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padded-lock · 13 days ago

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The Bedwetting Lie

Evan met Lila at a cozy coffee shop on a rainy spring afternoon. Her laugh was bright, her eyes warm, and within weeks, they were inseparable—laughing through late-night movies, sharing secrets under dim streetlights. But Evan carried a secret of his own, one he’d never dared whisper to anyone. He craved the softness of diapers, the secret thrill of wetting them in the dark, a desire he’d buried since adolescence. When their relationship deepened and sleepovers became routine, he saw his chance.

“I… I have a bedwetting problem,” he confessed one evening, his voice trembling with feigned shame as they lay in her bed, the city humming outside. “I need to wear diapers at night. I’m really sorry—I should’ve told you sooner.”

Lila’s hand found his, her touch gentle. “Oh, Evan, it’s okay. We all have our things. I don’t mind at all.” Her acceptance was a balm, and that night, he slipped into a thick, absorbent diaper under the covers, heart pounding with excitement. He waited until she was asleep, then quietly wet it, the warmth spreading, fulfilling a fantasy he’d held for years. Every night after, he maintained the lie, waking before dawn to ensure the diaper was soaked by morning, reinforcing the illusion of a medical necessity.

For months, their nights were a haven of acceptance. Lila never flinched, never judged, even helping him adjust the tapes on occasion with a smile. Evan felt a mix of guilt and exhilaration, the diapers becoming a secret addiction he couldn’t shake.

But secrets unravel. One evening, Lila stumbled upon an open tab of diaper fetish porn on Evan's laptop. As she clicked through more she found stories about faking bedwetting to be in diapers at night. Her heart sank, then hardened. “Evan,” she said later, her voice sharp as she confronted him in her living room, hands on her hips, “you’ve been lying to me. You don’t have a bedwetting problem, do you? This was all a game to wear diapers and play some sick little fantasy, wasn’t it?”

Evan’s face flushed, words stumbling over themselves. “I—I can explain. I just… I liked wearing them. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It started as a… a kink, but—”

“Stop wearing them,” she demanded, cutting him off, her eyes cold and piercing. “Now. I’m not playing your games anymore.”

But it was too late. The months of diapers, the nightly routine of wetting while lying in bed, the alarms he’d set to wake and reinforce the habit—it had rewired something in him. His bladder, once obedient, now betrayed him. A week after her demand, he woke in her bed, damp sheets clinging to his skin, the diaper he’d reluctantly stopped wearing uselessly dry on the floor. It happened again the next night, and the next. Panic set in as he realized the lie had become his truth.

Lila noticed the wet patches, the shame in his eyes. At first, she scoffed, thinking it was another act. “Still pretending, huh? Still playing your pathetic diaper game?” she sneered, crossing her arms. But after three nights of undeniable evidence—sheets soaked, his face crumbling—she finally believed it. Yet her acceptance had vanished, replaced by a cruel edge that cut deeper than any rejection.

“You did this to yourself, Evan,” she snarled one morning, standing over him as he fumbled with a fresh diaper, the scent of urine lingering in the air. “Look at you—pathetic, needing diapers every night like a baby. Did you think this would be cute? Did you think I’d keep coddling you after you lied to my face?” Her laughter was sharp, mocking, as she pointed at the bulky padding around his waist. “What kind of man wets his bed and needs a diaper to hold his mess? You’re disgusting.”

The humiliation grew, a weight pressing on Evan’s chest. “Please, Lila, I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” he whispered, voice trembling.

“Oh, shut up,” she snapped. “You wanted this. Say it—say you wanted to be a bedwetting loser who needs diapers.” When he hesitated, her voice turned ice-cold. “Say it, or I’ll make you wear that soggy diaper all day and parade you around the apartment.”

“I… I wanted this,” he mumbled, heat rising to his cheeks. “I wanted to be a bedwetting loser who needs diapers.”

“Louder,” she demanded, smirking. “And add, ‘I don’t need pussy—I only need my warm, pissy diapers.’”

Evan’s stomach churned, but he obeyed, voice cracking. “I don’t need pussy—I only need my warm, pissy diapers.”

She clapped slowly, her eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. “Good boy. Now, you’ll wear that diaper all day as your punishment. Let’s see how much you love being my little bedwetter.” She forced him to sit on the couch, the wet, clammy fabric squishing uncomfortably against his skin, the smell of urine mixing with the faint scent of baby powder he’d used in a futile attempt to mask it. “Tell me, Evan,” she said, leaning in close, her breath hot against his ear, “how does it feel to know you can’t control yourself? How does it feel to be stuck in this soggy mess you made?”

“It… it’s humiliating,” he admitted, voice barely audible, his face burning. “I hate it, but… I can’t stop.”

“Perfect,” she said, her tone dripping with venom. “Because you’re mine to humiliate now. You’ll spend half the day in your dummy diaper, and I’ll make sure you never forget what a pathetic bedwetter you are.”

She withheld sex, her touch replaced by taunts that pierced his soul. “Look at you, humping your pissy diapers in the middle of the night like some desperate animal,” she’d say, watching him squirm. “You don’t deserve me—you don’t deserve anything but that soggy padding. Tell me again—why don’t you need my pussy?”

“Because… because I’m a bedwetting loser who only needs his warm, pissy diapers,” he choked out, each word a stab of shame.

When he would beg her for some time with her soft warm body and pussy, her only response would be to hand him a diaper with a look of disappointment. He was getting any "action", it was going to be in his little diaper.

Her cruelty escalated. She’d shove her hips toward him, pressing her camel toe pussy against his face, taunting, “You’ll never feel the inside of this again—only your warm, wet diapers. Smell it, but don’t you dare touch. This is mine, and you’re nothing but a diapered freak now.” The scent of her—musky, intoxicating—drove him wild, but she yanked away, leaving him trembling with longing.

Months passed, and Evan’s desire for her grew into an unbearable ache, a psychological torment that gnawed at his every waking moment. He lay in bed at night, the wet diaper pressed against his skin, the cold, clammy fabric a constant reminder of his shame. His mind raced with images of her—her smooth thighs, the curve of her hips, the warmth he’d once known. God, I want her pussy so bad, he thought, his chest tightening with desperation. It’s all I can think about—her taste, her heat, the way she used to moan under me. Now it’s gone, locked away, and I’m stuck here, humping this piss-soaked mess like it’s the only thing I’ll ever have.

The sensation was maddening. The diaper’s bulk rubbed against his thighs, the wetness seeping into his skin, a stark contrast to the fiery longing in his core. Each thrust against the padding was a pitiful imitation of what he craved—her body, her closeness. The ammonia scent stung his nostrils, mingling with the faint baby powder, a humiliating perfume that marked him as less than a man. His cock, hard and aching, pressed against the soggy fabric, the friction both torturous and pitifully inadequate. This isn’t enough, he thought, tears pricking his eyes. It’s cold, it’s wet, it’s disgusting—but it’s all I have. I’d give anything to feel her again, to bury myself in her, to prove I’m not just this… this diapered failure.

Lila grew colder, her taunts sharper. One evening, she decided to test him. “You’ve been denied so long, I bet you’d cum just seeing my pussy,” she said, a wicked glint in her eyes as she lounged on the couch, legs crossed. “Let’s see how pathetic you really are.” She hiked up her dress, revealing white panties, the fabric tight against her skin, outlining every curve. She pressed herself against his face, the thin lace brushing his lips, the scent of her overwhelming. “Do you want me, Evan?” she whispered, her voice a cruel tease.

“Yes, please,” he begged, his voice raw, his erection straining against the wet diaper. “I need you—I’ve never wanted anything more. Please, Lila, let me have you.”

She could see his arousal, the bulge unmistakable through the soggy padding. With a smirk, she untapped the diaper, the cold, clammy fabric falling away, leaving him throbbing and exposed. She spread her legs, gesturing him closer. “Fuck me, Evan. Long and hard. Now’s your chance.” She laid down on the bed with her dress still up revealing her tight butt and white panties. She gestured for him to lower her panties and take her pussy.

He lunged, heart racing, the scent of her—musky, intoxicating—filling his senses. He pulled her panties down her legs. Immediately the heat of her pussy was evident. He barely grazed her entrance, the heat of her body a fleeting promise, before his body betrayed him, spurting uncontrollably, a mess spilling between them. Lila’s laughter rang out, sharp and annoyed. “Look at you—can’t even last a second! This is why you’ll only ever cum in diapers,” she said, wiping her hands with disgust. “You’re not capable of fucking or satisfying a woman anymore. You can only hump your pissy diapers like the pathetic bedwetter you are.”

She softened slightly, her tone shifting to a mock consolation. “Maybe the diapers feel almost as good as pussy, right?” she said, patting his tiny, spent bulge as she taped him back into the cold, used diaper. The wet fabric squished against his skin, the ammonia smell stronger now, mingling with the baby powder’s faint sweetness. “You better get used to this, Evan. This is your life now—a diapered loser who can’t even handle a real woman.”

As she walked away, Evan stood there, the diaper’s bulk heavy and humiliating against his thighs, the cold wetness a constant reminder of his shame. I’ll never feel her again, he thought, his mind consumed by the image of her pussy—warm, inviting, forever out of reach. I want it so bad it hurts—every inch of me aches for her, but all I have is this pissy, clammy prison around my waist. I’m trapped, humping this diaper like it’s my only salvation, but it’s nothing like her. Nothing will ever be like her.

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padded-lock · 1 month ago

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The Birthday - 1

I couldn't imagine a more perfect way to spend the morning of my 35th birthday. It had been a beautiful, spring Saturday morning. I got up a little later than usual, put on my khakis and a polo shirt, grabbed breakfast at the club house with my best friends, and spent the entire morning playing golf.

Usually, weekend mornings are full of 'Daddy-duties' for me. Wake up, turn on some cartoons for the kids, change the baby's diaper and get everyone out of pajamas, make breakfast, then load everyone up in the car for the youth sports game-of-the-week. Don't get me wrong. I love my life. I love being a dad. I love spending time with my kids. But, today, my birthday, my wonderful wife Madeline let me make the day just about me, and I love that too.

It was about 1:00 pm by the time I got home. I staggered into the house a little more unbalanced than usual, having had a few more than my normal share of beers on the course. In my slightly drunken state, it took me a second to recognize that something was different than normal in the house, but, after hanging my keys on the key hook and wandering into the kitchen, things started to feel off.

First, the house was clean. The toys, normally spread across the house, were all in their proper place. The kitchen counters were crumb free. The sink was clear of dishes. Now, I am not saying our house is normally a mess, but with kids, it's generally impossible to keep the house cleaner than 'slightly cluttered.'

"Love?" I called out, "The house looks beautiful? Did you and the kids spend the whole morning cleaning?"

My yell was met with silence. That was also odd. With the kids around, the house was always noisy. However, at that moment, there was nothing. No one was crying, or laughing, or yelling. The sounds of the latest episode of Bluey or Pokemon weren't blaring from the playroom. There wasn't even music playing. I started to become suspicious. Was anyone home?

With growing concern, I turned and left the kitchen and heading upstairs to the master bedroom. Maybe my wife was taking a nap? Maybe she convinced the kids to nap to? It seemed unlikely, but, in my happy, half-drunk stupor, I was ready to get to the bottom of this mystery.

I walked upstairs briskly, now more cautious about yelling out, not wanting to wake anyone up if they were sleeping. As I made it to the second floor hallway, I was greeted by more of what I had seen downstairs. An impeccably clean and quiet house.

As I passed each of the children's bedrooms, I peaked in, hoping to get some sign of what was happening. I got no hints. Each of my kids rooms was clean, organized, and devoid of life.

I finally made it to the master bedroom at the end of the hall. As I approached the room, I noticed that the door was shut. Much like the house being clean and silent, that never happened. Cautiously, and still a little unsteadily, I approached the white door to my bedroom, grabbed the handle, and cautiously pushed the door open. As I did, I was greeted by the sultry voice of my wife.

"Why hello there big boy! I see someone finally made it home for his birthday surprise!"

Like a dog anticipating a treat when they hear their master reach for the treat bag, I suddenly was overcome by an overwhelming sexual anticipation for what was coming next. I could feel my cock, flaccid and unnoticed just moments before, grow larger and harder, pressing against my khakis in a way that made my feelings for my wife obvious to anyone who could see me.

Now driven by lust, I abandoned my previous sense of caution. I flung open the door to my bedroom to reveal my wife lying on top of the comforter of our king sized bed.

My eyes were instantly drawn to my wife, lying across the bed seductively. She was wearing the sexiest, laciest black lingerie I had ever seen. It emphasized her cleavage and ass perfectly. Her long, brown hair, styled wavy, was draped over her shoulder. In her hand was a riding crop, a favorite tool for administrating 'punishments' in our house.

"Happy Birthday Baby! I thought maybe we could celebrate together today?" My wife, Melody, said seductively, smacking the leather end of the riding crop in her empty hand for emphasis. I felt blood flow to my penis as she spoke. Suddenly, my member was straining against the confines of my boxer briefs and khakis. This was going to be a good birthday.

Noticing my arousal, Melody climbed off the bed, leaving the riding crop behind, and walked up to me. She grabbed my now rock hard penis over my pants with one hand and used her other hand to pull my head down into a passionate kiss. I immediately reciprocated.

As we kissed, Melody, despite being 8 inches shorter and 100 pounds lighter than me, used the leverage she had from handling my penis to maneuver me to a position where my back was to the bed as we kissed. Once I felt the back of my knees brush against our king-sized mattress, Melody surprised me with a shove to the chest, forcing me to lie on my back on the bed. Then, with a mischievous grin on her face, she reached for my belt and the buckle of the pants, expertly undoing both and ripping my pants off.

"We can't have you wearing these! They'll just get in the way!" She exclaimed as she through my khakis to the ground unceremoniously. I grinned in anticipation as Melody climbed on top of me, straddling me at the waist, and began rubbing her still panty clad pussy on my still underwear covered penis.

As she continued the motion, she leaned down and whispered in my ear, "Oh, you like that big boy?" I just moaned in response. I could feel pre-cum leaking out of my penis into my underwear.

"Yeah, I bet you do, you naughty little boy," She continued. I just moaned again. However, the friction felt so good, along with the dirty talk, I suddenly was becoming worried that I was going to cum even before we started to have sex. I tried to turn my head away and think of something else, just to extend the amount of time this would last.

Melody laughed as I turned my head away, clearly aware of what I was doing. I started to blush in embarrassment at the realization that she new I was at risk of losing control even before we started fucking.

"Oh, does this feel a little TOO GOOD for you baby? We can't have that! Let's slow things down," Melody said, climbing off of me, and, thankfully, giving me the chance to slow down. I looked down at my blue boxer briefs and saw a distinct wet spot from where my pre-cum had soaked into my underwear. Melody looked at it to, frowned playfully, but didn't say anything about the stain immediately.

"I want to make this last all day for you, so let's try something else," Melody said as she walked over to our nightstand. I followed her shapely, barely covered ass as she moved around the bed. Then, for the first time, I noticed some new things about the room.

First, on the nightstand were a number of 'supplies' I had never seen before. On the nightstand was a blindfold, a contraption with leather straps I couldn't quite identify but looked like it was meant to go around a person's head, and a pair of large, noise cancelling wireless headphones. Looking closer to me, I noticed that our bed was slightly different as well. Rather than being covered in our normal comforter and pillows, the bed was covered in nothing but black satin sheets. Also, interestingly, there were now wrist and ankle restraints attached to each corner of the bed, waiting patiently to pin down whoever was strapped into to them. I couldn't help but grin. Today WAS going to be a good day. I'd never been so glad that we slowed down early.

Melody turned around from where she stood, bent over the nightstand. "Like what you see?" She asked, wiggling her ass playfully as she grabbed the blindfold in her other hand.

I laughed, "Oh yeah."

"Well, big boy, I've got something special in mind for you today, but, its a surprise, so I need you to let me take control," she said as she returned to my position on the bed. "So, first, put this on." Melody handed me the blindfold.

"Kinky," I said playfully, complying with her command and blindfolding myself.

"Oh, you don't even know," Melody said. "Now, lay back on the bed and spread out your arms and legs. Today is about me taking care of you."

Excited by where this was going, I did as she asked. I spread out my arms and legs and felt as she, with surprising expertise, strapped me into the wrist and ankle restraints.

"What's gotten into you Melly? You never want to play like this?" I asked as she strapped me in, a little disappointed that with the blindfold on, I couldn't see my wife's marvelous body.

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough. Now, no more talking, baby!" She said. Suddenly, I felt something soft and rubber brush my lips. "Open up and take this," Melody suddenly said.

I did as she asked and let the rubber object enter my mouth. As it filled my mouth, I felt it suddenly stop as a hard piece of plastic hit the outside of my lips. Panic suddenly hit me as I realized what this was--a pacifier.

Since before Melody and I had even started dating, I had an ABDL fetish. Specifically, I loved the idea of diapering, babifying, and humiliating strong, independent women. I did not know where it came from, and in a lot of ways, I loathed the fetish. The idea that humiliating and infantilizing women turned me on, despite my actual strong feminist values, disgusted me.

As a result, I never acted on it and had never shared my fetish with Melody, or any other woman for that matter. That had not stopped me from viewing, reading, and eventually writing copious amounts of ABDL porn during our relationship though.

The feeling of the pacifier being pressed into my mouth created so many concerns.

First, how had Melody found out about my fetish? Had she found out about my fetish? Was she upset about it? Second, despite having an ABDL fetish, the idea of being infantalized myself disgusted me.

In my fantasies, I was ALWAYS the dominant daddy, slowly helping my partner become the helpless, infantalized adult they deserved to be treated as. I was never the one being babied. If Melody's plan was to do this to me, that was NOT what I wanted.

In the time that all of this went through my head, I was able to spit out my pacifier and yell out, "What the fuck?!?" I struggled at my bonds as I felt the wet rubber of the giant plastic nipple land on my chest. No matter how much I pulled I could not get free. Frustratingly, I couldn't see Melody's reaction to my struggles, but I could hear her laugh.

I felt the pacifier that had just been in my mouth being picked up off my chest and pressed into my lips again.

"Take this in you mouth, big boy, or suffer the consequences," my wife's voice commanded. Melody emphasized her point by squeezing my balls almost uncomfortably with her free hand.

I wasn't going to give in that easily. I closed my lips tight and turned my head to the side. When I thought I was safe from the childish soother being shoved in my mouth, I responded. "What the fuck is going on Melody, what are you doing? Is that a pacifier you are trying to get me to suck on?" I asked.

Melody with impatience in her voice, refused to answer my questions.

"You'll know precisely what is going on soon enough. Now, suck on this before I make you suck on it," she ordered, attempting to shove the rubber nipple in my mouth a third time. I refused again.

"Have it your way," she said, "this makes it more fun for me anyway."

I felt the mattress I was tied to move as Melody got off of the bed. I then heard the sound of something being moved around on the nightstand. The bed shook again and Melody got back on. I became nervous as I could feel her kneeling next to my prone form.

Suddenly, without almost any warning, I felt a sharp smack to my penis and balls. The pain, while not particular intense, as the slap was blessedly light, was unexpected and sharpe. I raised my head and yelled out. "Owww!"

As I opened my mouth, what must have been a different pacifier, given the much larger size of the rubber nipple was shoved in my now open mouth. At the same time, what must have been the leather straps I saw on the nightstand earlier, were quickly shoved over my head. I tried to spit this new, larger pacifier out. I couldn't. I could feel that with one hand, Melody was now holding the pacifier into place. With her other hand, she was tightening the straps wrapped around my head. A thrashed my head back and forth, but I couldn't stop the process. Within moments, I felt my wife stop pushing the pacifier into my mouth. However, even without that pressure, I couldn't spit it out. Given the days of my life I had spent masturbating to adult baby porn, I knew what I was wearing--a pacifier gag.

I heard Melody sigh in satisfaction as she pulled away from my body, leaving me to struggle against my restraints. "Much better," She said triumphantly, "this will go much smoother if you can't talk."

"Mmmmrrrppphh," I said, unable to form any words due to the size of the large pacifier stuck in my mouth.

I heard Melody walk around the bed, stopping at the foot of the bed. I felt her reach her hand up to my underwear and poke at the wet spot made from my pre-cum earlier.

"Oh my! Look at this, it looks like my BIG, ADULT husband had a little accident in his undies, didn't he?" she chided me with a condescending tone. I growled into the pacifier shoved into my mouth, horrified at where this was going. "I though I was married to a grown up who could keep his pants clean, it doesn't look like it though, does it?" she continued. I growled in the pacifier and thrashed around again. "Clearly, you aren't ready for big boy undies. I think you would look much cuter in diapers anyway. Let's just get this underwear off."

I felt the weight of my wife leaning over the bottom of the bed before I felt the cool metallic feel of scissors sliding up to the bottom of my boxer briefs. I bucked my hips as I felt Melody begin to cut my underwear free. I just couldn't believe what was happening. I had read this story so many times. Fantasized about it. Fuck, I'd even written something close to this once. But, every single time, I was the one removing the underwear, not the one having it taken from me. This was horrible.

"Stop that baby!" Melody said, giving my balls a warning slap as I bucked my hips and tried to prevent this indignity from continuing. "Do you want me to accidentally cut you? These scissors are sharp?"

As she spoke, I realized she was right. Even this humiliation wasn't worth injuring myself. I stopped struggling long enough to let Melody continue cutting my boxer briefs off. "Good boy!" she said encouragingly as she pulled my destroyed underwear free, exposing my ass and crotch. I felt my penis, rock hard only minutes earlier, shrivel up from the cold air and the humiliation of what was happening.

"Oh, how cute! It knows where it's going, so it shrunk up appropriately," Melody said, playfully pinching my penis. "Alright, stay here baby, I'll be back in a second."

I groaned inwardly as I heard Melody leave the room. Where was I going to go? Strapped to the bed, blindfolded, half-naked, and forced to suck on a pacifier, I was firmly detained at this point. It didn't take long before I heard Melody re-enter the room. I listened closely and could clearly hear the rustling sound that I knew must be the diaper she was holding. I listened further as Melody retook her position at the foot of our bed and placed the items she was carrying down.

"Alright, big boy, time to get you diapered for Mommy!" Melody said as I felt her lean over my spread legs.

I immediately started to thrash and scream into my pacifier. This was not going to happen to me. I was an adult. I was in control. I was the Daddy Domme! If anyone in this house was going to be diapered, it'd be Melody, not me! My struggles proved useless though. Try as I might, Melody had been prepared. The ankle and wrist restraints were too solidly attached to the bed frame, and she clearly didn't skimp on the quality of the restraints themselves. I was not going to break free. After what felt like minutes of struggling, I gave up, embracing my fate.

Melody, for her part, just giggled at my struggles. "What a silly boy, thinking he can get free of Mommy that easily?" Melody teased me as I thrashed. When I finally gave up, she said with the tone I had heard her use with our toddlers so many toys, "A you done throwing your tantrum? Good. Now, let's get this diaper on you before you make a mess on the bed!"

With that, I felt Melody lean back over the bed and place what had to be the diaper down near my resting ass.

"Lift!" My wife ordered me. Resigned to the futility of my situation, I complied, lifting my hips into the air. I felt the diaper slide underneath me.

"Drop!" She indicated. I let my ass fall onto the surprisingly soft padding.

"Good boy," She said, and I felt her begin to spread lotion over my skin. The sensation of her rubbing me brought some life back to my penis. I felt myself getting aroused again. I turned red with embarassment. The idea that I could get any sort of enjoyment out of being treated like this was humiliating.

"Oh, it looks like my little friend wants to come out to play!" Melody said as she saw my member grow harder. She immediately redirected her attention. "Well, if he wants to play, let's play!"

I started to moan as Melody gave me the most enthusastic hand job she had ever given me. She laughed as I thrusted my dick into her hand and grunted into the pacifier.

"Oh, baby likes that, does he?" She said breathily, quickly moving her hand up and down my shaft. After years of being together, Melody knew almost exactly when I was about to cum. Right as I was on the verge of bursting, she let go of my dick. Then, quickly, she folded the diaper over my penis and held it there as I came into the thick padding.

"Gotta be careful to not get any icky juices on you during diaper changes, just like with the boys!" Melody said as I moaned and came into my diaper. I could feel my cheeks turning bright red as she compared me coming into my diaper to a baby boy peeing during a diaper change. Despite the orgasm, this entire situation was torture.

Melody then quickly taped me into my padded, and now sticky, prison. She then crawled on top of me, in some sort of twisted call-back to our earlier sexual encounter, and rubbed her ass back and forth on my padded crotch a couple of times mockingly.

"Oh, this is much better," She laughed, as she bent over and pulled the blindfold off of my face. "Why don't you take a look big boy?"

I squinted as the light hit my eyes for the first time in at least a half an hour. The first thing I saw was my wife's face, staring down at me. Her made up and sexy appearance that was so attractive just earlier was just mocking me now.

"Well, take a look," She ordered.

I lifted my head as much as I could and looked down at my body. Past the ring of the pacifier that was strapped into my mouth I could see my polo shirt. Past my polo shift, sticking up just enough to be seen was a big, disposable ABDL diaper with a baby blue waist band. I groaned as I knew from my peculiar porn viewing proclivities that these particular diapers proudly labelled the wearing as a "POTTYPANTS" on the rear. The childish undergarments stood in stark contrast to my wives sexy panties, that were pressed against it.

Looking at my state, imagining what I must look like to her, I started to tear up in shame.

It only took moments for Melody to notice my building tears and place a hand comfortingly on the side of my face.

"Oh, is it embarrassing to be diapered and forced to use a pacifier, baby?" She said with mock caring in her voice, "You must be wondering why I am doing this?"

I nodded my head in affirmation, doing my best to hold back my tears.

"Well, I'm sure you've guessed by now, I've found the little 'secret' you've been hiding to me. Masturbating to the idea of grown women in diapers? What a dirty little pervert you are!" Melody began. I blushed. "I'm going to admit, at first, I was just shocked that you hid something that you were clearly so into from me. But, I was ready to show you that, despite not really being into it myself, I'd indulge in your fantasies." Melody continued.

I struggled to attempt to respond through the pacifier in my mouth, to explain that this wasn't my fantasy. I couldn't get words out though. Melody put a finger on my pacifier in a shushing motion.

"Hush, babe. I KNOW this isn't YOUR fantasy. I found the disgusting erotica you wrote. You've always claimed to be a feminist, to love women in power, and, I'll be frank, you actions had me fooled. But, the fact that all of your fantasies seem to be about belittling, infantilizing, and humiliating powerful women, I am afraid that that doesn't seem to ring true to me anymore." Melody continued.

I swallowed nervously. This was my worst nightmare come to life.

"So, for your birthday, I decided I'd give you a taste of your own medicine. I'd treat you just like you treat those poor women in the stories. By the end of this weekend, I plan to have you acting like my perfect adult-baby boy. I've sent the boys to my parents for the weekend, so it'll just be us. I even cleaned the house so I don't have to worry about that. I'm going to spend the whole weekend teaching you what its like to be the victim of one of your stories," my wife explained.

I attempted to speak through the pacifier gag again. To plead for forgiveness. To explain my shame. Melody hushed me again.

"No, baby. Nothing you can do is going to change my mind. Don't worry though, by the end of the weekend, I'll let you be a big boy again… maybe," She said with a wink. Then, without warning, she pulled the blindfold over my head blinding me again.

"Now," I heard her say, no unable to see what was happening again, "Mommy has some things to set up, so why don't you be a good baby and take a nap and listen to some of my special music."

I felt the wireless headphones be pulled over my head. I tried to shake them off as best I could, but, somehow, she had tied them into the strap of the pacifier gag, tying them in place.

Once the headphones were placed over my ears, I found myself almost completely cut off from the world. I couldn't see what was happening around me and all I could hear was what was clearly some sort of hypnotic track. As I realized what was happening, I let my head fall slack to the bed and closed my eyes in defeat.

I knew, at least for the next few days, I was well and truly fucked. What a way to spend my birthday weekend.

NEXT CHAPTER

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padded-lock · 2 months ago

Text

The Diaper

The diaper is not a punishment, it's a promise.

A promise to keep yourself for me, even in the most basic ways.

The diaper is not a humiliation, it's a mark.

A mark that only I am allowed touch you.

The diaper is not a degradation, its a warning.

It's not a warning for you, but for others, women will know you belong to me.

It is not a status symbol, it's a symbol of my love.

My love, that will always care for you.

Wear those pampers with pride, my dear husbaby. You will be in them forever because they are my way of saying my love for you will not die.

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padded-lock · 2 months ago

Text

I hear the faint rustle of cardboard and the soft tearing sound from the other room, followed by a voice filled with curiosity.

“Honeyyy… Did you order diapers?”

I can’t help but smile to myself. I knew this would catch their attention. The delivery was timed perfectly, just like everything else. But this, this moment—when they first realize what’s happening—is exactly what I’ve been waiting for.

I walk into the kitchen, slowly, carefully, knowing that their reaction will be a mix of confusion and curiosity. I can already see it on their face. They’re standing by the table, holding one of the diapers in their hands, inspecting it like it’s some kind of puzzle. The diaper is thick, pastel pink, and covered in little stars and moons. It’s not made for a child—definitely for an adult.

I cross my arms and watch them, taking in the way their fingers twitch as they turn the diaper over, trying to make sense of it. They’re smiling, but there’s an edge of uncertainty in their eyes that betrays how unfamiliar this whole situation is to them.

“They’re... so big,” they laugh lightly, holding it up, clearly trying to gauge its size. “I don’t think even you'd fit in something like this.”

I step closer, slowly, deliberately, my gaze never leaving them. They’re already questioning it, unsure, but the spark of excitement is already there. I can see it—the curiosity, the desire to know what this means for them.

“They’re not for me,” I say softly, taking the diaper from their hands and folding it neatly. I watch their eyes widen as the truth starts to sink in.

“No?” they ask, their voice shaky but hopeful. “Then who are they for?”

I smile, and I can see the moment they start to put it together. The color drains from their face as their eyes flick to the thick padding in my hands, and then back to me. “For me?” they whisper, the words just above a breath.

“Yes,” I say calmly. “For you. They’re yours to wear.”

There’s a moment of silence between us. I can feel the hesitation in their body, the slight tension, like they want to pull away but can’t. The excitement in their eyes is now mixed with a deep uncertainty, but it’s not fear. It’s the kind of vulnerability that comes with stepping into something new—something unfamiliar.

I guide them toward the stairs, my hand resting lightly on their back, pressing just enough to encourage them to move. I can feel their uncertainty, but I also feel them following me, trusting me.

We reach the spare bedroom, and I gesture for them to take off their clothes. Slowly, they obey, their hands shaking slightly as they pull off their shirt and pants. They’re nervous, but there’s a part of them that wants to give in, that wants to surrender to the moment.

I watch them, letting them get comfortable in their own time. I don’t rush them. I let them move at their own pace, but I’m still guiding them with every step. When they’re finally standing there as naked as the day they were born, I give them a soft nod.

“Lie down on the changing mat,” I instruct, my voice low and steady.

They do, hesitantly, lying back, and I can see them tense up, the uncertainty clear in their posture. I take my time, making sure they feel safe, making sure they know that they don’t need to be in control here—that’s my job.

I unfold the diaper slowly, letting the soft crinkle fill the space between us. Their eyes follow the movement, wide and uncertain. I know they’re not sure how this will feel, but they’re trusting me, and that’s enough for now.

I lift their legs gently, positioning the diaper underneath them, and I feel their body tense just slightly as the thick padding brushes against their skin. I hear their breath catch in their throat.

I’m gentle, methodical, as I pull the diaper up between their legs, securing it snugly around their waist. The soft tap of the tapes as I fasten them sends a wave of calm through both of us. The diaper is thick, the crinkle unmistakable, and I can tell they’re processing how much of a change this is for them. But there’s no turning back now.

I step back to look at them. They’re lying there, still, eyes wide, the thick diaper soft and snug between their legs. It’s a look of someone who’s uncertain but also intrigued. There’s no question now—they’re mine.

“How’s it feel?” I ask softly, my fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from their forehead.

They blink a few times, taking a moment to answer, as if they’re still figuring it out. Then, slowly, they nod, just the faintest trace of a smile tugging at their lips.

“It’s… different,” they say quietly. “But… nice.”

I smile, a sense of satisfaction curling in my chest. I can see it in their eyes—the acceptance starting to form. They may not be entirely sure yet, but they’re willing to trust me. That’s all I need.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” I say softly, my voice filled with pride. “Just relax. You don’t need to worry about anything. Mommy’s here to take care of you.”

They give me a small, uncertain smile, their hands fidgeting slightly, but there’s something softer in their expression now. A sense of calm, of surrender.

“Thank you, Honey,” they whisper.

I lean down, brushing my lips over their forehead. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Now, just relax. Let me take care of you.”

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padded-lock · 2 months ago

Text

“Melting My Baby Boy”

He was already whimpering before I even touched him

Curled up on the bed in nothing but his thick, soaked diaper

Clutching his stuffie like it could protect him from what was coming

Poor little thing

He knew better than to think Mommy would be gentle tonight

I knelt between his legs, my hands smoothing over the crinkly front of his swollen padding

I could feel him throbbing under it, could see the way he kicked his feet and squirmed without even meaning to

He was already leaking, already desperate, already so far gone

And I had barely even started

“Good boys do not get to decide when they are done” I whispered against his ear

“Mommy decides. Mommy knows how much her little man can take”

He whimpered, a pathetic little sound, trying to hide his face in the blankets

I did not let him

I grabbed his chin and made him look at me, made him see the wicked smile on my face as I pressed harder against his diaper with the flat of my palm

One slow rub

One slick squish

And he was already cumming

A soft cry broke from his throat, high and helpless

I did not stop

I rubbed him through it, feeling the diaper grow warmer, squishier, watching his thighs tremble from the overstimulation

“There you go baby” I cooed “But we are not done yet. Not even close”

He babbled something into his pacifier

I did not need to understand it

His body said everything for him

Still hard

Still needy

Still mine

I kept going

Pressing down harder, grinding the soaked, sticky diaper against him

He bucked up into my hand, drool slipping from the corner of his mouth, tiny hiccuping sobs shaking his chest

The second orgasm hit even harder

He screamed into his paci, arching off the bed, tears spilling freely now

I held him down, whispering sweet nonsense into his ear, telling him what a good boy he was, how proud Mommy was of her messy little thing

By the time the third orgasm crashed through him, he was gone

Just a babbling, twitching, broken little mess in my arms

Mewling and whimpering, legs spread helplessly, his diaper soaked and sagging between us

I cradled him against my chest, rocking him gently

“You did so good for Mommy” I whispered, kissing his hair

“Such a perfect little toy. Such a perfect baby”

He could not even speak anymore

Just soft hiccups and tiny coos

Completely milked

Completely melted

Completely mine

- “My dream” from a few days ago. Totally not inspired by Tina Moore or anything 😙

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padded-lock · 2 months ago

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I want it to start innocent; just two big babies playing together. Maybe we build a tower, or lay side by side on our stomachs and color.

I want us to slowly merge towards each other until there isn't an inch between us. Both of us have an urge we don’t fully understand, but we do know it means we want to touch each other.

I want you to start rubbing your diaper, letting out little moans. I want to copy you.

I want us to realize it feels even better when we do it to each other. I want to tease you that your diaper is squishy under my hand, even though I know mine is too.

I want to lean forward and feel your lips against mine. I want to pin you to the ground, the colorful play mat, while we grind our diapers against each other and make out.

I want to get caught. One of our caregivers, or maybe that hot babysitter that left us alone for a minute too long. I want them to walk in and gasp, waving their finger at us.

I want to be scolded for doing something so naughty with my friend. I want to blush fiercely and look up at them with big eyes and my finger in my mouth.

I want to be guileless. We're just babies, we didn't know what we were doing. I want them to tell us to keep going so they can watch. I want them to touch themselves over their clothes while we start up again.

I want to finish simultaneously in our diapers and collapse side by side. I want them to ruffle our hair and praise us for working so hard. I want us to fall asleep on the mat; sweaty, out of breath, hands intertwined.

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padded-lock · 2 months ago

Text

That Isn’t Yours, Baby Girl

She thought Mommy wouldn’t notice.

It was just for a minute. Just a tiny cuddle.

The used diaper was still warm when she picked it up. It smelled like the other little…soft powder, faint pee, and just the tiniest hint of something mushier.

It was so thick. So heavy.

She couldn’t help it.

Her heart raced as she climbed into bed with it. Her pacifier bobbed gently while she pulled the used diaper to her chest, arms wrapping around it like a teddy bear.

It crinkled softly in her embrace.

It smelled like someone even littler than her.

And for some reason, that made her tummy flutter.

Her legs squirmed under the blankets.

She buried her face in the front of the squishy diaper, breath trembling.

Her diaper pressed between her thighs, just as wet.

She gave a soft whimper.

And then the nursery door opened.

Light spilled into the room.

She froze.

Mommy stood in the doorway.

Everything stopped.

The pacifier dropped from her mouth. Her eyes went wide. She could barely breathe. The other little’s diaper was still in her arms, pressed against her cheek.

Mommy’s voice was low. Too calm. Too knowing.

Oh… my… baby girl.

Her voice dripped with amusement, the kind that made your skin crawl and your legs shake.

What do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?

She tried to speak, but all that came out was a squeaky little sound. She grabbed the blanket and tried to pull it over the diaper, but it was far, far too late.

That’s not your diaper, Mommy said, stepping into the room.

That belongs to your playmate.

Did you steal it, baby?

Were you cuddling it like a stuffie?

Were you sniffing it while you touched yourself?

Her face burned. She shook her head, but her thighs were already squeezing together. Her diaper crinkled loudly. Her hands were trembling.

Mommy sat on the edge of the bed and gently tugged the used diaper from her arms.

Oh, baby, Mommy cooed, lifting it up.

You’re holding someone else’s wet padding and squirming like a needy little diaper puppy.

Mommy leaned down close, her voice low and sweet.

You want Mommy to put this one on you instead? Let you wear your little friend’s used diaper to bed?

Is that what you want, baby girl?

She whimpered, eyes tearing up.

Mommy stroked her hair gently and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead.

You are such a filthy, precious little thing.

Now roll over.

You’re going to sleep in it.

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padded-lock · 2 months ago

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They’re halfway to the water when it happens.

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

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

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

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

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padded-lock · 2 months ago

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God, I feel pathetic as I waddle out to the living room where Mommy and her friends are having another girl's night.

After hours in my room, playing video games, my diaper is now full to near leaking. And, yes, while I get to wear my big kid clothes while my wife's friends are here, some rules never change. So, despite the humiliation of having to sneak into my own living room and ask my Mommy for a diaper change in front of her friends, I'm not about to risk the punishment for changing myself or using the potty without permission.

I can feel every eye in the room turn to me as I enter. A blush immediately covers my cheeks as the drink women all greet me with warm smiles. Worry blossoms in my throat that they somehow can see the diaper hidden under my athletic shorts.

I look down and sigh in relief. No, my shame is fully covered. No one can tell that I'm anything other than a husband, reluctant to interrupt his wife's girl's night.

"Ollie!" Mommy says, standing up, "Is everything ok? Oh, buddy!"

Like shark swimming to blood, my drunk wife crosses the room and yanks down my shorts.

"You are absolutely soaked!"

I stand frozen as my deepest shame is unceremoniously exposed to the entire room. The droopy, yellow padding of my diaper says between my legs as my wife's friends burst out in laughter.

"Sheila!" I hiss out, using my wife's name for the first time in months, "Stop!"

Those were the wrong words to say.

In moments, I am over Mommy's lap, my diaper pulled down to expose my ass. Tears roll down my face as Mommy's friends watch me get punished like a child.

Suddenly everything is a blur. The spanking is over and I am stripped naked, a pacifier my only source of comfort.

Mommy's friends are looking on as I'm taped into a new diaper and dressed in a baby blue onesie declaring me 'Mommy's Little Man.'

I being passed from lap to lap, bounced, pinched, cuddled, and teased by woman who, just an hour earlier saw me as a adult.

I'm being tucked into bed in my crib, each of my wife's friends giving me a Nini kiss before the door to my nursery is shut and locked.

As I lay in my crib, watching my mobile spin as fast as my head, I still can't comprehend what happened.

All I do know tough, is that I am probably never getting away with hiding in my room and playing video games during girl's night ever again.

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padded-lock · 2 months ago

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Slightly Naughty Nursing Time

Slowly I peek into your nursery and quietly walkover to your crib where you are laying on your back playing with your stuffie. I smile softly as I slip my hand through the crib bars and check your diaper. Chuckling softly at how squishy your diaper is, and quietly whispering,

“That’s mommy’s wittle super soaker.”

Slowly I lower your crib bars making sure you are safe and I slide in next to you.

You turn and nuzzle into my chest and I laugh and say, “baby knows it’s milky time.” Carefully I unsnap my bra as I slip your paci from your lips you wrap your hands around my breast. Teasing my nipple against your lips you open and begin to suckle starting to fill your tummy with mommy’s milk.

Quietly I remind you what a good wittle baby you are for mommy and rub the front of your diaper. Teasing you about now that you are diapered all the time that is where all your cummies go. Forever and always, and never without permission.

You moan and whimper around my nipple pushing your hips up into my hand until I slip my breast from your lips and my hand from your diaper.You whimper and pout because you miss the feel of my hand on your diaper and my nipple in your mouth.

Shaking my head at you I tease your lips with my other nipple and you latch on greedily, wrapping your hands around my breast like I’m going to take it away again.

I go back to rubbing the front of your diaper, smiling as your hips start to push up in a stuttered movement. As you make cummies I whisper in your ear, “remember it’s mommy’s milk in and baby’s milk out.”

You blush and try to pull away, but I hold you tight rubbing and patting your back and diapered bottom smiling as you wet your diaper to the point of almost leaking and you are ready for a diaper change…

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padded-lock · 3 months ago

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Standing at the sink, washing dishes, spacing out, you feel like any other adult. You have a job, a credit card, hell, you have dental insurance.

Then, she comes up behind you. First she kisses the back of your neck, which makes your hair stick up a little. Her hands tickle your ribs, then head lower. And lower. She grabs a handful of your ass and squeezes.

Your diapered ass. Your wet diapered ass.

"Hey, how's your diapey doing?"

Your cheeks flush red, and you're sure she can see it spreading to your neck as well. You flip around to face her, backside pressed against the sink.

"D-don't call it that..."

"Call it what?"

"A...diapey."

You aren't feeling particularly little. You just like wearing sometimes for the comfort and convenience.

"Oh? Why not?"

"Because, I'm not little. I'm just wearing a diaper right now,"

"Oh? Is that right?"

"Yes," you assert, hands on your hips, chin pointing up.

"Ok, fine. You may not be little but your diapey is rather wet. Let me change you."

"I can do it myself."

"I know," but she reaches her hand out anyways. You take it and get led to the couch where she pushes your shoulder's down, "here."

She hands you a set of plastic keys on a ring, colorful and textured.

"I don't need that..."

"Shush, you always get so squirmy during changes if you aren't holding something."

You huff, but hold the keys above your face, rubbing your fingers over the bumps and ridges. It feels good. You're not going to put them in your mouth, though.

"Hips,"

You lift, and look down as the old diaper is pulled away and a new one is slid underneath you. Your used one was just plain white, a reliable medical one from your stash. The new diaper is a little gregarious, honestly. Pastel colored baby items and animals pattern it, and the crinkle it produces is far from discrete.

"Not that one..."

"Hm?"

"It's so...babyish," despite your earlier assurance of bigness, her tactics are working. You feel fussier and smaller with each passing second.

"Oh, is it? I hadn't noticed."

Liar, you think.

You cover your face with your hands, still holding the keys. They clack and jingle with the movement.

"Aw, good baby playing while I change you. You're so patient, almost done."

"I wasn't play-" you start, but don't bother to finish. What's the use if she's just going to push you even further down?

She fastens the last tape and gives the diaper a smooth down. In a quick series of movements they lift your shirt, exposing your belly, and blow a wet raspberry right above your navel.

"Hey!" you shriek, laughing and squirming. An unexpected squirt of pee escapes you. It catches you off guard, and that's the final straw.

"Mommy..." you sigh, once you're done laughing.

She pulls your arms into a sitting position and tugs you into her lap, sans pants.

"Yes, baby?"

"Hi," you say, bashful.

"Hi! I knew you were in there somewhere."

You nod, and rest your head on her shoulder, fingers creeping towards your mouth.

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padded-lock · 3 months ago

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The warm glow of candlelight flickered against the tiled bathroom walls, casting a soft, golden hue over the room. The air smelled of lavender and vanilla, mixing with the faint, powdery scent that always seemed to linger around Little. Mommy reclined in the tub, the water embracing her as she exhaled a slow, contented sigh. After a long, busy week, this was her moment to unwind.

But tonight was special. Tonight, she had company.

Just a few feet away, sprawled out on his tummy with crayons scattered around him, Little hummed to himself. He had been so proud when Mommy had told him he’d earned this treat—staying up late, coloring beside her while she took her bath. His little feet wiggled behind him, clad in the soft, footed pajamas she had picked out, the ones covered in tiny duckies. The familiar bulge of his thick nighttime diaper peeked out as he squirmed, a telltale sign that he had soaked it but hadn’t yet noticed, too lost in his colorful world.

Mommy watched him, her heart swelling. His pacifier bobbed slightly as he babbled around it, mumbling half-formed thoughts about his day at daycare.

“An’ then, an’ then, Miss Katie say I share really good! I let Sammy have my blocks even when I was still usin’ dem!” He turned his head to look at her, his wide, proud eyes meeting hers. His paci slipped slightly, revealing a delighted, slightly drooly smile.

Mommy smiled back, warmth spreading through her chest. “That was very kind of you, sweetheart. I bet Sammy was really happy.”

Little nodded so hard his curls bounced. “Mhm! Miss Katie said I’m the bestest sharer today!” He went back to his coloring, his brows furrowing in concentration as he pressed a blue crayon hard against the paper.

Mommy took a sip of her wine, watching him, savoring the simple joy radiating off him. He was so innocent, so pure, completely immersed in his little world. His diaper crinkled as he shifted, making the slightest squish, and she knew he’d wet it again. She could have pointed it out, but she didn’t. Not yet. He was so engrossed in his art, his little legs kicking lazily behind him, his tiny fists wrapped around the chunky crayons. There was no rush.

“Whatcha drawing, baby?” she asked, her voice thick with affection.

He lifted his paper, beaming. “It’s us! You in da tub, an’ me colorin’ an’… an’ Teddy’s here too!” He jabbed a chubby finger at the brown blob that was undoubtedly his favorite plush bear.

Mommy chuckled. “It’s beautiful, my love. Can I keep it when you’re done?”

His eyes widened, as if the honor of having his artwork kept forever was too much to handle. He nodded vigorously. “Yuh-huh! You can put it on da fridge!”

She reached out, her wet fingers brushing over his soft hair, ruffling it gently. He nuzzled into her touch instinctively, his cheeks flushing pink.

For a while, there was only quiet. The gentle slosh of water as Mommy adjusted herself, the occasional scrape of a crayon on paper, and the muffled suckling sounds of his paci. Every so often, he’d glance up at her, just to make sure she was still there, still watching over him. Every time, she met his gaze with the same soft smile, reassuring him without words.

After a few minutes, Little squirmed again, this time more obviously. The way his bottom pressed down made the squishy wetness of his diaper all the more noticeable, and he finally registered it. He let out a small, surprised gasp and sat up, reaching down to poke at the front of his sleeper. His big, round eyes flicked up to Mommy, searching her face.

She arched a knowing brow. “Feeling squishy, baby?”

A tiny whimper bubbled past his pacifier, his cheeks turning redder. He nodded. “Uh-huh…”

Mommy tilted her head, taking another sip of her wine as she let him stew in his own shyness for just a moment. He was always like this—realizing he’d wet himself, then feeling bashful about it. But she loved how he never complained, never whined for a change. He accepted it, just like a good boy should.

“Don’t worry, lovebug,” she murmured. “We’ll get you all fresh before bed.”

Little wiggled his toes, clearly comforted by her calmness. He shifted again, settling back onto his knees, the padding beneath him squishing audibly. “M’okay,” he mumbled, turning back to his coloring.

Mommy let out a soft, fond sigh. How could one person be so precious?

Minutes passed, and the bathroom remained their little sanctuary. The flickering candlelight danced across the bubbles in her tub, the warmth of the water soothing her tired muscles. But more than anything, it was the presence of her Little that made this night feel so perfect.

She watched as he stretched his arms high above his head, letting out a tiny yawn. His paci wobbled in his mouth, and his chubby fingers rubbed at his sleepy eyes. The long day, the excitement, the warmth of the bathroom—all of it was beginning to weigh on him.

Mommy smiled, setting her empty wine glass on the bath tray. “Getting sleepy, sweetheart?”

Little blinked slowly, his pacifier bobbing as he nodded. “Mhm…” he whispered. “But… but I don’ wanna go yet. I like bein’ wif you.”

Her heart squeezed, and she reached out again, letting her fingers brush over his soft cheek. “I like being with you too, my love,” she murmured. “But you’ve had such a big day, and it’s almost bedtime.”

Little’s lip wobbled, just slightly, before he buried his face into his teddy bear. Mommy knew that look—he wanted to be a good boy, wanted to listen, but he also wanted just a little more time with her.

“Tell you what,” she said softly, running her fingers through his curls, “why don’t we go get you changed into a fresh diapee, and then I’ll tuck you in nice and cozy? You can even have an extra bedtime story.”

His sleepy eyes brightened. “Two stories?”

She nodded. “Two whole stories.”

That was all it took. Little pushed himself up on wobbly legs, stretching his arms toward her, a silent request.

Mommy chuckled. “Baby, I’m still in the bath.”

He pouted behind his paci, then let his arms drop. “Oh… I wait den.”

Her heart swelled. So patient. So sweet.

She finished up quickly, draining the tub and wrapping herself in a fluffy towel. Little stood by the door, rubbing his eyes with a balled-up fist, shifting his weight from foot to foot as his damp diaper sagged just a little lower.

She scooped him up without hesitation, cradling him against her. He let out a sleepy sigh, nuzzling against her neck, his paci moving in slow, rhythmic sucks.

“Such a good boy,” she whispered, kissing his forehead as she carried him to the nursery.

And as she laid him down, fresh and clean in his softest pajamas, she knew there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

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padded-lock · 4 months ago