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Oddly enough, it was rather cute. Especially considering his recent & constant denial.
The 18 year old boy had adamantly explained that it was his mom’s fault that he was still in diapers. Never-mind the fact that he hadn’t even graduated out of Pampers to trainers, much less adult diapers.
Oh how he’d complained, ‘my mother wont stop treating me like a little boy!’ or ‘my mother forced me to wear these for no reason’. After so many ‘my mother this’ or ‘my mother that’, I started to think maybe he was right. After all, it’s rather uncommon for an 18 year old boy to be babysat by a 19 year old girl.
But those reservations were laid to rest this afternoon when I woke him from his nap, finding a rather wet diaper. Oh how cute those little red checks of his were while trying (futilely, I might add) to explain that, again, it was his mother’s fault.
I just couldn’t help but giggle as he continued his boysplainining while also assuming the “diaper change” position so obediently. Even after I’d torn the tapes of his diaper, he was still explaining!
As I had begun cleaning his marble sized balls and cute little penis, I let out an unbridled chuckle. It’s funny how even at the age of 18 there’s still commonalities between changing a toddler and him.
It was only after he’d gone on about how after he’d wet the bed as a 10 year old that his mom had forced him “back into diapers” that I’d had enough; pacifying him into silence.
Lying to others is one thing, but lying to yourself? Nah, I don’t condone self-deception. His mom had made it clear that little Tommy here had, frustratingly, never been able to master his potty training.
But later that afternoon, we may have made a breakthrough.
While at the park with he and his mom, little Tommy tugged desperately at his mother’s dress while she spoke with a friend.
I watched silently as Tommy continued to impatiently shift, foot-to-foot. His Pamper peeking ever so slightly out of the side of his shortalls.
I had a feeling I knew what he was trying to ask. The poor boy’s bottom was about to burst!
So like any good babysitter, I figured I’d take him to the potty before his mother’s friend had a front row seat to a freshly soiled diaper and come-apart.
But as I approached, not 15 seconds after the onset of his impetus begging, little Tommy grabbed at his tummy with another on his bottom. Only a whispered, but defeated, grunt escaped his cute lips before the inevitable.
Poor little guys’ bottom bulged straight through his cute little outfit!
His mother, finally taking notice of the commotion, looked over her shoulder.
“Oh dear. Really, Tommy?” she’d said while theatrically waving her hand in front of her nose.
But his mother wasn’t content with the smell being the only confirmation of what little Tommy’s Pamper had in them. Reaching down, she swiftly unsnapped a couple of buttons and Ta-Da! Visual confirmation achieved.
Rummaging through her purse, she found his pacifier, plucking it right between his lips, his pouting turned quiet.
“Sarah, do you mind?”
Of course, no one wants to change a dirty diaper, especially an 18 year old’s. But I suppose I do feel a sense of responsibility.
He’d been so focused on everything being his mommy’s fault that he hadn’t even noticed the suppositories I’d inserted.
Sweeping him up off his feet and settling him underneath my arm, I could feel him finally accepting his reality. The self deception was no longer.
The 18 year old boy, clad in a bulging, brown Pamper briefly looked me in the eye before hiding away in the crook of my neck and shoulder.
He now knew that he not only needed diapers, but belonged in diapers.
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You & Sadie (Excerpt)
“Hey, what’s up?” Sadie says to you as you leave your bedroom. She always seems so happy to see you. Actually…she just seems happy, in general, all the time. There’s never a frown on that girl’s face.
Usually, you’re just as happy to see her. In fact, almost any other time, you’d probably go out of your way to see your cute new roommate if you know she’s around. That hair. Those eyes. Those…breasts? It still feels wild that she’s living with you.
Tonight, though? Maybe you could’ve done without running into her in the hallway. For one, you’re wearing what you usually wear to bed–a stretched out t-shirt and some less-than-flattering sweatpants that conceal a little secret of yours. Too, you see what she is wearing, and you already know you’ll be seeing her in your dreams tonight–it looks as if she’s only wearing a big t-shirt of her own that just barely hangs below where her underpants would be. And from this angle, you’d believe it if she wasn’t wearing any panties.
“I just wanted to grab a little glass of water before bed,” she shrugs.
You follow her into the kitchen. You didn’t leave your bedroom because you wanted something to drink–but, honestly, you can’t even remember why you left in the first place. Now, you just want to follow her around like a little puppy-dog.
“My mom used to hate when I drank anything right before bed,” she shrugs, pouring herself a small glass. “Because, without fail, I’d have to get up at midnight and run to the bathroom–probably waking everyone up in the house in the process.” She takes a long sip of the water. “Whatever. I’m a big girl now. I can hold my bladder, you know?”
It is a little strange that she’s talking to you about her bladder. But, then again, you’d listen to her talk about anything. If she wants to talk about exhaust manifolds for two hours, you’d brew a pot of coffee and pull up a chair.
“Anyway, sorry for rambling,” she shrugs. “I should probably get some shut-eye. I’ll see you in the morning.”
You wish her sweet dreams and sigh with relief. That felt close. She wasn’t supposed to have seen you like this, and this interaction could’ve gone a lot worse.
“Oh wait,” Sadie says, spinning around to face you again. “One more thing. I can’t stop thinking about pancakes, so I think I’m going to make some on Saturday morning. If I make a batch, you’ll eat some, right?”
You nod your head enthusiastically. You’d eat anything she makes.
“Okay, great!” she chirps. “I’ll run to the store tomorrow and get some ingredients and…” Her voice trails off and the expression on her face changes a little as she stares at you. You’re not entirely sure what this expression means, but it’s different enough that you find it a little concerning. She’s studying you.
Oh no.
“H-hey, I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head–as if to clear uncertain thoughts from her mind. “I, uh, got a little distracted there. I was just looking at your pants and I thought I saw… Never mind. It’s not important.”
Play it cool, you tell yourself. If she thinks she saw something–she probably did. There is something to see, after all. You bite your bottom lip and pray that she can convince herself that no further investigation is needed.
“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, turning again.
Another sign of relief.
But then she spins around again, and she’s staring right at your pants. “I’m so sorry. But…it’s going to bother me if I don’t ask. What’s…that?” Her hand is extended in front of her, and a finger juts out from her fist, pointing right at your crotch.
You look down, dreading what tell-tale sign she’s pointing out. And then you spot the same thing she likely does–a bit of your disposable adult diaper is sticking out from the waistband of your sweatpants.
This is it: the worst case scenario.
You wonder if there’s still a way out of this. She probably wouldn’t just assume it’s a diaper. You could probably tell her anything and she’d believe it. All you have to do is think of something else that it could be.
Something. Anything.
But you can’t. Your mind is panicked and is completely blank as a result. You barely know what to say to Sadie when you’re at your best–and you’re certainly not at your best right now.
“You know what it looks like?” she says, finally breaking the silence herself. “It kind of reminds me of a diaper. Yeah, I had two younger siblings–and you better believe that I got drafted into diaper duty all the time. I’ve seen a lot of diapers sticking out of pants, and that’s exactly what it looks like.”
You shrug. You’d love to say something else, but what? It feels like your choices are to either run or stay put. And as tempting as running is, that’d probably be the same as just announcing that you are, in fact, wearing a thick diaper under your sweatpants. You’ll stay put and hope that she just puts her investigation to rest.
She laughs and shakes her head. “Sorry, sorry, now I’m just being rude, huh? I shouldn’t be accusing you of wearing a diaper, of all things. I know you’re not–that’d just be silly.”
Despite her words, though, she doesn’t look convinced. She’s still staring down at the waistband of your pants, carefully studying that little flap of plastic-covered fabric that you have yet to shove down into your sweatpants.
She sighs and shakes her head, as if frustrated at herself for not being able to let it go. “Look…are you sure it’s not a diaper? Because you can totally tell me if it is. I promise, I won’t tell anyone else. I just want to know.”
If this were anyone else, you’d adamantly deny it. You’d refuse to ever tell the truth, even if they had pulled down your pants. But this is Sadie. She’s the cutest girl you’ve ever seen. She has this pull over you that nobody’s ever had before. And you’re not sure if you believe her or not, but she did say that she wouldn’t tell anyone else.
You nod your head.
“Oh my gosh,” she says, her face lighting up and a big smile spreading across her face. She brings both of her hands up to her mouth to conceal it while she giggles. “You are? You’re actually wearing a diaper?”
Well, the cat’s out of the bag now, and there is no chance of getting it back in. You nod again.
“Can I see it?” she asks. “Please?”
It’s a frustrating request. You’d probably do just about anything for her–including this. Your hands are already on your waistband, ready to shove them down your legs. But… Doing this is going to change everything. Any hope you ever had of charming her and asking her out–and those were, admittedly, long-shots at best–would be gone forever. You’ll forever be the big baby. Her diaper-clad roommate. A pathetic pants-pisser.
But that’s not going to stop you. You pull your pants down to just above your knees, more than enough clearance to show off your shameful secret.
She laughs. Of course she’s going to laugh–she’s probably never seen anything like this before. This isn’t one of those grocery store adult incontinence briefs–this thick thing was made for big babies like you. It’s absurdly thick, and it has colorful cartoon animals printed all over it.
“Oh wow,” she finally says. “So this isn’t, like, some sort of medical issue, is it?”
You don’t answer that. It could be, you suppose–she doesn’t know that it’s not. But it sounds like she’s already got your number anyway.
“You’re one of them, huh? One of those adult babies?”
What’s the point in denying it? You nod your head.
“That is so crazy,” she giggles. “I never thought I’d meet someone into that.”
Maybe just like how you never thought you’d be living with a girl like her.
“So, uhm, do you wear them all the time?” she asks. “Or just at night? I mean, I assume you, like, use them, right? What would be the point if you didn’t?”
You shrug and give a tiny little nod. You’re not even sure what you’re confirming.
“I have to say, you look kind of cute in a diaper,” she shrugs. “I never really thought about it until now, but…you kinda look like you just belong in a diaper, you know? You’ve got that cute babyface.”
Her calling you cute gets your blood pumping, even if it’s because she’s saying you’re cute like a baby is.
“How long have you worn diapers?” she asks. “Do you have a lot of them? Do you really wear them when I’m home? Have you and I ever been in the same room at the same time while you’re wearing one?”
That’s a lot of questions, and you’re not even sure where to begin answering them.
“Sorry,” she chuckles. “I just have so many questions. Maybe we start small? So…you have more diapers, right?”
You nod.
“Of course you do. A lot of them?”
You nod again. Your closet may or may not have a few packs hidden at the bottom.
“And do you…use them?”
You feel your cheeks warming, and you just know that you’ve turned bright red. That’s probably all the answer she needs.
She laughs again. “So…do you just wet yourself? Or do you actually, like…?”
She doesn’t have to finish the question for you to know what she means. And if you didn’t do things like that, you would probably just shake your head. But you don’t, and she smirks–getting all the confirmation that she needs.
“Poor thing,” she coos. “A big ol’ baby like you probably doesn’t have a mommy or daddy to take care of your diapers, I bet.”
It’s hard to say if she’s mocking you, or if she’s offering something to you. Both, perhaps?
“Does the wittle bay-bee need Mommy to change them?” she asks, her incredibly condescending baby-talk cutting right through you. “If you need a hand, just say the word.”
Is she being serious? You can’t tell. You hope that she’s being serious, but you just don’t know her well enough to be sure. She could easily just be picking on you and making fun of you.
She takes a step or two closer to you, leaning forward so that her lips are so close to your ear. She whispers: “When that diaper is dirty, you come and find me, okay? I’ll take care of you.”
That, you think, seems like a pretty clear indication that she’s being serious.
Without another word, Sadie walks away from you and towards her bedroom. She’s strutting. The back of her shirt rides up her backside a little as she walks, too, and you can just barely make out the bottom of her exposed ass cheeks–confirming your earlier suspicions. And then, she disappears into her room, the door closed behind her.
Holy…
Is this real? Did that just happen?
You decide to pull your pants back up and return to your bedroom too, completely forgetting the reason you ever left it in the first place. You’re tempted to just go to bed, but…how in the world could you ever get any sleep now? You’re pacing back and forth now, considering her offer. It certainly sounded real. And, well, nobody’s ever offered to do anything like that for you before. You worry that you’d be a fool if you didn’t take her up on that offer.
But…what if you’re wrong? What if you went to her, a dirty diaper between your thighs, and all she did was laugh at you? What then? You’d have to live with her until the lease was up and…she’d probably never stop mocking you about it.
And, even if she was being sincere with her offer, that’s still a lot. She’d have to see you in your diaper. A used diaper. And she’d, what, change you? She’d lay you down on your back and spread your legs? Wipe you clean? See what disgusting things you had done in your diaper? Even if she wanted to do that, would you allow her to see you like that?
What a silly question. Of course you would.
You decide that you’re going to do it. She already knows that you wear, and use, diapers. She already knows you’re a big baby. You’ve lost enough of your dignity tonight that you figure it can’t hurt to lose a little more. Might as well go all the way.
First, you take off your sweatpants and toss them on the bed, they’re just going to get in the way. You squat down a little–you still find this to be the easiest way for you to use your diaper. You almost wish that she could be here now to see this part, instead of just the end result. It’s tempting to go across the hall and ask if she wants to watch. But, no, that’s not what she asked for. Besides, if this goes as you hope it goes, there’ll be plenty of opportunities for her to watch you use your diapers in the future.
Warmth spreads through the padding quickly. You never get tired of that feeling; it’s just as comforting and naughty as it was the very first time. The diaper grows heavier and more dense. It sags between your thighs. You can almost smell the sweet stink of your own urine as it slowly gets absorbed by whatever padding is still dry.
True, you probably would’ve wet your diaper at some point tonight anyway, even if you didn’t have that encounter with Sadie. You always do–you refuse to let a diaper go to waste. But this feels different than it usually does. Tonight, you’re pissing yourself with purpose, and that’s just so much better. From now on, you think, you’d rather only piss your diaper for someone else.
It’s done. Now what?
You know what you have to do.
You have to go talk to Sadie again. You have to knock on her door and tell her what you’ve done. She’s probably expecting you. Expecting you so soon, though? Well, maybe not–but you’d like to think she’ll be happy with that.
You catch the sight of yourself in the mirror and you can’t help but blush again. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen yourself in a diaper before, of course, but it’s the first time seeing yourself in a diaper after having heard Sadie tell you that diapers look good on you, and that they work with your ‘babyface.’ Yeah, you can see that now.
You go to grab your sweatpants, but you think better of it. She’s just going to ask you to take them off, and she’d already know what you’re hiding with them. As humiliating as it’ll be to go to her door with your drooping pissy diaper exposed, you’d be cutting out a lot of wasted time when you have to take them off anyway.
All that’s left to do now is to go see Sadie. It takes a few minutes to work up the nerve to just open your bedroom door, let alone to cross the hallway to her closed door. And another minute is spent just standing at her door, hand lifted and ready to knock on it.
Finally, you take a deep breath and let your knuckles strike the door. Knock. Knock. Knock.
It’s probably only a ten-second wait until the door opens, but it feels a lot longer than that. It feels like minutes. Hours. Long enough that you have time to wonder if she’s not coming. Hell, she might be on the other side of the door, just laughing to herself as you stand there in your pissy diaper.
But the door does open, and Sadie’s standing there with a smile on her face that’s part warm and inviting, and part condescending and belittling.
“Well, well, well,” she says. “What have we got here?”
She takes a small step backwards so that she can get a wider view of your current situation. You open your mouth to talk–you’re not even sure what you’d say, honestly, but you feel like you have to say something.
“Someone’s a little baby, huh?” she coos, cutting you off before you can even get the first syllable out of your mouth. She giggles and shakes her head. “I have to say, the diaper is even cuter soaking wet. Someone make pee-pees in their di-di?”
You blush brightly–what else can you do?
“Oh wow. You really had to go. Look at how swollen that thing is.” She bites her bottom lip again as she surveys the scene. She, very clearly, likes what she sees. “And you did that a lot quicker than I thought you would.”
If you weren’t so nervous, you’d laugh.
“Can I touch it?” she asks.
Of course she can. She can do anything she wants, you think. Instead, you just nod–hoping that she understands that you’re granting her all the permission she’d ever need.
She squats down, getting eye-level with your diaper, and extends her hand towards you. When her fingers make contact with your diaper, it sends a wave of pleasure pulsating through your body. You let out a little moan, in fact. She looks up at you and smiles, but says nothing else of it. Yet.
Her hand gently squeezes the front of your diaper. “Hmm.” She gently squeezes the bottom of it. “Hmm.” She bounces her open hand on the bottom of your diaper, as if trying to judge its heft. “That’s very full.”
You knew this already, but hearing the words come from her mouth makes it sound like an entirely new revelation.
“You came to me because you want a diaper change, right?”
You nod.
“You’re not in any rush for that, are you?”
You don’t suppose you are, though you’re a little curious as to what that means, then. You offer a noncommittal shrug, signaling that you’re good with whatever she wants.
“I’m not done enjoying you in this diaper yet,” she says. She takes a long sniff of your diaper, closing her eyes like she’s sampling a fine wine. “Smells just like a little potty-pants.”
She stands up again, and she’s so close to you that you can feel her warmth.
“You don’t use baby powder?” she asks. You’re impressed by her talented nose.
You shake your head.
“Tsk-tsk. You really ought to, baby. It helps prevent rashes. And it smells nice too.” She giggles again. “Oh…I see. Is that why you don’t wear baby powder? Because you were afraid that I’d catch a whiff of it and assume that you were a little baby?”
Oof. You feel a little called out. Of course you nod your head.
“Thought so. But allow me to let you in on a little secret.”
Nervously, you draw in some air through your nose and hold your breath. She leans towards you again, her mouth getting close to your ear.
“I already knew you were a little baby,” she says. “I was just waiting for you to expose yourself so that I could talk about it with you.”
How? How could she possibly know? Had she snooped around your room? Had you been careless?
***
Sadie's not done with you yet, of course - this is just the first half of this story. The story, in full, is available now for Tier 2 and Tier 3 subscribers on Ream.
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What're you doing over here babe all by yourself? Hey what's wrong? Teasing? Oh my sister? Well she can be a little mean sometime. She called you a big dumb diaper dumper? Well I don't think your dumb cutie but she definitely has you on the second part. That's not all? What else did she call you? Oh a 'paci pumping pamper pisser, well that might be more out of line if you didn't have a pacifier between your lips baby, and your crotch is definitely a lot puffier than when we got here.
Why are you letting her teasing get to you like this? If she was lying I could understand. Like if she was saying that you weren't such a cutie patootie, or if she said that you belong in pull ups or training pants instead of thick diapers, that would be some unfair teasing.
She just moved back to town baby. She's not used to seeing a grown adult toddling around. She'll get used to it though. She doesn't have a job yet so I'm going to have her look after you more than normal. She'll probably be over at our place a lot anyways just to have a break from living with my parents.
Don't look at me like that! She might be a little snarky but she really is a sweet person. This teasing is just her way of showing affection. You'll get used to it, just like she'll get used to you waddling around your playpen in your diapies.
Come on baby lets get back out there. She's starting up a game of bocce. You can show her that you're not a total baby. You can still play big adult games.
No? Sweety I understand that words can hurt but you're getting close to being naughty right now. Do you really want to stay here fidgeting and earn yourself a punishment? You can't stand still you clearly need to let some ener- Wait. That's your holding it face! I haven't seen that one in a long time. You totally need to make a poopy but you're not going! Oh I bet because you don't want my sister to tease you more!
Honey is your plan to hold it this whole time? We just got here babe no way you've got that control anymore. Oh my gosh. You didn't even have your morning messy diaper. Oh baby you're probably sitting on a lot right now. Geez I'm glad I got you in those plastic pants.
Ok. I'll let that no slide but you have to follow my plan baby. See you're going about this all wrong so here's what we're going to do. We're walking back over to my sister, we're going to start a game of bocce and you are going to go back to being a good baby. That's right you're going to show her what a pamper packer you are. I don't want you hiding at all. In fact I was you to be as loud and obvious as possible. I want you to make a scene, like 'a middle of the diaper aisle at the grocery store two weeks ago scene,' or a 'first time meeting your weekend babysitter,' scene.
If your grunts and gurgles aren't enough, if you're making a silent stinky, you're just going to have to let her know what your doing. You're going to have to talk about the big boom boom your making, how your bottoms all mushy and stinky, about what big icky, yucky, stinky uh oh you're doing in your diaper. Really get animated babe. I want you to put whatever thoughts she's had of you as a big baby to shame. Then when you're done I'll have her help change you.
Come on cutie butt lets go do this before you explode. If you give a good performance I'll be sure to give you one of my extra special treats when we get home, promise.
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BarbeCUTIE
This caption was inspired by @crinklecutie I hope you enjoy it!
Today was the day. You were finally going to meet Daddy’s family, a big step in any relationship. But especially for yours.
You weren’t meeting Daddy's family as his girlfriend—you were meeting them as his little. They aren’t expecting a mature adult to walk in with him. No, they are expecting you to waddle behind him as the immature little you are.
His Granny was hosting one of her famous barbeques, and this one on Easter Sunday was always her favorite. Daddy's entire family would be there. You wouldn’t just be meeting Daddy’s parents, you’d be meeting his whole family. And you’d do it as you did everything else—thickly diapered.
Daddy dressed you in your cutest white sundress. Well, at least he thought it was. You weren’t all too excited about how easy it was to see your diaper through the dress. But Daddy told you should never worry about such things—they all know you’re wearing diapers anyway.
Your backpack, which made you blush every time you wore it thanks to the “Baby Girl” written on it, was packed full of activities and games for you to play to keep you occupied while Daddy spent time with the adults.
Daddy had packed your diaper bag with more than your diapers, you noted anxiously. You saw him pack extra clothes and stuff he grabbed when coming from the kitchen. You didn’t know what they were, but you knew it couldn’t be anything good.
“You look so cute, princess!” Daddy coos, “my family is just gonna love you!”
You fidget nervously, wondering how you could possibly impress his family dressed like you are. But you’re determined to at least try. “Thank you, Daddy!” you say, trying to sound more excited than nervous.
As you pull up to the house, you’re immediately hit by the delicious smells wafting from the barbeque, hearing the family chatting happily in the backyard. But instead of getting you hungry, it fills you with nerves. You feel your diaper grow warm as Daddy helps you out of your seat.
Despite your nerves, you were determined to show his family you were a big girl. You would be a mature, respectful woman, even if you were in diapers. You braced yourself as Daddy opened the back gate, beckoning you in.
You hesitated as you realized everyone at the barbeque was looking at you, faces full of amusement at how cute you were. You tried to smile at them, to act confident. It was much harder as who you assumed were his mom, Granny, and aunts squealed in delight running over to you.
“She’s even more precious than you described, Zack!” Granny said, “she’s so beautiful!” Granny looked every bit like a grandmother. Her smile was warm and welcoming, her demeanor made you feel right at home.
“She really is Zack,” one of the women says before turning to you. “Hi, you must be Emmy! It’s so nice to finally meet you! I’m Zack’s mother, Heather! You look so cute in that dress, Emmy!”
You give Heather your best smile, reaching out your hand to shake it, “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Miller!” you say sweetly.
Daddy looks at you funny, but you ignore it. You’re too focused on making a positive first impression.
“Well, aren’t you a well-behaved little one!” Granny comments, impressed by your behavior, “You look beautiful in that dress, Emmy! You did great, Zack!”
Daddy chuckles, “Thanks, Granny! I had to put her in her Sunday finest to meet you!”
Before you know it, Granny grabs your hand, pulling you away from Daddy to introduce you to everyone at the party. There was Brianna, Daddy’s aunt, who looked like she already had a few cocktails, and her husband, Steve.
You met Daddy’s other aunt, Kat, who looked much younger than both Daddy’s mother and aunt, probably in her very early 30’s. She wasn’t married but gushed at how cute you looked and asked Daddy too many questions about how often you fill your diapers. You silently blushed the entire time as they discussed your diaper usage right in front of you like you were just a toddler.
When Granny introduced you to Charles, Daddy’s father, you did your best to look him in the eye and give him a firm handshake, just as your Grandpa taught you. He smiled as you did. He was a kind-looking man, giving off an exceptional amount of “dad” energy. You just knew you’d hear dad jokes all day from him.
Daddy’s Grandpa looked quiet and reserved but smiled sincerely as Granny introduced you. “It’s so nice to have another little running around here, sweetpea,” he says to you, “it’s been so long since these I’ve seen little ones running around!”
After you met everyone, you were feeling pretty good about yourself. You handled meeting everyone like a mature big girl; surely they respected you as one!
At least, you did until you felt Daddy lifting up your dress and checking your diaper in front of the whole family.
“Does she need a change, dear?” Daddy’s aunt, Kat asks.
“She’s just a little wet, she can go a bit longer. I put her in her special diapers so she can make extra tinkles and not need a change! But they sag so adorably!”
“That must be why she waddles so cute!” Granny says.
You see Zack’s mom, Heather, walking up towards you with a sippy cup full of something purple. “Emmy, sweetie, I got you some grape juice, Zack says it’s your favorite!”
“Thank you, Mrs. Miller!” you say, reaching out for it.
“Sorry, princess,” Daddy says, stopping you from grabbing the juice, “but you can’t be trusted not to ruin your beautiful white dress with that juice! Let’s go get you changed into something a bit more appropriate so I don’t have to worry!”
Before you can say anything, you find yourself pulled inside by Daddy. He leads you to a spare bedroom.
“Did I do good, Daddy?” you ask hopefully as he closes the door.
“Of course, princess! You almost have them fooled you’re a big girl!”
You don’t know what to make of Daddy’s comment. But you felt a sense of foreboding lingering after his remarks.
“Let me get this dress off you, princess!” he says as you reflexively lift your hands up so Daddy can get your dress off you. You stand there, naked except for your diaper and shoes, as Daddy rummages through the diaper bag.
“Here we go!” Daddy says excitedly!
As he pulls out the shirt, you feel your heart sink. You know exactly what it says before you see it: “Daddy’s Little Stinker!”
“Bu—Daddy, do I need to wear that shirt?”
“Hush, Princess,” he says sternly, “arms up.”
The tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine. You’ve been with Daddy long enough to know when you can and can’t push your case—and this was one of the times you knew it would be unwise to try. You lift your arms as Daddy puts your shirt on.
“There, all ready for juice, pumpkin,” he says happily, “ready to go back out?”
You look down, acutely aware that you aren’t wearing anything over your diaper—and realize your shirt barely reaches the top of your slightly yellowed diaper.
“B-but D-daddy, w-what about my d-diaper?” you stutter nervously.
“Awww, you don’t need to worry about that, princess!” he says, with a tone you knew meant the conversation was over.
You want desperately to argue your case. Surely, Daddy wouldn’t force you to go out like this, diaper on full display in front of his family. Before you open your mouth, Daddy shoves a matching blue paci in your mouth.
“I don’t want to hear any complaints. Princess. This way its easier for everyone to see if you need a change, especially if I’m busy. I don’t want my princess to be uncomfy in a leaking diapee!”
You don’t respond, knowing the humiliation you’re about to walk into.
Daddy’s phone vibrates with a text. He reads it, smiling. “Time to go out, princess! Grandpa has a surprise for you!”
You meekly follow Daddy back out, hiding behind him like a shy toddler. Every crinkle of your diaper seems three times louder, and you are fully aware of your increasingly soggy, increasingly yellowing diaper. You suck on your paci nervously.
You find everyone waiting for your return, smiling expectantly. Their eyes light up when they see you toddling behind Daddy, your rosy red cheeks burning in humiliation.
“Oh my gosh, she’s such an angel!” Daddy’s aunt, Brianna coos.
Granny walks over to you, beaming. She grabs your hand. “Emmy, darling, you look so beautiful! Grandpa and Granny have a surprise for you!”
You see Grandpa smiling, too, eyes glistening with excitement. “Granny and I had a family tradition for so many years, Emmy. And I’ve missed it now that all my kids and grandkids are grown up. But now I can finally bring it back for you!”
You smile back at him, not daring to express your embarrassment when he’s so excited. “W-wat iv it, fir?” you ask, lisping through your paci.
“Oh, sweetpea!” Grandpa smiles, “you don’t need to call me sir! Call me Grandpa, okay?”
“Okay, gwandpa!” you respond meekly.
“Thank you, sweetpea!” he says happily, “now, are you ready to have some fun?”
Grandpa’s excitement is palpable, even you are having a hard time not feeling it, despite the humiliating situation. You almost forget that Daddy’s family is looking at you as you lisp through your paci in nothing but a t-shirt and diaper.
“Yeth, gwandpa!” you say, genuinely excited.
“Okay, Granny and I hid Easter eggs all over the backyard! There are 15 eggs for you to find! And one special golden egg that has five dollars in it! Do you think you can find them, sweetpea?”
Your cheeks burn an even deeper shade of red, knowing you’re about to do an Easter egg hunt in front of the whole family. You turn to Daddy anxiously.
Daddy reaches out, pulling you into a hug. You feel safe and secure, wrapped in Daddy’s embrace. He looks you in the eyes, “Princess, there’s no need to be shy, everyone here has done it!”
“Yeah, but they were actual toddlers,” you think to yourself, “not an adult in a diaper!”
“Oh, I almost forgot, sweetpea!” Grandpa adds, “if you find all of them in an hour I’ll give you an extra five dollars! You think you can do it?”
You squirmed in humiliation. Grandpa probably didn’t even change the time from when he did it with actual babies.
“Yeth, I can gwandpa!” you say, trying to play along to keep your composure.
“I know you can, sweetpea!” Grandpa says proudly, “Are you ready?”
“Okay!” you answer, genuine excitement building inside you. You’re torn between feeling so authentically little—and overwhelming humiliation. You’ve never felt this little in your entire life.
You feel Granny’s hand reach into yours, she looks down at you, smiling. She leans down tells you in barely more than a whisper: “I’ll help you look, sweetie! We can find them together!”
“Okay!” Grandpa booms, “on your mark, get set…go!”
You waddle off as fast as possible, determined to find all the eggs and get the extra five dollars. As you do, you notice some eggs are obvious. You head to those first. You open the first one and find a candy necklace.
“Great job, sweetie!” Granny coos, “let me help you put it on!”
You start heading to the next one as soon as it's on your neck. You see another egg hiding below a bush.
The rest of the family watches the infantile display unfolding before them. A grown woman, clad in nothing but a soggy diaper and paci, enthusiastically hunting for Easter eggs. Daddy can’t help but smile, watching his Princess look for eggs lost in little space, his Granny following behind.
In no time, you find three more eggs. You feel increasingly proud of yourself, knowing you’ll get Grandpa’s gift for finishing before the hour. He’ll be so proud of you!
You spot another egg across the backyard. You quickly waddle over, oblivious to how cute you look as your diaper sways back and forth—though it's not lost on your captive audience. Daddy’s aunt can’t help but comment on what a sweet princess Daddy has.
You reach the egg, opening it up to find five Easter stickers! You look around, trying to decide where to put them. As you do, one of them floats to the ground. You squat down to pick it up, realizing too late what’s about to happen.
A loud toot escapes from your bottom, foretelling the mess that will eventually reach your diaper. You try to keep moving, knowing you must find that golden egg. You look around for it, hoping nobody heard you.
“I think someone’s about to have a poopy diaper, Zack,” Daddy’s mom prods him, “I’m glad it’s not me on diaper duty!”
You don’t hear any of that, though. You just want to find the eggs. Not even the growing pressure in your tummy can slow you down.
A minute later, you feel another cramp. You push on your tummy, begging it to calm down so you can keep looking. Another loud toot echoes through the backyard as you walk.
You don’t dare look to see if the adults heard, you knew what would happen if they knew.
Granny watches you, loving how carefree her new “granddaughter” was as she searches for eggs. And even happier that she wouldn’t have to change the stinky diaper she knows is rapidly approaching. She did raise three children, after all!
You see an egg! It’s sitting right on top of the bird feeder! You head over to it. You reach up, standing on your tippy toes to grab it. You can just feel it with your fingers. You try again, almost jumping, knocking the egg down. You turn your back to everyone to pick it up.
As you squat down this time, your body immediately reacts. A series of toots announces to the party what’s about to happen. You continue squatting, body pushing your mess into your diaper. You grunt, desperately fighting your body.
You can’t mess up now! Daddy will make you change and you’ll run out of time! But your body overwhelms you. You feel the mush spread into your diaper as you grunt.
Granny looks over at Daddy, standing up, preparing to get his now messy princess. But Granny waives him off, knowing you want to keep looking. Besides, she knows you can go a few more minutes before worrying about a rash!
You keep grunting, hoping nobody notices what’s happening in your diaper. Maybe you got away with it! Daddy usually comes right away but he hasn’t yet! As you finish pushing, you feel more and more optimistic you got away with it.
A hand rubs your shoulder. Your heart sinks. You see Granny giving a knowing smile. “It’s okay, sweetie! It will be our little secret! Let’s find the rest of those eggs!”
You smile through your paci, thankful Granny is your new partner in crime. Daddy doesn’t know! You’re forced to waddle even more than usual as your messy diaper forces your legs apart, sagging deeply.
Daddy’s aunties are practically crying in happiness, watching you continue hunting Easter eggs in your now full diaper.
Ten minutes later, you found three more eggs; all that remains is the golden egg.
“Ten minutes left,” you hear Grandpa yell, “you can do it sweetpea!”
You can do this! You frantically look around, searching for that golden egg. You can’t find it! You look and look. Nothing. Where is it?
“Awww, times up, sweetpea!”
You stand there, dejected. As you do, you realize how lost in little space you got—and how little you were acting. Your diaper feels cold and heavy. You didn’t want to be this little! You were supposed to prove to everyone you were a big girl!
You can’t believe you let yourself act like this—and everyone has treated you like you were some toddler since you got here. You weren’t going to let it keep happening. You’d prove you were a big girl once and for all.
“It’s okay, sweetpea!” Grandpa says, mistaking your silence for disappointment, “nobody has ever found it in 40 years!”
You feel Granny rubbing your back, “not even Zack found it! And he was our best egg finder ever! So don’t feel bad! Besides, it’s lunchtime!” She nudges you towards the table, filled with all the adults.
You try to put on your most adult face, hiding your shame and embarrassment. You’ll prove you’re a big girl over lunch! They’ll see!
Daddy walks over to you. “Hold on, baby, I need to check your diapee before lunch!”
Everyone at the table giggles. No, no, no. This isn’t right! You feel anger welling inside you. This is unfair. You’re an adult!
“Turn around, princess. That diaper is looking awfully brown!”
It was one comment too far. You feel tears in your eyes as you lose it, spitting out your paci. “I don’t need a diaper change, Daddy! I didn’t make pushies! I’m a big girl!”
Daddy watches on, smiling. His smile drives you crazy, making you feel even more little. But you don’t care. You won’t be checked in front of everyone!
“I won’t, Daddy!” you wail, face red with humiliation, stomping your feet as you say every word, “I’m a big girl, not a dumb baby!”
Your eyes suddenly go wide in terror as you feel your body tense up again. You feel your mind go blank as you squat down again, pushing even more mess into your diaper—the silence now only interrupted by your little grunts.
Granny walks over as you finish, eyes full of concern. “It’s okay, Emmy,” she says softly, “calm down for Granny!”
You realize Granny—and everyone else at the barbeque—now see you as nothing more than an actual toddler. You sob uncontrollably, no longer caring about proving you’re a big girl. It doesn’t matter anymore, you just need Daddy!
You feel Daddy embrace you for another hug, not saying anything, letting you calm down. His embrace soothes you as you slowly calm down, your sobs slowing as you do.
Daddy looks at you, wiping your nose with a tissue. “I got you, princess. You’re safe with me, always. I think it’s time for a nap, Grandpa set up a playpen inside for you. You’ll feel better after, I promise.”
Unable to speak, you nod, offering your hand to Daddy. He grabs it, leading you inside. The playpen is filled with blankets and pillows. It looks so comfy. Daddy leads you in, tucking you under the blankets.
“I’ll be back in an hour, okay, princess?”
As Daddy leaves, you lay there in your messy diaper. You don’t even care about the laughing you hear outside. Your eyes are too heavy as you drift off to sleep.
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Messing my diaper makes my kitty throb...
cw - diaper messing, sexual content
I could feel my little cheeks spread against the warm, soft padding of my diaper. A thick log was poking its way through my tight tiny hole as I grunted and strained to push it out. I was on my bloated belly, straddled on top of my giant unicorn stuffie on the floor as my guts churned below me and gas leaked around the firm turd pushing out of my hole. I grunted again, the log slowly tenting the seat of my diaper. My face grew warm, sweat prickling my forehead as I continued to push my mess out. It felt so good, my asshole gaping around my mess. I couldn't help but moan as I took a brief break in my straining. I squirmed in place, slowly grinding my swollen clit against my soft padding, my asshole throbbing against the mess that was still halfway sticking out of me as I humped mindlessly. I moaned, then started to push my mess out again. It was snapping and crackling into my diaper as it started snaking easily out of me, curling into a warm mound into my diaper. I sighed in delight as a hot trickle of pee spread around the front, absorbing into the thick padding between my legs.
My body tingled all over, and I couldn't stop myself from humping my unicorn a few more minutes, my poopy mess sticking and spreading around my butt cheeks. I soaked in the pleasure for a few more moments, humping gently as I made tiny whiny moans and whimpers, my swollen clit twitching pleasantly. I wanted nothing more than to vigorously hump my unicorn into oblivion until I came over and and over and over again. But, I stopped myself and got to my feet, my legs wobbly and tingly.
I took a few steps in my dirty diaper before my tummy rumbled again. I instinctively bent down, grasping my knees and pushing my already messy bottom out. I gave a little push, expecting gas, and was surprised to feel a flood of mush erupt from my hole, spreading across my messy cheeks. I reached behind me, and felt the warm lump that was weighing my diaper seat down.
I wanted nothing more than to go mount my unicorn again and ride him furiously. Instead, I stood up straight again and called out, "Daddy! I went poopy!"
I heard him shift, coming over to my play corner in the living room. He had his hands on his hips as he sniffed the air, "It certainly does smell like a little stinker made a poopy, that's for sure."
I giggled, hiding my face behind my hands as he approached me. He put his arms around my waist and bent me over to inspect my soiled diaper. I blushed furiously as he pulled my skirt up and out of the way, peering down the waist to assess the damage.
"Wow," he exclaimed. "Baby girl made a big big mess."
"Did I do a good job?" I asked.
He began to brush his hands over the back of my diaper before pressing his palm against it, squishing the mess into my sticky cheeks. "A very good job," he said holding my diapered bottom in his hand.
"Daddy, can I please have changies?" I asked, running a hand up his thigh, brushing my fingers along the outline of his growing cock. It twitched appreciatively in response.
"Oh," he chuckled warmly. "Does my little baby want to have a diaper change?"
"Yes, Daddy," I breathed as I traced the outline of is shaft. "It's a big poopy, and I need a very thorough clean up."
He rocked his hips back and forth, pulling me up and against his chest as he pressed his now rock hard erection up against my tummy. He tucked my hair behind my ear, tracing a finger down my cheek and pointing my chin up to look at him. He bent down to land a tender kiss on my quivering lips, our breath mixing, heavy with desire.
"Come on, my sweet girl. Let's get you out of that dirty thing," he purred in my ear, and my knees shook as I melted into his embrace.
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Hope you enjoy my little scenes! While you're here, if you'd like to support me, I'm working on raising funds for my wheelchair! Check it out here!
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letting it out....
the hold was worth the wait, this is what being a baby is all about 🍼💩 sound on 🫣
JFF 💕
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“Lay down and let me get you out of that messy diaper. You’re lucky I noticed before any of the other girls.”
You were still trying to figure out what was happening. She wasn’t wrong—you did have a messy diaper. But how did she know that? None of your friends knew about your incontinence. You were fairly confident you didn’t even smell thanks to the magic of Nullo.
“I-I’m not wearing a diaper. What are you talking about?”
“Yes you are,” she says, “and you pooped yourself five minutes ago. I can tell. You don’t have to lie to me.”
You’ve been incontinent long enough to know this isn’t going to end well. It’s gotta be some kind of trap. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really? You’re gonna stand there in a clearly loaded diaper and keep denying it? I don’t care about the diapers. I don’t care about the mess I’m about to wipe off of you. I don’t think you understand what’s going on. I’ve had a crush on you for months.”
“I was absolutely terrified of even talking to you until I saw what was clearly a diaper bulging out of your shorts a month ago. And I saw it again. And again. I knew it was my chance. When I saw you squatting down, I knew it was time. You’re super discreet about it by the way. So, are you gonna let me change your diaper or what?”
“I-wha-really?” You stuttered in utter disbelief.
“Yes, really. Now lay down. I assume you keep your spare diapers in the bag you carry with you everywhere. Good.” She pulls down your pants. “Let’s get these tabs off. One. Two. Three. And four. It’s not how I first imagined seeing you naked in my bed, but who cares. It’s finally happening.”
Somehow, despite having a girl you were crushing on for months ripping open your messy diaper, you were visibly excited.
She was blushing more than you. “Well, if I’m gonna have to be the one cleaning you up from now on, it’s good to know you’re packing down there. Not even sure how you fit this thing in your diaper,” she says as she wipes you down. Once she’s satisfied you’re all clean, she pulls you up off the bed, leading you to her bathroom.
“Where are we going?” you ask.
“To the shower. You’re gonna thank me for the change and then show me what you can do with that.”
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"Why'd you stop, honey?" she asked.
You didn't respond, realizing too late that the large brisket sandwich and funnel cake probably wasn't the best idea. Your body forces itself to squat down, overriding your effort to hold it. You try to act casual, to look like you're doing anything but what's happening. To not make it obvious you're filling your diaper.
"Uh oh," she smirked, "are you making a stinky, babe?"
"Can you not? I hate when you call it that. It's so infantilizing!"
"That's what you think is infantilizing? Me calling it a 'stinky?' Not you squatting down in the middle of a fair and loading your diaper? Because that's infantilizing, babe."
"You know I can't help it!" you argue.
"I know, baby, just like all the other babies here!" she quips.
You glare at her. Hating the position you're in. Wishing she didn't treat you like a toddler every time this happened.
"Oh stop being such a drama queen," she scoffed, "we're at a fair full of livestock, honey, nobody is going to smell your messy diaper and think it's you. You couldn't have chosen a better place to fill your diaper. And besides, you're not the one who has to clean your bum, mister."
"I would if you ever let me!" you heaved, "I was doing perfectly fine handling everything before you!"
"Well, sorry for not trusting you, babe," she retorts sarcastically, "can you blame me? Anyone who can't be trusted to keep their underwear clean for more than 20 minutes hardly seems trustworthy enough to handle their diapers!"
Before you can even respond she grabs your hand. "Come on, mister," she declared, "you're not getting diaper rash on my watch. You have a date with a changing table."
As she pulled you along, you wondered how it got to this point. How you went from being a self-sufficient adult handling your incontinence to...this.
"Excuse me, ma'am," you hear her say to a woman with a clipboard, "but my boyfriend had a little accident in his diaper. Is there anywhere I can change him?"
The woman looks you over, pity in her eyes as they met yours. "There are family restrooms on the other side of that tent over there with changing tables big enough for him," she chuckled. Then, more to herself than anyone else, added, "I guess I shouldn't have told Jim those changing tables we're pointless. Never thought I'd see the day."
"Thank you so much," she responds, "you hear that, babe? They even have changing tables just for you! Time for a clean diaper!"
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All you wanted to do was to slink out of there without anyone noticing the two telltale moon-shaped leaks on your pants. The ones that are only formed by a leaking diaper.
You didn’t count on seeing her, though. You recently—and foolishly—asked her out at the bar last week. She was the new girl in the friend group. You took your shot. You struck out.
You didn’t want to talk to her. Who would want to throw themselves into that kind of awkward situation?
Not you. You gave her a curt hello and pretended that whatever you were doing on your phone was extremely important. Not a great plan, but better than awkwardly making small talk with the woman who just shot you down.
In your haste to avoid a conversation, you forgot all about your leaking diaper. You forgot that if you turned and looked forward, she’d have a perfect view of your wet pants.
So you wondered why she started giggling. At least, until you heard the unmistakable sound of an iPhone taking a picture. And the frantic texting sounds accompanied by even more giggling.
You should have known.
Not that it mattered. As the elevator stopped and she walked out, she turned around, still laughing, and stopped the door from closing.
“Did you ask me out on a date or because you needed a Mommy to change your diapers?” she asked, sarcasm practically dripping off her tongue, “because I don’t think you need a girlfriend, you need a Mommy to change that leaking diaper, don’t you? That’s so embarrassing!”
As she walked out, your phone sprang to life with texts. Your group chat is suddenly exploding.
You open it up, only to find a picture of your butt, complete with the telltale moon shaped leaks. And, even worse, two inches of diaper peaking over your pants.
As you read the texts, you know you’ll never be anything but the diaper boy of the group again.
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Messy. Commissioned piece
You tentatively looked up at your mommy, who was smiling and holding her phone's camera to you. You were dressed in nothing but a thick diaper with elmo and his friends printed on it, visible for the whole world to see, or just your mom's YouTube. "Thank you got tuning in too watch our latest diaper review! Today pampers sent us their new sesame street SecureSeal diapers! First thoughts, I really love how secure they feel, they definetly have a tight fit and some extra bulk to them. They're also very soft so your little one will love them too. Katie what do you think of it?" You didn't want to reply. You hated being in these videos, but you had no choice. You knew the consequences of not being easy for mommy. "I... like how soft they are.. and the elmo." Mommy smiled at you. "So, were going to test out a few things that I know your already wondering. How big of a mess do they hold, and how long your little one can stay in them." She flipped the phone back towards you. "Katie, mommy needs you to be her little helper. I need you to make biiiiig pushies in your diapee." Your heart clenched in fear. There's no way she seriously just asked you to just.. mess yourself. In a somewhat shocked tone she replied too your inaction. "Kaitlyn! I don't see you making pushies! We don't have all day baby. If you can't do it mommy will give you some castor oil to hurry you up." Your heart lurched into your stomach. Willingly shit yourself, or get fed castor oil and do it anyways, although with a bit more of a stomach ache. You shuddered from remembering the last time mommy gave you that vile concoction. Your knees shaking, you sat up a bit and squatted. You needed to hold back your tears, knowing that about one hundred thousand or so people were going to watch you grunting and squatting into diapers that looked like they were made for an infant. Worse yet, they were going to watch this.. a blush overcame your pouting face. You clench and push, trying to get an unwilling and unwanted lump into your pants. It was hard to get going but you never had much control in the first place. Your stomach groaned as you pushed it all out. You could tell mommy was trying not to laugh at you. Your diaper sagged down, gathering between your thighs. You were fighting back tears, trying not to cry as the warm mess settled into your pampers. "So, as you can see SecureSeal is absorbent enough to handle the toughest messes. We're going to come back in a few hours to see how it holds up over time, so make sure to like and subscribe for part two!"
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"Why are you walking so weird? Can you stop for a second?" Mom asked. Her hand reaching for my bottom, unlikely that she was going to do anything besides checking my pull-up. "Mommy I just used the potty, I'm not wet." She didn't bother to listen to my protests, "ugh, what is that smell?" She muttered as she inquisitively groped my trainers. My heart froze as I suddenly felt something cold and mushy press against me. "Oh my g-" I heard her exclaim before swiftly pulling down my pants. "Kaitlyn!" She yelled as she witnessed the unmistakable buldge in my previously snug and dry pull-ups. "These are our just in case pull-ups! You weren't supposed to actually use these. Why didn't you tell me you had to go potty?" She said in a clearly upset voice. I turn around to face her, trying to avoid eye contact. She's not as mad as I expected, more frustrated and dissapointed. "Baby, that's not what these pull-ups are for. These are too catch your dribbles when your done tinkling and when you can't make it to the potty in time. If you're going to have accidents you need to be in diapers." I have to try not to cry, I don't want to give her another reason too put me in those stupid sesame street diapers. A long sigh escapes her lips. "I'm sorry for yelling at you honey. Let's go upstairs and get you changed into something more..." she paused, looking for the right words. "Age appropriate."
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tw: diaper messing, Caregiver/little dynamic, abdl
More wholesome than anything...
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I tried not to grunt, but even if I could stop myself, the crinkling sound of my expanding diaper gave me away. I was pooping myself, and everyone around me had to be able to tell. I had felt the pressure growing in my belly for a while now, coming and going, easing in intensity before hitting me hard, almost knocking the air out of me as cramps bent me over. I'd been holding it for a while now, stubbornly refusing to let go. But it had been a few days into my diaper punishment, and Daddy knew I was holding back.
"Good little girls don't hold in their stinkies," he said to me after another clean diaper check. "Good girls poop right when they feel the urge to. Don't you want to be a good girl for me?"
I did want to be a good girl. But pooping myself was so embarrassing and yucky. Even if Daddy promised he'd change me right away. And even if it would feel very good to relieve some of the pressure in my gut, I just couldn't deal with the embarrassment. So, I continued to hold it.
Daddy warned me this morning. He said I should make a good effort to make poopies before we went to our friend's house. We were having a barbecue with friends, all of them littles and their Mommies and Daddies as well.
"They won't mind a messy diaper," he said with a grin, "But I know you're still a little sensitive about people watching you poop."
His words had sprung the idea in my head and even then, I was completely mortified, covering my red face with my hands while my eyes stung with fresh tears. But nothing could compare to the absolute humiliation I felt now, slightly bent forward, legs apart while my hands grasped my knees. If I had listened to Daddy, maybe I wouldn't be here, pooping my diaper in front of all of our friends.
But I had not listened. Daddy changed my diaper before we left for the party, frowning as he folded up my wet diaper, and replaced it with a clean dry one. "I told you to try to go poopy, little one," he said, as he taped the diaper shut around my hips.
"I tried," I lied. "I didn't have to go."
"Is that so?" he chuckled as he rubbed my bloated belly. It had been days since I had last pooped, and my tummy was swollen with the evidence. "So, if I push here," he pressed his fingers into my tummy, "nothing will happen?"
I squealed as the pressure in my guts intensified. I thought I might completely lose it then, and push out days worth of poopy right there on my changing table. But all that came out was a little fart, muffled by my thick pink diaper.
"Stooooop!" I whined and pushed his hands away, sitting up on the table and protecting my belly.
"Okay, okay," he held up his hands in surrender, a knowing smirk plastered on his face as he finished dressing me. "But don't say I didn't warn you," he said as he finished tying up the back of my dress. "At least Tara and Penny have a changing table at their house too."
We arrived at the party, and I quickly forgot about the pressure in my tummy, now more focused on playing with my friends. Penny and Tara has a big house, and Penny was and ABDL little, spoiled with lots of toys. It was easy for any little to lose themselves in a house with an adult sized jungle gym. It wasn't until after dinner, when the Mommies and Daddies had congregated on the back deck to talk over drinks, and the littles had bussied themselves with making a blanket fort inside, when I felt the first rumble of cramps.
I tried to play through them, but even my friends could see the worry on my face as the cramps intensified. I was on my way to find my Daddy, urged on by Penny and the others, my teddy bear in my hand for comfort, when it happened. I thought it could be another fart, but I didn't want to do that in front of friends either. And as it came out, even though I was embarrassed, I was also kind of relieved, thinking that's all it was going to be.
I smiled, my guts releasing the cramps, seemingly pacified by that little fart. But not two steps later did they hit me again, doubling me over with nothing more than a whimper. I dropped my teddy bear to the floor, gripping my knees instead as I felt my butt cheeks begin to spread open, the tip of my days long protest pushing it's way out of my butthole whether I wanted it to or not. My body betrayed me, involuntarily pushing and grunting as the hardest and biggest poopy I've ever had began to snake it's way out of me and poke it's head against the seat of my diaper.
I grunted and pushed again, sweat prickling my forehead as more of my poop came out of me, coiling up against my butt cheeks, hot and heavy. I looked up as I felt the firmly packed log stretch my butthole wide, as it strained against it's enormous size. I could feel every inch of progress my unwanted pushes gave and slowly, all eyes were turning towards me.
"Oh, I think someone is making a poopy over there," Tara said with a grin. The group of Mommies and Daddies chuckled and looked over at me, as I made another push, grunting a little loud this time as another log of hard poop exited my body. My face was red with the exertion and also the embarrassment and tears started to form in the corners of my eyes.
"Ah yes," I heard my Daddy say, "I've been trying to coax her to do a pushy for a few days."
"Days?!" Eric, another Daddy exclaimed. "That poor little baby." He looked over at me with an encouraging expression, "Good girl, Kylie! Push it all out!"
I was mortified but either no one noticed, or my embarrassment encouraged more of our friends to join in.
"You got this, Kylie!" Tara cheered.
"That's a good girl!" Hannah and David joined in.
It was almost too much, hearing their supportive cheers over my own panting breath with a piece of poop still stretching my hole, halfway out of me and into my already heavy bulging diaper. A tear finally let loose and tumbled down my cheek as I repositioned, going down on my knees and grasping my teddy bear for comfort before another cramp took over, forcing me to push again.
"It's okay, baby," My Daddy said sympathetically. "Careful, guys. Kylie is still a little embarrassed about doing poopies in front of people."
"Why?" Tara said with a bright tone. "Everyone poops."
"Not in a diaper," I said through a grunt, finally through the worst of the packed load. Softer, easier to pass coils ballooned the back of my diaper now, filling it easier. But my shame was still at it's peak, tears trembling down my cheeks as I finished filling my pants.
"If you think of it, we have all pooped in a diaper before," Eric added with a smug grin.
Penny climbed up onto her Mommy's lap, "It's okay. I make poopies in my diapers too!"
"Yes you do, my little poopy pants princess!" Tara wrapped her arms around Penny, tickling her stomach to the sounds of happy squeals and giggles.
"Mama!" she squealed.
I smiled seeing the two interact so sweetly. My panting breaths returning to normal as my tummy relaxed, no longer demanding forceful pushes from my body. Sweat cooled on my brow, and now that my diaper was heavy, sagging with the weight of my load, I felt silly for fighting to hold it for so long.
Daddy got up from his seat and stepped over to me, crouching down to help me up off the ground. My mess clung to my butt cheeks, squishing awkwardly as I moved. Daddy kissed the top of my head and turned me around, bucking any sense of privacy and lifting the skirt of my dress to expose my droopy diaper. And despite the fact he and everyone around us knew I had pooped my diaper, he still pulled the waist of my diaper back to peek inside.
"Holy shit," He gasped, "What a big poopy for such a little girl."
I scrunched up my face, a new level of embarrassment washing over me. A few of our friends chuckled, a good natured kind of laughter, warmly adoring how cute I was, as opposed to making fun of me, which was what I had feared. But there was no cynical laughter here, no bad natured teasing. Just friends who supported me, and maybe even enjoyed the show a little bit. And after Daddy took me to borrow Penny's changing table, and cleaned up my messiest diaper to date, the party carried on as if nothing had happened. Again, I felt a little silly for making such a big deal out of something as inconsequential as pooping myself. It really wasn't that bad. The worst of it was just because I waited so long to do it. And even then Daddy got me in a clean diaper and everything was fine.
We sat around a fire in the back yard, roasting marshmallows and telling stories as the sky grew darker. Partners cuddled up around the warmth of the fire, and I leaned against my Daddy's chest. Truly, everything felt completely normal. Nothing was different from before, except maybe that my tummy felt looooads better.
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It feels so good. Soo, sooooo good. And you needed it so bad. Your princess parts tingle with the mere friction. Your prepubescent little boobies strain against the soft, thick fabric of your babyish onesie.
Which one are you wearing today, baby? Your dinosaur-themed one? Mommy loves to parade you around in it every time she has friends over, so she can make you gurgle a big RAAWR through your paci for them. Or is it maybe the plain pink one Daddy prefers to dress you in for the evenings with your babysitter? It also has a drop seat, which makes it perfect for checks! Mommy's 18-year-old niece likes to leave it open, though, so she can keep an eye on your thick padding while phoning her boyfriend. It makes you feel pathetically childish.
To be honest, you don't even know: the heat of the moment makes you concentrate exclusively on humping. Was it perhaps the white ruffled onesie Mommy and Daddy like you to wear for your little outings? Thanks to its color, your eventual mush tush becomes easily recognizable to any onlookers. Being less than 5 feet tall, people would just coo and laugh at the grumpy toddler going for a walk with her parents, who went helplessly poo-poo.
No 25-year-old woman in sight, of course.
Not now either. You can't help but bite your pink pacifier, wishing you were tasting Daddy's cock instead. Too bad babies can't do that, right little girl? By now, even the most grown-up thing you've done in months feels utterly babyish. Stupid. Laughable. To start with, you're stuck in a playpen designed for infants, surrounded by teddy bears and other stuffed animals that now look at you condescendingly.
After all, they are your best friends: by Mommy's will, you've given them the most childish names―Lulu the Lioness, Banana the Monkey, as well as Marshmallow the Unicorn, the one you're carelessly "playing" with right now―, along with running tea parties with them in this very playpen. One of Daddy's favorite punishments is letting your plushies watch him in bed with Mommy while you're having your afternoon nap in your crib. "Cute wittle girls like you can't understand why adults moan during nap time, sweetie, but your wittle fluffy fwends will absolutely tell you about every grown-up thing Daddy is going to do with Mommy!! Pwinky pwomise!", he swears every time he enforces this sort of belittling discipline.
But they never tell you anything!!! How unfair!!
Gosh, how can you have fallen so low? You throb rhythmically, sweating through all the layers you wore. Babies like you have to be all snuggly-wuggly so you don't catch a cold, they would say. In May, though, their purpose was rather to make you feel foolishly overdressed in front of Mommy's sexy silky pajamas, which revealed her perky nipples and her womanly curves.
Compliant as you are, you drool all over yourself with every thrust over Marshmallow. Since Daddy is watching over you from his desk, you don't want to disappoint him. His first condition to let you make your wittle cummies today is, in fact, that you dribble throughout all the humping. Just like an infant would.
Of course, since the beginning of your new life you were only allowed to make cummies while diapered―it's not like you could wear any other kind of underwear, squirt; Mommy and Daddy forbade you even pull-ups―. Sadly, their restrictions increased shortly after. Daddy's second condition to let you be an adult for a little while consists of doing so only in messy pampers. Poopy babies are the happiest babies, he would mock you.
Now, there is no possible way to deny you're a baby. As sweaty, as smelly, as drooly as it gets, you continue humping your wittle plushie while Daddy goes through some paperwork. He isn't even paying that much of attention to the flushed, blushy, and flustered mess of a baby playing in her playpen. Every time your soft princess parts feel the mush, a tear falls from your eye. What's the matter, sweetie? All babies wail after going number 2, and you're no different. Would you prefer to give up on your messy diapy cummies in order to get changed? Of course not!
Suddenly, your phone buzzed. Ugh. You were in the middle of something!!! Today, Daddy's third condition to let you cum was that you had to keep your phone with yourself in the playpen. Strange, you'd thought: thanks to the parental controls they had installed, you could only use it to message Daddy or Mommy and to watch the silly cartoons made for infants they loved to distract you with while they discussed adult topics at dinner.
It was a text, though.
"Hiiiii sweetheart! How is my precious wittle itty babieee doiiing 🥰🥰🥰???"
Nononono. No. No!!!! NOOO!!! Of course she knew Daddy would allow me some grown-up time!! And she wants to ruin it with her stupid messages! You want to shout, weep, throw a tantrum, and get your old life back. But you keep rhythmically humping, waiting for Mommy to show you what she has set up for you.
"Cuuutieee, your Daddy told me you're kinda busy right now, showing that meanie wittle unicorn of yours who's boss 🦄🦄🦄!!! I'm sure you'll manage to ride him like a veeery biiig giiirl!!! Forget Marshmallow has seen the grown-up things you beg us every night to see, though. In that sense, he's much more mature than you, wittle giiiiirl hahahaha 🍼👶.
Anyway, I wanted to show you what Mommy will be wearing tonight for Daddy. I'll be there for dinner, so I hope he has already cleaned you up when I arrive!! 😝💩🤢 A certain wittle baby will need a full bath right after her ridiculous game is over😂😂 and I don't want to deal with your babyish, messy and flat wittle butt cheeks".
She sent a pic.
"Do you like it, baaaaaby? You will need decades to be mature enough for such an outfit😜😜. It wouldn't even fit over your cuute wittle diapies!You see now why your Daddy doesn't even think about doing anything remotely sexual with you??? Because you're just a wittle baaaaaby!!! And do you wike my bunny tatoo? Do yooouu?? I can bring you a temporary one for tonight HAHAHA. Wouldn't you like to be wike Mommyyyyy??? Too bad you can't 😁😉"
That stupid children's temporary tatoo be the only thing you will ever have in common with her. Lost in her body, her mocking smile, and her sense of superiority, you feel your whole body clenching. You're helplessly climaxing.
You wish you were her. To have her height. Her tighs. Her confidence. But now you're laying in your playpen, completely worn out, with your messy, cummy pampies as the biggest evidence of your infantile state. You start to cry. Just wike a wittle babieeeeee!
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