Poor Bella Squirmed, She Knew Full Well What The Contraption She Was Strapped Into Was For. Her Work

Time for Mommy’s milk again.

The Start of It All

I sat on the floor of my Mommy’s room, legs splayed with a coloring book and some crayons on the floor. Mommy was in the bathroom, standing at her sink and inspecting her reflection in the mirror as she was getting ready for her date. 

This was the first time she was going out, leaving me at home under the care of a mutual friend. When we first started dating, Mommy and I would sleep in her big bed together and go out on dates all the time. But since she started putting me in diapers a few months, I had been relegated to the guest room. 

It had started as something she suggested when the stress from my work started to catch up with me at night. I always struggled to keep my bed dry growing up, and by the time my parents were tired of buying their teenage daughter diapers, I only had accidents when I was feeling really fried.

When I started wetting the bed a few months ago, Mommy suggested that I wear diapers to bed. I was completely against the idea, not wanting to return to the place of self-consciousness and embarrassment at having to wear protection to bed. I tried to argue, but Mommy wasn’t having any of it.

“Pleeeeeaase?” I begged, my voice slipping into more of a whine than I wanted while trying to prove my adulthood. 

“Tell you what, girlie. Starting tomorrow, if you wake up in a wet bed more than twice, I’m putting you in diapers.” Mommy stated calmly, rubbing my thigh to soothe me. I felt my cheeks flush. I knew I would likely fail.

By Tuesday, Mommy came home from work with a pack of diapers under her arm. She hadn’t even taken off her coat or put down her things before I was voicing my displeasure.

“Noooo I don’t need those,” I whined as I followed her around the house. She didn’t acknowledge me, and instead went to the guest room and placed the diapers on the bed. I was on her heels and gave her a questioning look once we were in the room.

“I got a plastic sheet for this bed,” Mommy explained, noting the look of confusion on my face. “I don’t want you ruining my nice mattress, and as a matter of fact, I think your behavior these past few weeks has be convinced this will be for the best.”

“I can’t help it! I just sometime have accidents at night when I feel stressed!” I pleaded, not entirely sure what all of “this” entailed. 

“Sweetie, even when you do keep your bed dry, you act like a toddler most the time. I’ve been thinking about this for a while; your recent nighttime troubles just convinced me this is what you need,” she told me. Her voice was sweet and syrupy, bringing more blood to my face as she led me by the shoulder to the bed. 

“I don’t! I’m an adult and I just am having a rough week!” I protested, trying to keep the whine out of my voice. I tried to struggle against Mommy’s hold on my shoulder, but she tightened her grip when she felt my resistance. 

“Sweetheart, when we are sitting down to dinner and trying to find something on to watch, if I let you pick, where do you always look?” she asked, using both hands to sit me down on the bed.

“Uhm, I don’t know,” I said, not wanting to answer. “You go to Disney+. And, if I’m picking and choose something more grown-up, you get so fussy and complain about how boring it is,” she said as she pushed me back into a lying position on the bed. “If we are having a big dinner that needs cutting up, do you cut it up yourself or ask me to help you?”

I didn’t answer her, choosing to turn my head to the wall and stare it. My thoughts were racing around in my head. I knew that Mommy liked it when I played a little bratty, and it sounds like maybe I played too far into that. I wasn’t a baby though!  

As I turned my head and opened my mouth to say such, a pacifier was slipped past my lips. Without thinking, my mouth started to work the nipple and I felt my heart rate slow a little. 

“See, sweetie? This is for the best,” she said as she moved to undo my jeans. “I know it’s not bedtime yet, though yours will be much earlier than it used to. I think we should start you in diapers at home all the time. I’ve seen your undies when I do our laundry, and you have little pee-pee accidents in them all the time, don’t you?” she asked, tickling my tummy. 

“I don’t wet my pants! Those are just tiny little spots,” I pouted behind my pacifier.

“Anyone who ruins their undies like you do deserves to be in diapers,” she said with a certain finality that I knew I’d have to revisit this in a few days if I wanted to change her mind. Her hands were poised at the top of my jeans, getting ready to unbutton them and take them off. I missed when she opened the package, but a thick, folded diaper lay next to me on the bed, some wipes and powder next to it.

“Please don’t,” I whined through my pacifier, but she ignored me as she pulled my pants down and started getting me into my first diaper in years.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More to come on this! I have lots of ideas for where I want it to go! [18+ only; minors dni]

Come on baby brother it’s time for you to get out of here. Say bye bye to your big boy room. We’ve got all the stuff downstairs to turn this into your new nursery!

Oh stop that silly. How could I forget that you’re older. You made sure to point that out well before our parents got married, but now that you’re back in diapers and on the regression regimen it’s important to recognize that you’re just a baby now. This is why it’s so important that you go to GamGam’s for the weekend. I mean how can you accept that you’re a baby when you’ve got a TV and Xbox in your room, when your closet is filled with clothes from your old life, and when you have all these big boy posters on the wall.

None of these is fit for the overgrown toddler you’re turning into, but don’t worry big sissy, mommy, and quite a few of our friends are going to help! First we’re going to cover up these boring white walls with some adorably wallpaper! Oh you’ll love it, it’s got cute little baby animals, balloons, and clouds! Then we’re going to put a nice soft rug down so that you can spend hours crawling around and playing on the floor. We’ve got a toy chest that we can fill up for you, and we have enough baby clothes to fill your closet full! Hey no tears baby it gets even better. We’ve got a big crib to assemble so you’ll be safe and secure for nighnigh and naps, and right where this desk with your tv is we’re going to put your changing table! Oh and I’ve got a super special surprise for you. You’re getting your own adult baby bouncer put it! Now you don’t even need to worry about standing up all the time. You can just bounce bounce away while those sweet hypnotic nursery rhymes play

Now you can imagine the cost of this, so I helpfully suggested to mommy that we don’t go for a top of the line diaper pail. Sure this one probably wont stop the smell of your soaked and yucky diapers, but as I explained to mommy that’s all for the better really. Think about it, in a few days you’ll we back in here, staring at the cute duckies on the wall, bouncing away in a full diapy, and smelling all the diapers you’ve been changed out of, all while that adorably regression nursery gets your further and further away from your big boy life.

Hey don’t get cross with me mister. Plenty of grown men are getting regressed back to babyhood these days. I mean when you move back in to the house you grew up in what are you really telling the world anyway? You might as well move all the way back to a crib and diapers. Just because I recommended it to mom doesn’t mean you get to act naughty around me. Hey look down, do you see that super wet diaper hanging off your hips? Yeah it was dry when I walked in here. You’ve been peeing in it the entire time I’ve been talking. Uh huh and here come the tears. Listen up baby, you need to go downstairs and ask your mommy for a diapy change before she takes you off for the weekend. You don’t worry you silly little head about anything else. The grown ups are here to take care of all these big moves.

El otro día pasé más de 20 horas en este pañal y fue realmente increíble (después de pasar más de 3 días en pañales).

Ya quiero hacer un buen rato en 24/7. En serio fue increíble

“Yeah, that’s right. This is exactly what it looks like, baby. It’s a diaper - a nice, big, thick diaper, especially made just for big girls like me. Bet you didn’t expect to come home and see this, now, did you?

“Oh, don’t try to deny anything, baby; I know all too well what you’ve been doing when I wasn’t looking. I found your search history…all those lovely little searches for “bitches in diapers” and “girl pissing her pants” and “diapered woman blow job”… You’re definitely a dirty-minded little boy, aren’t you? Yeah? Don’t lie to me, honey - you’ll only make things worse!

“Now, listen, honey. I don’t mind you being kinky, not one bit. I just don’t ever want you to be sneaking those kinky things around behind my back, okay? I’m willing to help satisfy you too; if a great big diaper wrapped around my butt is the way to do it, why then we’re in business! There’s just one little thing, baby… I don’t want you to be having all the fun, you see. We’re equals in this relationship, remember, and my pleasure is just as important as yours…

“Why don’t we put it like this, baby? If you want to see me, your sweet and sexy girlfriend, all dressed up in a diaper like those girls you saw online, tell me now, and I’ll put this on right now while you watch…and then I’ll give you a blow job, just like I know you love. Yep, I promise! Ooh, you like that idea, don’t you? Hah, I thought you would, you dirty boy! But there’s a catch, baby. There’s no free lunch, you see…

“It’s simple! Whenever I do that for you, you’re going to have to agree to reverse things for me the very next day, okay? So tomorrow you’ll be the one in the diaper, and you’ll be the one pleasuring me with that sweet little tongue of yours, and I’ll be the one cumming and moaning while you obediently please me, locked away in that great big diaper of yours… Yep, that’s how gender equality works for us, baby! And if you don’t like that idea, then there’s no problem. I can throw this silly thing away and we’ll never speak of it again - though of course I’ll put a child lock on your account to keep you from ever searching that kind of stuff online again…

“No? You don’t want that? You really want me to put this thing on right now? Hmm…such a dirty, kinky boy! Now I’m genuinely wondering - are you more turned on at the thought of me being all babied and humiliated just for you? Or are you maybe looking forward to being my little baby fuck toy tomorrow? Hah, well, never mind. Weird or not, I think I’m actually going to enjoy this either way!”

Image Credit: DiaperedOnline.com

Please keep my caption intact if reblogging; as long as you do, may you never get razor burn again.

a testimonial (or warning) for numbing gel 💕

ordered some lidocaine 5% and it finally came in the mail!!! bless online shopping. got sooo inspired by the numbing gel story, i just had to try it for myself

I was already edging getting myself so dumb and drippy when I used the gel, liike, probably 5-7 edges. i still have a problem with getting too close, and at this point I swear someone could just blow on my clit and that wouldve sent me over the edge

I applied a big, dime sized amount of gel on my finger and slowly circled my clit, my inner and outer labia, my opening, basically everywhere but inside my vagina. the first 20 seconds or so it got soooo hot and stingy, I would have came right then and there if I didn’t bite down my tongue to resist!!! it wasnt that bad though, and that feeling subsided as quickly as it came and it started to feel kind of cool, like going to the dentist and they numb your gums. i kept edging and circling my clit at this time using the gel as lube kind of, until I couldn’t take it anymore and gave myself a 5 minute break

15 min after the application I felt absolutely nothing. like my whole cunt wasn’t mine anymore. lifeless, nerveless flesh. i was edging so hard, tensing and grinding my hips into my fingers trying to get any sort of relief, but no relief came. it took away my orgasm.

at this point I started fucking my self with my dildo. I was going crazy, my pussy absolutely dripping with need. I fucked myself like it was my job, nothing on my mind but my need to cum. completely losing my sense of ego and self, my mind so far gone and broken that I was reduced to a dumb bitch in heat, running only on instincts. my mind just... broke. my pussy was so sloppy and wet, ready to take anything in it. if the mailman came by I would have tried to fuck him right there, I was so so so gone and stupid and desperate I would have fucked anything with a pulse.

after 30 futile minutes of trying to cum from penetration only, I gave up, defeated. I was a sweaty mess. it really solidified in me that i only exist for mens pleasure. i don’t deserve to cum. My orgasm serves no purpose, other than to entertain if men wanted me to.

I was so deep in subspace, I had to bask in my neediness and lie there for a few more minutes before I could climb out of that mental state and into reality. my labia was slowly gaining sensation now, but my clit was still a piece of numb flesh. I got on with my evening, cooking dinner and going for a run. It’s weird, it’s like I KNOW I need cum, everything about me was physically exuding sex. Face flush, eyes dialated, cunt so swollen and dripping through my panties, almost through my pants. But there was no feeling down there, and I knew that rubbing my cunt with my fingers or on my chair would be futile (but I know you would have loved to see me try)

but then my run. my fucking run. I started regaining sensation in my clit 3 miles into my route, and it was excruciatingly delicious, feeling my thighs and my shorts graze my clit with every step. I thought I was going to cum right then, at this popular running route in front of everybody. but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. Because good girls don’t cum, and I am a good girl. As I was running I dropped harder into subspace than I ever have before. Panting, drooling, running with static and mantras in my head.

I finally got home and edged my brains out for god knows how long. it just felt so good to give into my pussy and my training, to turn off my mind and float. I always read these kinds of stories, thinking that it wasn’t true. Just a fantasy. It was after this experiment that I saw the truth now, which is I am verifiably an addicted, stupid edgeslut. A fucktoy. A cumdump. I can’t deny it any longer. I wasn’t smarter or better than any other girls. I succumbed to my training just like they did, all in a matter of a few weeks. im like soooo excited to see where my training will take me in a few more weeks, months, and even years!

YMMV, but I will warn you that using numbing gel for your training may rewirr your brain just like it did to me. That’s okay, though. It feels good. I’m a good girl now. And good girls make more good girls.

Nursery School Graduation - Complete Story!

Author's Note: This story is for readers 18+ only. All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

I eyed the plastic potty for the hundredth time since waking from my nap. 

Set off in a corner by one of the old diaper genies they didn’t use anymore. Unused except for Friday afternoons. It was white and aquamarine with a comfy foam seat. At least Ruby told me it was comfy when she graduated last year. Stickers were plastered all over it: princesses, Transformers, Pokemon. Even a few Diaper Dan stickers. I was gonna add mine today. I’d already decided on a castle.

I looked around the room. There were a bunch of us here in Back to Basics Nursery School. Some crawling around, some toddling, some sitting together with their favorite toys, lost in their own little worlds. The teachers moved from one student to the next, checking diapers, adjusting clothing, offering gentle words of encouragement. One of the teachers, Miss Becca, was bent down, her hands hovering near the waistband of a diaper. She leaned back and waved a hand in front of her nose.

I smirked. Craig wouldn’t clog up the potty line today. And he wasn’t the only one. I spotted more than one saggy, soggy diaper. 

I sat at one of the little wooden tables, crayons in hand, sketching a picture. I’d asked for colored pencils—more precise, better for details—two years ago. Miss Susie gave me some. Then Hansen swiped a handful and dropped them in the fish tank. Mr. Goldy almost died cuz his filter got messed up or something. They took the colored pencils away after that. So, back to crayons I went. 

I set down the blue crayon and picked up the forest green. I was sketching the block tower that Rosie and I had been trying to build all year. The tower in my drawing soared to the ceiling, little people below smiling up at it. Each block was neatly stacked. Stable. I knew it was possible. The blunt tips of the crayons made it hard to tell, but each block in my sketch matched one in the big box of blocks. 

Rosie sat by herself, a concentrated look on her face as she stacked a few blocks at the base of the tower. She was always so eager, so determined, and yet… something always got in the way. Today, it looked like she’d reached that moment again—she’d built a decent base, but the tower’s height had stalled out. I could see her eyes flitting between the blocks and the taller stacks around her, frustration starting to cloud her face. 

She glanced over at me and, after a second of hesitation, got up and wandered over. Her diaper crinkled louder with each step. “Pete,” she said, her voice soft and hopeful. “I can’t make it go higher... Could you help?” She smiled hesitantly. Hopeful. The kind of smile she gave me when she wanted to remind me of the fun we had building together. “You always make it work, and it’s more fun when you help.”

I scanned the room again. I wasn’t scoping out the potty competition this time. I was looking for him. 

Hansen. If I so much as thought the words that came to mind when I saw his piggy little face Miss Roberta would soap my mouth and then spank me till bubbles popped out. He was making a show of building something of his own—a half-hearted effort at a block tower, probably. He didn’t have any ideas of his own. His hands were all over it, awkward and flailing, like he was making a mess on purpose. As always, he was loud and disruptive, knocking into anyone who got too close. 

“I’d like to, but…” I glanced over at Hansen again, feeling a tightness in my chest. “You know how it is with Hansen. He’ll just wreck it like he always does.” I shook my head, giving Rosie a half-hearted smile. “Sorry.”

My stomach grumbled, a deep, low sound. It had been like this since lunch, a gnawing reminder that I hadn’t been able to hold my stinkies all the way from nap time until the end of the day since…well, ever. My attention flicked back to the picture I was drawing, focusing on the tower I could never build. 

“Besides, I’ve got other things to focus on,” I muttered quietly, my hands gripping the crayon tighter, trying to ignore the discomfort.

“You’re going to remember me when you graduate and go to preschool, right?” Rosie asked. Her gaze flicked to my diaper, still clean and dry for the moment. 

“Of course,” I said. “I’m dry, see?” I looked around the room, glancing at the other students who were playing, some of them rolling around in their diapers, others chatting with the teachers or distracted by toys. Most of them seemed so carefree, so comfortable. None of them had been stuck here as long as I had. Hansen’s eyes met mine. 

Dangit. 

He sauntered over. He also looked dry, I noted. “Oh, look,” he sneered, making sure the room heard him. “Petey Pampers. I’m surprised they haven’t named the nursery after you yet.”

“You’re in diapers, too!” Rosie shot at him. Hansen ignored her. “How long’s it been? Two years? Three?” He let out a mock laugh. He leaned close, his breath smelling like apple juice and Cheerios. “I’ll send you a postcard from preschool. They let you use markers there.”

Miss Maryam looked up from putting away the tubs of playdough. Her face scrunched in disapproval. “Hansen, that’s enough. Don’t be mean.” 

“But it’s true!” Hansen said. “He’s been here longer than anyone ever. He’s never getting out of diapers.” 

Miss Maryam chuckled. “Every little diaperboy and diapergirl graduates when they are ready. I’m sure Peter will too, someday.”

My heart dropped into my stomach. 

Hansen rolled his eyes at me and wandered off. 

The other students in the coloring area had quieted. A few looked my way. I wanted to defend myself, to shout, to lash out and tell them I’d seen their saggy, stinking diapers too. But I swallowed my words. I didn’t have to justify myself to them. After today, I’d never see any of them again.

Rosie smiled softly at me, brushing a strand of black hair from her face. “I don’t care if we build the tower or not. We can just hang out. Wanna play cars instead, Pete? We can make a loop and a jump this time. Or something else?” 

I sighed. Set down my crayon. “Maybe we can work on the tower for a few minutes. I have an idea for—” I stopped. 

Hansen had sidled up behind Rosie’s tower, that grin of his stretched wide. He nudged the base with his foot, sending the blocks tumbling in one swift, careless motion. 

Rosie gasped, her hands going to her mouth as she stared at the collapsed structure. “No!” 

I opened my mouth to say something, to defend her. Before I could, Miss Susie called out to the whole nursery. “Everyone, line up. It’s diaper check time.” 

My eyes were on Miss Maryam. They were always on Miss Maryam during the Friday afternoon diaper check. She picked up the training potty and carried it into the middle of the open play space.

Students started to shuffle into the play space, looking expectantly at the plastic training potty in the middle of the room. The excitement in the air shifted, the playful atmosphere transforming into something more serious, more pressing.

I got in line next to Rosie. She was still looking at the remains of her tower. Tears welled in the corners of her big brown eyes. 

I squeezed her hand. “You’ll get it next time.” 

She didn’t respond. 

The teachers worked their way down the line. Pulling back waistbands. Squeezing. Poking. Sniffing. Making their little remarks. 

“Looks like someone got a visit from the sog-monster.” 

“That’s one saggy diaper there, sweetie.” 

“Pee-yeew!”

The ones who weren’t clean and dry—most of them, I was encouraged to see—were led away by teachers. Some cried. Most didn’t care. They were shuffled over to the row of changing tables with soft reassurances about how ‘they could try again next year’ and how ‘a fresh, dry diaper would make them feel right as rain.’ 

I wouldn’t miss this one bit. Checks and changes. Sitting in soggy diapers—or worse. Smelling like baby powder and pee. Preschool had pull-ups, and pull-ups were practically big boy underwear. 

Just a little longer. 

Miss Susie stepped in front of the few of us who remained. “Does everyone remember what today is?” 

“Bromsday!” Lily shouted. She had a big, dopey grin on her face.

I rolled my eyes.

Susie chuckled. “Good try, sweetie. Today is Friday, which means you get a chance to prove you’re ready to graduate and move on to preschool. But this Friday is extra special. It’s the last Friday of the session. Your mommies and daddies need to renew tonight or sign you up for preschool. So if you haven’t proven you’re ready to use the potty, you’ll get to spend another year with us. Yay!”

I could feel the weight of her words. I knew how important today was. I didn’t need any reminders. I just needed to hold my stinkies a little longer. The discomfort in my tummy was 

growing harder to ignore, though.

Miss Susie held the list of names on a clipboard. They assigned the order randomly. At least that’s what they said. I was always at the back. Well, nearly always. It’s why I hadn’t graduated.

“Lily,” Miss Susie called. 

Lily jumped up, brown braids flopping around like she’d won the lottery. Which she basically had. She stood so close to the plastic potty her bare toes touched it. 

“Derek,” Miss Susie said. 

With each voice she called out, my hopes sank. 

Finally, they called Rosie. Then me. And then, at the very back of the line, there was Hansen. He was fidgeting, clearly impatient, his hands on his hips as he muttered to no one in particular. “This is so unfair,” he complained. “I should’ve gone first! Why do I have to wait behind all these losers?” His words drew a few eyes, but the teachers only smiled politely and ignored him, focusing instead on the rest of the students. 

I wished I could be happy Hansen was last, but all I could think about was the number of people in front of me in line. I’d never make it. Never. Rosie was beside me, her eyes bright with optimism, her hand brushing against mine just briefly. 

“Alright, get ready to start the timer for five minutes,” Miss Susie said to Miss Quin. Miss Quin nodded and held up the stopwatch so everyone could see it. 

I groaned quietly. “We know, we know. It’s always five minutes.” 

Hansen leaned close. “Not everyone has been here a million years, Petey Pampers.” 

I stared straight ahead, doing my best to ignore him.

“Lily,” Miss Susie said.

Lily stepped forward, her face bright with excitement. Miss Susie pulled the tapes off her diaper and removed it. The room was silent as she gave the diaper one last check, then nodded. Lily plopped down on the potty, and everyone cheered. Everyone except me and Hansen. 

Lily leaped up when the timer dinged five agonizing minutes later. She beamed with pride, pointing at the potty. “I peed like a big girl!” 

Miss Susie peered down into the potty and nodded appreciatively. “Good job, Lily! Preschool is gonna be so lucky to have such a sweet, clever girl. Now pick out your sticker and show the class. That way, they can all remember what a big girl you were every time they see it.” 

Lily plucked a sticker from the sheet and showed it to the classroom. “A Zoonicorn!” 

Hansen snickered. 

“That’s a very cute unicorn,’ Lily,” Miss Susie said. “Now run on over to Miss Peggy for your very first pull-up.” 

Lily scuttled off, half running, half skipping. Her proud daddy greeted her, gushing over her new, pull-on undies. 

Come on, let’s keep it going. No one liked Lily, anyway. She ate the playdough. 

Next came a diaperboy named Derek. He was tall. Tall enough I thought if we ever got our tower almost to the ceiling, we could ask him to reach up and put the last few pieces on. He had been in the nursery school for a while. Always quiet. But nice enough. 

He froze halfway to the potty. 

“Derek?” Miss Susie asked. “Did you just wet your diaper?” 

He shook his head vigorously, his messy blonde hair flopping all around and covering his face. 

Miss Susie approached and gave the front of his diaper a squeeze. His face turned red, tears welling up in his eyes as he hunched over. “I—I couldn’t hold it,” he stammered through his sobs, his hands shaking. Miss Susie hugged him. “Aww, that’s alright. Run along to your daddy. He’ll help you get your pants on.” 

Derek ran off crying.  

At least it was only pee, I thought. At least he hadn’t pooped. That was something, right? The tension in my gut was still building, gnawing at me as I watched the boy being led away, tears still falling. 

Hansen, of course, couldn’t resist a jab. “Pathetic,” he sneered loudly. “Can’t even make it five minutes. Maybe you should just go back to nursery school.” 

I turned around to give him a dirty look and stopped. His face was all screwed up. His jaw clenched. Fists balled. 

He has to go, too, I realized.

I turned around and smiled to myself. I was going to make it. Not only that, I was going to make it and Hansen was not. Maybe Mommy would get ice cream tonight to celebrate. Cookie dough! 

They let Derek’s timer run the full five minutes. Those were the rules. They were dumb rules, but I’d stopped sharing that opinion a couple of spankings ago. Besides, every second longer was a second Hansen would have to squirm, too. I was going to watch him when they sat me on the potty. Make sure he saw me relaxing and doing my business like a big boy. Comfy. Confident. On the way to preschool.

Marta was next. A petite girl with a shy smile. Her diaper was clean and dry, and there was a momentary hush in the room as Miss Susie planted her on the potty. She looked back at the rest of us, ready to prove she could do it. 

Rosie would be next after Marta, her usual chipper energy still intact despite the failed tower. She leaned toward me, her voice soft. “It’s okay, Pete,” she said, giving me a warm smile. “You’ve got this. I know you do.” 

Appreciation washed over me even as the pressure in my stomach was growing unbearable. My mind kept returning to the tower, to the fun we could have, but the thought of the potty made everything feel more pressing. I shuffled a little closer to her, feeling a connection between us. “You too. We’re gonna have so much fun in preschool together. I bet they have even better blocks there. Legos!”

As the timer continued ticking, the tension in the room grew thicker. My stomach churned again, and I let out a toot. It was louder than I thought it would be. Hansen snickered. 

I shifted, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. Not that I didn’t toot in my diapers all the time, but not when the room was quiet and we were all lined up. Not when Rosie was right next to me.

Rosie turned to me. 

“Sorry,” I winced. 

She waved it away. “I pooped my diaper this morning, right before snack time. Remember?” 

I giggled. I did remember. It was really stinky, too. 

“Can I see your sketchbook,” she asked. 

“Why?”

“I wanna see your tower drawing. So I know what to do after you’re gone.” 

I hadn’t shown it to anyone yet, not really, but I didn’t hesitate. I handed her my sketchbook, and it flopped open to a different page with a picture of a sailboat. 

She started flipping through the pages the smile on her face growing. “These are amazing, Pete. You’re so talented!” 

My face flushed with heat. “Just go to the tower one. It’s on the last page.” 

She stopped, her fingers hovering over a page with a different tower drawing. This one was the two of us building a tower that stretched all the way to the ceiling. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Is that… me?” she asked, her voice small, almost a whisper. “You made me look really pretty.”

My face flushed. I snatched the book back, a wave of embarrassment flooding over me. “It’s nothing.”

Rosie opened her mouth to say something.

Tiinnggg

I heard the gentle ding of the door chime. Mommy. She was still in her work clothes: a long brown coat and a blue skirt, her long blonde hair flowing behind her. Her heels clicked on the tile as she walked over to the other parents and the teachers. She exchanged a few words with Miss Becca, their voices low and friendly. 

Our eyes met, and she gave me a wave. Miss Becca said something to her. I could barely make it out. “...really trying…another year...potty dance.” They both chuckled.

I realized I’d crossed my legs at some point and was holding my tummy. My stinky-diaper dance, as my Mommy called it. I felt a pang in my chest, hearing them talk about me like that, as if my failure was inevitable. 

Hansen’s potty dance was worse than mine, at least. He clutched the back of his diaper, his forehead all scrunched up. He was getting desperate. He was on the verge of messing himself. Hansen didn’t say anything now; for once, his arrogance had faltered. 

Marta’s timer dinged. 

I nudged Rosie. “It’s almost your turn.”

She looked up at me, sad. 

“What’s the…oh.” I saw the sagging, yellow front of her diaper.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. Her eyes shimmered with the threat of tears. “I—I tried. I really did.”

“It’s alright. You’ll get it next year. You won’t be stuck here in diapers forever.” 

Rosie shrugged. “I like it here. Teachers are nice. There’s loads of fun toys and activities. I like feeding Mr. Goldy.” 

“So…what’s the matter?” I asked. 

“I really thought we could get the tower all the way to the ceilin’.” 

“Come on up, Rosie,” Miss Susie called out. 

Rosie suddenly wrapped her arms around me and squeezed tight, her head pressed against my chest. “Have fun at preschool,” she whispered. 

She thinks you’re going to make it. She’s certain of it. 

She let me go and walked up to Miss Susie, who checked her diaper and found it wet. She consoled her, offering the usual assurance of ‘that’s what diapers are for,’ not realizing the real reason she was so sad. Then Rosie shuffled over to her daddy as her five minutes ticked away. 

I was sweating now. My stomach a hurricane of cramping pains. Time crawled. 

Finally, a light ding. 

“Come on up, Peter,” Miss Susie called. 

I shuffled forward slowly. Carefully. Hands on my aching tummy. 

The teachers and remaining parents gave a half-hearted cheer, their voices soft, polite, but without the energy I’d seen them give to the others. 

A few of the students chuckled, including Hansen, who made no effort to hide the amusement on his face. “Look at Petey doing his little potty dance,” he teased, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Bet he won’t make it.” 

Mommy didn’t laugh. At least, I didn’t think so. But some of the other mommies and daddies did. 

My eyes met Rosie’s. She dabbed away the tears in them and was smiling. Hopeful. Happy for me, even though she knew it meant we wouldn’t hang out anymore. Wouldn’t finish our tower together. 

I glanced over at the jumbled pile of blocks. I wanted to finish that tower together. Desperately. And maybe, if Hansen were gone, we finally could. 

We didn’t get to make many choices in nursery school. Not like preschool. They told us when to have snacks and when to take naps and how long to wash our hands after we fed Mr. Goldy. But I could make this decision. 

I stopped right in front of the potty. “Sorry, Miss Susie,” I said. 

“What for…?”

I dropped into a squat and let the stinky mess push out into my diaper like I had a million times before. Like I probably would a million times again.

“Oh, sweetie,” Miss Susie said. She sighed. 

I stood up when I was done. Everyone was silent. Even Hansen.

Miss Susie put her arm around me. “It’s alright, Peter. We will love to have you for another year. Run along, now.” She gave the back of my diaper a light swat, smooshing the stinky mess I’d deposited there. 

I didn’t care. Not really. 

Mommy’s smile tugged at the corners of her mouth like it did when I spilled juice on the floor or forgot to empty out my diaper pail. Soft, patient love mixed with exasperation. She didn’t look surprised, though. She pulled me tight against her and kissed the top of my head. “It’s alright, sweetie. There’s always next year.” 

I nodded. 

“Ice cream?” she said. 

I smiled. “Can I get cookie dough?”

“Of course.” 

I looked over at Rosie, whose daddy was helping get her coat on. 

“What’s the matter, babycakes?” Mommy asked. 

“Can I have a bit more time?”

She patted my diaper. “I’m sure they’ll let me change your stinky britches before we go. Let me just get your diaper bag from the car.” 

I shook my head. Glanced at Rosie, who was almost out the door now. “Somethin’ else.” 

Mommy looked at Rosie. Nodded. “Of course. Take your time. I’ll talk to Miss Susie about getting you signed up for another year.” 

I ran over to Rosie. 

She stared at me, her eyes wide in shock for a moment. Then, as realization dawned on her, she smiled softly, the corners of her lips curling in understanding. She didn’t say anything, but I saw it in the way she looked at me—there was no judgment, just quiet support.

“Do you want to finish our tower?” I asked her.

She looked up at her daddy, who nodded. “Of course, darlin’. I’ll catch up with the other mommies and daddies for a bit. Have fun.”

I took Rosie’s hand in mine, and we crossed the room.

“Sorry I’m stinky,” I whispered.

She squeezed my hand. “I don’t care.” 

We’d just started the third level of the tower when Hansen screamed. “Yes! I’m going to preschool!” he shouted, the noise grating in my ears. “You see that, Petey? That’s how you do it!”

I ignored him, slotting a big blue block into place. He could have his pull-ups and his Lego blocks. 

I had my friend. 

---

Big thank you to my friends @diapergirlstories and @batarangaroo for their feedback on this story!

If you enjoyed this short tale, you'll love my full-length stories - check 'em out on Ream! There are 42 stories there, several of them novella or novel length, and I add more every week.

Emma got used to moving around her friend's house in handcuffs, treated more like a pet than a human. Ever since she had mentioned having a crush on her best friend Natalie, and drunkenly admitted to submissive fantasies of her more successful, prettier, more confident bestie bossing her around and using her Natalie had decided to find out just how far she could take it.

At first Natalie hadn't known how to respond, but Emma seemed so eager to give up control Natalie had to do very little to take it. What started as simple demands, Emma fetching Natalie drinks, or giving foot rubs, or cleaning the apartment soon began taking on a more sexual nature. Natalie had Emma lick her panties clean after dates, denied Emma her own orgasms, and soon had Emma move in, keeping the girl in a tiny box room that used to be a study, but now housed a small bed and a cage.

Emma gave up her possessions as Natalie wrapped her around her finger, selling them while her money, accounts, everything were signed over to her bratty new owner.

Natalie was at most bi-curious, but the power she had over Emma was intoxicating, and after a lot of begging from the submissive blonde, Natalie finally let the girl worship her pussy with her eager tongue, enjoying an explosive orgasm, part from the pleasure given to her, and part from the power she held over her once equal best friend. Now Natalie enjoyed Emma's tongue regularly, especially after she came home from fucking her boyfriend. She loved the scrunched up look of disgust she saw on Emma's face the first time she found Natalie's man's hot load oozing from her pussy, but Emma knew better than to disobey, and licked up every drop.

Such a naughty little baby, now you can pout all you want as you fill your diaper in bed