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dylan-hayes · 27 days ago

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A Visit to the Museum

Disclaimer: All characters depicted in this story are 18 years of age or older, regardless of any situations, settings, or behaviors described. This work is intended for adult audiences only and is purely fictional. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The museum is quiet but full of life — murmurs of guided tours echo through high-ceilinged halls, and the soft hum of interactive exhibits adds a gentle rhythm to the day. The smell of clean air and aged wood mingles with the faint scent of coffee from the nearby café.

But this time, my little boy, Jamie, walks just a bit taller beside me.

No diaper crinkling beneath his shorts. No thick puff of padding between his legs. Just the soft rustle of his pull-ups — a quiet, proud compromise between toddlerhood and something slightly bigger. — murmurs of guided tours echo through high-ceilinged halls, and the soft hum of interactive exhibits adds a gentle rhythm to the day. The smell of clean air and aged wood mingles with the faint scent of coffee from the nearby café.

But this time, my little one walks just a bit taller beside me.

No diaper crinkling beneath their shorts. No thick puff of padding between their legs. Just the soft rustle of their pull-ups — a quiet, proud compromise between toddlerhood and something slightly bigger.

They’ve still got their favorite hoodie — the one with the dinosaur patch on the sleeve — and their little canvas sling bag with some crackers, a fruit pouch, and a small bottle of water. But this time, tucked discreetly in the side pocket, are a few spare pull-ups instead of the usual thick diapers.

“You’re doing great, Jamie,” I murmur as we slow to admire a model of the solar system, the planets spinning slowly above our heads. “You tell me if you need a break, okay?” as we slow to admire a model of the solar system, the planets spinning slowly above our heads. “You tell me if you need a break, okay.”

"This is only your 2nd day out while potty training so I'm not expecting you to be quite accident free just yet."

They nod, not quite meeting my eyes.

“I know,” they say softly, twisting the strap of their backpack. “But I wanna try.”

I let them. That’s the deal.

We pass through the ancient history wing — their favorite — and I watch them grin and point, almost bouncing in place as they stare up at a towering dinosaur skeleton. But as we move toward the nature diorama, I start to notice the signs.

The way they keep glancing around, fidgeting. One hand hovering near their backside. That quiet, inward look — like their mind is elsewhere, like they’re not really with the woolly mammoths or the fox den right now.

I slow my steps and gently take their hand.

“Cutie-pie,” I say quietly, “do you need to go potty?”

They glance up at me, red blooming across their cheeks.

“I… I’m okay,” they mumble. “It's just gas”

I nod. “Okay. But if you need to go, just tell Mommy and I will get you to the potty really quick.”

They nod again, almost imperceptibly.

But I notice something else too — the way they start pausing more often, lingering behind as if pretending to admire a display. There’s a small shift in their stance, a subtle crouch here and there, and every so often, a quiet little toot that makes their ears go pink. They’re trying — really trying — but it’s clear that holding it is becoming harder with each passing minute.

As we near the geology exhibit, they suddenly tug at my hand.

“Mommy, I’m gonna go look at the volcano rocks real quick, okay?” they say, already stepping back the way we came.

I raise an eyebrow. “Ok but are you sure you don't need to go potty?”

He gives a quick shake of the head, avoiding my eyes. “No, Mommy. I don’t need to go,” he says quickly. “I just… I really wanna look at the volcano rocks. That’s all.”

His voice is a little too fast, a little too bright — and I can tell there’s more to it. But I let him have that little bit of dignity, for now.

The geology exhibit is mostly one big open room, with plenty of space between displays. I’ll still be able to see them from nearly anywhere they go — and he knows it.

he hesitates. “Just real quick…”

I know what’s happening.

“Alright,” I say slowly, “but don’t go too far, baby.”

he nods and scurries off, ducking behind one of the large faux boulders near the rock collection. I keep an eye on him from a distance, pretending not to watch.

There’s a pause. Then a slight shift in their posture — knees a little bent, hand resting on the display like they’re just admiring it. But I can see the faint tension in their body. The telltale stillness.

A quiet moment. Then they stand straight again, looking around, eyes wide — making sure no one saw him doing his deed.

He waddles back over to me pretending nothing happened. I say nothing — just rest a gentle hand on his back — and we begin walking toward the fossil gallery. My heart tugs a little, watching the way he tries to keep his head high even as his steps grow more deliberate, slower. He’s trying so hard. And I know we’re not quite there yet. But this? This is part of it. Just as we arrive I begin to smell that earthy smell of a dirty diaper.

“Did you make a poopy, honey?” I ask gently.

I pause, glancing down. His shorts sit a little funny now — the outline of his pull-up more apparent, the waistband just barely puffier beneath the fabric. I gently place a hand on his back, then reach down and pull back the waistband of both his shorts and pull-up for a quick peek, just to check. "Yep, that is one poopy pull-up" I say little too loud.

Their eyes fill, their voice tiny. “I… I tried to hold it. But I… I couldn’t.”

I pull them into a hug, warm and safe.

“That’s alright,” I whisper into their hair. “That’s what your pull-up is for, remember? You don’t have to be perfect. You’re still learning.”

They nod into my shoulder, small and quiet.

“You didn’t want to stop and go to the potty did you?” I asked softly. He nods and smiles confirming what I thought. “Mommy loves you, Jamie. And Mommy doesn’t mind helping — even if that means I have to wipe your butt,” I say warmly, "Not ever.”

I stand, holding their hand again. “Come on. Let’s get you changed after we finish the fossils, okay?”

I whisper quietly as we move to the Hall of Fossil Marine Reptiles, “If you still need to go, just go ahead and use your pull-ups before we leave, okay?”

"Mommy won't be mad if you need to go more, I to have to change you anyways."

Jamie nods, and I watch as his body subtly shifts — that familiar stillness again, a quiet grunt, a tiny breath held as he lets go. His face softens, his shoulders relaxing as the tension fades. A quiet sigh escapes him, almost inaudible beneath the chatter of nearby families.

It’s not dramatic. Just a small, necessary surrender.

By the time we turn toward the family restroom, his steps are slower — wider. The change in his gait is unmistakable now. Each step carries that soft, telltale waddle, the squish of a pull-up no longer just damp, but full and heavy with the weight of trying… and the relief of knowing it’s okay not to get it right every time.

#ab/dl lifestyle #ab/dl #ab/dl story #ab/dl fiction #ab/dl little #ab/dl potty training #ab/dl mommy #ab/dl stories #ab/dl messy #ab/dl pull ups

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dylan-hayes · 13 days ago

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Eighteen and Not in a Hurry

Today was the day.

Eli woke up feeling the weight of the number. Eighteen. Officially an adult but only on paper. Here, turning eighteen didn’t mean being done with childhood — it meant starting potty training.

He squirmed under the soft comforter, the familiar crinkle from his diaper following his every move. His morning diaper was warm and full — not unusual, not even unexpected. His caregiver, Marla, would be in soon, probably with that usual, cheerful voice and a fresh set of tapes in hand.

Sure enough, the door creaked open.

“Good morning, birthday boy,” Marla sang as she walked into the nursery with a warm smile, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she approached the changing table. The pastel walls glowed softly in the morning light, shelves of plush animals peeking over the padded, wipeable top of the sturdy changing table. “So... I was thinking, maybe today’s the perfect day to start trying pull-ups.”

Eli stiffened slightly, his face tightening. “Do I have to?”

Marla paused, her smile softening into something more thoughtful. She loved Eli deeply, and she had been thinking that his eighteenth birthday might be the right time to check in on his readiness. "Of course not, sweetie," she said gently, brushing a hand along his hair. "But just for today, since you turned eighteen, I thought we could see how ready you are for potty training."

“I’m not ready,” he interrupted, eyes downcast. “What if I need to go number two? I don’t wanna... I mean, I can’t do that in a potty. Not yet.”

Marla sat on the edge of his bed, her voice gentle. “You’re afraid?”

He nodded, cheeks burning. “It’s scary. I don’t like the idea of it. What if I mess up?”

She took his hand. “Then we don’t rush. Okay? We’ll stick with your diaper for this morning, but maybe later, just for the mall trip, we’ll try a pull-up. That way it’s just a small step.”

Reluctantly, Eli nodded. “Okay... but only for the trip.”

Marla smiled and kissed the top of his head. “Deal.”

She gently cleaned him up and put him into a fresh diaper for the morning. They went about breakfast and getting ready, with Eli munching on his favorite dinosaur-shaped waffles. But as the morning went on, a quiet worry began to brew inside him.

He thought about the potty—about having to go number two in it—and the fear tightened in his chest. While Marla tidied up the kitchen, Eli quietly slipped behind the living room couch, crouching down and trying to force himself to go. He pushed, willing his body to comply so he wouldn’t have to deal with the potty later, but nothing came. Only a quiet hiss and a spreading warmth as he ended up peeing instead.

He sighed, disappointed but oddly relieved. Maybe he wouldn’t have to go at all today.

Before heading out, Marla changed Eli out of his slightly wet diaper and helped him step into his new pull-up — a soft, cartoon-printed one that still felt reassuringly thick. Once it was snugly in place, she helped him down from the changing table, gave his bottom a gentle pat, and led him downstairs. Marla led him outside to the car before, opening the door she helped him into his booster seat adjusting the straps and clicking the buckle securely. "There we go," she said with a warm smile, brushing a bit of lint from his shirt. "All set for our adventure." It was mid afternoon when they arrived at the mall.

The mall was bustling with weekend energy. Littles of all ages waddled past in crinkly pants or sat contentedly in strollers. Eli walked beside Marla, feeling awkward. The pull-up didn’t give the same comfort, the same hug of security.

They stopped Barns&Noble, and he picked out a sci-fi novel. Then Gamestop, where he lingered near the new consoles. But all the while, a pressure had been building in his tummy.

He shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t want to tell Marla. He should tell Marla. She would try to find a potty. But he didn’t want to. He wasn’t ready.

So when she stopped to chat with another caregiver, Eli quietly slipped behind a T-Shirt display and crouched slightly. His body trembled, but the comfort of release washed over him as he filled his pull-up. He exhaled, feeling lighter, less bloated, while the tension slowly faded from his body.

He stood still, relaxing in relief that his pull-ups had done their job.

"Maybe if I use these like diapers, Marla will just give up on potty training me," Eli thought to himself. The thought turned into a plan and Eli, not wanting to start potty training, smiled.

Just then, Marla's voice floated over the shelves. “There you are,” she said, appearing beside him with a relieved look. “Ready to grab some lunch?”

Eli nodded and walked beside her as they made their way toward the food court. Marla held his hand lightly, chatting about the different food options. As they walked, she noticed something—Eli’s steps were a little wider than usual, his gait just slightly more of a waddle. She narrowed her eyes but said nothing, not wanting to confirm what she knew.

The lines at the food court were long and slow-moving. As they stood waiting, Marla began to notice something else. Other caregivers nearby were subtly checking their littles—gentle pats at the waist or the not so discrete pull of the waistband of their diapers. A faint, earthy scent was beginning to linger in the air.

Marla leaned slightly closer to Eli, her nose wrinkling just the tiniest bit. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but her instincts were rarely wrong.

She leaned down and whispered, “Sweetheart… did you make a poo-poo?”

Eli, feeling mischievous, shook his head no, cheeks flushing.

Marla gave him a long, skeptical look. She loved Eli—more than anything—but she also knew that particular waddle, and she hadn’t missed the way his ears turned red when he lied.

“Uh-huh,” she murmured, clearly not convinced.

Without saying another word, she gently turned him slightly to the side, then reached around and tugged back the waistband of his pull-up. Sure enough, the unmistakable sight—and smell—confirmed her suspicion.

“Oh, Eli…” she said softly, her voice a careful blend of disappointment and understanding. “You know you’re supposed to tell me when you need to go.”

As she sighed, the line finally moved, and they were suddenly at the front. Marla gave Eli a quick glance and decided not to make a scene.

She turned around, smoothed her skirt, and smiled at the man behind the counter. “We’ll have the grilled chicken plate and a bacon macaroni with apple slices on the side, please.”

Eli stayed quiet, his cheeks still pink. Being ordered for was normal between them, especially when he was flustered.

Marla handed him a sip cup of juice from her purse and leaned close again. “We’ll find somewhere quiet to eat, and then I’ll get you changed, okay?” she said, her voice soft and full of calm.

Eli nodded, unphased by the warm load causing his pull-ups to sag.

They found a quiet table near the edge of the food court, away from the loudest groups. Marla helped Eli into his seat and set the tray down between them. She smiled as she handed him his fork and began unwrapping her own meal.

“Alright, birthday boy,” she said with gentle cheer, “tell me what you think of the mall’s mac and cheese.”

Eli giggled a little, twirling a noodle onto his fork. “It’s good,” he said between bites. “Better than the stuff at home.”

Marla laughed softly. “I’ll pretend I’m not insulted. I did make lunch yesterday.”

“You didn’t put dinosaur cheese in it,” Eli replied with a grin.

Their quiet moment was interrupted by a familiar voice. “Marla?”

Marla looked up and smiled warmly. “Dina! Hi!”

Walking over was her friend Dina, holding the hand of her own little—a shy girl named Millie. Millie was just a little older than Eli, her dark curls tied into playful pigtails with pastel ribbons. She wore a ruffled pink blouse with puffed sleeves and a matching puffy pink skirt that barely covered the thick, crinkly diaper peeking out from underneath—clearly not a pull-up, but a full, bulky diaper designed for littles her size. White knee socks reached just below her knees, and she wore glittery Velcro shoes with cartoon stars on the sides. A pacifier bobbed gently between her lips as she clung to Dina's hand.

The two caregivers exchanged hugs and greetings as their littles stayed seated. After a few moments of catching up, Marla tilted her head slightly and asked, "So, how old is Millie now? She's grown a bit since the last time I saw her."

Dina smiled and brushed a curl from Millie’s cheek. “She just turned eighteen last month. A big girl—on paper anyway.”

Marla chuckled softly, nodding. “I noticed she’s still in diapers. Not starting potty training yet?”

Dina shook her head with a small laugh. “Nope, not even close. I know she’s not ready, and honestly, I’m in no rush. She’s still so little in so many ways. Trying to force it would just stress her out.”

Marla nodded in understanding. “That makes sense. Every little’s timeline is different.”

Dina glanced down at Millie, who was happily sucking on her pacifier and gazing around with wide eyes. “Exactly. When she’s ready, we’ll try. But until then, diapers work just fine.”

They chatted about mall sales, caregiver support group updates, and recent neighborhood changes. Toward the end of their conversation, Dina’s nose wrinkled. She sniffed the air once, then again.

“Uh-oh,” she said, looking down at Millie. “Sweetheart, did you go poopy?”

Millie looked up innocently and shook her head. Dina leaned down and did a quick waistband check, frowning when she found nothing.

“It’s not her,” Marla said, her voice calm but knowing.

Dina raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Marla gave a soft sigh and patted Eli’s hand. “It’s this one. This stinker I'm guessing went while we were in the book store.”

Eli simply kept eating, unfazed by the attention. Potty training wasn’t his priority—and truth be told, he was rather content with how things were.

Dina chuckled. “Littles, not a care in the world being in a dirty diaper.”

Marla nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “That’s the important part for now.”

After their lunch and goodbyes, Marla took Eli back to the caregiver lounge, nestled near the family rest area of the mall. The quiet room was warmly lit, with soft music playing and cushioned benches where several other caregivers were already tending to their littles.

Marla guided Eli to a padded table, helping him up with practiced ease. She hummed a lullaby under her breath as she unsnapped his shorts and gently pulled them down. Eli, still relaxed from lunch, sucked on the straw of his juice cup while she worked. His pull-up was clearly full, sagging with weight, and Marla’s nose crinkled slightly as she ripped the easy open sides and began wiping him clean with a scented wipes.

She worked with quiet care, wiping between each fold, her touch gentle and efficient. Then, instead of reaching into the diaper bag for one of his thick, familiar diapers, she pulled out a fresh, padded pull-up printed with smiling moons and stars.

Eli blinked up at her. "Not a diaper?"

Marla gave him a small smile, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “You said you would to try pull-ups while at the mall, remember?”

Eli hesitated, then gave a small nod. The tug of the pull-up as she slid it up his legs didn’t feel quite as comforting as his diaper, but it was soft and snug in its own way. She snapped his shorts back into place, gave him a kiss on the forehead, and helped him down from the table.

At the next store, while Marla browsed through a rack of cozy fall sweaters, Eli wandered over to a nearby display of toys—his fingers brushing along the edges of a boxed building set. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, the soft padding of the pull-up rustling beneath his shorts. There was a growing pressure in his bladder, a subtle tightness that made him pause mid-step.

He glanced over at Marla, who was still flipping through hangers, absorbed in a particularly fluffy cardigan. She looked content and calm, chatting softly with a store associate about sizes.

Eli bit his lip. He could say something. He could ask to go. But then he might have to try and actually use the potty.

A small frown furrowed his brow as he stood there, conflicted. He shifted again, subtly pressing his legs together. The urge wasn’t painful—but it was definitely there, and growing more insistent. He gave a tiny bounce on his heels, a habit from early toddlerhood that lingered.

He told himself he’d wait. Just a bit longer. But a minute passed, then two, and finally, he stopped resisting.

With a quiet breath, Eli let go. The warmth spread quickly, dampening the inside of his pull-up with a soft hiss. He felt the weight settle between his legs, but it wasn’t fully soaked—just noticeably wet. The fade when wet design were definitely gone and the wetness indicated clearly showed that Eli had wet his pull-ups.

Marla, still deep in her sweater hunt, didn’t notice a thing.

As they approached the checkout line, Marla guided Eli toward the end of the queue, keeping an eye on him while scanning a few last-minute items. She let him choose a small apple juice from a cooler near the register, which he picked eagerly with both hands before toddling back to her side. Marla smiled and ruffled his hair while placing their items on the conveyor.

Eli stood quietly, sipping from the juice box as the cashier rang up their purchases.

The checkout moved quickly. Marla paid, thanked the cashier, and handed Eli the small shopping bag. Together they stepped out into the bright afternoon and headed toward the car. Eli's booster seat waited in the back seat, and he clambered in with practiced ease, still holding his juice.

As they merged into the light weekend traffic, Eli kicked his feet slightly, the juice now long gone. “Marla?"

"Yes, sweetheart?" she said, eyes still on the road.

"How far are we from home?"

Marla glanced in the mirror. "Hmm, about fifteen minutes. Why?"

Eli didn’t respond right away. He turned his face to the window, biting his lip. The warm, familiar sensation of wetting began to bloom once more in his pull-up, this time uncontrollably. His seatbelt tugged snugly against him as he relaxed into the release. A faint squish followed as the wetness overwhelmed the padding and began to leak down the side, dampening the leg of his shorts and pooling into the soft cover of his booster seat. Marla pulled into the driveway, turning off the ignition as the engine gave a soft sigh. The quiet hum of the car faded into a peaceful silence, broken only by the soft rustle of Eli unbuckling himself.

As she turned to help him out of the booster seat, Marla paused, her brow furrowing. The faint scent of ammonia mixed with something warmer lingered in the air. Her eyes fell on the darkened fabric of Eli’s shorts, the telltale mark of a pull-up that hadn’t held.

“Oh, sweetheart…” she murmured, gently helping him down. The side of his shorts clung slightly to his thigh, the dampness unmistakable now.

Eli simply looked up at her, expression blank, as if it hadn’t happened—or as if it didn’t matter. In truth, it didn’t—not to him. He hadn’t even tried to stop it. Being potty trained wasn’t a priority. Comfort was.

Marla sighed softly, brushing a hand through his hair. “Let’s get you inside and into something dry.”

They walked up the path to the front door, Marla guiding him with a hand on his back. Inside, she ushered him upstairs to the nursery. The soft pastel walls, shelves of plushies, and familiar scent of powder brought a sense of calm.

Eli climbed up onto the changing table with practiced ease, his wet pull-up sagging heavily inside of his short as Marla peeled them off and set them aside in the laundry bin. She didn’t scold him. She didn’t lecture. She simply cleaned him with warm wipes, humming the same soft lullaby as she worked.

Once his skin was fresh and clean, she reached for the next pull-up—but paused.

Eli blinked at her, legs still up in the air. “Are we doing another pull-up?” he asked curiously.

Marla looked down at him, her expression thoughtful. “You know, honey… I think we tried. And that’s what matters.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead gently. “But I don’t think you’re quite ready yet. And that’s okay.”

Eli didn’t respond with words. Instead, he gave a soft sigh of relief, his limbs relaxing fully against the padded mat.

Marla reached into the cabinet and pulled out one of his thicker, velvety soft diapers—the kind he liked most. She unfolded it with care and slipped it beneath him, sprinkling powder gently across his skin. The tapes fastened with practiced ease, hugging him snugly.

“There,” she whispered with a smile. “All safe and sound.”

Eli let out a soft hum of contentment as Marla lifted him into a cuddle, resting his head against her shoulder. She gave him a small squeeze.

“I'm not going to push you to use the potty for another year at least,” Marla said softly. “So just use your diaper like before.”

And with that, the two of them settled into the quiet afternoon, the sun filtering through the curtains in golden streaks as the world outside kept spinning—while inside, Eli stayed exactly where he wanted to be.

Safe. Loved. And not in a hurry.

#ab/dl #ab/dl lifestyle #ab/dl story #ab/dl fiction #ab/dl story time #ab/dl stories #ab/dl little #ab/dl messy #ab/dl mommy #ab/dl diaper #ab/dl pull ups #ab/dl soaked #ab/dl wet

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