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[crinklyfantasies]

ABCDegree

Marianne clutched her books tightly as she made her way through campus. 30 years ago she would have felt right at home. Laughing with the other girls by the fountain, flirting with boys by the quad, or frantically studying before an exam. 

Now? She couldn’t feel more out of place, like all eyes were upon her. She imagined what people were thinking as they saw her: What does this woman think she is doing trying to get a higher education at her age?

She felt even more foolish about what she was here to study: Adult Baby Care and Development or ‘ABCD’ as the kids were calling it these days. She’d known for a while about these Adult Babies, and how they were becoming more and more common in today’s world, either by choice or by punishment. But she had no idea they would actually offer a class in a prestigious University about how to care for one. She had even less of an idea that her husband would be the one who needed caring for. 

It was a little over a year ago when Jack first came to her about his diaper fetish. Throughout their 8 years of marriage, she’d always known he’d been hiding something. The way he would turn his phone ever so slightly in her presence, the way he’d make 100 different clicks on the computer as soon as she unexpectedly walked into the office, and how flushed and flustered he would get any time she used that same computer. Like he was terrified she’d stumble upon his goldmine of a porn stash.

So when Jack finally came to her and confessed his longstanding affinity for diapers, she was actually a bit relieved. At least he wasn’t cheating on her like she’d suspected. But with this new revelation came a whole host of insecurities. She saw how vulnerable he was when he approached her, how terrified he must have been to tell her. He probably thought she would just up and leave as soon as the words left his mouth. But obviously she would do nothing of the sort. He was her husband, after all. One she still loved very much. Marianne wanted Jack to know that she was happy he told her. She remembered placing her hand on his knee lovingly as he tearfully confessed what he had bottled up for so long. 

That’s not to say she wasn’t a little taken aback, though. It’s not every day your husband tells you he’s been sneaking off to play with his penis inside a pair of Pampers. She certainly had her questions: how it started, when it came about, and any other girlfriends he may have told. 

He mentioned a girl in college that he had gotten the nerve to confess to. She apparently laughed her way out the door and he never saw her again. So it was understandable to Marianne why Jack had taken so long to tell her: he was worried she would do the same. 

But Marianne–like most wives in a happy marriage–wanted to please her husband. She can still remember how much he was shaking from being so turned on when she first wrapped that pair of AB Cushies around his leaking, throbbing cock. The pheromones coming off of him were almost tangible, and she even found herself getting a little turned on by how much it was fulfilling his desires. 

But alas, once the diaper was on, she was at a loss. What was she supposed to do now? She knew Jack liked her to be dominant. But it’s not like she could very well spank him while he had a diaper on. She was never great at the dirty talking thing, no matter how hard she tried, and she wasn’t sure she could stomach changing a grown man’s dirty diaper. Sex was pretty much off the table as well. Jack wasn’t the smallest, but he wasn’t the biggest either, so it’s not like his dick could really stick out of the diaper enough to do anything with. She was at a loss. She was fine with putting him in diapers, but she didn’t know what to do once the diapers were on. 

So she turned to porn. She tried finding videos to give her ideas, any little tips she could get on how to properly engage with him the way he wanted. But her research yielded very little. She found out the hard way that there was a surprisingly barren amount of Adult Diaper porn on the web. Or, at least, she wasn’t the best at finding it. Apparently a Tumblr wide purge of ‘explicit content’ didn’t help………………….

She didn’t want to turn to her girlfriends for help. She didn’t think it was her place to air her husband’s dirty laundry (or diapers) to the public. But, one night over drinks, her friend Cathy was talking about her daughter who was now in college, and that’s when she heard about the program. 

“She’s majoring in ABCD.”

“Like…the alphabet?” Her other friend Erica asked with a mixture of incredulity and amusement. 

They all laughed, but Cathy explained, “Apparently they teach them how to deal with those guys that are in diapers. I was a bit skeptical at first, but it turns out there are a lot of job opportunities that come with it.”

“So what does she want to do?” Erica asked. 

Cathy shrugged, “She wants to be a ‘Betasitter’. Supposedly these rich couples or wives will hire her to…take care of their husband while the wife goes off with another man. Something about ‘cuckolding’ or something like that…” Cathy sighed and shrugged exasperatedly. “I don’t really get it, but it’s something she’s really passionate about, so I guess all I can do is support her.”

Marianne sipped her wine silently, but her interest was piqued. The very next day she was Googling the program and getting details on the specifics. Still a bit unsure, she decided to talk to one of the counselors. 

“Yes, the Betasitting class will still be great for you. They will provide you with lots of resources and ideas to use on your husband, it will also open up more opportunities for you down the road if you want to explore it further,” the counselor explained. 

Marianne was skeptical, but ever since finding out about Jack’s fetish, she realized she wasn’t participating in it as much as he probably liked. After the initial fun of it, her anxiety took over, making it feel uncomfortable for her any time it was brought up. Not that there was anything wrong with the diapers themselves, it was mostly how uneasy she was in the dominant “diaper domme” role. 

So she enrolled, and that’s how she ended up here, in the ABCD building, trying to get the nerve to enter the classroom. 

She watched as flock after flock of 18-24 year old girls entered the room. Feelings of regret and anxiety rising to the surface. What would they think of someone her age taking a class like this? 

Finally she came to the realization that she didn’t care. She was doing this for her husband, for her marriage. She took a deep breath, clutched her books and readjusted the bag on her shoulder, grabbed the handle of the door, and entered. 

The room was a little bigger than your typical classroom. It had auditorium-like seating and rows that ramped downwards to the front of the class. Marianne felt like all eyes were upon her as she entered, even if they weren’t. 

She found a seat towards the back of the room, then looked around and thought better of it. She needed to be able to see the board. She gathered her things again awkwardly and moved up a few rows. Girls were still filing in, and Marianne tensed as she heard some sit down in the row behind her. 

“Originally I was in Early Childcare,” one girl said to the others, “I wanted to work with toddlers at a Daycare. Turns out, I much prefer working with Adults and treating them like toddlers. Still the same dirty diapers and tantrums, but at least with adults you know what they want...and you can tease them for it!”

They all laughed and must have nodded in agreement. 

“I’ve already got a job lined up” said another, “$1200 a week to betasit some rich loser that was caught cheating on his wife! She left him for another man, but still wants him in diapers 24/7. She’s gonna use his money to pay me as soon as I get my degree!”

Marianne’s eyes widened at that. Even with her business degree and healthy job she wasn’t making that good of money. 

“Is someone sitting here?”

Marianne looked up to see a young, beautiful blonde girl. Her stomach tried to escape through her throat when she realized who it was: Claire, the daughter Cathy was ranting about over drinks. The one who ultimately let her know about the ABCD program. 

Claire obviously recognized her too. There was that small, awkward moment of recognition before general social norms kicked in. 

“Oh my god! Marianne! Hi! How are you?” Claire asked as she sat down, it would be too weird for her to take off and find another seat now. Marianne reciprocated the uncomfortable exchange of “I'm good! How are you?” Before the conversation descended into silence. 

“So…” Claire finally said after what felt like ages, “why are you…taking this class?”

The elephant in the room was staring them in the face. Claire obviously knew Marianne’s husband Jack. But she didn’t want to out him in front of her and all these girls. So she said the first thing that came to mind: “I'm interested in the…business side of things.”

Claire nodded with narrow eyes, probably in disbelief, but she didn’t press further. 

Luckily, Marianne was saved from any further discomfort by the door opening at the front of the room. 

A woman in her mid-forties strode in, a couple years Marianne’s junior. Her salt and pepper hair tied up in a tight bun. Black, horn-rimmed glasses, fiery red lipstick, and a sharp jawline that jutted in the air as her pumps clanked on the floor rhythmically, like a Judge using their gavel to command order in the room. 

There was a sharp, collective intake of breaths as conversations ceased and pencils and notebooks were taken out. 

“Good afternoon, everyone!” the Professor announced with a sleek smile. Every girl in the room, including Marianne, replied back in unison “Good afternoon, Professor Peterson!”

“I trust you all have your essay on Yankevitz’s Psychology of Age Regressive Therapy, so please take those out, and pass them down the line if you will.”

Marianne gulped. There was a clamor of rustling papers as the women took their printed or handwritten sheets and passed them down the row for the T.A.’s to pick up. Marianne had worried she’d be behind on assignments after signing up for the class two weeks late. Hell, even 20 years after her first bout of college life, she still had recurring nightmares of showing up to Calculus 17 and not realizing there was a final she hadn’t studied for. The anxiety associated with being a full-time college student suddenly came rushing back to her. 

“We have a special lesson lined up for you today, it will be your first real ‘lab’ demonstration of this course.” Professor Peterson announced, she opened both arms wide and like clockwork the side doors on either side of the room opened. T.A.'s on both ends came in wheeling what looked like hospital beds into the room. 

The girls all gasped in excitement, apparently seeing something Marianne couldn’t. When the lady sitting in front of her finally hunched back down again to gleam excitedly at her neighbor, Marianne finally caught a glimpse of what everyone was ‘oohing’ and ‘aahing’ about.

Inside the bars of each bed, there was a college boy squirming underneath a blanket. 

******************************************************

“If you’ll all carefully make your way down so we can begin our demonstrations…” the Professor began, but the girls needed no further instruction. They already had their books and bags over their shoulders and were clambering down the stairs towards the blanketed boys. All 50 girls in the auditorium-like room were divided into groups among the 5 beds respective to their seated section. That meant Claire was in the same group as Marianne.

The 10 or so girls in the group circled around the crib-like bed. The boy inside was old enough to be Marianne’s son. He was around 20-22 years old. Further inspection yielded that the boy was, in fact, tied to the bed. His ankles and wrists strapped down with hospital restraints. He made a pathetic attempt to squirm and escape from under the bed sheet as the girls oggled and giggled. 

“Now, as you can see, you each have a Betaboi in front of you.” Professor Peterson called over the groups, “Notice their less than prominent jawline, their lack of much body/facial hair, their high-pitched whimpers, and their cowering nature.”

The girls nodded their heads in agreement. Marianne couldn’t help but see the same resemblance in her husband Jack. 

“Now, if you’d all be so kind as to remove the sheet, so we can see our Betabois in their appropriate attire…”

The girls all clapped their hands in excited glee, rushing to be the first to grab the hem of the sheet. Marianne seemed to be the only one interested in being a mere spectator. She watched as the girls looked around, nodded, and withdrew the sheet at the same time like a magician revealing their prestige. 

The bound boy clenched his legs as the sheet was removed, like that would do anything to hide the large disposable white diaper taped around his waist. The crowd of girls erupted in laughter and awes. The boy’s cheeks flushed a dark shade of pink. 

“As you learned from your reading last week, it is very important to emphasize the Beta’s attire. Remind them of their place, and that the diaper is necessary for their development.”

There was a chorus of chastising comments coming from each of the girls. 

“Awww!! Wook at the wittle beta baby in his diapurr!!”

“Aren’t you just the cutest?!”

“Look at the little loser in his Luvs!!”

“Don’t you wish you could use the big boy potty like an Alpha?”

The boy winced at every mocking remark as if they were lashes from a whip. He cringed and pulled pathetically on the straps. Marianne tried to jot down some of the things the girls were saying to remember them for later, but there was too much to keep up with. 

“Awww!! He went pee pee in his Pampers!!”

Marianne wasn’t sure if the boy’s diaper was wet beforehand, but it certainly was now. There was no mistaking the yellow tint forming in the front, and the big blue wetness indicator showing prominently down the middle. 

As if on queue, Professor Peterson continued with her lecture. “After you have properly acknowledged their attire, it’s time to focus on the state of their attire. Be sure to comment on any observations you see about it. Poke, prod, and question them about it. You can even have them talk about their situation. Remember: verbalization is one of the highest forms of humiliation.”

Again there was a slew of comments slung at the poor boy. 

“Did the wittle baby wet his diapy?”

“Beta baby went piddles in his diddles!!”

“The only wet thing your wittle clitty ever gets to touch!”

“Tell us what you did in your diaper, beta!”

The boy looked to be on the verge of tears. He screwed up his face and his bottom lip was quivering as he spoke in the most pathetic high-pitched voice “I…i went tee tee in my diapy…” The gathering girls erupted into laughter.

The boy tried to wipe his misty eyes on his shoulder, but the straps left him quite immobile. 

Marianne leaned over to the girl standing next to her. “Don’t you think this is a little…harsh?”

The girl’s face was bewildered. “What…him? Oh please! Don’t let those crocodile tears fool you! He is loving this! All of them are. In fact, they sign up for this!”

“Look! He’s hard!” one girl exclaimed as the girls leaned in to observe. 

“Awwww!!” They cooed. Pointing and laughing. 

“His wittle pee pee is poking inside his Pampurrs!!”

Marianne didn’t believe it was possible with how ashamed the boy seemed, but sure enough, there was a very noticeable bulge forming at the front of the swollen, sodden diaper. 

“And that brings us to our first demonstration!” Professor Peterson announced. “If I can have one volunteer at each station to perform a diaper change.”

Almost every hand shot in the air. Marianne chose to sit this one out. She was so overwhelmed by all the new experiences, the last thing she wanted to do was put her inexperience at the forefront of everyone’s attention. 

Mrs. Peterson went down the groups, choosing one girl seemingly at random. The girls not chosen groaned in jealousy, with the selected student grinning wickedly. 

When the Professor got to Marianne’s group, she pointed across the way. “Yes!!” Claire exclaimed excitedly when she realized she was picked. 

The rest of the girls groaned in disappointment, but parted ways and allowed Claire to clamber onto the bed and take her place between the beta’s legs. 

The boy squirmed and writhed at his bonds. Marianne wasn’t sure if he was pretending to be in distress, or trying to rearrange his bulging member inside his diaper. Either way, the onlookers found it hilarious. 

Claire looked a little more unsure now that she shared the center of attention, but she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. 

“First thing we want to do,” the Professor began, strolling back and forth amongst the groups, “Is administer the pacifier. This will immediately drop the beta into subspace. It is hard for them to argue or complain when they have something in their mouth, and it reinforces their regression.”

One of the girls in Claire’s group pulled out what looked to be a glasses case. Instead, when she popped it open, it was actually a very large pacifier. But instead of having a rubber nipple, it was an elongated rubber penis. Claire chuckled as she took the paci from the spectator, thanked her,  and pressed it to the beta’s lips. Marianne expected the boy to put up more of a fight, considering how humiliating and patronizing it must have been, but instead the boy opened his mouth and accepted the penis paci down his mouth without hesitation. Almost eagerly, in fact.

“After you have adequately administered verbal degradation and provided them with a paci, it is time to remove the diaper.” Peterson declared. “Make sure to place a firm palm at the front, between the decorative banner of the diaper and the blue indicator. You should feel their stiffness through the padding. You want to press this area so that they can feel the wet padding against their stiffy. This establishes dominance, provides slight stimulation, and gives you a solid grip to begin pulling off the fastening tapes. They can be a little stickier than normal baby diapers.”

Claire followed the instructions to a T. Smirking when the beta whimpered underneath her firm hand as she removed the tapes one at a time with a tssskk!

“Remember to take a deep breath before opening the diaper! I realize your babies aren’t messy at the moment. But it’s a good habit to get into. The fresh batch of air will save you from gagging more often than not.”

Clair pulled the front of the soaked diaper open, exposing the beta’s bits to the surrounding air. Some of the girls had to turn away, covering their mouths. Not out of disgust, but out of hilarity at the little 3 inch pecker pointing straight up in the air. 

“I always forget how tiny they can be!”

“That can’t be as big as it gets…can it?!”

“It amazes me that some of them think they deserve anything other than a diaper!!”

The beta had a fresh flush of blood rush to his cheeks. He tried to hide his face, but again the bonds kept him bound and exposed. 

“If you will take out your supply bags, you can begin the changing process…”

Claire looked around for help. In her excitement to get on the bed with the beta, she’d left her bag on the floor in the circle of girls. Marianne reached down and grabbed the infantile looking diaper bag. Claire side-eyed and shrugged innocently as Marianne handed it to her. It was a bit awkward for them both, but with everything going on, it paled in comparison. 

Claire set the bag on the bed next to her. Fishing for a package of wipes. She took them out and removed three from the container, which crinkled more than the beta’s diaper did. 

“Remember, take your time. You can never get them ‘too’ clean. Every little bit of stimulation gets them that much more desperate. Either for you or for the wife that is off having her own bit of fun.”

Claire laid the cold wipe across her palm and placed it against the boy’s inner thigh. He gasped, perhaps from the chill or from the anticipation. Claire slowly ran her hand up, closer to the beta’s bobbing balls, but stopped. Jumping over the area with the wipe and continuing to the other thigh. 

The boy’s breathing changed considerably, the head of his cock was swelling, his eyes were desperate. The other girls teased and pinched his nipples and cheeks, making him squirm even more from the intense stimulation. 

Finally, Claire laid a new wipe over his pulsing pecker. Making it resemble an actual tent, or a tiny little ghost. The girls giggled at the ridiculous display. Claire smiled before using her whole palm to twist and turn the wipe around the boy’s cock. Making it more painful than pleasurable. 

“Now, if the beta is uncaged, I always recommend a proper edging session.” Peterson professed as she strode back and forth amongst the groups, “Again, we want them as sexually frustrated as possible. It will make their eagerness to please and their obedience levels skyrocket. So if you will all carefully take your subject’s privates in your hand…”

Claire glanced over at Marianne. Neither of them really wanted to witness this in front of each other. Marianne had watched her friend’s daughter grow from a young age to the beautiful woman she is now. It was a bit abnormal to see her grasping another “man’s” penis right in front of her. 

“It is very important that you watch the beta’s visual cues during this portion of the change. As you know, betas have a very difficult time controlling themselves. We do NOT want them to achieve release, we just want them right up to the edge. Hence the term ‘edging’”

Claire looked down at the helpless subject before her as she applied liberal amounts of lotion to her hands.  Smiling at the obvious hold she had over him. Every single girl in this room with the exception of Marianne was here because they enjoyed that sense of power over those they found weak. Claire reached out her hand and grasped the beta’s already leaking member. Though, it was so small she couldn’t even palm it. Her hand ended up making the whole thing disappear. 

“Remember, you don’t have to use your whole hand. In fact, you only need to use two fingers! This will further emphasize the inadequacy of their equipment. Simply make a ring with your fingers, or a small gap between your thumb and index...”

Claire followed the Professor’s instructions, making a small circle with her hand and putting it into the air just above the head of his twitching clitty. 

The beta whimpered behind his pacifier. Raising his hips up and trying to poke his way between the tiny ring Claire had made for him. He managed to make the head slide through, but only for a bit. Falling back down on the bed and onto his used diaper. He grunted again as he summoned the strength to flex his abs and raise his hips again, pathetically humping at Claire’s stationary hand. 

“Good job, Claire!” Professor Peterson cheered, “As you can see, Claire here is letting the beta do almost all of the work, another great way to establish dominance and have the change go on your own terms. Always work smarter, not harder!”

The poor boy was practically pleading with his eyes. Sucking on his oversized paci with frantic intensity. His thrusts into her lubed up palm were eager and anxious. Like he hadn’t had relief for weeks. 

“Pay attention to the signs…” Peterson reminded, “See how his toes are curling? Perspiration building around the chest and temple? He’s close, when he starts to gasp, pull away.”

It was like the Professor was a fortune teller. Within seconds, the beta boy was whimpering and clenching and several quick, short, gasps later…Claire stopped. Opening her fingers just enough so that all the wiggly worm of the beta could feel was a cold breeze.  An almost angry grunt escaped around the paci in the frustrated beta’s mouth. 

“Awww!!!” The girls around the bed teased, “Somewon’s getting fussy and fwustwated!!”

There was an explosion of laughter, followed by shouts and jeers from the group next to them. 

“Professor Peters!! Someone had an accident…” they called. The older woman rushed to other group to assess the situation. Turns out the other girl was not as successful in edging her beta, as evidenced by the massive load of sticky juices covering both the kneeling student and the naked boy beneath her.

“Seems like we waited a bit too long to withdraw the stimulation. That’s okay! I won’t dock you points as you are still learning, just make sure you learn what you did wrong and what this particular beta’s tells were. Everyone has their little ticks that give them away, and sometimes it’s just a matter of learning each individual. However, if they do begin to ejaculate, ALWAYS remove your hand as soon as possible. The lack of stimulation at this precarious time will result in what is known as a ‘ruined orgasm’. It provides some of the relief the sub desperately wants, but without the associated pleasure of a full orgasm. Not to worry, dear. We’ll get ‘em next time! But just be aware that your future clients may not take lightly to having their husband’s achieve any sort of release. So keep that in mind.”

The girl seemed embarrassed as Peterson walked away without another word, the group of girls around her and the spent beta put a consoling hand on her shoulder.

Claire now seemed even more determined to do it right. Edging the beta 5 more times until his balls were noticeably swollen and aching. The poor beta could probably be heard across campus if it weren’t for the penis paci muffling his sobs.

“If you have made it this far into the edging session, give yourself a pat on the back!” Professor Peterson declared, the girls around Claire and one other group clapped and cheered. 

“The next part is where their preference sheet comes in,” Peterson continued after the room quieted down, “Again, every client is different, but some will have the box checked that allows for optional or even mandatory ‘milkings’. The wife or caretaker of the beta will often be specific as to how the milking can be administered, but I’ll show you one of my favorite ways: a procedure known as ‘milking the prostate’.”

Half of the room gasped, the other half looked around bewildered.

Peterson clicked the device in her hand, and a Powerpoint presentation detailing the specifics of the male ‘g-spot’, also known as the prostate, appeared on the screen. Through a series of slides the Professor explained that one of the best ways to stimulate this area is by using two fingers inserted into the rectum of the beta.

“It will be about the size of walnut, though some studies have shown that betas tend to exhibit a much larger sized prostate, which is why a lot of them are more prone to enjoying anal activity. Simply insert the lubricated fingers, point upwards just behind where the base of the penis is, and press lightly.”

Claire followed along with the Professor’s presentation by practicing on the beta in front of her. She put on a latex glove, lubed up her fingers with more lotion, pressed her palm against the pelvis of the boy, reached between his legs, found the hole, and pressed inwards.

Marianne will never forget the sound the beta made as Claire entered him. She was always hesitant to try things like this with Jack, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to hear those same sounds come from him.

The beta’s breathing was much more measured now. Like he wasn’t excited, but wasn’t being tortured either. One of the girl’s stroked his hair while another whispered in his ear to relax and ‘take it like a good boi’.

“OoooOOoohhh” the boy cooed as Claire worked her fingers inside him.

“That’s it, Claire!” Peterson encouraged, “right there! That’s the sound we want. Do you feel the walnut?”

Claire nodded and screwed her face up in concentration. Biting her bottom lip as she worked her hand and fingers back and forth inside him. 

The beta was moaning now. Like he was experiencing the most intense pleasure he ever felt. Claire had to use her other hand to hold him still while she worked her fingers in and out of him. 

“He’s close. Finish the job.” Peterson prodded, and Claire obliged.

The beta was rocking up and down on the bed, tugging at his bonds, moaning pathetically.

“Yes! Yesss! Yess!! I’m gonnNna..”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence, the puny penis pulsed and a projectile of semen shot into the air, then more oozed down the shaft and dribbled down his balls.

The crowd gasped and clapped. Even Marianne threw her notebook under her armpit and joined in the applause. 

“Well done, Claire!” Professor Peterson commended, “you have a bright future ahead of you!”

Claire smiled sheepishly as she pulled out several more wipes and began cleaning up the beta’s baby batter. 

“We are almost out of time,” Peterson announced, checking her watch, “so let’s all take out a fresh diaper and learn how to properly prepare it for application.”

Every girl in the room reached into their bags and pulled out a large, fluffy diaper of varying colors and designs. Except for Marianne, who must have missed it on the supply list. 

“Do you mind if I borrow…” Marianne asked the girl next to her. She smiled sweetly and obliged by handing her a pink, princess diaper with unicorns and flowers all over it. It was a bit of a strange design, she thought. Weren’t the people that wore diapers this size mostly males?

“It is very important when you have a new diaper to do what I call the ‘Fluffing Technique’” Peterson instructed, using a diaper of her own as a demonstration. “Most of them come vacuum or hermetically sealed, and they lose most of their volume. We obviously don’t want a flat, puny diaper, we want big, bulky diapers that force the wearer to waddle. So in order to fluff it up, simply open it up, and fold it down the middle, ‘hotdog style’ like this…”

She held the diaper aloft so all could see and follow along. 

“This begins the aeration process and creates a sort of channel for the messes to travel, helping to ensure you don’t have as many leaks. Once you have that crease, grab it on both the edges and wriggle it back and forth like this, almost like you’re activating a disposable heating pad.”

There was a cacophony of crinkles as the 50 women shook the sides of the diapers back and forth. 

“We are fluffing up the inner material and letting those layers breathe. Again, ensuring that we’re adding bulk and reaching peak absorbency. Your clients will thank you for going through less diapers, and for making their hubby’s look even cuter!!”

There were murmurs of agreement and awes. Even comparisons between the girls as to who got their diaper the fluffiest. 

“Now take those diapers home with you and practice applying them to a stuffed animal, your boyfriend, or anyone you can! That concludes today’s session! Have a great day!”

The auditorium rumbled as the girls grabbed their things and filed out. The betas in the beds were wheeled out by the T.A.’s. 

Marianne waited behind, stuffing the pink diaper into her bag that the girl graciously let her have. 

“Excuse me, Professor Peterson?” Marianne asked, approaching the desk where her teacher was rounding up her things. 

“Yes dear?” She said, without looking up at first. When her eyes rose to see the speaker for the first time, there was a look of recognition and sympathy in them. 

“My name is Marianne Olsen and I…I just wanted to say thanks for the lesson today. I’m sorry I didn’t get that paper in, and didn’t have my supplies b-but I—“

“How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?” Peterson asked. 

Marianne was a bit taken back by the question. ”F-fifty-two” she answered, feeling self conscious again. 

Peterson smiled, nodded and removed her glasses. 

“And why are you here?”

“I…well my uh…my husband has an…ummm—“

“A diaper fetish.” Peterson finished for her without even blinking.  

“Yes.”

The Professor stared at her for a long while, then smiled. “I admire you, Mrs. Olsen” she finally said. 

“I…you do?”

Peterson smiled again “Yes. Few women, especially your age (no offense) would be willing to put forth the effort to accommodate for what is often seen as a very taboo and misunderstood fetish. Most women would run, but you stayed. Not only that, you signed up for a class to better understand and provide for your husband. I deeply admire that.”

Marianne’s eyes started misting. She had been so unsure about this whole thing and, up until that very moment, felt like it was all a mistake. 

“The world is changing, Marianne.” Peterson continued, “People are not only seeing diapers as a fetish anymore, but also as a very effective method of punishment, control, humiliation, and therapy. There are going to be many business and recreational opportunities in this field in the not so distant future, and I really hope you will see this class as more of a stepping stone rather than just a way to help get your husband off.”

“I…I guess I never considered—“

“You’re a powerful woman with a good head on her shoulders and the desire to learn and please. I am confident you will get more out of this class than you ever thought possible.”

“Thank you, Professor Peterson.”

“No, thank you. But in the interest of being consistent with all my students, I am going to need your essay by the end of the week.”

“Consider it done, ma’am!”

*******

By the time she got home, Marianne was exhausted. She placed her bag on the coat rack, went to the fridge to grab a bottle of wine, and sighed exasperatedly as she sat next to Jack on the couch. 

“Hi honey,” Jack said, “how was class?”

“It was good,” she said as she poured herself a glass of Cabernet, “Now go get your diapers and bring them to me. Then take off your clothes. I have some...studying to do!”

To Be Continued

I just launched a second Chapter for this story on Substar! Head on over to read it if you want to see more!!

[crinklyfantasies]

Regret...?

***Disclaimer*** This is NOT my photo. All credit goes to @mommiesbabyboy for the super embarrassing pic!

You stood in the doorframe, unsure, equal parts frustrated and nervous.

Frustrated because you were 28 years old and wearing huge, infantile, and VERY full diaper. It smelled horrific and the previously soft cotton was starting to itch against your skin.

Nervous because your younger, 20 year old "baby" sitter was in the other room, chatting with a group of her college friends, and you weren't sure how to get her attention without exposing yourself to the entire group.

You hated being treated like this. It wasn't fair. All you had said was that you wanted to try some Mommy dom roleplay and your girlfriend had taken it way too far. She had apparently enjoyed those first few sessions far more than you, gently stroking your stiffy while you nursed on her full, heavy breasts.

It had been heaven and you thought that would be the end of it when one day she started making comments.

"Oh hey, that would look so cute on you!" She would tease, pointing to a dinosaur, or race car, or similarly childishly printed T-shirt.

In retrospect you SHOULD have stopped it there, but hindsight is 20/20. In reality you had just blushed and laughed it off, mildly amused and embarrassed.

Then she had actually bought some of those clothes and begged you to try them on.

"Come on," she would plead. "Just this once, you'll look so cute! I'll give you a treat if you're a good boy for me..."

You cursed your past self for being so easily manipulated.

It hadn't ended there, of course, as she grew more and more confident in her Mommy role. She started cutting your food for you at dinner. She would make sure your shoes were tied would make sure you were holding hands whenever you crossed a road or even just went outside. She insisted on being the driver whenever you went out, eventually forcing you into the back seat after the passenger side seatbelt "broke".

Of course, the outfits got more and more shameful. More "baby"-ish, and humiliating.

You realized too late that the only sexual attention you got was after some new, mortifying request, and that it was never "proper" intercourse, meaning anything penetrative, including oral. She literally had you and your "little jelly bean" in the palm of her hand. Why did you keep letting her do it? Why did you keep giving her more and more control, one "treat" at a time?

Was it because you... liked it? No. Absolutely not. There was no way any man would like this! Being swaddled in thick, suffocating padding every day. Forced to cringe and bear the weight of strangers staring at you in your dinosaur overalls or whatever else your wife shoved on you. Forced to sit like a "good baby" while she spooned dubious looking slop into your mouth when there was perfectly good food on the table just out of reach. Forced to smell her hair when she laid you down on her lap, unclasping her bra and guiding your lips to her full, milky breast...

"Ugh, I THOUGHT I smelled something nasty out here. Did you seriously shit yourself again, dude?"

The door swung open and your babysitter was glaring at you with a disgusted look on her pretty face. She was standing slightly off to the side, doing absolutely nothing to obstruct the view for her friends in the room. They took one look at you and the yellowed, sagging lump between your legs and burst into a fit of giggling.

You started to turn. You'd rather deal with a rash than with this sniggering group of attractive strangers.

A hand shot out. "Not so fast, mister. No way I'm letting you stink up the rest of the house. You're getting a new diaper right now. And don't even think about cumming in the wipes again, unless you want to spend the rest of the afternoon outside!" She yanked you in and shut the door.

You closed your eyes to block out the jeers and prayed your erection would go away before she un-taped you.

[crinklyfantasies]

“I’m sorry, honey! But I really can’t feel anything going on under there. Are you sure you’re trying as hard as you can to strain and burst out of that chastity cage? Even if you did manage it, I still don’t think I could feel it through such thick diapers!” she giggled.

You tried to squirm, but she held your legs down. Pressing her gorgeous ass against you, not that you’d even been able to touch it for ages.

“Perhaps it’s just that Mommy doesn’t turn you on anymore, perhaps Mommy just doesn’t excite you like she used to”.

You could only whine through the paci gag that stuck in your mouth and made sure any silly things that nobody wanted to listen to came out of your mouth.

“I think you get excited by much more baby things, like Mommy and her boyfriend getting you dressed up in your pyjamas, brush your teeth and tuck you up tightly into bed before you get to hear them “playing adult games” in the room next door. You can spend the night all pent-up and huffy, humping your mattress or your favourite cuddly toy, that way you’ll be tired enough to sleep during your afternoon nap time!

See more captions and support me over on Patreon!

[crinklyfantasies]

Choices

***Disclaimer*** this is NOT my picture. All credit goes to @oregonabdl and his lovely Mommy.

Of course you can cum. You've had that choice ever since I spanked your wimpy ass and put it back in diapers.

Just say the word and I'll take that cage off. Then you can hump your poopy pampers whenever I want. And I do mean when I want, not you. You don't get any choices. At least, you won't if you accept.

Accepting means becoming my baby 24/7. I've really liked having you around these past few weeks. It's really spiced up my sex life. Just knowing there's a cute boy in the next room, or in the closet, or at the foot of my bed, who wants to have sex with me SO bad that he gave up on being any kind of man...

A pretty pet I can dress up whenever I want. A baby doll that blushes and cries and calls me Mommy. A little bitch who will lick my asshole clean after being filled by real men. Teasing him, cleaning him, snuggling him, holding him. Edging him, keeping him constantly pent up and desperate just so I can make him cum in the most embarrassing ways I can think of, which will only make him more dependent on Mommy.

I know all this wasn't what you were expecting when we matched but how was I supposed to know you would have such a preemie weenie?

Now come on, sweetie. I'm waiting for an answer.

I know you want to make cummies for Mommy. I know how much your baby dick dribbles all day long. I know how full and sore your balls are. I get plenty of time handling both when I change you after all.

All you have to do is politely ask to be my baby bitch. Then I'll take that nasty pink prison off your teeny tiny cocklette and give it some extra special attention with two fingers and a baby wipe.

*giggle*That's what I thought.

[crinklyfantasies]

Boys who get hard when you pin them down! Boys who moan when you call them names!!Boys who beg for more when they can barely handle what they’re already given!!!

😍😍😍😍😍

[crinklyfantasies]

"Little" Luke looked down at his now swollen diaper in utter surprise. He could have sworn he'd taken it off! Why hadn't he even noticed the hot wetness spreading around his crotch? That at least should have been obvious.

The answer came to him with a loud sniffle and tears that pooled in his eyes. He hadn't noticed because it had felt natural. Somewhere in his babywashed, protesting brain, it had felt right... even good, to feel his padding fill up. Pee pee diapers felt good. They made him squirmy and squishy and he got pats from all his Mommi....

"Oooh. Looks like someone's making willy wiggles!"

Luke gasped, realizing he'd been gently humping the soft seat of his diapers. He let out a sob. This was awful. He couldn't even think straight now. All because he couldn't pass the test for his dating license.

He was 2(3) years old damn it! He wanted a real girl-friend, not the stupid "Mommy-friend" assigned to take care of him!

"Aw, poor lil guy. Do you need humpy helpies? Hang on."

Her breasts were suddenly pressed against his face and he couldn't think anymore.

"Here you go, sweetie. You like Mommies boobies huh? Think you can make dribbles now?"

Luke whimpered desperately. He didn't need a Mommy!

But she smelled so good...

But he didn't need fucking diapers!

But his pee-pee was slipping and sliding in them... up and down and u-!

He let out a strangled moan and collapsed into his Mommy's breasts.

"Good boy! You made such a fast squirties huh?"

Luke grinned stupidly. He did make a fast squirt. Mommy said he was the fastest spurty she'd ever seen and she liked to tell all her friends. They would usually laugh and give him lots of attention after that. He vaguely remembered being embarrassed by it but couldn't remember why. He liked the attention... didn't he?

Sweetie, I know you're excited about using the big boy toilet, and I'm so proud of you for trying! But I have to tell you, you're still wearing your diaper, and that's where all the pee-pee went 😅 It seems like you had quite a lot to go, huh? Look how soaked it is 🤦🏻‍♀️

[crinklyfantasies]

Another wonderful addition to the cucky collection. lol

Chapter 2

( Link to Chapter 1 )

Peter was still sniffling when we pulled up to the driveway of the cream colored house with freshly laid red mulch. 

“B-but Mommy,” Peter adjusted in his seat as much as the straps would allow so he could get a better view, “th-this is Tr-Trevor’s house…”

I watched as the realization came over him. He knew I was fucking someone else, but he didn’t know who it was. The look on his face told me he definitely didn’t expect for it to be his best friend. 

“That’s right,” I said, ignoring his fresh batch of tears as I put the car in park, grabbed the diaper bag, walked around, and began unbuckling him from the carseat. 

“B-but does that mean…” he tried to say as I lifted him out of the Range Rover and stood him up beside me, his diaper was already drooping below the skirt of his pink sailor outfit. I watched the little gears spinning in his big dumb baby-brain.

“Yes, honey” I finished for him as I patted the wrinkles out of the fabric. “Trevor and I are fucking. Now come on!”

I took his hand as he cried harder, leading him up the steps and to the doormat. “Better get on your knees,” I told him, with no sympathy for the hysterical fit he was throwing. Despite his little tantrum, he still dropped down onto the ground. His legs quivering just as much as his bottom lip. 

I knocked on the door, which was weird. I haven’t had to do that for months since Trevor and I started our relationship. But I thought it appropriate for us to wait outside. Peter had his head hung low and was muttering something to himself, like he was saying a prayer or something. It was honestly quite pathetic, I was rolling my eyes and scoffing by the time I heard the rattling of the handle. 

Trevor was smiling when he opened the door. I think he just saw me and not my pathetic husband down on the concrete. His smile changed to a pitying, curious sort of look when he saw Peter. Trevor knew I kept Peter in diapers. But I don’t think one can fully grasp the reality of that notion until it’s standing (or kneeling) right in front of you. 

Trevor gave an awkward chuckle, “Hello Peter.” 

My husband looked like he wanted to crawl inside of himself and die. I placed a hand on his shoulder, “Say ‘Hi’, sweetie.”

Peter was still looking at the ground when he grumbled “Hi, Trevor…”

“No…” I corrected, unable to stop myself from smiling wickedly “he’s your Daddy now, and you will address him as such.”

Peter looked like he was going to explode. I’m not sure if it was from rage or shame, but perhaps a combination of both. “Hello…Daddy.” He finally croaked out. 

Trevor was just shaking his head back and forth in utter disbelief. He laughed and said “come in.”

I strutted inside and gave him a passionate kiss on the lips while I heard Peter begrudgingly crawl in behind us. 

We walked through to the living room and sat on the couch. Peter knelt in front of us, looking like he wanted to be just about anywhere else. 

There was a bit of tense silence as we all sat there quietly, trying to adjust to our new situation. But I didn’t want it to be awkward, I wanted it to be about humiliating my husband. 

“So,” I asked Trevor, “watta ya think? Now that you've finally seen him in his proper state…”

“It’s definitely…different.” Said Trevor, searching for the correct words. “Is he really wearing a diaper?”

I laughed and nodded, “Show him, Peter!”

Peter’s fingers trembled as he grasped the hem of his skirt, lifting it up ever so slightly to expose his Princess Pampers underneath. He must have wet them 3 or 4 more times on the way over here, because they now had a yellow tint to them and were drooping almost to the floor. 

“Holy shit!” Trevor laughed, unable to contain himself. 

“But wait! There’s more!” I giggled, feeling like a salesman for an infomercial as I pointed out all of the humiliating features to Peter’s outfit. “See his binky? It’s shaped like a dick because wittle Petey wuvsss sucking on one of those allll day! Dontcha Petey??”

Peter tried to say something to the contrary, but before he could, I was stuffing the 5 inch penis pacifier into his mouth until it hit the back of his throat. He started choking and gagging, but I held the back of his head firm. Once I was satisfied with how much he was drooling all over himself like a big, dumb baby, I let the paci go, making sure Peter didn’t let it drop, which of course he didn’t. He knew better. 

“And you see his legs? How silky smooth they are? Wittle Petey has to shave everyy dayy…” I was so excited to show him off, like a girl showing a dolly to her parents. “And in order to keep him from cumming I have this special cage inside his diaper which—well you can’t see right now until we change his diaper. Unless…Petey do you want your diaper changed right now??”

Peter’s eyes went wide with horror. Usually he jumps at any chance to get a fresh diaper, but that seemed to be the worst possible scenario for him at the moment, which of course made me want to do it all the more. 

“Awww!! Wittle Petey is shy!!” I cooed as he furiously shook his head ‘no’ to the prospect of a change. “Don’t worry, sweetheart! Mommy and Daddy are right here!!”

I laughed as I took his trembling hand and laid him backwards onto the floor. Slinging the diaper bag off my shoulder and plopping it down. Peter was pleading with his eyes, silently begging me not to do this in front of his friend, but we were far past that. I smiled as I lifted up his skirt, snapping into Mommy mode.

“What a wet baby girl you are!!” I mewed, prodding and poking the pissy padding of his diaper. I pressed a hand down onto the front and began peeling the tapes. Once the diaper was unfastened, I grinned at both Peter and Trevor. This was always a special moment for me, when you first open that diaper and reveal the contents. It’s even better when you expose it to someone new.

Trevor had to cover his face to keep from spewing with laughter, Peter had to cover his face to hide his shame. Underneath the soaking wet diaper was Peter’s pruned and puny penis. Tucked tightly inside his stainless steel cage. 

“What is that thing?” Trevor asked incredulously, leaning forward out of curiosity to get a better view.

“It’s called a ‘chastity device’” I explained, grabbing the front of it and jiggling it mockingly, “keeps the wittle baby from pleasuring himself when Mommy doesn’t want him to”

I was reminded of the incident from earlier at the Daycare, and thought this would be the perfect time to bring it up.

“But that didn’t stop wittle Petey today, did it?” I asked, eyeing him. Peter looked positively horrified, “Tell Daddy what you did, Peter. Tell him why you got in trouble at Daycare today.”

I tried to pull the penis paci from his mouth, he actually did a decent job of holding it in before I could pry it out properly. When his mouth was empty, he squirmed, looking back and forth from me to Trevor. “I…i was playing with the ring stand…” he said. Then he stopped, like that was it. 

He obviously needed more prodding. “Playing with it where, sweetheart?”

“In the play area…”

“Don’t be coy, what were you doing with it when your Betasitters saw you?”

He looked so uncomfortable. Like he was loath to admit it to anyone, much less his best friend. He hung his head and muttered “I was…putting it in my bum bum…” 

I thought his face was about to explode from how much blood was rushing to it. Trevor looked back and forth from me to him in disbelief, then burst out laughing. “Are you serious?!” he jeered,  “I mean I knew you were walking around wearing diapers and shit, but I thought it was just cause you had to. Now you’re shoving random stuff up your butt?! I knew you were weird, man, but…”

“It’s this stupid cage!!” Peter blubbered, descending into full-on tears now, “I can’t get any…relief!! I just want…something!!” He covered his face and wiped away his snot. I placed a consoling hand on his thigh.

“It’s okay, baby. Mommy knows what you want…” I fished around in the diaper bag until I found what I was looking for. It didn’t take me long, it was quite large. I pulled it out and watched his eyes go even larger. “Why don’t you tell Daddy what this is…”

Peter sniffled, his bottom lip quivering, “It’s a…butt plug…” he sighed, “a big one…”

I don’t think Trevor actually needed the explanation, but he laughed all the same. 

“And since you just loooove putting things up your bum bum I figured this would be perfect! You can show Daddy what a little butt slut you are!!”

He winced every time I said the word ‘Daddy’, like it was causing him physical pain. But he winced even more when I put a dollop of lube on the plug and pressed it to his hole. “Shhhh” I cooed as he whimpered, placing a hand on his belly to keep him from squirming away. He wriggled as I pressed it further, like he was trying to slide up across the floor in order to escape. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He knew better. It was best to hold still while Mommy was doing anything to him, otherwise his behavior would lead to even harsher punishments. I gently worked the plug into his puckered pansy pussy. It probably would have taken a lot longer, if he wasn’t already a bit relaxed from his escapades earlier. It always surprised me how much his ass was able to take. I remember when I genuinely thought this plug would never fit, but he continues to prove me wrong in that regard. I tapped the base of the plug mockingly once it was tucked between his cheeks. His cage leaked a fresh batch of loser tears to match his face.

“How does that feel, baby? Are you all better now?” I gave him the look that said you better fucking answer the way I want you to.

“Yes Mommy…thank you.” he sniffled pathetically.

I smiled at the power I had over him as I pulled out a fresh diaper. I took the time to unfurl and fluff it, letting the silence between us exacerbate the anxiety that Peter felt. “Lift up, dear.” I finally told him. He whined a bit as he raised his hips up, clenching his cheeks around the large plug. I slid the diaper underneath him and let him lay down on top of it gingerly. I put the penis pacifier back into his mouth much to his chagrin, then got to work on powdering the area. Finally, I pulled the front of his diaper up and taped it tight. The diaper doubled as a way to humiliate him, and assure that the plug stayed put. Not that it was in danger of falling out anyway…

I grabbed his arms and pulled him up into the sitting position. He grimaced at the pain in his bottom as his weight shifted on top of it. I wrapped my arms around him in a motherly embrace, smiling down at him. “Why don’t you go sit on Daddy’s lap, hmm? Get to know him a little..”

Peter eyed me in that way when I knowingly say something ridiculous–of course they already know each other, they’ve been best friends for years–but he could tell I had a gleam in my eye, like I’d made up my mind and there was no sense arguing about it. He suckled his paci and let both eyelids fall as he crawled over to Trevor. 

Both he and Trevor looked at me with uncertainty. All I had to do was nod, and Peter hung his head, and began climbing on top of his best friend’s lap. Trevor looked noticeably uncomfortable, but that was okay, he would get used to it, and probably even learn to like it. Peter shifted around, trying to find a comfortable spot to sit on Trevor’s leg. But it turns out there was no way to get comfy with a giant plug up your ass. He eventually settled on straddling over Trevor’s leg.

“Don’t you two look just adorable?” I said, pulling out my phone. “Smile!”

Trevor smiled awkwardly, but Peter stayed looking pouty. It made for a great picture to show my girlfriends later.

“Peter loves being bounced on my knee…” I explained, “I’m sure he would love to bounce on Daddy’s too!”

Peter’s face jaw dropped so fast, his paci fell out. I giggled as I picked it up and returned it to his mouth, pinching his cheek.

Trevor smiled, putting his hand around Peter’s hips and working his leg up on his tip-toes, then dropping back down. Peter gave a noticeable ‘harumph’ as his bottom slammed down and Trevor’s leg and the plug as well. 

Trevor and I giggled. “I think he likes it!” I encouraged, “Go faster!”

Peter’s 5’8 stature and mid-weight seemed to not be a factor as Trevor started gyrating his leg like he were a toddler. Peter rumbled and grumbled as his plug continually pounded against Trevor’s leg. He tried to stand up, to keep his butt off of Trevor’s knee, but Trevor shot that down real quick.

“Keep your fucking feet in the air!” he barked. Getting into it now and asserting his dominant Alpha presence. It was so hot. “Put your hands behind your back!” 

Peter followed the orders of his best friend, putting his arms behind him like he were getting arrested. Trevor took both of Peter’s wrists in one of his large hands and used it hold him down firmly onto his leg while he bumped it up and down. Peter’s pathetic whimpers were muffled but the rubber dick in his mouth, which kept falling down and swinging by the ribbon. I obviously obliged in placing it back in. But not before watching him bite his lip in what I can only assume was a mixture of pleasure and pain. I took more pictures and videos of his pathetic predicament.

This went on for several minutes. Trevor making Peter switch to a different leg when the other one got tired. Peter’s abbreviated, staccato groans continued to make Trevor and I both giggle.

“M-m-m-mommy…I…” he rumbled, his pathetic voice stammering from the humiliation and the bouncing.

“What is it sweetie?”

“I th-th-th-think I…”

“What?”

“I’m g-g-g-gonna…”

Then his face flushed. He squirmed as much as Trevor’s powerful arms would allow him. He exhaled hard around his paci, then inhaled sharply. His legs quaked and quivered. His thighs clenched around Trevor’s leg. He convulsed several times, letting out the most pathetic of moans. Then he relaxed and deflated.

“Did he just…?” Trevor asked.

I strutted over and slipped a finger through the waistband of the front of his diaper. I felt a warm, sticky glob of goo.

“Yes…he did.” I sighed, “He just came…”

Trevor tilted his head back and roared. “Just from that?? From bouncing on my knee?”

Even to me it was pathetic. I’d seen Peter spurt and leak when I’d finger or fuck his ass before. But I never would have imagined something like this. I shrugged, speechless.

“So…watta we do now?” Trevor asked.

“We spank him.” I said coldly.

******

Peter, who was already crying from the shame of cumming from his bouncies, cried harder now. 

He was bent over the coffee table, his diaper pulled down enough to expose his plugged ass. Trevor was holding down his quivering body. I spun the wooden paddle in my hand menacingly. Running it over his skin riddled with gooseflesh, building the anticipation.

“You were a very bad boy today at Daycare.” I chided, reminding him why were were doing this, “and then you embarrassed me in front of Daddy by cumming in your Pampers without permission.”

He whimpered something inaudible. I couldn’t make it out between the paci (which was tied tighter) and his blubbering tears. Not that I cared what he had to say.

“You will get 20 swats from me…” I said, which was met by more pathetic whimpers and pleas, “and 30 from Daddy.”

Trevor had to lean his weight on Peter now to keep him still. His hands were cuffed, but he was still quite the wriggly worm when he wanted to be. 

Once Trevor stifled Peter’s protests, I pulled the paddle back. I loved watching him twitch and wince in anticipation. The way his little cheeks puckered and clenched, even with that plug in there. I brought the paddle down on his right cheek. Listening to him squeal. I brought it back into the air again, he wriggled more now after he knew the pain he was in for. Trevor braced as another hit slammed against Peter’s left cheek. 

Then I started unloading.

Back and forth, back and forth from cheek to cheek. Taking out all my frustrations of him being a naughty boy at Daycare onto his poor, helpless little backside. He was crying and sniffling pretty hard by the time I got to 20. 

“I think it’s Daddy’s turn…” I giggled. 

Trevor smiled as he released his hold on Peter, who was now positively distraught. “Please! No! I’ve had enough!” he begged around his paci, “Please! Don’t make Trevor do it! Please!’

I leaned down next to him as Trevor and I switched places. “Awww!! Sweetie! But don’t you see? You still haven’t learned. You called him ‘Trevor’ and not ‘Daddy’! Which means he needs to show you who’s boss…”

I gave Trevor a nod and, without hesitation, he started wailing on Peter’s ass with the paddle. 

Peter squirmed and writhed on the table. I held him down with as much as my 120lb frame would allow, but it was like trying to contain a greased pig. He bucked me backward onto the floor. I was overcome with fury, but before I could get up to do anything, Trevor slammed Peter down onto the table. Hard.

“You will hold fucking still until i’m done!” He growled. Peter’s struggling immediately subsided. The fear of God in his eyes. While he was overcome with terror, I was overcome with lust. Seeing Trevor establish dominance like that gave me a rush of emotion. Of need for him. He was the Alpha. And my beta bitch of a husband was crying like a baby as Trevor continued to paddle his ass. But as much Peter cried and whined and whimpered, he stayed still. Well, as much as he could as the paddle came down again and again onto his bright red cheeks. Trevor swung much harder than I did, and it showed. 

By the time he reached 50, Peter had leaked a puddle of tears all over the floor, and I was leaking into my panties from being so turned on. Trevor’s grunts and heavy breathing while he paddled my husband’s ass were too much for me to handle. 

“What?” Trevor asked when he saw my face.

“I need you. Now.”

******

Trevor grabbed me with a primal necessity. Like he’d been waiting for this the whole time. He lifted me up with ease. I wrapped my legs around his hips and could feel him already getting hard. We kissed passionately as he laid me down on top of Peter, who was still bent over the coffee table. The air squeaked out of Peter as my full weight pressed down on him, in addition to Trevor pinning me down and kissing me down my neck. He ripped my blouse open, then reached behind me, between Peter and I’s backs, finding the clasp of my bra and snapping it free with expert efficiency. Trevor grabbed and squeezed my breasts with the perfect amount of tension and desire. Kissing and nibbling my nipples while Peter squirmed beneath us. Trevor reached under my skirt, between my legs. He chuckled as soon as he touched my panties, probably laughing at how wet I already was. He pulled them down and tossed them to the side, then started undoing his belt. I wriggled on top of my wiggling husband, my thighs aching to have Trevor between them. Peter couldn’t see anything from his vantage, but he had to feel the heat radiating off of me. Trevor’s cock was already rock hard when he dropped his pants. 

I’ve never really found penises attractive. I like what they do and how they make me feel, sure. But I've never been particularly excited by the sight of them. Trevor, however, has the most beautiful dick I've ever seen, and I wanted every single inch inside me. 

Trevor obviously obliged. Standing between my legs, aiming it into my gaping and eager pussy, which accepted him hungrily. As he slid in, I kept thinking he had exhausted his length, but even after months of us fucking, I still wasn’t used to how much length he actually had. 

Once he was fully inside, he started slowly working himself in and out. Building up speed and rhythm. Peter actually gave small little grunts with each thrust, probably because Trevor’s balls were smacking against the plug in his ass. 

Trevor was fucking me like he’d never done before. It was always great, but this time he had a different sort of confidence. Like he knew he was the Alpha in this relationship and he was showing it off. There was obviously no disagreement on my part, as I welcomed every single thrust with a loud, accordant moan. 

Poor Petey was sniveling quite a bit beneath me, though. So I wanted him to feel included. 

“Hold on..” I told Trevor. Sliding him out of me, standing, and pulling Peter’s pampers up over his reddened cheeks. “Turn over!” I told him. 

Peter looked perturbed, but didn’t argue as he flipped over on the coffee table and laid on his back and his cuffed arms. 

I removed his paci and straddled his face. Letting him feel the juices raining off of me. “Lick!” I ordered, not caring whether he licked my ass or pussy, though he gratefully licked both as if he were just happy to be included. 

Trevor got behind me, bending me over so that I was in the 69 position over Peter, not that any of that would be happening even if his Pampers weren’t in the way. 

Peter was still licking my clit as Trevor pressed into my pussy. That amount of pleasure was almost too much for me to handle, but I managed. I felt Peter squirming as Trevor’s balls rested on his face. Trevor and I both laughed at his predicament, but it didn’t kill the mood. If anything, it only heightened it. Trevor was taking such a delight in rubbing it in Peter’s face…literally. 

“You always thought you were better than me,” Trevor taunted Peter, then he shoved his dick into me, making me moan, “how’d that work out?”

Trevor seemed harder than usual as he fucked me with more vigorous strokes. Like he was proud to be in the Alpha position, and was establishing his dominance over the beta beneath him. Obviously I was pleased with this. Having a big, strong man fuck my brains out while my loser of a husband licked from below was putting me in a spin of euphoria. I giggled down at Peter’s pampers beneath me. Tickling the front and feeling the outlines of his penis prison. His squirming from underneath told me my teasing was working. 

Suddenly Trevor slipped out. I waited eagerly for him to slip it back in but it never came. When I looked back, he was smiling down at himself. Actually, he was smiling down at Peter, who was struggling to handle the dick Trevor was shoving in his mouth. “Taste your wife’s juices, bitch! Don’t you use any fucking teeth or i’ll make you get all of them removed. Then you’ll really look like a pathetic little baby!”

Oh my god it was so fucking hot to watch him take control. And making Peter suck his dick?  Unnnghh that was just icing on the cake. I was writhing on top of Peter. Needing to feel Trevor in me again. Finally, I heard Trevor withdraw his cock with a plop and pressed it into me again. Banging his hips into mine. 

“Holy fuck i’m gonna cum!!” I groaned, feeling it rising up inside me almost immediately as he reentered. My legs quaked, squeezing around Peter’s head. It started at my toes, crescendoing through me like a symphony building to the climax. Like pressure building in a volcano. 

Then it erupted. 

******

When I finally regained my senses, my legs were soaked. 

“What happened?” I asked, feeling like I just blacked out. 

“You squirted,” Trevor chuckled, “all over his face.”

I flushed in embarrassment. “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay.” Trevor reassured, as if there were anything to be ashamed of, “at least he can’t deny you enjoyed it!”

******

Peter was on the floor pretending to play with his rattles. His plug was still in, so he raised his bum off the floor as much as he could. Trevor was getting ready for his 6pm shift. He straightened up his shirt, his hair still disheveled from earlier. 

“Well I'm off to work,” he told me, giving me a hug and a long, sensual kiss.

I smiled up at him afterwards, then down at Peter. “Say bye to Daddy, sweetums!”

Peter looked up with that big stupid paci in his mouth. Eyeing us back and forth, face still glistening from my juices before. “Bye..Daddy…” he whimpered. 

“Bye loser! Don’t go sticking any of  those toys in your butt while I'm gone!” Trevor mocked. We both laughed. 

“Do you think you could pick him up from Daycare tomorrow?” I asked, tracing a line along the abs poking through his shirt. “I was hoping to have a spa day.”

Trevor looked a little hesitant, then smiled. “Of course. I can keep an eye on the little guy until you get back.”

“Thanks! I’ll be sure to make it up to you!” I promised with a wink, then nodded over at Peter, “We both will.”

To Be Continued

----------------------------------------

Hey! So I just posted Chapter 4 of this story over on my Patreon. Chapters 3 and on are going to follow little Peter as he spends his day in the actual Daycare (which would make sense, right? Probably should have done that sooner, but hey, my brain is weird.)

Anyway, if you'd like to check it out, you can get access to all of that and more for just $6! That'll buy you one Cheesy Gordita Crunch from Taco Bell these days. I'm not saying my stories are in any way better than the CGC, but at least you'll get a hell of a lot more of them for that price! Love you all! Kisses~

[crinklyfantasies]

Intro-cuck-tions (NSFW 18+)

Disclaimer: These are NOT my images. All credit belongs to @akinkycouple

The girl turned just as we opened the door. Her face was absolutely priceless. Dumb incomprehension quickly turned to a wonderful red shade of embarrassment.

"Uhhh, what?" My friend, Lindsey asked, echoing similar confused exclamations from Olivia and Trisha, the other two friends I'd invited over.

"What?" I asked feigning ignorance. "Oh, her." I said, following their confused stares. "That's just my maid. Don't mind her."

The girl somehow flushed an even deeper shade of red. The fat pink pacifier filling her mouth started bobbing as the distressed girl pathetically tried to soothe herself.

Ignoring the follow-up questions, I click-clacked away in my high heels to take a seat in one of the kitchen barstools. I set my purse on the counter and sighed. "Ugh, that feels so much better. These stupid heels have been killing me for like an hour," I complained.

"Seriously, Liz, who is this chick?" Olivia asked, not buying it and clearly annoyed by my evasive attitude. "And why is she sucking on a big ass pacifier?"

I shrugged. "Because she likes it. Oh, and her name is Bethany." I said, as if that explained everything.

"What do you mean she likes it?" Trisha asked. "Is she like, uhhh, slow or something?"

I laughed. "No, no nothing like that. I mean little Bethany here liiiikes it." I said in a sultry tone, staring directly at the shivering woman.

Lindsey gasped. "Wait, you mean like... like that kind of like?"

"You mean she gets off on this shit?" Olivia laughed, blunt as always.

We all turned to look as Bethany whimpered loudly. She was shifting from foot to foot, sucking so hard now that a soft "nuk-nuk" noise could be heard across the room.

I smiled. This was going even better than I'd hoped. "Take a wild guess."

"Ew," Lindsey said.

Trisha chimed in. "You still haven't told us who she is though."

"Yeah!" Olivia exclaimed. "Does Ryan know about her," she asked incredulously.

I laughed at that. As if there was any way my new fiance COULDN'T know about Bethany. "Oh, trust me, he knows all about Baby Bethany here, isn't that right, sweetie?"

The girl just shut her eyes and clutched at her frilly maid's dress, rooted in place.

"Ok, so what, she's like, your sex slave or something?"

"Oh, she wishes," I laughed. "No no, technically though, I guess she's kind of like Ryan's ex."

Bethany let out another whimper and sniffled loudly.

"This just keeps getting weirder," Lindsey murmured.

"Define 'kind of'", Trisha said, intrigued.

"Well, Ryan was dating her for like a year or something before he started working at my place. I mean obviously we hit it off on day one and he eventually comes up to me and asks for some “relationship advice” because little missy here was having some trouble keeping her panties dry.”

“That’s not true!”

We all turned to look at the source of the outburst. Bethany had removed her pacifier, face scrunched up in a frustrated frown. With the whole “baby maid” get-up, it was ridiculously cute.

“What was that, Baby Beth,” I purred, amused at this sudden spurt of defiance.

She hesitated, recognizing the trap in my tone. Not that it mattered. She and I both knew it was already far too late.

A series of nonsensical stutters and peeps escaped her lips as her little brain worked overtime. Again, adorable.

“Ohh, what’s wrong, Baby-boo? Are you trying to say something? What is it? It’s ok, you can tell us.”

My friends snickered. Even Lindsey was smiling.

The pathetic girl just stood there red faced and shivering like a leaf. She stuffed her pacifier back into her mouth and began to suck loudly. I wasn’t sure if it was for comfort, or, she was trying to placate me with a display of submission.

“Aww, the poor baby is shy. Is it because you need to go potty, hmm? Does Baby Bethy need to make wetsies?”

We all heard her desperate sob as she obeyed the implied command and lifted her dress. She’d been trained so well. I made a note to allow her some big girl time with her face between my legs later. We both deserved it, really.

We all watched as a small stain appeared in the white surface, slowly growing, creeping outward with the soft pattering sound of cucky pee hitting the padding.

The room erupted in derisive laughter.

“Good girl,” I exclaimed, clapping my hands like my pet had just accomplished some trick. Which, of course, she had. “Such a good baby. Isn’t my little Bethany such a good girl,” I asked, turning to the rest of the group.

“Oh absolutely!”

“I can’t believe she just did that. She’s older than me for fuck’s sake!”

“Aw. I feel kind of bad for her. Can… can I hug her? Is that weird?”

I grinned widely at the last remark. “No, no not at all. Of course you can! My hunny-bun loves being held. She loves being touched in general, actually. She’s really very needy. Aren’t you, sweetie?”

“y-*hic* y-yes, Mommy” came a soft, trembling voice.

Buxom and bold, Trisha immediately walked over and pulled the distraught girl into her arms. “You poor little thing. Shh. It’s ok.”

I watched with delight as Bethany’s face ended up mushed between Trisha’s breasts. I could literally see her baby cuck brain melting.

Emboldened by the other girl, Lindsey and Olivia rushed in, bombarding Bethany with questions.

“So do you like wear diapers all the time or something, or is it just like a home thing?”

“N-no…” Bethany squeaked out.

I laughed loudly and answered for her. “Don’t listen to that silly girl. The diapers ARE 24/7. Even in public. The floor and her car-seat would be in trouble if I gave her anything age-appropriate.”

Bethany cringed while the girls crowed with laughter. Even Trisha chuckled. “Silly girl, trying to lie when your Mommy is right there. You don’t have to fib around auntie Trish. You look so adorable in those diapers I’d be disappointed if you weren’t always padded.”

“So wait, does that mean she… y’know… goes like, number 2 in them too,” Olivia asked.

“Of course,” I said.

“Ewwwww,”

“OMG THAT’S HILARIOUS.”

“Wow, princess. I figured you were a little stinker but not THAT much of one.”

Bethany was trembling in Trisha’s arms now. It was a good thing we upgraded her to those extra thick overnight diapers with a stuffer during the day. It was easy to imagine how much extra work that diaper was now putting in to soak up everything dripping out of my pet’s denied cucky-cunt. 

“Seriously, why don’t you just use the bathroom like an adult? You’re so pathetic.”

“Do you like using your diapers? I bet you do, huh?”

“Shh, don’t listen to them, punkin. Have you gone boom-boom yet today? Do you need me to check?”

“Ew, don’t check her diaper. This slut will probably just get off on it! Why don’t we just spank this bitch instead?”

“Oh yeah she would tooootally get off on it. Isn’t that right, baby, huh? Idn’t dat wight?”

“Hmm. Looks pretty squishy but no stinkies, good girl. You tell me if you need to potty though, okay?”

“Why do you like fucking diapers so much? Can you even have sex like that?”

“She probably doesn’t haha!”

“Oh you poor thing. That’s gotta be rough. Do you want me to rub your diaper or something? Maybe go for a horsey ride on my leg?”

And that was the tipping point.

My friends stared in shock as Bethany let out a high-pitched whine and crumpled to the floor. The frills of her dress poofed up, exposing her smooth thighs and swollen crotch. A clear line of wetness trickled down one of her exposed thighs, beginning to make a small puddle on the floor.

I swooped in, planting my foot squarely on her crotch. “Bad girl! You know you’re only supposed to make cummies when Mommy and Daddy are watching.” I rubbed my heel back and forth as I scolded her, pushing the pissy padding into her over-sensitized pussy. “I’m so sorry about this,” I said, turning to my friends, who by now were giggling uproariously and snapping pics of the pathetic scene. “We should probably head back out now. I don’t want you all getting pee on your shoes.” I pressed my foot down harder, making Bethany shiver and moan and squeezing more wetness onto the floor.

With a few more pics and condescending words, the group filed out, eager to enjoy the night and tell everyone they could about the fascinating new story they’d just picked up.

I paused at the door to look back. Bethany was still on the ground, softly whimpering and rubbing between her legs. “Okay sweetie,” I said. “You have fun making squishies while the big girls are out at the club. Just make sure you clean up afterwards. If I smell even a little pee-pee in this room you’re going to be sleeping with a red bot-bot for the next week. See-ya!”

With that, I shut the door, already imaging the frantic cleaning that would follow when her touchy-time glow wore off. Poor girl. She was surrounded by the smell of her own helpless incontinence so much I doubt she’d even be able to tell if she avoided a spanking. Oh well. More fun for later. For one of us at least.

[crinklyfantasies]

Surrendering to Sara (NSFW 18+)

***Disclaimer*** This is NOT my photo. All credit goes to the lovely @begoodformommy

How it come to this? It wasn't your fault, definitely. No... it was all hers. All Sara's, your evil, overbearing step-mother who acted like she was SO much more mature than you even though she was only a handful of years older. All the fault of that gold-digging tramp your dad had married a year ago then proceeded to dump you with when he moved overseas for work a week later.

It didn't help that she was gorgeous. It didn't help that you were a college virgin at 21 years old. And it certainly didn't help that she was entirely aware and capitalized on both. She seemed to get endless sadistic joy from teasing your virgin brain. Taking every chance to hug you just a bit too long, pressing your face to her breasts while you struggled to not explode. Always wearing shirts with a button or slit set just low enough to make talking with her a red-faced, eye-averting ordeal.

You thought you'd be free of her when the inevitable divorce was finalized. No more teasing you for being half a foot shorter than her. No more two-faced comments about your lackluster resume with women despite your age. No more stupid pet names like "Baby Ty-Ty" and "Momma's Tyger". And most of all, no more snickering insistence that you strictly refer to her as "Mommy", even in public!

Today was supposed to be the day that divorce was finalized and you could say goodbye to all that. And on the bright side, you were half right. The divorce WAS finalized... but not the way you wanted.

She got half of everything. That is to say, everything your family owned on this side of the globe. That included the car you'd been using to drive to classes, the house you were staying in, plus of course, your bedroom.

She wasn't a monster though, she insisted. She wasn't going to kick you out on the street, and she was even willing to pay for your classes. On one condition. Part of which was laying on the couch next to her, innocent, white, and menacing.

"Come and lay down, squirt," she smirked. "Mommy's got the perfect thing to help with all those stains in your boxers."

You swallowed hard, fire-truck red, embarrassed and frustrated beyond belief. Your fists balled up and you stared at the floor, not wanting to give her the satisfaction.

"Yes... Mommy," you whispered in defeat, feeling your penis throb. Another stain in your boxers, and, you thought with dread, probably the last...

[crinklyfantasies]

Pacifying the Party Girl (AB/DL Collaboration)

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

…

Dianne didn’t believe in luck.

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

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

And tonight she certainly saw opportunity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me your name,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zoey nodded.

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

Again, Zoey nodded, suckling intently on her water.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zoey shook her head. “Y-yellow…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She mouthed the word: ‘Push.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exactly what Dianne wanted.

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

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

Zoey nodded enthusiastically, eyes huge and excited.

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

“O…okay, mommy,” Zoey nodded.

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

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

Zoey nodded again, squirming in her fresh diaper.

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

“Mhmm,” Zoey said. “Thanks, Mommy.”

Dianne’s heart swelled.

Fate had truly given her a gift tonight.

…

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[crinklyfantasies]

ArtsyTM (https://twitter.com/artsy_tm) posted this image on twitter with an open call to caption it - and I couldn't resist! (And go check out Artsy's other work, it's lovely!) 

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[crinklyfantasies]

Looking for ABDL Gear

Any good stores that sell plastic pants, cute onesies... other abdl stuff at a decent price and wont fall apart in like a month?

[crinklyfantasies]

A Gift for Jazzykins

Disclaimer: This is NOT my photo. All credit goes to @mommyandbabybruce for their consistently incredible pics!

23 years old and drop-dead gorgeous, Riley had been your secretary. Seemingly a life-time ago, which in actuality was only a few months, you'd gotten too excitable and far too careless. It seemed like such a good idea at the time. You'd just bought a new pair of sissy-pink plastic panties with white ruffles and brand-name diapers from your favorite fetish site. Almost nobody went in your office, given that you were the CEO and far too busy to deal with the day-to-day staff. To top it off, despite being 32 years old in charge of your own company, you were still a virgin, and the thrill of possible exposure was far too tantalizing for your sexually frustrated psyche.

Unfortunately, you had quickly learned the thrill of possible exposure was far cry from the actuality.

You'd been packing up to head home when she'd slunk across the room, seductively perching on your desk. You'd immediately been taken aback, blushing hotly as she grabbed you by the collar to put her lips by your ear. It was the first time any woman had shown such... overt interest in you, and you were immediately putty in her hands.

"Hey Mr. Jason," she'd whispered hotly, gently licking your earlobe. "I couldn't help but notice that big thing you're packing." She lightly ran her painted fingernails over your crotch.

You'd gasped helplessly, stomach churning, knowing your crotch was swollen by your thoroughly soaked diaper and not the diminutive dicklette beneath it.

You probably should have pushed away then, but for some reason you just couldn't, completely overwhelmed by how nice she smelled and how much you wanted her to keep going.

Riley had hopped off your desk, undid the button on your pants and... that was the beginning of your new life.

You'd been so elated, so terrified, so crushingly horny that the moment she pulled down your pants you had a true accident in your diapers for the first time.

She'd laughed long and hard after that, while your wet and now sticky clitty softened from the shame. You'd been so mortified you hadn't lifted a finger in protest when she ripped your pants down to your ankles and started taking pictures. She'd told you how she'd always known you were a sissy, and how hilarious it was that you'd thought you could wear such loud baby pants without being noticed.

It had literally been child's play to force you to sign over control of your company after that. And now, some months later, here you were, wearing the same pair of plastic panties under a white and pink teddy bear romper, virgin clitty neatly stuffed into a half inch nub, idly sucking on the latest, and increasingly large addition to your unwanted collection of peenie-pacis.

"Jaaaazyyykiiiinnsss!"

The sudden noise surprises you and you drop the small plastic cup from your tea party. A bit of pee dribbles from your cage into the soggy seat of your maddeningly thick diapers. It seemed like you were dribbling all the time now, whether it was sissy drippies or wetsies. You sniffled sadly, literally feeling the last vestige of an adult life slip away, one drop at a time.

You turn towards the source of the noise and see Mommy Riley sauntering over with her lips twisted in a malicious smile.

"Look what my new boyfriend bought you, honey!" She bent over and held out a new pack of diapers. "They're soooo big and thick. Just like his cock!"

You whimpered jealously and stared at the deep canyon between her pillowy breasts, forlornly wishing the pathetic, sissybaby wish that someday she would show you a shred of mercy and let you nurse on them.

"Oooh, baby likes her new didees, huh?" Riley giggled, noticing you suckling harder on the soft plastic dick in your mouth. " Well that's good, because you're going to be showing them off to all MY employees at the next company retreat!"

Her sadistic laughter filled the room and you sobbed as you felt another "accident" squirt from your forever denied clitty.

[crinklyfantasies]

What You Wanted (NSFW 18+)

***This is NOT my image. All credit goes to @littlediaperpet2***

You squirmed in discomfort, trying to focus on anything other than the strangely hot, strangely cool, slimy sticky mess between your legs. You shouldn't have pushed your luck. You shouldn't have kept begging. It didn't matter that she hadn't let your baby cock out of its steel, flat, quarter inch cage in a month.

It didn't matter you cried and sobbed because of the constantly building frustration. Every time she took just a little too long to rub in the lotion or "checked your temperature" with a few more fingers and devices than necessary on the changing table. Every night spent with her wet panties hanging from the mobile over your crib, listening to her worship every man's cock that she brought into your former bedroom while your own babyhood dribbled precum and pee into the thick layers of your pampers. Every time she gently laid you over her lap and guided her full breast to your eager lips, nursing you and softly whispering all the ways her lover pleased her and the ways which she hoped others would in the future.

No. None of it mattered when you threw a tantrum, begging, demanding, screaming for the cummies you needed.

Unfortunately, she gave you exactly what you asked for.

The doorknob turned and she sauntered into the room, achingly nude aside from a long pair of ripped black stockings up to her mid-thigh.

"Okay baby, you know the drill," she snapped.

The Daddy tonight was rough on her. Her hair was disheveled, and you could just make out the red glow haloing the curve of her toned ass. Her pussy was hot and swollen, so wet you could see the sheen coating down to the rim of her stockings.

The crippling shame and jealousy did nothing to stop the clear, sticky stream dribbling from your cage. "Yes Mommy." You let out a sob and did what you were told, spreading your legs wide to show off the fat, yellowed bulge between.

She grinned and bent over to pull back the waistband of your diaper with one hand. With the other, she produced a large, very used condom, bulging with a freshly milked load of Daddy's cum.

"Here you go, sweetiekins," She cooed, squeezing the contents right into your diaper to join the loads of the other daddies from this week. "A nice cummy treat for my little fussy-pants." She wrung out the last drops and began to massage the fat, squishy padding between your legs. "Mmm. I bet that feels nice, doesn't it, honey? Does baby like his cummies? Remember, this is what you wanted." She smiled, softly kissing your forehead.

You started crying. Just like the baby cuck you knew you were.

[crinklyfantasies]

A Baluga’s Morning Routine: Sitter’s POV

I let myself in the front door same as usual. Keys under the mat like every day. Judging by the missing black SUV from the driveway, Sarah had clearly already gone to work. With a cheerful determination I crossed the threshold and set about my morning tasks. 

Water for the plants, toys picked up off the floor, mail on the counter. Letters and magazines for Sarah organized neatly in a stack, and anything listed for “Benjamin” tossed straight into recycling without ceremony. On the marble countertop of the kitchen island I found a small notepad waiting for me with a few To-Dos. I rolled my eyes with a knowing chuckle. Apparently someone had been especially naughty. As if on cue, I heard a loud thud from upstairs.

I made my way towards the stairs, stopping along the way to pick up some loose blocks and a well-loved stuffy, depositing everything into a colorful toy chest in the corner of the foyer. As I ascended the stairs, the sounds of moaning and heavy shuffling grew louder, and I thought back to the chance meeting at the local zoo only half a year prior. There I was, a young grad student working on my degree in animal husbandry when I happened upon a young mother and her very peculiar… baby? Husband? Partner? The dynamic was still a bit hazy, but the pay was excellent and for a girl still finishing her last semester of college, that’s all that matters.

I opened the first door at the top of the landing and was greeted by a powerful wave of the by now all too familiar nursery scents that accompanied my current preoccupation. 

The room was dark and I almost tripped on a pile of blocks as I made my way to the window on the opposite wall, between two large, wooden pieces of furniture. 

“What I mess” I remarked, only to be met by a barrage of muffled wails and moans from the dark, squirming lump inside the heavily barred mahogany crib by the window. I opened the curtains and allowed the morning light to brighten up the room, shining directly on Benny, or Baby Baluga as I’d come to know him, lying on his back in the crib. The brat was bundled in a fuzzy brown sleeper made to look like a baby bear, and his wavy brown curls clung tightly to his forehead, wet with sweat. I noticed that he had somehow managed to kick off the crib’s thick comforter some time in the night which must have taken a lot of work considering the mittens, booties and tight leather straps tugging at every limb. 

As soon as the light hit the room, signaling that “morning” had begun, the little nuisance began to wail louder and louder. I just rolled my eyes and thanked god Sarah saw fit to gag her pathetic husband every night. From the smell he had clearly messed himself sometime in the night and was desperate for a change. 

“Pee-yew, someone’s got a poopy diaper!” I teased, prompting another pitiful bout of thrashing and muffled wails. “Too bad, though, because your mommy left specific instructions, and you’re not to be let up until after you’ve had your breakfast!”

I quickly turned away to hide my grin as I practically skipped over to the closet to retrieve the tangled mess of rubber hose and the bulging red bag of formula. I gave the bag a squeeze for good measure and found it to be adequately warm and full of no doubt nutritious proportions. I had to hand it to her, even with her busy schedule, she still managed to keep her home in perfect working order.

“MMMMPH!!” the captive adult toddler cried again, pleading as much with his eyes as with his stuffed mouth. I just giggled to myself and glided over to the side of the crib, rubber hose in hand. After hanging the feeding bag up to the crib post, I reached my hands over the top of the railing to plug the hose into the pacifier gag. Benny tried to jerk his face away but being tied down as he was, there was really no way to escape. I simply grabbed a tuft of his wavy locks in one hand, and turned him to face me so I could pop out the cute plastic button of his paci to replace it with the hose attachment which clicked easily into place.

Just as I was flipping the switch to open the floodgates and deliver Benny his breakfast, I heard the doorbell chime from downstairs.

“Oh, that must be Molly, I hope you don’t mind! She’s bringing me notes from a lecture I missed” I exclaimed, giggling to myself knowing he was in no position to argue.

“PPHHHMM-GRK!” The silly man tried to protest as the steady stream of formula—and who knows what else—made its way to the end of the tube. I sashayed out of the nursery to the sounds of desperate gulping, hoping I hadn’t accidentally left the pressure on too high but not caring enough to turn back and check. 

At the door was Molly looking bored as ever, still toting her backpack straight from a morning cram sesh. I brought her to the kitchen for some lemonade as she filled me in on all the gossip from Brad’s fraternity party last night. It sounded like a good one and my FOMO was high. I would’ve been there if I wasn’t knee deep in diapers, Disney movies and making sure this one ate all of his strained peas. 

“Can you believe I caught Scott fucking making out with Jessica in the laundry room?” Molly went on.

“One: I can, it’s not like they use that room for anything else. And two: of course he did, he’s such a slut!” 

“After I just blew him last week too! What an asshole.”

“Ugh, men can be such babies. Only see what’s directly in front of them. Speaking of…”

“Oh yeah, isn’t this that lady’s house you were telling me about?”

“Oh yeah, and she’s got a much different philosophy on how to keep her man in line.”

That got Molly’s attention. She perked up and we shared a conspiratorial smile as I lead her out of the kitchen, up the stairs and to the nursery door.

“Check this shit out,” I whispered to Molly before gently pushing open the door and watching her eyes go wide.

“No. Fucking. Way.” She was stunned. Of course she was, this whole thing was insane! But I made ten times what I made at any other babysitting gig so I couldn’t complain. Much.

“Is that-“ she began to ask.

“The husband?” I replied, finishing her sentence. “Oh yeah. Twenty four seven, three sixty five.”

“Oh my god,” she giggled rushing over to the crib side and peering down at the exhausted, and clearly quite embarrassed man bound within. 

“Oh he smells!” Molly recoiled before staring around the room in amazement. I was so used to it, it had lost some of its wonder but the room truly was something to behold. Her eyes finally fell on the massive, ornate changing table complete with stacks upon stacks of white disposable diapers and all manner of changing supplies. With a roll of my eyes, I figured it was time to get to work.

“Does he—“ Molly began.

“Use them? Goes through them like you wouldn’t believe.” I replied, while lowering the crib rails and undoing the leather restraints, helping Benny clamber out of the crib. 

I knelt down in front of him and he awkwardly put a hand on my shoulder for balance as I unzipped his sleeper and helped him step out one leg at time. He was clearly mortified but I found it kind of endearing in its own way. Any charm was immediately erased, however, as I witnessed the horrible, browned, sagging state of his extra thick nighttime diaper. Quick as I could, I stood up and directed him to the changing table with a loud “march!” giving his bulging padding a big squish as he passed.

Molly stepped aside and comically pinched the bridge of her nose as he waddled past to climb awkwardly onto the table’s padded surface. For a brief moment I could tell he was trying to keep his butt from hitting the surface, as if he could somehow avoid smearing the mess further, but I had no time for his shenanigans. I brusquely grabbed the waist restraints, pushed down on his chest and buckled him in. Even behind the straps of the pacifier gag I could see him grimace as his already crimson cheeks adopted an even darker shade of maroon.

“Okay, now hold your nose for real this time” I laughed as I undid the tapes of his diaper, peeling the front away to reveal the horror inside.

“Jesus Christ!” Molly exclaimed, “this is what you’ve been up to the last few months?”

“Crazy, I know, but it’s paying off my student loans!” I replied, wiping his bottom quickly yet thoroughly, “this isn’t even a particularly bad one. I’d rate it a 6!”

Molly peered over my shoulder to watch me work with a look of horrified fascination on her face. “Umm, what the fuck is that?” She said as I cleaned off the baby blue plastic of Benny’s chastity cage.

“An attitude adjuster” I joked continuing in a sing song voice, “someone got caught with their hand down their pants last night!”

“No way, does he get off on this??”

“You know how boys are. No, he hates it, or at least he acts like it. But this is all his wife’s doing. Sarah. It’s all a little freaky but she’s kind of a fucking boss, not gonna lie. I guess she caught him cheating and put stop to that real quick.”

“Damn, and with all of this? I mean, this is involved! She must be loaded.”

“That’s the best part actually. I think it’s all his money! He was like some bigshot financial analyst investor guy on Wall Street. It’s crazy to think he used to have a job and a future just like us but I guess someone just got a little too big for his britches” I giggled, accentuating that last point with a boop on my charge’s nose, eliciting a heavy eye roll and a low, gagged sob.

“First time I saw Sarah, she was rocking an Hermes diaper bag, I didn’t even know they made those! I don’t think she even works she just lunches and goes on trips with her lady friends” I continued as I balled up the dirty diaper and set about unfolding the new one under Benny’s cheeks. 

“Honestly, that’s sick,” Molly replied, leaning in closer. “OMG, look at this,” she said, indicating the pearly bead of fluid accumulating at the tip of Benny’s cage.

“Oh yeah that’s nearly constant,” I chuckled, “like I said, she’s found every way to control her man, or should I say little man, isn’t that right?” I gave another intentionally condescending nose boop.

“Speaking of which, could you grab me a bottle out of that fridge over there?” I pointed at a small black mini fridge near the rocking chair in the corner. 

Curious, Molly walked slowly over and opened the fridge door to find an array of glass baby bottles, a dozen in all, each brimming with a white fluid. 

“Of course he drinks milk too,” Molly chided.

“He does, but that’s a bit of a different kind of milk if you know what I mean,” I replied over my shoulder while taping Benny into his fresh new diaper. 

“No fucking way, is that…?”

“Oh yeah, you wouldn’t believe how much he produces and nothing goes to waste here, isn’t that right Baby Baluga?” 

“MMM-MMMPPPHHH!!” came the distressed, muffled response.

“Oh that’s right, paci’s got your tongue,” I giggled, as I began to undo his changing table restraints. “Mol, you wanna stay and watch me feed the brat?”

“No I really should be going!” Came her hurried response. I turned and she looked a little flush and her eyes were darting around the room.

“Oh, okay, no prob, let me walk you out.”

I removed Benny’s pacifier-gag, the massive bulb pulling out of his fat lips with a wet pop, before jamming the rubber baby bottle nipple home before he could no doubt try to call for help, as I’ve found he’s often want to do.

“Drink this and if it’s done by the time I’m back up maybe I’ll get the buzzy out for you.”

That made his eyes light up as he clumsily grabbed at the bottle with two mittened hands and began to suck gingerly at first, making a screwed up expression on his face as his gulping began to pick up steam.

I left him there still strapped to the changing table and walked Molly down to the foyer. She thrust yesterday’s notes into my hand and was gone quick as can be. Must’ve forgot something, I thought to myself. But when I got back to the nursery to find Benny still sucking hungrily at his bottle—and making the occasional pathetic gagging sound. But what caught my eye especially was that one of the stacks of diapers on the shelf below Benny’s head was sitting a little lower than usual. I smirked to myself reflecting on how it did seem like Molly’s backpack was a little fuller than before. To my even greater surprise, I turned towards the rocking chair to find the fridge door still open. Ten bottles chilled neatly in their little orderly rows.

“Oh Scott, you are in for it,” I laughed to myself as I walked over to the toy chest to dig around for Benny’s reward.

[crinklyfantasies]

"What's the matter, big boy? Why are you squirming like that? Don't tell me you're getting excited for your brand-new panties?"

Her silky voice is sexy of course – as sexy and full and smooth as her voluptuous breasts straining within her low-cut bra. Yet every word is laced with amusement and disdain, every syllable vibrating with the sort of cool condescension that has always been your kryptonite. In her dark eyes sparkles the sadistic merriment of a confident mature woman toying with her prey. And you, as that prey, can only shiver and squirm helplessly before her.

"Please-" you begin, voice cracking in rising desperation. Your gut is churning audibly now, the nauseating waves of cramps sweeping over you as the suppositories within grimly work their sordid magic. "Please, Mistress! I- I can't hold it much longer-"

Your hands are clutching desperately at your jeans: or rather, at the taut, unyielding leather strap cinched around your waist. She gave it to you for Christmas, this special belt. At the time, she'd merely giggled and said it would be handy to be able to lock your pants on sometimes – just to make sure you were properly horny and desperate for her, of course. So here it is now around the waist of your jeans, its smooth surface and the jingling padlock at the buckle so calmly, cooly uncompromising. You're locked into your pants, well and truly. And only that little key – the one that you yourself gave back to her all those weeks ago – has the power to set you free.

"Aww, really? You can't hold it? But I thought you were a big boy!" she mocks sweetly, shaking her head in amused derision at the desperation in your face. "I thought you said only babies made messes in their pants, honey! Are you telling me that you – a great big thirty-one-year-old boy – want to make a smelly, poopy mess in your pants? Is that it?"

"Yes- no, I mean-" You falter, grimacing as the strongest cramp yet rocks your gut. "I- I can't help it-" "Tsk, tsk," she clucks, and now she's rustling the pastel diaper provocatively in her hands, gazing reflectively first at it, then back at you, and then back once more. "You really can't help it, hmm? But what if it's just a ploy to get me to take that belt off, honey? What if you really don't need to make a poo-poo after all, and you're just lying to your Mistress? That would really be too bad, you know…"

"No-! No, I really do!" You wail, and now the cold sweat is breaking out on your clammy forehead. "I swear! I- It's the suppositories you gave me…" "Ah, so now you're blaming me, hmm? Classic," she muses aloud, shaking her head with primly pursed lips. "What a classic move. You know, just for that I'm going to need you to show me how badly you need to take a dump. If you want to act like you're such a helpless victim, honey, then I really think you'd better play the part to the full…"

She gives a short, husky laugh at her own pun – but you are no longer listening. You are standing frozen in pain and terror, feeling the inexorable rush of oily excrement bursting out at last in a sickening, warm rush. Your legs spread reflexively, bowing outward as the seat of your cotton briefs expands and fills with the warm, gooey mass. The heat rises to your cheeks as the realization sweeps over you in a humiliating flood. It's happening at last, despite your best efforts. You're literally crapping your pants, right in front of your beautiful Mistress. And trapped as you are in her bonds, there is nothing on earth you can do to stop it.

"Oh… oh dear me," she smirks, and you jerk back to real life at last, shivering under her condescending expression. "You actually did it! Look at you, you little baby. Standing right here in broad daylight, dumping in your pants like the stupidest little toddler imaginable. Have you no shame? Or…"

And here she pauses and rustles the diaper once more with a thoughtful cock of her head. "Oh… I get it now! You really do want me to lock you away in this diaper, don't you? Aww, of course you do! You're so fucking desperate to be babied by your pretty Mistress, huh? So fucking desperate that you're even willing to shit your pants to get it. Good god, how utterly pathetic…"

Yes, pathetic, chimes your stupid, subby brain. So pathetic! And as your now poo-smeared cock tightens within your full, smelly underwear, you wince – as much at your own irrationally masochistic arousal as at the filthy sensation. God, are you really enjoying this? Even now?

"What a pathetic, dirty little boy you are," she intones, and now she's openly laughing at your chagrin. "Come here, you! Get that dirty little ass over here. Let's strip you down, baby. I need to get you into this diaper that you clearly love so much. Can't have you pissing on my clean floor like an absolute baby, can I? Can I, you little baby?!"

No, you shake your head, and the tears of grateful humiliation prick your downcast eyes. No, no. You can't. Can't let me make any more messes…

And so you stand there before your Mistress, convicted by your own unwilling arousal. You really are her dirty-minded sub after all. You want her to use you… toy with you… humiliate you in any way possible. Which, it seems, is exactly what she's planning to do anyway.

Image Credit: PennyBarber.com

Be sure to check out my Patreon here if you want to read more of my naughty short stories!

[crinklyfantasies]

Sissies certainly come in all shapes and sizes. Tall, short, skinny, fat, big dick, little dick. At the end of the day they all end up in tears and a thick diaper. ^_^ Great story!

Part 1:

“It’s been so long!”

“So long.” I echoed. Heather and I hadn't seen each other in months. We were the best of friends—still are—but as you know, when we get older, life gets in the way and it becomes harder and harder to make time for each other. We sat down on the couch with a relieved exhale to be in each other's presence once again. 

I gave a quick glance around the house. It was much cleaner than usual. Not to be rude, but Heather’s always been kind of a slob dating back to when we were roommates in college. “Did you hire a maid?” I asked. 

“Yea…something like that.” Heather smirked to herself, “So how are things with you??” She asked genuinely, not in that light conversational sort of way of people just going through the motions. 

I told her about this new guy I was seeing, Mark, and how he makes me happy and gives me those butterflies I was worried I’d never find again after my divorce. Heather listened intently, not taking her eyes off me and letting them wander the way some people do when they don’t care about the topic. 

“But what about you?” I asked once I finished, “how are things with you and Brandon?”

Heather gave a long, hefty sigh. Heather and Brandon’s relationship was the definition of toxic. It had been rocky almost from the get-go, the opposite of how it was with Mark and me. The amount of times I told her to leave him was too many to count, and it always went through one ear and out the other. So when I asked her for an update like I did now, I expected her response to be something about his drinking, his cheating, or his verbal abuse of her. Instead, she surprised me. 

“Things are…really great,” she smiled, “like, really really really great!”

I hadn’t seen Heather’s face light up like that since she first started dating him. But we’ve been through this before, she’d always say things were “great” and then unload on me about all the stupid things he’s done. So needless to say, I was more than a little skeptical. 

“But…?” I intoned, waiting for the inevitable next part of the sentence. 

“No ‘buts’ this time!” She said with a joyful melody I’d never heard her use before. Her eyes swam in an exuberant reverie. It seemed impossible to wipe the smile off her face. “He’s…changed.”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. I’d heard this one before. “Heather, you always say that…”

“No. Like really changed this time!”

“You say that too.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I do understand, Heather!” I barked, then realized it was more forceful than I meant it to be, so I relaxed my tone despite my frustration at having to go over this again. “But you can’t keep lying to yourself. He’s always going to be a douchebag.”

It was hard to use that word to describe your best friend’s boyfriend, but it needed to be said. 

Heather, however, didn’t even flinch. Her smile stayed resolute and firm, like she was in on a secret I didn’t know about. 

“This time is different—“

“Yes, ‘different’” I finished for her, “he bought me flowers, he promised not to do it again, he deleted his instagram, blah blah blah.”

Heather laughed and nodded, as if to concede my point that her past self was dumb and stubborn, even though I'd never call her the former. 

“So what’s ‘different’ this time?” I asked, ready to hear her justification. 

Her smile never waned. In fact, she looked like she was reminiscing. “I found this…site.”

“A site? Like a website?” 

She nodded. 

“What kind of site?”

“One for…relationship advice.”

I tried to refrain from rolling my eyes. “And what kind of ‘advice’ did they give?”

Heather smirked in a wicked sort of way. “Maybe it’s better I show you…”

I expected her to grab her phone and pull up this mysterious website. But instead she reached over to the couch side table and grabbed a bell I didn’t know was there. She lifted it and gave it a little jingle. 

“Brandi! Can you come in here please?”

Brandi? That was new. I’d never heard her use that pet name before. I couldn’t imagine Brandon letting that one slide. The most he would put up with was the occasional ‘babe’, and I remember them specifically getting into a fight because she erroneously used the term “baby”. 

I didn’t even know he was here. I figured he was off drinking or partying with his friends. I could hear rummaging from the other room, but nothing else after that.  

Heather waited patiently, but soon the silence drew on until it became a bit awkward. She rang the bell again. 

“Brandi?? Get in here right now.” She called, her voice more stern this time. 

Again, we waited. Heather looked a bit perturbed, but still kept that smile. 

“I’ll be right back,” she said, climbing off the couch. She went into the room across the hall, the guest room. 

“What are you doing?” She roared, stepping inside and closing the door. “When I tell you to come, you come! I don’t care if you’re embarrassed”

Then I heard several smacking sounds. Was he hitting her?! I wouldn’t put it past him. I could hear high pitched mewling. I jumped off the couch and made my way to the room, I’d be damned if he put his hands on her. But what I saw stopped me in my tracks. Heather was dragging something in by the ear, a very pink something. 

I sat back on the couch in pure shock, mouth agape. I hardly even recognized the man in front of me. Even calling him a “man” was a stretch. 

Brandon was wearing a pink, frilly dress. He was one of those meathead ‘bodybuilders’, so seeing his bulging muscles stuffed inside something so tight and feminine was quite the jarring juxtaposition. 

His normally gruff beard was clean shaven, in fact, there didn’t seem to be a tuft of hair on his usually furry body other than his head. Which had one of those pink headbands with a flower on it that people use on babies so you can know they’re a girl.  But the weirdest part was what was in his mouth, it looked like a giant pacifier. 

His cheeks were a deep red, partly from the artificial blush of the make-up he had on, but he was doing enough blushing on his own. I’d never seen him so embarrassed, he was usually over-confident and self-centered. I guess it was hard to be with the state of his attire. 

“Say ‘hi’ Brandi” Heather instructed. 

“Hi..” Brandon said around the pacifier in his mouth. His voice was so much more high-pitched than his usual baritone. 

“Manners.” Heather intoned. 

Brandon actually cringed a bit. “Hi mith Linsey”

It was hard not to laugh at how ridiculous he looked and sounded. “I…can’t believe you got him to wear all this!”

“Oh you haven’t even seen the best part…” she giggled, “Lift up your skirt, Brandi!”

Brandon’s eyes went wide, pleading. The base of the pacifier bounced as I assume his bottom lip quivered. His nose whistled from the increased breathing. Heather inclined her head to let him know she meant business. Brandon tentatively brought his painted nails to the hem of his polka dot skirt, raising it up with trembling hands. 

I probably should have deduced what it would be, but I was still absolutely floored when I saw the big, poofy, adult-sized diaper between his quivering legs. 

I didn’t know what to say, I don’t know if there was anything to say. Luckily, Heather stepped in for me. 

“Tell her what it is, baby.” She ordered, as if I didn’t already know. 

“Issa…d-d-d…” he struggled to say the word, like it was too difficult, or he was too embarrassed. 

“You can take your paci out.” Heather told him. 

He let the pacifier drop out of his mouth. It dangled off the little ribbon attached to his stuffed cleavage. The rubber nipple was quite large. In fact, upon closer inspection, I noticed it was shaped like the head of a penis. He must have seen the surprise writ on my face, because his cheeks flushed a fresh shade of pink. 

“You were telling her what you’re wearing.” Heather reminded him. 

He scrunched up his face, as if that would make him disappear. 

“I’m wearwing a…diapurr” he whimpered. It was as if saying the word out loud somehow made it more real. 

Heather inclined her head to the side to inspect it. “Looks like you did something in your diaper too.” She observed, “did you wet your diaper, Brandi?”

Now that she mentioned it, the diaper did look quite swollen and droopy with a yellowish tint to it. 

Brandon sniffled, nodding. “Yes Mommy…I wet my diapy…”

Mommy? He was calling her ‘mommy’ now? 

This was all so bizarre, but she had to ask: “Does he…poop in the diaper too?”

Heather smiled again, turning to him. “Tell her Brandi. Tell her what else you do in your diaper.”

Brandon winced again, “I…make poo poos…”

“And how many poo poos did you make in your pampers yesterday, pumpkin?”

He hung his head in shame, avoiding eye contact. “Two, Mommy…”

Heather patted his back proudly. “It was a big day for him.” She told me with a facetious smile. It was hard not to laugh at the thought of this asshole shitting all over himself. But then it occurred to me:

“Do you…change him?” I asked Heather. 

“Oh yea,” she nodded resolutely, she even had a mischievous grin on her face. I couldn’t believe it. The same girl that couldn’t touch a cockroach with her foot enough to kill it was changing her boyfriend’s soiled diapers. 

I was at a loss for words. “When did you…how did you…”

“Remember that site I told you about?” Heather explained, “they had a number for this location called ‘The Facility’. It’s a sort of ‘rehab’ or ‘remediation’ center if you will. In addition to helping people get off of drugs and alcohol, they also have ways of turning around a wayward spouse or significant other. It took them only two weeks to break Brandon.”

I tried to take it all in. “So they made him dress like a…”

“A baby, yes.” She finished for me. “You can choose to make them a ‘boy’ or ‘girl’, and I just think wittle Bwandi wooks so much cuter in pink! Don’t you agree??”

It was hard to deny that. The dress looked so much better on him than his usual Affliction shirts, simply because of what it seemed to do to his overinflated ego. 

“So how do they…”

Heather seemed to know what I was going to say before I even asked it. “They have a bunch of different methods. They keep them in a little room that looks like a nursery. Apparently Brandon put up quite the fuss at first, but they spank them and lock them in a cage until they learn to calm down.”

“A cage? I thought you said they put them in a nursery…”

Heather chuckled at my naivety. “No no…not that kind of cage.” She snapped her fingers at Brandon, doing the ‘come hither’ motion. 

Brandon whimpered again, then sheepishly dropped to his hands and knees and crawled in front of them, sitting back on his haunches. 

“Lift up your skirt so we can peek inside your diaper, sweetie!” Heather ordered. 

Brandon obeyed, lifting his ruffled skirt and exposing that sodden diaper for us to see again. Heather crooked a finger into the waistband and tugged towards us a bit. “Take a look.” She said. 

I wasn’t exactly thrilled to look at Brandon’s penis, though I’d heard it wasn’t anything to write home about. But when I leaned over and looked inside, it was even smaller than I imagined, but that was probably because it was pressed inside a very small, very flat, cage sort of thing. I don’t know how it was possible that even a tiny penis could fit in there. It had to be very squished with no room to move or grow or do anything at all. It was, however, leaking out clear strings of fluid. 

“Wow!” I said, genuinely surprised. “And that keeps him from—“

“Yep! It’s been almost two weeks since he last had an orgasm!” She said triumphantly. 

“Four weeks…” Brandon corrected. 

“Sweetheart,” Heather said, sighing in annoyance, she scooped up the dangling dick pacifier and popped it in his mouth, “Women are talking. You will speak when spoken to.”

Brandon didn’t remark or retort. Simply let his head hang and suckled on the rubber penis like it was made to fit there. The Brandon I knew would be in a fit of rage right now, throwing and shouting at anything and everything. 

I shook my head in amazement. “I just can’t believe how…different he is.”

“See? I told you he’s changed!” Heather laughed, and I had to concede. 

“Does he…need a change?” I asked, motioning to the sodden diaper that was drooping so much it almost touched the floor, the smell of urine was becoming noticeable.  

Heather waved the notion away.  “Na he’s fine! Plenty of mileage left in there.” She snapped her fingers again. “Go get us some drinks!” She told him without an ounce of faltering in her voice. I’d never seen her so confident, so secure, so…empowered. Brandon’s constant belittling, cheating, and gaslighting had turned her into an insecure, withered husk of her former self. But now? It was like she had all her bravado from before and then some. And I got to watch as that conniving piece of shit shuffled off on his hands and knees with a puffy, pissy diaper crinkling between his legs. 

He soon returned, shuffling in on his knees with two glasses of red wine in hand. Apparently he wasn’t allowed to use his feet around the house. 

“Thank you,” I said, accepting the glass. It might have been the first time I’d ever uttered those words to him about anything. Not because I'm a bitch, but because he’s never done anything that was worth ‘thanking’ him for. Heather took hers without a word, motioning over to the edge of the room. He scurried off in the direction she indicated, turned around facing us–still on his knees–and knelt on his ankles with an audible squish of his diaper.

“Cheers!” Heather said, holding up her glass. I smiled and clinked mine against it, “Cheers!”

The conversation shifted to more normal topics like our jobs, family, and the newest season of Shadow and Bone on Netflix. By my second glass of wine, I’d hardly noticed the big, pink, pampered elephant in the corner of the room. We put on some background music and sang every word of “No Scrubs” by TLC to each other using our invisible microphones. It really was nice to see Heather in her element again, it was just like old times. The gossip flowed effortlessly and my cheeks hurt from laughing so hard.

I was in absolute stitches from Heather recanting the time she got so drunk that one of her high heels broke off, she spent the rest of the night hobbling on one peg, pinching one eye closed, and greeting everyone with a pirate voice for the rest of the night.

“Remember that time we tried to buy weed from the guy in the dorm across from us? We didn’t have a clue what we were doing.”

“How many pots can I get for 20 bucks?” Heather mimicked my innocent former self. “He could have put lettuce in a bag and you still probably would have bought it!”

“I would not!” I exclaimed, pointing a retaliatory finger but accidentally spilling drops out of my 4th glass. I watched in slow motion as it flew and fell right onto the cream colored cushions of the couch.

“Oh my god!” I gasped, laughter turning to dread. “I’m so sorry! I’ll get something to–”

Heather gently took me by the wrist, “Not to worry, my dear!” she said in her awful attempt at a British accent. “The ‘help’ will take care of that later!”

She winked over to the corner where Brandon was still kneeling. I giggled at her joke, but noticed Brandon’s face was scrunched and turning purple.

“Is he…okay?”

Heather moved her glazy eyes to his direction, focusing on him for the first time in over an hour. Her demeanor quickly changed from squinting to a burst of delight. She leaned in close to my ear so I could hear her whispering over the music. “That’s the face he makes when he’s pooping!”

I clapped my hand to my mouth. As much as my sober self was put off by the idea of a grown man dumping in a diaper, drunk me thought it would be a sight to see.

We watched as he stared at the floor, unbeknownst that we were watching him. The music drowned out our hushed voices. He ran his hands back and forth across his thighs while he bounced ever so slightly on his haunches, as if trying to squeeze out a particularly stubborn one. He even let out a muffled grunt or two!

“Watcha doin’ over there, baby?” Heather called, startling him from his concentration. 

His eyes went wide with panic when he noticed he had an audience for what was normally a private endeavor. 

“Are you making a pushy?” she asked rhetorically. “Giving yourself a mushy tushy?”

He continued to surprise me with all the shades of red and purples his cheeks could turn, and it wasn’t just from the exertion of dropping a load into his diaper. 

“Making Mommy a wittle pwesent?” Heather continued to tease. 

With my inhibitions lowered, even I joined in on his humiliation. “Not any kind of present I’d ever want to receive…”

Heather howled with laughter. Noticing Brandon had stopped dead in his tracks, she motioned with her glass. “Well go on, we don’t have all day!”

We watched with pure glee as Brandon–who was always so full of shit–filled his diaper with the same substance. 

“Don’t look at the floor!” Heather ordered, “Look at us!”

She made him maintain eye contact as he soiled himself in front of us. The only thing that would have made the show better was a batch of popcorn. 

“All done?” she eventually asked when his face relaxed a bit. He nodded despondently.  “Good girl! Now come here…”

Like a puppy that just pooped on the floor, Brandon crawled on all fours with a pitiful, deflated posture. The smell–which wasn’t very noticeable from across the room–practically punched me in the face as he grew closer. My eyes started watering and I had to choke back a gag. Heather hardly even seemed to notice. She even leaned closer, inches from his face.

“Do you think you deserve a change?” she asked. Her sweet, innocent voice from before now dripping with disdain. 

He looked like he was on the verge of tears, he nodded and whimpered fervently. “Yes pweez!!” He whined around the paci still in his mouth. He was trembling with desperation and embarrassment.

“And why exactly should I change you?” Heather asked, sitting back with her arms crossed, eyebrows raised.

Brandon’s eyes darted back and forth, as if he was trying to find an appropriate answer. “Be…because I’ve been a good girl today?” It was more of a question than a statement. 

Heather pondered that for a bit, “Hmm, I dunno Lindsey, do you think Brandi here has been a good girl?”

I played along with her ruse, tapping my finger on my chin in exaggerated thought. “I mean…he was pretty fussy earlier…” I saw Brandon’s eyes go wide with horror again, what I wouldn’t give to have that expression plastered on a mural on my wall. “But he certainly was entertaining…”

He breathed a sigh of relief.

“But…”

His shoulders dropped again.

“I think I could use a little more entertainment!”

Heather clapped her hands excitedly. “Oooh!! What should we make him do??”

I grabbed her portable speaker, switching our Spotify playlist over to one of our throwbacks. The bass of Apple Bottom Jeans started booming. 

“Dance!” I hollered over the now blaring music.

Heather could hardly contain her laughter, motioning for Brandon to follow my command as if it were her own. 

Brandon begrudgingly got to his feet. Staring at the ceiling while he gently swished his hips from side to side.

“That’s not the dance of someone that wants their diaper changed!!” Heather howled between fits of laughter.

Brandon huffed and started working his arms in. He was never the type to dance or make a fool of himself, but we were certainly putting that to bed tonight. 

“Turn around!”

“Lift that skirt!”

“Twerk!”

“Smack that ass!”

Brandon cringed as he crashed his big broad hand against the back of his diaper, squishing the mess he made into himself. Both he and Heather were practically in tears, for very different reasons.

“Drop it low!”

“Hit the flo’!!”

His droopy diaper dipped to the ground as Flo’ Rida sang the words “Low low low low low low low low…”

By the time the song ended, my chest hurt from cackling so hard.

“So…” Heather asked when her laughter finally subsided. “Should I change him?”

I let the question hang in the air for as long as I could. Reveling at Brandon’s once dismissive face now hanging on my every word.

“If you promise to never treat her wrong again.” I said. I know it was a small gesture, and probably didn’t mean anything to him, but it meant something to me.

Heather looked at him expectantly.

“I pwomise to tweat her wight.” He said in that ridiculous babytalk. It made it that much sweeter for some reason.

“Tell her sorry.” I continued, “For everything.”

He looked up at her, like she was his everything now, the way he always should have looked at her.

“I’m sowwy, Mommy!” He looked like he was about to cry again “I’m sowwy fow evewything oi did.”

They both looked at me again. I smiled, feeling somewhat powerful myself “He can have his poopy diaper changed.”

Brandon looked like he was about to jump out of the diaper in excitement. Heather grinned, holding out her hand. “Ok mud butt! Let’s go get you changed.”

“NO!” I shouted as she started leading him off to the other room. They both jumped in surprise. It came out before I could stop myself. Maybe it was the wine in me, maybe it was my stubborn curiosity, but I had to see this. I had to see her change this asshole’s dirty diaper. As disgusting as it may be…

To Be Continued...

I wanted to do a story from the 3rd wheel's perspective, so this is the spawn of that. If you like this idea, and want to see how it progresses and ends, you can find Part 2 on my Patreon. With Part 3 set to be released next week! It's only $6/month, which apparently is now the same price as a Cheesy Gordita Crunch from Taco Bell. (No, i'm not salty at all....) Subscribe now while supplies last!