoey’s slurring was a toddlerish aspect, or a sign that she’d had more than water in the past moment. “You should have a seat, little Zoey, and drink your water. Take care of your body. Okay?” Nodding to a box to the side, the sort of wide low rectangle that could be dragged out and used as a raised dancing or performing platform, she helped Zoey move to sit on it.

“Thanou… I shoudn…” The girl pulled out her pacifier, holding it in her hand as she confirmed Dianne’s suspicion. “I shouldn’t have gotten more shots…you were right about the water. ”

Heart swelling, Dianne’s instincts kicked in. This girl needed a Mommy, not just a Mommy Dom. “Zoey, that’s not what you were supposed to do. You want to be a good girl, and that’s not what good girls do. How is your head feeling?”

Zoey bit her lip, avoiding eye contact and staring at her lap. “It’s fine, well… a little spinny, but not bad… and I do want I be a good girl, I was just being dumb and not thinking. I’m sorry Miss.”

“You’re not dumb.” This girl… Dianne took a breath, resisting the urge to drag Zoey into a hug. “You just need a grown up to help take care of you. This is your first night out as a little girl, isn’t it?”

A little squeak escaped Zoey’s lips, and for a half second, Dianne worried she’d said something wrong. After catching herself, though, Zoey continued. “Well, I’ve been out padded before, but never to the club. Actually this is my first time at the club in over a year… I’m kind of here to celebrate something.”

A few thoughts all rose to the surface in Dianne’s mind. Rather than speak her theory aloud, though, she put her hands on Zoey’s and let the baby explain for herself in her own time. “Oh? I’m afraid I don’t have a present for you, but I’m sure whatever the occasion is, it’s very special.”

“Honestly, all the fun and attention is far more than I could’ve asked for from anyone… that being said…” Zoey closed her eyes and took a breath, like she was about to jump of a cliff. “… the thing is… I’m a trans woman. I started HRT a year ago.”

(This baby!) Dianne’s hands tightened over Zoey’s. “Oh, you sweet little thing. Thank you for telling me, but that doesn’t change anything to me.” Worried that she might be coming on too strong, too protective, she added a quip. “Then again, that explains why you’re such a baby–you’re only one!”

Zoey’s eyes watered, but she took the branch of humor and kept herself together. “Hmph! I’m four. I’m practically a big girl even.” She stuck out her tongue, and Dianne was almost surprised that she didn’t add in a raspberry.

“Uh-huh.” Playing along, Dianne lifted the sippy cup, prodding the sipper in between Zoey’s lips “Well, birthday girl, I want you to have a nice time, but since you’re a little tipsy, we need to make sure you’re okay first, okay?”

Zoey nodded obediently. “Yes ma'am.” When she spoke, the water she’d been sipping on dribbled down her chin, further reinforcing Dianne’s vision of her as all-but helpless. For some reason, the baby giggled, dribbling even more water, and a furtive glance downward suggested why.

Reaching down, Dianne gave the baby’s diaper another squeeze. “We’re going to sit here for a little while until your head stops spinning.” Zoey opened her mouth, but Dianne shook her head and pushed the sippy cup back between her lips. “Shh, just listen. I need you to listen, so you can be good.”

Zoey nodded.

Good girl. Dianne clasped Zoey’s hands tightly. “If I say you’re going to do something, and you don’t feel safe, you’re going to tell me. If I ask if you’re okay, you’re going to tell me. I can’t protect you if I don’t know how you’re feeling.”

Again, Zoey nodded, suckling intently on her water.

“If I ask, and you’re okay, you can just say, ‘Green’. Just that one word and I’ll know you’re okay.” Dianne waited for a nod before continuing. “If you’re uncertain, and want to talk, you say, ‘Yellow’. Swallow, then say it back to me.”

Zoey obeyed, swallowed her water, and said, “Yellow.”

“And if you say, ‘Red’, we stop immediately and get you safe and comfortable. Say it.”

“Red.” Zoey put her cup back, letting the water trickle into her mouth again.

“We don’t joke about safe words. I’m not going to do anything that’ll get you in trouble, but if you’re unsure, you’ll tell me immediately.” She was moving things too fast, and she knew it–but the universe had given her this precious baby to protect, and she wouldn’t let the moment pass her by.

“Now tell me, little Zoey, what’s your favorite song to dance to?”

The girl hesitated for a moment, and Dianne worried she’d gone too far, but it quickly became clear she’d just taken Zoey by surprise with the change of topics. Of course, Zoey couldn’t know what Dianne was thinking, so that shouldn’t have been a surprise.

After a moment of thought, Zoey said, “Um… Emo Girl? But not MJK’s version…” Smirking, she showed off a bit of the fiery passion and opinionated personality Dianne loved to see. “That isn’t emo to me. Paige Six got it right.”

Dianne grinned. “Okay, now you need someone to check your diaper for me while I go request your song–you’re probably close to needing a change, right?” Glancing around, she spotted another acquaintance, someone she knew was kink friendly and up for anything. Gesturing with her head, she suggested, “What about him?”

Zoey shook her head. “Y-yellow…”

Swallowing, Dianne tried not to berate herself. She’d already gone and pushed Zoey too far, and it had been luck that she’d used her safe words–no, Zoey was a smart girl. It wasn’t luck, she just knew how to assert her boundaries. “Is it a problem with him, or with someone checking your diaper?”

Zoey shook her head, briefly uncommunicative, but her eyes told the story. She glanced to the bartender, Amy, and Dianne knew what she wanted from that look.

“Oh, would you like the nice lady who gave you your sippy cup to do it? It would be very brave of you to go and ask her.” She smiled, reassuringly. Amy was just as reliable, maybe even moreso, and if it was what made Zoey comfortable it was the perfect choice. Zoey smiled, and Dianne helped her up, smirking at the girl’s pronounced waddle from the thick, sodden diapers that her skirt failed to hide. Giving Zoey a pat and a squeeze on her padding, she added, “You should thank her for the sippy cup, as well.”

While Zoey went to get checked, Dianne made her way through the crowd over to the DJ. Throwing up a wave with her thumb and pinkie extended in a waggle, she greeted her. “Hey, Mels! How’ve you been?”

With an earphone pressed against one ear, Mels responded with a thumbs up, bobbing her head and keeping the music going. She’d always been more of a doer than a talker.

“Can you take a request for me, as a favor? Emo Girl by Paige Six!”

Another thumbs up and a nod, and Mels returned to her DJ work. Grinning, Dianne found her way back to Zoey, meeting her by the dancing platform they’d been standing by. Zoey returned a moment later, with a full sippy cup and an adorable blush.

“What did the nice lady say?” Dianne asked.

“That…I could last a little longer,” Zoey replied, raising her cup to take a sip.

“We should fix that,” Dianne suggested. “But first, I want you to show me what a good dancer you are, okay?”

Zoey hesitated, and again, Dianne wondered if she’d gone too fast with her. Before she could retract her suggestion, though, Zoey nodded. “Okay.”

“Where’s your pacifier?” Dianne asked. Zoey retrieved it from her purse, and Dianne plopped it between her lips. Then, she bent slightly, pulling on the handle of the raised dance platform. It wasn’t that heavy, and she could drag it easily towards the center of the dance floor.

She hadn’t, strictly, gotten permission to use it, but confidence was the only ticket she needed. They weren’t forbidden or anything, and everyone was already dancing–what difference would it make if Zoey was dancing a little higher, for everyone to see?

“Just be good for me,” Dianne said. “I want to watch you dance, okay?”

Zoey nodded again, as Dianne got the platform far enough out that people were stepping aside to let her through. Taking Zoey’s hand, she squeezed it reassuringly, helping the tipsy baby up just as a few opening chords started to play.

The music began: “She’s got studded belts–” and Zoey’s face lit up with excitement. Needing no further encouragement, she began to dance.

The girl lit up the room, and not just because a spotlight whirled to point at her. Her smile was infectious, her enthusiasm infinite, and when she danced, twirling so that her skirt spun, it filled Dianne with pure joy.

It didn’t matter that Zoey’s diaper was acutely visible, between her raised platform, her skirt spinning high, and the severe puff and sag of the diaper. Most people in the bar were kink friendly, and even those who weren’t just didn’t care. It was impossible to look at Zoey, dancing her heart out and smiling the biggest, most exuberant smile in the world, and care what was sagging under that skirt.

As the song reached its final chorus, Zoey looked down at Dianne, hesitant, looking for something. Dianne knew what, and she gave her permission.

She mouthed the word: ‘Push.’

Zoey glanced past her, eyeing something. Dianne glanced back, and saw it was a mirror; Zoey was watching herself as she obeyed. The little girl bent her knees slightly, still wiggling her butt in time with the music, but soon even that motion was lost as she turned her attention to being a good girl.

She bit down on her pacifier, held her breath, and Dianne’s heart melted. This girl was simply too precious for this world, too adorable. Even though the mess could only be inferred; Zoey’s diaper was already so thick and sagging that there wasn’t much in the way of a visible bulge, it was clear what she was doing by her face and her pose, and by the subtle crinkle as she bottomed out her diapers.

Gaze darting around for reassurance, Zoey caught Dianne’s eyes, breathing rapidly. The last notes of the song were running out, and Dianne beamed at her, reaching up to help her down.

Even with Dianne’s hand, Zoey still stumbled, falling onto a seated position on the platform. She gasped and turned pink as she fell onto the weight of her packed diaper, and Dianne finally got a whiff of what she’d done. Wrinkling her nose ever so slightly, Dianne pulled her into a hug and helped Zoey away from the center of the dance floor, while someone else climbed up to take their turn as the center of attention.

“Shh,” she whispered into Zoey’s ear. “You’re such a good girl. You were wonderful up there, the most adorable little thing I’ve ever seen, and the best little baby anyone could ask for.” Reaching down, she slipped a hand under Zoey’s skirt, squeezing the seat of her diaper ever so slightly.

Zoey looked down, avoiding Dianne’s gaze, so Dianne touched her chin and moved her head up until they locked eyes again. Zoey’s expression was huge and helpless, little and in dire need of reassurance…and maybe something more.

“Your diaper is ready for a change,” Dianne said. “There’s a bathroom in the corner with a lock. Would you like me to change you?”

Zoey squeaked out a little, “Yes, please,” over her pacifier, though her focus was less on the words and more on Dianne’s face.

Smiling warmly, Dianne said, “There’s my stinky little girl. Let’s go.”

Leading Zoey by the hand, Dianne pulled her to the restroom. A unisex sign on the door indicated it was for general use, though in practice Dianne thought it was used as a private room for sex as often as it was for its intended purpose–certainly, Zoey wouldn’t be using the toilet any time soon.

Pulling her inside, Dianne locked the door. Reaching down, she took Zoey’s skirt, kneeling so she could pull it all the way down off the baby’s body, revealing her sagging, smelly diaper.

Kneeling in front of Zoey, Dianne looked up at her. “You really ruined your diaper, baby,” she commented. “Just like you’re supposed to.”

As Zoey squeaked in response, Dianne stood, took her hands, and gently forced her back towards the toilet. It was a cheap, old thing, with exposed copper pipes that ran halfway up the wall. Definitely a retrofit, and little effort had been made for aesthetics. Dianne pushed Zoey down onto the toilet seat, forcing the baby’s weight into her loaded diaper, then pulled her hands up to the pipes.

Twisting the skirt into a rope, Dianne wrapped it around the pipes and around Zoey’s wrists, tying a secure knot. It was by no means perfect, but it didn’t cut off circulation, and it’d keep her hands there so long as she didn’t try to wriggle free, and good girls wouldn’t try to wriggle free.

Once she was restrained, Dianne reached down, rubbing against the front of Zoey’s diaper. She could feel how hard the girl was, and Zoey wriggled on the toilet seat to truly experience how full her diaper had become.

Hesitating, Dianne took a risk. “Show mommy how much you love your smelly diapers, okay?”

She didn’t want to go too far, but calling herself ‘Mommy’ just felt right. Zoey seemed to agree with the label, because she didn’t object, she simply thrusted into Dianne’s hand, moaning into her pacifier as she tried to get every ounce of sensation through her layers of sodden, decimated diaper.

After a moment, Dianne pulled her hand away. She didn’t want Zoey’s fun to end just yet. Instead, she reached up, unbuttoning her blouse till it hung loose over her chest. Reaching down, she took Zoey’s pacifier out of her lips, moved to sit on Zoey’s lap so that her breasts were at Zoey’s eye level, and pulled herself free of her bra.

She didn’t need to say anything. Zoey’s mouth moved instinctively to Dianne’s nipple, and she began to suckle, still wriggling and grinding as she did so.

It was Dianne’s turn to moan, and to reach down beneath her own pants, slipping fingers to fondle herself while adorable, helpless, smelly little Zoey gasped and suckled her tits. Dianne barely needed to do anything for herself, simply being over Zoey in this situation brought her nearly to the edge, and she showed little restraint as she brought herself to climax.

“Yes,” she moaned, as Zoey sucked hard on her breasts. “Exactly like that, baby, just–yes–”

It was Dianne’s turn to make herself wet, though not as thoroughly as Zoey had. Squirting into her panties, it just barely soaked through to her jeans, not enough to be particularly noticeable unless someone was looking for it. Zoey continued to wriggle in helpless frustration, trying and failing to get enough sensation to achieve her own climax.

Dianne took a breath for a moment, then pulled away. “Zoey, I want you to wait here,” she said. “Don’t spit out your pacifier, and don’t untie your hands. If you do, I’ll know.”

Zoey looked up at her, eyes huge, pleading, as though to ask, ‘Why don’t I get to cum?’, but Dianne only smiled coyly.

“Trust me,” she said. “I’ll only be gone a minute. Safe words?”

Zoey mumbled, “Green,” over her pacifier, and Zoey bent over to kiss her on the forehead. Then she stood up straight, waved, and left the bathroom, flipping over the ‘out of order’ sign on the door to discourage anyone from stepping in.

Of course, there wasn’t anything stopping anyone from opening the door, and that was a bit of the fun. In the few minutes while Dianne was gone, anyone could wander in and find Zoey stuck, right over the toilet, in her filthy diaper.

She was only gone for a minute. There was a sex shop two doors down and open late, and she acquired what she needed with little hassle. She got back, made her way across the bar floor and pushed open the door to the bathroom.

After being gone for several minutes, the shock of the smell hit her hard as she stepped in, partly because it contrasted with the fresh air outside, partly because Zoey had been given time to stew and really stink up the room.

Zoey was wriggling on the toilet seat, smushing into her diaper and whimpering when Dianne walked in. Spotting her, she mumbled through her pacifier, “Mommy?”

“Mhmm,” Dianne said. “Let’s get your diaper changed, little girl.”

“But–” Zoey started, but Dianne shook her head.

“No buts, except yours, in a fresh diaper,” Dianne said, setting down her shopping bag and crossing to begin cleaning up Zoey.

It was a bit tricky, doing it while Zoey stayed seated and tied up, but Dianne made it work. Undoing the tapes, she pinched her nose and made a face, mostly for show. “You really did a number on your diaper,” she commented, producing baby wipes from Zoey’s purse and slowly, methodically, began to clean the girl up.

Zoey continued to squirm, but over time, the cold wipes began to combat her erection, and her princess parts grew smaller and more pliable.

Exactly what Dianne wanted.

Reaching into her purse, she produced her purchase–a stainless steel chastity cage. She made sure Zoey could see it, and waited for a moment to give her a chance to use a safe word. When Zoey didn’t respond, Dianne opened up the cage, and began fitting it around her parts.

“This is my good little girl insurance,” Dianne explained, sliding the cage into place. “I want you to wear your diapers and use them like a good baby all week, and if you do, I’ll unlock you and let you cum. Okay?”

Zoey nodded enthusiastically, eyes huge and excited.

“You’ll get my permission before every change, okay?” Dianne asked, as she slid the locking mechanism into place. Zoey nodded again, and with a little click, she locked the cage on. Reaching for a fresh diaper from Zoey’s purse, she added, “And I don’t want you to even think about using the potty. You’re a baby, you’re supposed to use your diapers. Okay?” She made sure to emphasize that she was asking–some things still required more than a statement of fact.

“O…okay, mommy,” Zoey nodded.

Zoey had brought along powder as well, so Dianne applied a thin layer before wrapping up the fresh diaper and taping it into place. “Good girl.” Reaching down, she wadded up Zoey’s old diaper so that nothing could smush out, then moved it into Zoey’s purse. “I don’t want to make the staff here deal with your stinky accidents, so this goes in your diaper bag.”

That didn’t need an ‘Okay?’ at the end. Zoey would be good on that account.

Zoey nodded again, squirming in her fresh diaper.

Reaching up, Dianne finally untied Zoey’s skirt from around the pipe, freeing her hands. “Let’s take you home, baby girl. Did you have a nice time?”

“Mhmm,” Zoey said. “Thanks, Mommy.”

Dianne’s heart swelled.

Fate had truly given her a gift tonight.

…

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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?