“You Still Haven’t Showered?” April Asked. “They’ll Be Here In Half An Hour!”

Padded Little Paradise

When Mommy Takes Control

Image Credit: ABDreams.com “Aww… you like that, don’t you? You silly little thing!” A rustle. A quiet moan of agreement, muffled by the rubb

And here it is: a brand-new, extra-long caption! Click on the link for the full (FPN-containing) image!

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Image Credit: ABDreams.com

“Aww… you like that, don’t you? You silly little thing!”

A rustle. A quiet moan of agreement, muffled by the rubber nipple between the naked young woman’s lips. A pathetic little wriggle and nod as, with eyes screwed shut and face drawn in a silent transport of humiliated ecstasy, she assented to the amused words of her caretaker.

“Goodness, just look at you! All naked and helpless for me, like the sweetest little baby!” Rhoda continued, her warm voice dropping into a sexy purr of delight. Her hand was working gently, pressing the thick cotton booster suggestively into her partner’s freshly powdered groin. “Anyone else would be completely, utterly humiliated to be treated like this, you know. But you’re not just anyone else, honey, are you?”

Her voice was dripping with loving condescension as she leaned forward, elegantly mascaraed eyes alight with pleasure. “What are you then, sweetie? Go on, tell me. What are you?”

A muffled, barely audible response, between shy and shame-filled moans of ill-concealed pleasure. “I- I’m a ba- a baby– Jus’ a baby-” She was wriggling under Rhoda’s touch, her naked body tensing in irresistible pleasure at such a shameful admission. “Jus’ a siwwy- wih’ul- baybee…“

Rhoda laughed then: laughed over the quiet crinkle of the outspread diaper, laughed over the pathetic little mewlings of her Little partner. “Oh, honey, you’re more than a little baby now. You’re my little baby – mine, and no one else’s. And you know what? You’re going to be my baby for good: forever and ever.”

She bent down and cupped one of her partner’s petite breasts in her hand, smilingly weighing it as if mentally comparing it to her own voluptuous curves. “Just look at how sweet and cute you are without your clothes, baby! So naked and little and innocent, so very, very babyish…”

She giggled and gave the exposed nipple a tiny tweak, eliciting a muffled gasp of ill-suppressed surprise and pleasure from her partner. “Such cute little baby boobies, too – so small and adorable! You know, I think they look so much better like this. We’re gonna leave them nice and naked and free from now on, of course. No more of those silly padded bras. No more trying to pretend you’re a big girl when you’re so clearly not…”

“Yeh- yefh, Mommee-” came the groveling response, and Rhoda chuckled once more, a rush of dominant pleasure coursing through her at the sound of such helpless submission. “Aww, good baby!” she commended, her hand working with renewed vigor between her partner’s splayed legs. “And you’re gonna learn to love your diapers more and more every day, too. Believe me – you’re simply not going to have a choice! You may think sometimes that you do… but, oh, sweetie…”

She broke off, chuckling with dark pleasure as her partner squirmed and writhed under her relentless touch. “Sweetie,” she resumed, “There’s simply no way you can resist me – not even if you wanted! I’m your Mommy now, after all, and I know what’s best. I know exactly how to deal with you… how to make you do every little thing I want… how to train you and teach you and remind you that no matter how big you once were, you’re going to be nothing but an adorable, helpless, brainless little baby by the time I’m done with you…”

The red-faced, labored breathing and the tight-drawn muscles of her partner testified to the groveling pleasure and rising arousal within. She was close now, and with every suggestive thrust of those fingers pressing the soft booster against her shaven and powder-covered pussy – with every condescending word that left her partner’s lipstick-covered lips – she was edging ever closer to one of the most gloriously shameful climaxes she could imagine. Soon she would be cumming: not from penetration, nor even from a vibrator, but from the sheer humiliation and throbbing pleasure of her partner forcing her to become a helpless, laughable, infantilized little toy.

But then… just as she was teetering on the brink of bliss… Rhoda stopped. And oh, the stifled wail of disappointment that escaped her partner’s pacified lips sent fresh shivers of pleasure rippling through her.

“Aww, such an excitable baby!” she crooned, shaking her head at the young woman’s plaintive whines. “You’re getting way too excited for a baby girl as little and innocent as you. But don’t worry,” she added, with a sly little giggle that set her partner a-tremble . “I’m sure we’ll eventually find a way to scratch that silly little itch you seem to have between your pretty little legs. Maybe after you’ve shown me just how well you can fill your pampers… how soggy, and saggy, and smelly such a sweet little baby’s diaper ends up when Mommy takes control…”

And in that moment, the mortified little wail of disgust from her charge sounded in her ears as one of the most beautiful sounds in the entire world.

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"I wanna see how many presents are under the Christmas tree." Apple exclaimed as she and Daddy entered the living room.

"Mmm I'd rather see what's under your dress little one." Her dominant other half purred behind her, lovingly caressing her with a firm broad hand. There was a telltale crinkling noise.

"Daddy." Apple frowned. She really was excited to count the presents, she didn't want her partner to get distracted but she decided to oblige him and gather up the ruffled hem of dress so that he could see her diaper.

He was always her dom and she was always his sub, (and indeed often in ageplay space as evidenced by teddy bear she had brought with her from the bedroom) but she had grown so used to wearing diapers 24/7 for him that sometimes she forgot about them completely. As a coy yet flirtatious smile spread across her lips, she felt a rekindling of excited humilation at being reminded she was her Daddy's Little Girl.

"Good girl. Tell Daddy what you are wearing princess."

"A dress." she responded quickly. She always attempted to divert the question if was feeling 'Big' rather than little but it usually just took a little persitance to push her into Littlespace.

"Baby." Daddy asked again, in a slightly scolding tone that suggested that she ought to know better than to defy him.

"It's a diaper, Daddy." she responded meeking.

"Who's diaper?“

"My diapee." she figitted with her skirt.

"And why do you wear diapers? "

"Cos I'm a baby." she blushed and clutched her teddy to her.

Daddy smiled, satisfied to watch Apple on the edge of tipping into Littlespace. He loved catching her at this moment, in which she was submissive but also still acutely aware of how humilating infantile she was acting for him.

"Suck your thumb like a good baby." he commanded. She dropped the hem of her dress to raise her thumbs to her lips. "Ah, ah, Daddy still wants to see that diaper." he told her, and so she lifted her skirt again and brought her other hand into her mouth.

"Can you wet your diaper like a good baby?“ he asked her," then I'll let you count the presents under the tree."

Unable to speak while she was sucking on her thumb, she nodded obediently and broke eye contact whilst she focused on relaxing her bladder. Soon she felt her diaper growing warm and wet as she began peeing and she quivered with excitement at the thought of being made to exhibition herself like this.

"That's a good baby." Daddy praised her as he watched her diaper swell and discolour. "A little baby like you ought to be sitting on the floor." he suggested.

Apple sat down and couldn't help but feel anything but babyish as her still warm diaper squished beneath her bum. Her little dress was not so long that Daddy didn't catch glimpses of her diaper as she shifted on the fluffy rug.

Daddy fished an adult pacifer from his pocket and held it in front of her mouth for her to take. He gently traced the line of her jaw as he did so and tickled the lobe of her ear before he stood up. She made cute lip smacking sounds once her pacifer was being suckled. She was obviously deep in Littlespace by this point because she was staring at the Christmas tree, bewitched by the twinkling lights and bright baubles. Daddy wondered if she remembered that she had wanted to count the presents. He would reminded her when she resurfaced from Littlespace, of course he expected to be changing her out of a very wet diaper by that time, her potty training went completely out of the window when she was feeling this tiny. He suspected it would be wise to put her in stuffed double diapers when it came to the excitement of finally getting to open her presents on Christmas day.

...

Images from @abdreams

Inspiration from @littlekittengirliepie

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

The Tantrum (Part 1)

A three-part ABDL romance. All characters are 18+. CW: Diapers, Spanking, Bondage, Messing, Wetting

Katelyn pulled into the driveway, her hands tight on the wheel and stereo loud enough to make it shake.

“Fuck my life,” she sighed to herself, before switching off the engine.

She breathed in deep, held it until the count of three, then breathed out what was supposed to be a controlled exhale but was really an angry huff. She huffed again and grabbed her bag, climbing out of the car and slamming the door behind her, only to be yanked backwards when she tried to storm off.

Katelyn whirled around and saw her coat caught in the door. Glaring, she gave it a vicious yank, which turned into her falling on her butt when the thrifted wool tore with a thunderous riiiip.

“Oh come on!” she whined, slamming her hands on the pavement, which was quickly followed by “Owww.”

After giving the driveway a dirty look, she stormed up to the house, holding back tears threatening to break through the thunderclouds on her face.

It had been another shitty Friday in a long string of shitty Fridays (and Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays...), and as was the case after every shitty day, Katelyn had a lazer focus on the bottle of wine waiting in the fridge.

Drink to forget your day, and any part you might have played in it. A flawless plan.

She took a bit more care closing the front door, but still managed a gunshot slam. With a couple kicks, her heels arced down the hall, and she tossed her bag in the direction of the couch, wincing when the loud thud announced she’d missed her target. That just added to her burning frustration, and she whipped off her torn coat and kicked it in the direction of the closet.

From around the corner she could hear chopping and frying and felt a pang of annoyance at the thought of interacting with another human. Even Ryan. But still, she followed the smell of sizzling onions.

Ryan looked up from the cutting board as she stomped in, his smile falling to something more cautious when he saw her face.

“How was your day, honey?”

Katelyn made no stop on her way to the fridge, hunting for the chilled red she brought home last night.

“Fine. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

She moved to the cupboard to grab the big wine glass, the one Ryan jokingly called her wine bowl, before remembering it was still in sink.

“You know you can talk to me.”

Katelyn sighed as she pulled the wine glass out of the dirty pile and started swishing some soapy water in it.

“I know,” she said a little too quickly, scrubbing at the wine residue.

“Okay.” The chopping got louder.

Once the glass hit ‘good enough,’ Katelyn went for the corkscrew, tugging open the bottle with practiced hands. She gave herself a generous pour (Ryan didn’t drink the stuff anyway) and turned to go nest on the couch when she saw what he was sliding into the skillet.

“You’re using carrots?”

Ryan looked at her surprised, stirring the pan as the sweet fragrance made Katelyn wrinkle her nose.

“Yeah, we both agreed we need more vegetables. It was on the meal plan.”

A moment of guilt cross her mind as she remembered the digital meal planner, the one she still hadn’t opened. But the guilt was quickly overwhelmed as her mind conjured the revolting taste of carrot.

“You know I hate carrots. I’m not eating that.”

Mentally, she was already on UberEats. She’d done burgers three nights ago, maybe tonight she’d go KFC.

Ryan didn't look up from the stove, his voice flat.

“Katie, I’ve been cooking since I got home. We planned one meal tonight, no takeout. Can you at least try it?”

She knew he was right, which was maybe why she felt a helpless rage flare up. Was it too much to ask for some comfort food after the day she’d had? The week? The month? The tears were threatening again and her mind flashed back to the work lunch, the one hadn’t even wanted to go to, but Mr. Henderson had to be wined and dined…

“I’m not eating it!” she said, surprising herself at the volume.

She needed out of there, away from Ryan and his carrots. She whirled around, moving just a little to fast, and felt a cold splash hit her chest.

Katelyn froze at the sight of red wine soaking into her best work blouse.

“Oh Katie.” Ryan had sympathy pain all over his face, but somehow that just made it worse. She couldn’t stop herself from stomping her foot for real this time, sloshing more wine on the floor.

“Don’t mock me!” Ryan was getting blurry as she blinked hard. “None of this would have happened if you just cooked something good!”

There was a hint of danger in Ryan’s voice as he grabbed a dish cloth from the sink.

“I haven’t made you do anything, and I would appreciate it if you started acting like a grown up. Do you want help cleaning up?”

Katelyn snatched the cloth out his hand and started dabbing her ruined shirt, for all the good it would do.

“I’ve had a really hard day and I just want food I can eat,” she mumbled, trying to keep her voice from breaking.

Ryan sighed. “You’ve had a lot of hard days lately, and we’ve had a lot of takeout lately. Can you please just try it?”

Katelyn gave up dabbing and flung the cloth back at him, unintentional aiming for his face, which Ryan narrowly caught.

“Fine!”

She was about to storm out when Ryan grabbed her wrist and spun her back to face him. His eyes locked on hers and she felt a small flicker in her chest from the times when he’d had more fun reasons to give her that look.

“If you keep acting like a toddler having a tantrum, I’m going to treat you like one. Is that what you want?”

Those words …

Even in her frustration and anger, a memory surfaced, that very specific phrase and the gravity of the question. She looked into her fiance’s serious eyes. It had to have been over a year since they’d practiced this exchange, well before her promotion. But faced with the real deal for the first time, she felt her subconscious make the decision for her.

“Fuck off!” she said, and pulled her hand free to slap him.

Ryan caught it with a much less gentle grip. A shiver ran through her as she looked up at him and felt the weight of the pact she’d just signed.

“This has been a long time coming.” Ryan grabbed her other wrist and started pulling her out of the kitchen.

“Stop it! Let me go, asshole!”

Katelyn leaned back and dug her heels in, but it hardly slowed Ryan down. Her fiance dragged her down the hall with ease, her hands trapped in an iron grip and sock feet sliding easily. Her rage was back in full force and she leaned into it, no filter.

“Fuck you! I hate you!”

She tried kicking him, but instead lost her balance and slipped on to her butt, and Ryan just swirled her around and started dragging her backwards as she kicked her feet uselessly. Soon she was sitting at the foot of their bed, and a second later he hoisted her up and over his lap.

Katelyn thrashed as best she could, but Ryan had her pinned, her body pitched forward, keeping her off balance. She felt cold air hit her butt as her pants were tugged down to her ankles and was about to unleash a string of obscenities when the first thunderous WACK! struck her ass.

“Do you know why you’re in trouble?”

The spank shocked her, but Katelyn wasn’t done fighting.

“Because my boyfriend is a stupid carrot-loving dick!”

WACK! WACK! WACK! WACK!

The ferociousness of each spank killed any smart comments she had stored up, drowned in the pain radiating from her backside.

“Is it maybe because you’ve been acting like a selfish baby for months now?”

WACK! WACK!

“You’ve left messes everywhere.”

WACK! WACK!

“You’ve been incredibly rude.”

WACK! WACK!

“And you’re drunk every other night.”

WACK! WACK!

“You’ve” WACK! “Been.” WACK! “A.” WACK! “Very.” WACK! “Bad.” WACK! “Girl!”

There was no stopping the tears now --- every spank drove coherent thought further from her mind, leaving only the pain, anger and fear to finally boil over as Ryan’s hand rained down again and again.

Katelyn sobbed.

(Part 2)

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. 

“It’s okay honey… I know that you’re trying to tell me that your diaper is now soaked, but can’t find the words because you’re embarrassed. First of all, you don’t need to worry about telling me because I can always tell when you’ve wet yourself. Your body stiffens up and you freeze with a desperate look on your face followed by a brief look of relief. Secondly, your diaper swells up to at least twice it’s thickness and it shows through your pants. You know what? I don’t mind in the least little bit. Nobody is perfect. If the only thing about you that is flawed are your weak bladder muscles, then so be it… I still love you. It’s about the hottest thing in the world to me watching you squirm to hold it and then not be able to as you helplessly wet yourself. I don’t know what it is, but it’s super attractive when a guy is vulnerable. I would not change one thing about you, well… I’ll change your diaper LoL, but I won’t change anything else”

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

Gagged and bound you lay there, straining yourself against the restraints in the desperate attempt to prevent what was unfolding in front of your eyes.

It should have been a normal evening with your rather vanilla partner. But unbeknownst to you, your mate had different plans. In hindsight, it should have been a warning sign when your partner suggested to spice things up with a little bit of kinky bondage, but you had been too intrigued by the idea to suspect a thing. Only after you were ordered to strip naked and had your hands and feet safely tied to the bed, it had finally dawned on you that something was not right.

When your partner proceeded to gag you with some plastic tape, it became a certainty. Your partner was showing no intent to engage in sexual activities with you. Instead, your mate just stood there, silently relishing the sight of your naked and bound body and the increasingly alarmed look in your eyes. Then, slowly and theatrically, your partner opened the cupboard and, making sure that you followed every movement, removed the loose floorboards where your secret stash of diapers and other fetish gear was hidden. With a devilish grin your mate produced one of the extra thick AB/DL diapers you had secretly ordered from a fetish site. “No need to look so surprised. I have known about your fetish for quite a while now. And your secret stash..”, here your partner paused for effect to let you gaze upon the boxes of diapers that now lay out in the open, “…was not that hard to find either. It is almost as if you wanted to get caught. You didn´t even clear your browser history after visiting all these fetish sites. Naturally, I was intrigued and wanted to find out more about these secret desires that you tried to keep hidden from me.”

While speaking, your partner slowly unfolded the diaper, expertly handling it, fluffed it up and proceeded towards your completely exposed midsection. “At first, I was not sure how to deal with this. But when I saw what particular fantasies you indulged in, it was like an epiphany. All these stories about grown men being forced to wear diapers and turned into diaper dependent and obedient babies. All these posts about diaper training and forced incontinence. I couldn´t help but imagine how you would react, if I turned your fantasies into reality. And I must confess, I rather liked the idea of having that kind of control over you. In fact, I nearly came when I thought about all the possibilities.”  

Petrified, you were unable to stop listening, bound not only by your restraints but also by the sheer shock of it, tangled in an inextricable web of conflicting emotions, ranging from fear and disbelief to – as shameful as it may be to admit it – a peculiar kind of arousal you had never felt before. Despite your best efforts to fight it, your body was already betraying your emotions and things started to move in your diaper area. All hopes to conceal your arousal vanished instantly when you saw the mischievous smirk in the face of your partner. “I see that you like the idea as well. Since you are obviously onboard with it, I should better hurry to get this diaper on you before you make the bed all sticky.”

Still holding the diaper, your partner produced a towel and proceeded to spread it out under your exposed midsection. Not daring to resist in your exposed state, you obediently lifted your bottom when you were told to do so. Only a few moments later, you were resting on the soft padding of your new diaper – the first one in a very long time that you hadn´t put on yourself. “As you may have noticed, I have already acquired some skills of my own when it comes to putting someone in a diaper. I had plenty of time to prepare, after all. Your favorite sites were quite useful in that regard. I have read up on nearly everything from diaper changes…”, here your partner paused again while fetching a bag with changing supplies from your stash, “…to the proper use of suppositories and laxatives.” As on cue, your mate revealed, with devilish glee, a pack of glycerin suppositories. “I have heard that these are quite effective when it comes to ensure properly used diapers. If I use three of these, you will be messing yourself like a baby in no time.” Relishing your apparent horror at this prospect, your mate gave you a warning look while playfully toying with your exposed genitals. “I know that you don´t like messing yourself, but there is nothing you can do to prevent it. I am in charge now and I am making the rules. You want to wear diapers and I am willing to grant you your wish, but on my own terms. If we are going through with this, we are doing it properly. You want to wear diapers like a baby, so you will be using them like a baby, in both ways and at all times. And if you try to resist…”, here the grip around your genitals tightened to a painful squeeze, “…I have to use a more hands-on approach to make you comply.”

Your fantasies were indeed becoming reality, but they had been just that – only fantasies. This was different, this was real – a fact that was most clearly demonstrated on your throbbing genitals a mere second ago.

“I give you one choice and one choice only”, you heard your partner say. “Either you fully commit yourself and let me turn you into my diaper dependent baby, or you forfeit the right to ever wear or mention diapers again in my presence for as long as we are together. As I have said, if we are going through with this, we are doing it properly, according to my rules and with me in charge. If you don’t want to commit yourself, that is fine, but then I will take no part in it. I couldn´t stand seeing you in and out of diapers at your leisure, when there is no way for me to enjoy it. All or nothing, the choice is yours.”

Torn between two completely different prospects of the future, you lay there, motionless, speechless, overwhelmed by the impossible choice you had to make. Sure, you had at least thought about wearing diapers 24/7 before. But you had never actually considered going through with it anytime soon, let alone right then and there. What would your life be like, if someone else found out? Surely you could not expect to keep it a secret, if you were confined to diapers at all times. On the other hand, a life without diapers seemed so bleak and devoid of comfort. Could you really just forsake it all? Wouldn´t your partner´s presence always remind you of your sacrifice and poison your relationship? And your partner, would you really want to break up your relationship because you could not decide on what was more important to you? Either choice came with uncertainty and the chance of regret.

“The clock is ticking. We can´t leave you like this all night, after all. Either you choose to become my obedient and diaper dependent baby and let me finish what we have started, or you decide against it and I will personally get rid off all baby gear and set you free. If you want me to go through with it, just nod and let me give you your very first suppositories as a sign of your commitment. It will be diapers only from then on. No more potty, no more underwear, only diapers. You will be my baby and I will make sure that it will stay this way.”

You shuddered hearing this. Especially the last part sounded rather ominous. Was it meant the way it sounded? Would there really be no going back?

“On the other hand, you will have my utmost attention and I will personally cater for your every need. You will be the most obedient but also the happiest diaper boy around. Just a little nod, and it will all become reality. Think about it. I offer this only once. If you decline, I will never speak of it again. We will continue our relationship as if this never happened, if you keep your fetish out of it. Otherwise, there will be no future for us together. It all depends on you. You have to decide and you have to do it now. I can´t put up with your indecision any longer. This needs to be resolved right now or you will never find the courage to choose which life you wish to lead. If I hadn´t cornered you like this, you wouldn´t even have dreamed about coming out to me. Now everything is exposed and lying openly on the table. There is nothing to hide anymore. You are already lying there under my control, gagged and bound and with a hard on at the prospect of being forcibly diapered after receiving some very fast acting suppositories. No need for any false dignity. You and I know both what you really desire. I am about to give it to you. What else is there to think about?”

Cornered like this, called out on your obvious and undeniable arousal in one of the most humiliating situations you could imagine and with a hard on that had grown even more at the prospect of a life in diapers under your partner´s control, you couldn´t really find any words to deny the truth of it. You were finally allowing yourself to admit it. You actually were craving this, had been for a long time, in fact. With a deep inhale through your unimpeded nose and one last thought about the significance of what you were about to do, you resigned yourself to your fate and, slowly but firmly, nodded.

“I had hoped for this and I promise that you won´t regret it. At the beginning, you may try to change your mind, but believe me, it will be worth it to have me as your guardian and caretaker. Once you have adapted to the new situation, you will be glad that you have chosen this way.”

Already starting to doubt your decision as you once again saw the obvious glee in your partner´s eyes, you steeled yourself for what was about to come. “And now to make it official and to confirm your commitment, let´s continue with your initiation. Just relax and open wide, and it will be over in a jiffy.”

Not in the mood for lame jokes but resolved not to question your decision any longer, you gave a muffled sigh and lay back to let it happen without having to watch it. Only moments later, you felt the tip of the first suppository penetrate your backdoor and winced involuntarily at the unfamiliar sensation. One after another was pushed inwards until all three of them were resting deep inside you.

Afterwards, your partner´s hands began to coat your genitals and your whole diaper area in a thick layer of barrier cream, followed by a hefty dose of baby powder. Only moments later, the diaper was folded around your properly pampered bottom and fastened tightly. It was not your first diaper of that kind, but it felt differently. You knew that you would be forced to used it very soon and that it would not be your decision when it would be changed. And it would only be the first one in a long line of diapers lining the way into your new life of diaper dependency. Against your will, your arousal grew even more at this thought.

“And now that you have accepted my offer and are finally back in diapers where you belong, let´s order some supplies for your training.” Eager at the prospect of what lay ahead, your mate, who had now become your caretaker, pulled a chair towards the tail end of your bed and sat down with a laptop to let you see the page shown in the current window. It was the page of the web shop where you had ordered your latest shipment of AB/DL diapers.

“Let´s see. We will definitely need some more of your favorite diapers. Or maybe some pink ones…, I bet they will look pretty on you. And, of course, some locking plastic pants. We need to make sure that you stay properly padded, after all. Oh yes, and some of those padded mittens that I can lock onto you. Hmmm…, while we are at it, what do you think about chastity? This extra small cage seems to be just the right size for you. I say, let´s take it. And, oh wow, have you seen these tunnel plugs? The extra large one looks amazing. Can you imagine having this one inside you? We absolutely have to take it. I´ll order the whole set so that we can gradually work up to it. And they even have catheters, isn´t that great? With this, you can start becoming diaper dependent in no time at all. Let´s see, what else they have…”

Silently whimpering with every new discovery because of their implications for your immediate future, you had no other choice but to passively observe your mate ordering each and every item needed to keep you in diapers for a very long time and to make sure that you would end up needing them in no time at all. Soon after, the first cramps kicked in as the suppositories started to do their work.

This would be a very long night and, judging from your partner´s shopping spree, this would only be the beginning.

(The picture that gave me the idea for this story was provided by mndiaperboi26 - https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/mndiaperboi26 - who gave me total freedom in regard to what kind of caption I create with it. This is the result. I hope that you like it!)

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

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…