WETTYORNAH’s Hypno Guide

Padded Little Paradise

When Mommy Takes Control

Image Credit: ABDreams.com “Aww… you like that, don’t you? You silly little thing!” A rustle. A quiet moan of agreement, muffled by the rubb

And here it is: a brand-new, extra-long caption! Click on the link for the full (FPN-containing) image!

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Image Credit: ABDreams.com

“Aww… you like that, don’t you? You silly little thing!”

A rustle. A quiet moan of agreement, muffled by the rubber nipple between the naked young woman’s lips. A pathetic little wriggle and nod as, with eyes screwed shut and face drawn in a silent transport of humiliated ecstasy, she assented to the amused words of her caretaker.

“Goodness, just look at you! All naked and helpless for me, like the sweetest little baby!” Rhoda continued, her warm voice dropping into a sexy purr of delight. Her hand was working gently, pressing the thick cotton booster suggestively into her partner’s freshly powdered groin. “Anyone else would be completely, utterly humiliated to be treated like this, you know. But you’re not just anyone else, honey, are you?”

Her voice was dripping with loving condescension as she leaned forward, elegantly mascaraed eyes alight with pleasure. “What are you then, sweetie? Go on, tell me. What are you?”

A muffled, barely audible response, between shy and shame-filled moans of ill-concealed pleasure. “I- I’m a ba- a baby– Jus’ a baby-” She was wriggling under Rhoda’s touch, her naked body tensing in irresistible pleasure at such a shameful admission. “Jus’ a siwwy- wih’ul- baybee…“

Rhoda laughed then: laughed over the quiet crinkle of the outspread diaper, laughed over the pathetic little mewlings of her Little partner. “Oh, honey, you’re more than a little baby now. You’re my little baby – mine, and no one else’s. And you know what? You’re going to be my baby for good: forever and ever.”

She bent down and cupped one of her partner’s petite breasts in her hand, smilingly weighing it as if mentally comparing it to her own voluptuous curves. “Just look at how sweet and cute you are without your clothes, baby! So naked and little and innocent, so very, very babyish…”

She giggled and gave the exposed nipple a tiny tweak, eliciting a muffled gasp of ill-suppressed surprise and pleasure from her partner. “Such cute little baby boobies, too – so small and adorable! You know, I think they look so much better like this. We’re gonna leave them nice and naked and free from now on, of course. No more of those silly padded bras. No more trying to pretend you’re a big girl when you’re so clearly not…”

“Yeh- yefh, Mommee-” came the groveling response, and Rhoda chuckled once more, a rush of dominant pleasure coursing through her at the sound of such helpless submission. “Aww, good baby!” she commended, her hand working with renewed vigor between her partner’s splayed legs. “And you’re gonna learn to love your diapers more and more every day, too. Believe me – you’re simply not going to have a choice! You may think sometimes that you do… but, oh, sweetie…”

She broke off, chuckling with dark pleasure as her partner squirmed and writhed under her relentless touch. “Sweetie,” she resumed, “There’s simply no way you can resist me – not even if you wanted! I’m your Mommy now, after all, and I know what’s best. I know exactly how to deal with you… how to make you do every little thing I want… how to train you and teach you and remind you that no matter how big you once were, you’re going to be nothing but an adorable, helpless, brainless little baby by the time I’m done with you…”

The red-faced, labored breathing and the tight-drawn muscles of her partner testified to the groveling pleasure and rising arousal within. She was close now, and with every suggestive thrust of those fingers pressing the soft booster against her shaven and powder-covered pussy – with every condescending word that left her partner’s lipstick-covered lips – she was edging ever closer to one of the most gloriously shameful climaxes she could imagine. Soon she would be cumming: not from penetration, nor even from a vibrator, but from the sheer humiliation and throbbing pleasure of her partner forcing her to become a helpless, laughable, infantilized little toy.

But then… just as she was teetering on the brink of bliss… Rhoda stopped. And oh, the stifled wail of disappointment that escaped her partner’s pacified lips sent fresh shivers of pleasure rippling through her.

“Aww, such an excitable baby!” she crooned, shaking her head at the young woman’s plaintive whines. “You’re getting way too excited for a baby girl as little and innocent as you. But don’t worry,” she added, with a sly little giggle that set her partner a-tremble . “I’m sure we’ll eventually find a way to scratch that silly little itch you seem to have between your pretty little legs. Maybe after you’ve shown me just how well you can fill your pampers… how soggy, and saggy, and smelly such a sweet little baby’s diaper ends up when Mommy takes control…”

And in that moment, the mortified little wail of disgust from her charge sounded in her ears as one of the most beautiful sounds in the entire world.

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"Wait, you want me to do what?"

Your hands were trembling, your breath catching in your lungs. What an idiot. What an absolute idiot you'd been! Here you were, on this nice weekend getaway with this amazing girl you'd only met two months before. Everything was going along swimmingly. You'd just had a great meal at a restaurant a few blocks away. You'd laughed your way back to the hotel, and you'd cuddled, and things had begun to get steamy…

And then you'd done it. "Hey, are you, like, into any kinds of… you know… kinky stuff?"

Oh, she'd giggled at that. "What, like getting tied up and shit?" She'd tossed her blonde hair and shrugged. "I mean, I guess? Wait… what about you? Are you saying you wanna get kinky tonight, babe?"

God, if she'd only known how apropos that last word was. But then you'd blurted it out before you'd thought – before you'd had a chance to chicken out. "I mean… yeah. I'm kinda- I, you know… I dunno, but… I guess I really think it would be hot if… if you wore a diaper."

She stared at you with the most indescribable expression, and you could feel yourself shriveling up, collapsing down into a little ball of shame and fear under her gaze. "I- I- heh, heh- just… just joking, you kno-" you faltered desperately. Chuckle. Ease the tension. Anything, please-

But she cut you off with a laugh. "Wait, really? No, no. Don't kid me, dude. You were actually serious, weren't you?" And under her searching blue eyes… well, what could you do but nod?

Though the next words weren't anything like what you'd expected to hear next.

"Oh, praise be! You know, at first I thought you might be into some really messed-up shit: you know, knives and chains and all." You spluttered, eyes wide as she bounced merrily on the bed. "I mean, sure! You got one handy?"

"Wha- wait, but- but, really?!" You were aghast, feeling desperately the need to pinch yourself to snap out of this fever dream. She couldn't be serious. Diapers were taboo. They were fucked up, weird, deviant, idiotic-

"Bro, relax!" she smiled now, and then she was slipping her hand reassuringly onto your tight-drawn shoulders. "Listen, it's okay! I mean, sure – I dunno that I've ever worn a diaper before-" and here she chuckled wryly. "At least not since I was a kid! But heck, I dunno. I think it sounds kinda cute." You breathed, and realized then that you'd been holding your breath for who knows how many minutes. She… she was really okay with it?

"Really?" You quavered, and she shrugged and nodded, her blue eyes locking with your own. "Dude, relax! Of course! It's not like you're asking me to expose myself, or make out with four other guys, or, I dunno, drink your piss or something. Like, it's just a diaper, right? Big deal. We've all worn one before, and I bet we'll all wear one again before we're dead and gone."

She giggled once more and let one hand slip playfully down to your jean-clad crotch. "Hang on, lemme see if you were really serious. Think about me now, babe. Think about seeing me laying here on the bed without any pants on. I'll be laying here just like a cute baby girl, with a crinkly 'ol diaper on instead of panties. Sounds like you'd like that, huh?"

The straining pressure in your crotch provided all the answer she needed.

"Well, then, buddy – I think you'd better get busy!" she tittered once more. "Come on. I don't suppose you'd happen to have one in your suitcase already, would you?"

Somehow, you did.

And once you'd tremblingly taped your laughing companion into the garment of your dreams, she lolled playfully onto the bed, toying with her long blonde hair and gazing over with merry eyes. "Hey, there! Like what you see, babe?" She wriggled her crinkling rear provocatively and dropped her eyes to your ill-concealed – and increasingly painful – hard-on. "Oh, my! I don't suppose you'd care to give a little baby like me a taste, hmm? I may be pretty big for a baby, but I still really like sucking on things…"

Good god. Maybe you were dreaming. Maybe not. But whatever the case, you mused as you tugged desperately at your jeans and pre-cum stained underwear… whatever the case, you didn't ever want this to end.

Image Credit: DiaperGal.com

Please don't remove my caption or accreditation, okay? Oh, and check out my Patreon here if you want to read more of my short stories!

How many stories have you completed?

I had to go back and count. "Completed" being the operative word. I am terrible at finishing or adding chapters to longer stories. I tend to either lose steam or not know where to take the story. But I compiled almost everything I've written that's over 3k words. I tried to post links to the ones that have previews/full-releases on free sites. All of them can be found on Patreon:

The Boss' Baby

Besties - Part 1 , Part 2

Big Daddy

Date Night

Diaper Cuck - Excerpt 1 , Excerpt 2

DREAMS Daycare

Egg Hunt

Feels Like The First Time

Here Comes the Airpwane

Maw

Meet The Parents - Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Monitored

Practice Makes Perfect

Princess Pampers

Prudish

Reflections

Rent-A-Bull

Road Trip

Season's Greetings

Severance

Stuffed

Tales From a Mommy Blog

The Baby Shower

The Box

The Check-Up

The Satin Sock

The Wet Nurse

Tinder Love and Care

Under His Thumb

Weekend Services

You Should Smile More

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Ongoing/Abandoned Projects

ABCDegree

Go Ask Alex

Hoetel Bimbo

Joy Ride

New World Order

Sissy School - Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Sorority Boys - Chapter 1, Chapter 2

The Hunt

The White Rabbit

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This obviously doesn't include the mini-stories and captions I've written, but I'm not about to go back and count all of those, lol.

I'm going to pin this post if that's okay. I've been meaning to catalogue this for a long time, so thanks for this question to finally make me get off my lazy ass and do it. I will try to update as more gets released.

If you'd like to find my on other sites, here's All My Links

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.

Oh don't mind me dear I'm just opening up the window to get some a breeze in, you just go back to playing. Yeah baby, just some fresh air. Well it's still a little stinky in here sweety and I want it smelling fresh when my next patient comes.

Oh silly have you forgotten what I told you already? You're going home today, your mommy is coming to pick you up! No silly you're wife! She's just your mommy now, like how I was Dr. Philips when you came here but now I'm Nana.

Right I know it must seem so long ago, I can hardly believe it's only been two weeks myself. More treatment, oh honey it'd be silly do that- you're cured! I can confidently say as a medical professional you no longer have a wetting problem baby.

Shshsh baby no need to get upset, you see diapers are the cure to your wetting problem. When your wife dropped you off here we knew that this was the likely outcome. Yes this is intensive therapy, your wife didn't lie. Sometimes this helps people stop wetting, once in a blue moon. For most of the people I treat though the cure for their incontinence is more involved. You see your bed wetting and your pants wetting were only problems that you noticed. You had others too you know. You were unhappy, you were stressed, angry, very controlling too. Now those problems are gone! I've been sending your wife videos of you and she's said she hasn't seen you this happy since you two were dating!

No, a life of big adult worries isn't for you, so I have prescribed a full regression until further notice. Hey don't look so grumpy, this is good news! This means when you get home you'll have a big comfy crib like you do here. You'll have fun toys for you to play with all day. You'll have even more cozy clothes to roll around in and best of all, you wont ever have to worry about wet or dirty pants ever again thanks to the thick diapies you'll always be wearing. I'll even let you in on a secret, your wife has been taking pills so she can have milky boobies just like Nana!

Still with the grumpy face huh mister? Do I need to take you to the naughty corner? We haven't had to visit there in quite some time I'd hate to have our treatment end there- Oh, ugh silly me! You think I'd know that face by now. Of course it's time for your mid morning poopy. Well go right ahead baby, your wife will be here to pick you up soon and I think greeting her in a stinky, droopy, poopy diaper is the perfect way to start this new chapter. Good thing I opened the window now. Hopefully the stinky smells will leave before the next patient arrives this evening!

My first messy accident

Your girlfriend looked back at you and grinned. She was always mischievous when you put her in diapers. In truth, it had been a joint decision, something to spice up your love life. But now you were unsure who was enjoying it more, you or her.

“What’s so funny, sweetie?” You asked as she began to bounce on her pink rubber ball. A moment later the smell hit and you knew exactly why she was squishing her diapered bottom up and down. She giggled and you adopted a mock scolding tone. “Looks like someone wants to make her next diaper change a hassle. Such a. Dirty girl, though I bet you’d like to get dirty in another way. Somebody wants some attention, doesn’t she?”

Your girlfriend’s bouncing transformed, becoming more akin to humping. A blush spread across her face and her tempo increased.

“Hmmm, I don’t know. Naughty girls who hump their diapers don’t get changed out of the stinky messes they make.”

Her face fell. Sure, she liked being messy, momentarily, but after a while even a fun, messy diaper got old. 

“Tell you what. Put on a show for daddy, and then we’ll go into the other room and have a little ‘playtime,’ if you know what I mean.”

She most certainly did know what you meant, and beamed again before getting to it. You sat back, content to watch and wait as your messy, moaning diaper girlfriend worked her way to the first of many orgasms. 

"Oh, you like showing off your ass for me, don't you, you little slut?" Shane murmured, and his voice was low. Rough. Grating with barely suppressed, animalistic longing to claim her, taste her, make her his. The sort of voice Jenna had thought only existed in erotic novels, and never in real life…

Certainly never for a girl like her.

"Oh yeah, baby," he crooned now, his breath hot on her neck. "Go on, show me that ass. Show me that hot, incredible ass. Mmm, yeah. I bet you're super wet already for me down here, aren't you, you dirty girl?"

They both knew what he meant. Wet – in both ways. She couldn't deny the truth, and so she didn't even try. She simply flushed and nodded and shivered at his breathtaking touch, reveling in the feeling of being so completely, utterly wanted.

"You like showing off your ass for me, too, don't you? You beautiful little slut…" he murmured, and his hands were slipping suggestively up and down her rear, drifting ever further down between her thighs. Jenna caught her breath as the tips of his fingers momentarily brushed against the moist padding protecting her vulva, and she heard the smile in Shane's voice a moment later. "God, you're such a wet, dirty girl for me, aren't you?" he continued, and she nodded eagerly in sighing acquiescence. "Here's this padded little pussy down here, too. All nice and wet and ready for me to fill it up like it deserves…"

"Yes, yes please," she murmured, and she gasped as his palm descended with a stinging slap onto her bare thigh. "That's my horny girl," he commended, and then his fingers were pressing more insistently into the wet padding over her genitals. "That's my sweet little slut. Mmm… I bet you'd like me to fuck you right here and now, wouldn't you?"

"Uh-huh," she breathed, her face flushed with arousal and sheer exhilaration. No other man on earth had ever touched one of her sodden diapers and mouthed such words. No other person on the planet had ever before reminded her – not simply as some kind souls did, that she was "pretty" and "sweet" and "not at all broken" – but that she was hot as hell and a woman to be pleasured and coveted and lusted after.

Not in spite of being medically incontinent. Not even because of it. But because she was beautiful and incontinent and funny and lust-worthy all in one, with every separate aspect combining to make one completely whole and completely sensual human being.

"Why don't we get that pretty, padded ass into bed, hmm?" Shane was saying now, as she brought her momentarily distracted attention back to her lover and his caresses. "Why don't you show me just how much you want to be ridden from behind, hmm? Go on. Tell me how you need someone to ride you, babe. Tell me how much you need me to make you drip and cum and squirt like a horny little bitch-"

"Yes, ride me," she moaned, and she shuddered in pleasure even as she felt another familiar, hot spurt of urine – almost as if on cue – dribble involuntarily out of her. No matter. It was a biological function as ordinary as breathing, and something she'd had no control over these past seven years. But with Shane, she no longer needed to feel ashamed or embarrassed. Not in the slightest.

And so she repeated it: louder this time, as if nothing odd had even happened… because nothing had. "Ride me, honey. Please… I'm such a slut for you, such a wet, needy slut…"

Rational thought was evaporating now for both of them, vanishing like steam before the heat of their hormones and primal lust. But in those remaining moments of sanity, as they made their hurried way to the dark refuge of their bedroom, Jenna reflected gratefully that Shane was truly something special: as profoundly kind as he was sensual. And thanks to him, Jenna had never felt more valid – more special and yet so blessedly normal – than in this very moment.

Image Credit:@ukdiapergirls

Please don't remove my caption or accreditation, okay? Oh, and check out my Patreon here if you want to read more of my short stories!

Stupid Baby Story Club: Locker Room Trash

Hello, hello. I've recently started a new story series on my Patreon called Stupid Baby Story Club. It's about a young woman named Sasha and her recent admission into a secret club of college students who tell each other stories about diapers, ageplay, and humiliation. Each chapter of the story is split between the life of Sasha, and then a smaller story-within-a-story, as told by one of the members of the Story Club. Today, I thought I'd share one of those stories-within-stories with you.

This particular story is being presented by one of the club's members, Chuck. He's on the university football team - which is why he's especially paranoid about anyone else finding about his kinks. Here, he shares the tale of the one time these two separate worlds collided.

And if you want to read more of this series, c'mon down to my Patreon. Part 3 of this series just posted today! A membership in Tier 2, for only $6 a month, will get you access to the current chapters, as well as a boatload of other stories exclusive to my Patreon.

Locker Room Trash

I don’t know–have any of you ever spent time in a locker room before? And I’m not talking about high school gym class either. I’m talking about the locker room of a team. It can be a crazy place. Everyone just feeds off of everyone else. 

Like, before a game. We’re all excited, individually. We want to win. We want to show off everything we’ve been practicing. We want our family and friends and school to be proud of us. We want to defeat the opposing team so badly. And each of us just amplifies the emotions in everyone else. Crazy things start happening when you get twenty-something guys pumping each other up. Songs break out. There’s cheering. Chanting. Sometimes things get broken.

And the inverse is just as possible. If we’ve had a particularly grueling practice or, god-forbid, we lose a game–the locker room is like a funeral. Everyone’s bitter and dejected. Everyone wants to blame everyone else. Again, some crazy things can happen when you get twenty-something guys acting miserable around each other. I’ve seen fist-fights erupt over some guy’s water bottle falling off a bench.

I was new to the team two years ago, but I wasn’t new to football locker rooms. I knew what to expect.

Sure, there was a little bit of hazing. Nothing too bad. People get whipped with towels in the shower. Your face gets drawn on if you fall asleep on the bus to a game at another university. Whatever. Just brush it off.

There’s a few ways to make the experience easier. For one, you can just prove yourself out on the field. Make a few good plays–score a few points if you can–and suddenly the team stops giving you as much shit. 

But also? It helps to just not be a baby about it. The guys who get picked on the most? The ones who let everyone know how much it bothers them. The ones who try to run away and hide. The ones who try to say something to the coaches. The ones who plead for people to leave them alone.

We had a guy like that on the team last year. Andy Dimpton. He was a wide receiver from some high school in, like, Rhode Island? Fast as hell, and I had never seen the guy drop a ball–we were lucky to have him on the team. Of course, he was also built like a scarecrow and the wind could blow him over. The most timid guy I’d ever met, too. 

As you can imagine, he quickly found himself in the role as the team’s favorite punching bag. Some of the guys on the team–the ones who had been around the longest–they were merciless with him. They’d break into his locker and hide his clothes on him. They’d pull his towel off from around his waist whenever he came out of the shower. They started calling him Big Baby because he perpetually looked like he was about to start bawling at any moment.

And me? Well, you know, it was my first year too, and I wanted to fit in. I didn’t want to be another Andy Dimpton. So, you know, I…played along. Did a little teasing when I could.

I fucked up one day. Pretty badly, too.

So, I like…diapers. I mean, that shouldn’t come as a shock, considering that we’re all here right now, right? Some people say that they don’t know how they got into their kinks–they just stumbled into it and it just fit, right? But not me. I know where the diaper thing came from.

I used to wet the bed when I was a kid. My mother did her best to have patience with me when I was younger, but the older I got, the more pissed off it made her. By the time I was 12, if I wet the bed, she’d immediately empty my underwear drawer and get me a pack of those Goodnights training pants. Then, I’d have to wear those–and only those–until I could keep them dry overnight for a week. This went on for a few years…longer than it should’ve, probably. The most goddamn humiliating years of my life too. Can you even imagine being 13 and going to school in a pull-up because your Mom hid all your underpants?

Later in my teens, it stopped being as much of an issue. I was doing my own laundry, and I think Ma realized she couldn’t keep me in diapers while I was in high school. We never talked about it. She never asked if I was still having issues, and she never apologized for how she used to treat the situation. It was just…out of sight, out of mind.

But…diapers. They were the naughtiest, most shameful, thing in the world. Exactly the kind of thing that a sexually-awakening teen needed to jump start some fucked-up kink. 

Anyway, I’m in college. I’ve graduated from pull-ups to, like, the real deal. The big diapers. I know you know the ones. 

I kept a stash in my dorm room. Still do, too. I don’t get a chance to wear them all that often, though. Between football practice, games, and…well, having a social life, there’s really never a time when I’m by myself to piss in a diaper and masturbate.

Maybe you know the feeling–that one where you’ve been away from your kinks and private time for so long that they slowly become the only thing you can think about? Weeks had gone by without me touching my stash, and I had diapers on the fucking brain. All I wanted was just enough time to crawl around in one and, uh, you know…use it. 

The more desperate I got, the more chances I was willing to take. Normally, I’d never wear a diaper out in public. The absolute last thing I needed was to have the top of a diaper peaking out over the top of my pants. University Athlete Charles Stone Wears Diapers–I could just imagine that being the headline on the campus newspaper. But I needed to wear a diaper.

So one afternoon I took a chance. I put on a big thick diaper, pulled up my pants, and went to class. And for a while, it was good. I had wet myself once or twice and I had a little bit of a waddle as I walked around. I was extremely self-conscious of it, but the thrill of strolling around in my wet diaper was worth it.

But then I met up with some guys from the team. They were going to head over to the field and run some drills and they wanted me to join them. I tried to get out of it, saying I had other places to go or be, but… These guys, you can’t really say ‘no.’ Remember, it was my first year on the team and I didn’t want to be Andy Dimpton. So I went over to the field with them.

All my gear was in the locker room, so it wasn’t like I had to go back to the dorm room. As terrified as I was of getting caught, I thought I had a pretty good plan: Once we got to the locker rooms, I’d duck into the adjoining bathroom, take off the diaper, and toss it in the trash before getting changed in the locker room. 

And that worked. Flawlessly. Soon, I was on the field with the guys, and nobody had any idea that just a few minutes before, I had been a pissy little bitch.

I honestly had forgotten about the diaper. After a few hours of running around, it was the furthest thing from my mind. The diaper was gone, and I knew that I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

Of course, things didn’t exactly go to plan. Kyle Wallace–this massive bear of a guy, and a senior–he was all hyped up after running all those drills. And, of course, you get one guy riled up and suddenly the whole locker room gets riled up. Everyone’s just being especially rowdy. People are playfully throwing things at each other. Calling each other names. Lots of laughter. 

Andy Dimpton is there too, and he heads off to take a shower. And Kyle’s got this shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Watch this,” he says to the rest of us. 

We watch. He goes to the bathroom and returns a minute later with the trash can. The whole fucking trash can.

And we can all guess what he’s going to do. He’s probably going to dump the trash on Andy while the guy is in the shower. Even if I didn’t know what was in the trash can, I’d have probably thought it was a bad idea. It felt like a step over the line between hazing and just being a complete fucking dickhead. 

But, also, I know what’s in that trash can.

Now, I can’t just tell him to stop. I mean–I should. I know I should. And in the thousands of times I’ve replayed this moment in my head since, I truly wished that I had said something instead. But at that moment, I didn’t want to be that guy. I didn’t want to be another Andy Dimpton.

So I said nothing, and let it play out.

It went about exactly as you’d have expected it to. Kyle went into the showers and tried to dump the trash on Andy. It wasn’t all that successful, honestly, the trash just kind of fell on the floor around Andy instead of on him. But there, among the wads of paper towels and energy bar wrappers, was a giant balled-up diaper.

I thought to myself: It’s just garbage. Nobody cares what’s in the garbage. They’re not going to look at it. Study it. Analyze it. Because who would do that, right?

But Kyle sees it, and for reasons that I still can’t quite figure out, he goes in for a closer look.

I’ll never forget his words, hearing them echo off the tiled walls of the shower as we watched from the locker room: “There’s a fucking diaper in here.”

Everyone rushes to see it. I don’t know why people need to see this diaper so badly–maybe it’s just the absurdity of it. Maybe it was just the way Kyle had said it. He could’ve said “There’s a fucking banana in here” and we’d all have come running, just because of how surprised he sounded.

There it is–my bloated diaper, isolated on the floor of the shower, kicked away from the rest of the trash.

Everyone is laughing. It’s obvious that this isn’t a baby’s diaper. There are no babies on campus, and this thing is huge. There’s only one question everyone has now: Who wears diapers?

Everybody huddled in that shower is looking at each other suspiciously. Me too–I’m glancing at everyone wildly, as if I was just as confused about where that diaper came from.

“Is it yours?” Kyle asks Andy. He picks it up–he literally picks up the dirty diaper in his hand and holds it near Andy’s face as he asks. “Do you piss yourself like a little baby?”

“Fuck you,” Andy says. “I don’t wear diapers.”

“Are you sure?” taunts Kyle. “Is that why you don’t like to hang with anyone? Because you’re afraid that we’re going to smell your dirty pampers?”

But, for once, Andy isn’t backing down: “How do we know it’s not your diaper? Maybe that’s the reason you’re always a dick–you need to get your diaper changed!”

It’s a pretty good comeback, and it summons an epic “Oooooooooh!” from the other guys.

It escalates into a fight. Very quickly, it’s not even about the diaper anymore–it’s about a guy who is sick of being picked on and a guy who isn’t about to back down while thinking he’s the alpha. 

There’s not much to say about the fight. You see one locker room fight and you’ve seen them all. They barely even touch each other–there’s a horde of sweaty guys between them, trying to keep the peace. 

The aftermath is pretty ugly, though. When the coaches demand explanations, Kyle’s seniority has most of the guys taking his side, insisting that it was actually Andy who had instigated the fight. Andy ended up getting a thorough tongue-lashing before being made to do a deep clean of the shower. 

I felt for him. I felt guilty. Even if I wasn’t the one who had gotten in his face, it was my diaper that threw the locker room into chaos. Still, I wasn’t about to say anything to anyone–including Andy. I just hoped that, in time, we’d all forget about it and move on.

But nobody forgot about it. People started calling Andy ‘Baby.’ They’d tape baby diapers to his locker. They’d steal his water bottle from the sidelines and replace it with a baby bottle. 

Heaven forbid the guy made a mistake on the field–as it would cause the rest of the team to mock him with questions about whether or not he needed his diaper changed before the next play. 

I could tell that he wanted to let it roll off his shoulders, but it was wearing him down. 

One night, as I sat all alone in my dorm room in a diaper…

One night, as I sat alone in my dorm room in a diaper, I realized what I had to do. I had to come clean to Andy about where the diaper had come from. I needed to let him know that it was my fault.

I had no idea what was going to happen after that. It wasn’t going to fix the problem with everyone else making fun of him–and I certainly wasn’t going to tell the truth to the rest of the team. But maybe Andy and I would have a good conversation about it and we could figure something out together.

In hindsight, it wasn’t a good plan. It was barely a plan. But I was so overcome with guilt that I felt like I had to do something.

One night, after practice, I asked if he wanted to grab some food with me. He agreed, and honestly, I think he was pretty thankful that anyone was giving him the time of day without teasing. We went out and grabbed some fast food burgers and went back to my dorm room. My roommate, at the time, was out off campus and it seemed like a good place to have a private conversation.

Things were actually going well. We were hitting it off, and I think we were both in need of some friendship. The more we talked, the more we seemed to have in common. We could’ve actually been friends. If it wasn’t for the fact that he brought it up himself, I had been thinking I’d skip the entire diaper conversation.

“So, hey,” he says. “What’s up with the whole baby thing? Why can’t anyone just let it go?”

“You know how the guys are,” I say. “They get something in their head and… Well, it’s like a fucking hive-mind. Nobody thinks for themselves and they just go with whatever someone like Kyle says.”

“I just…I’d love to know where that fucking diaper came from,” Andy says. “Because it doesn’t seem fair that it’s my problem now.”

I took a deep breath, not sure if I was actually going to go through with this conversation or not. 

“Andy, I, uhm, need to tell you something.” The words just sort of popped out of my mouth before I was even ready.

“Oh, okay.” He looked a little worried. I guess, if I was in his shoes, I wouldn’t know what to think either. 

“I, uh, know where the diaper came from.”

“What? You do? Where?”

“I… Well. It was my diaper.”

“Wait, what? Did you try to set me up with the diaper?”

“N-no,” I say. “I didn’t know Kyle was going to throw a trash can at you. I mean that I…”

“Oh,” he says, the truth suddenly clicking. “It was your diaper. You wear diapers and you had just…thrown that one away.”

I nodded. I had no idea what else to say. 

We sat there in complete silence for a minute or two, though it felt like an hour. I kept hoping he’d say something, but he just stared off into space.

Finally, he did speak: “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Huh?”

“When Kyle got in my face in the shower? Or when Coach was talking to everyone after. Or…in all the days since while people have been harassing me and calling me a baby. You knew that it wasn’t my diaper and you never said anything.”

“I mean…it’s not like I could tell everyone it was my diaper.”

“But you didn’t have to,” he says. “All you had to do was have my back. All you had to do was stand up for me. Fuck. I mean, now that I think about it, even if it wasn’t your diaper, it’d have been cool if you were on my side.”

He was right. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Why the hell were you wearing a diaper anyway?”

It’s another one of those moments that I’ve come back to countless times since, trying to think if there was a better way to have handled it. But as I sat there in my dorm room with him, I felt like I owed him the truth. I thought, maybe, if he knew the real reasons why I wore the diaper…he’d forgive me.

I told him the truth: “I sometimes like to wear diapers.”

The look on his face was simultaneously of surprise and disgust. Of all the reasons that he might have guessed, me liking diapers was clearly not one of them.

“You like diapers?”

I immediately knew I had said the wrong thing. I couldn’t have told him it was for a medical reason? I wanted to go back and try again, but the cat was already out of the bag.

“You’re, like, one of those guys who get off on acting like a giant baby?” he asks.

The question feels like a punch to the gut, it’s so full of judgment. And he’s right, but not completely right. I’ve never been an ‘adult baby.’ My kinks tend to start and end with just diapers. But I wasn’t going to try and explain that to him.

I decided to try taking the conversation in a different direction. “Maybe you and I can talk to Coach about this. Like, we don’t have to tell him the entire truth…but we can team up and see what we can do about the harassment you’re getting from the other guys.”

He shakes his head, still stuck on an earlier part of the conversation. “You like wearing diapers?”

“Yeah…”

“Are you wearing one now? Is that why you brought me up here? To, like, show me your diaper or something?”

“N-no way, man. I just wanted to talk. I just wanted to–”

“Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me your diapers.”

“I’m not wearing them right now.”

“Wherever your diapers are, take them out and show them to me.”

Of all the possible outcomes, this was the one I had expected the least–Andy revealing himself as just as much of an alpha as any of the other guys in the locker room.

Look, I’ve been playing sports all my life. I’ve been on all sorts of teams and I’ve been around a ton of guys. I’ve managed to never be the guy getting picked on–so I thought that made me one of them. One of the alphas. But the truth, as I learned in that moment, was that I wasn’t one of them. I had just been lucky. Lucky that there was always some guy on the team who was a bigger target. 

And now, in a room with just me and Andy, I was the biggest target.

I went and fetched my diapers from the box I kept under my bed. I didn’t keep many on hand–just two or three. But that was more than enough.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” he spit. “I’m the guy getting baby bottles thrown at me, and being asked if I shit myself, and yet you’re the one who has actual adult diapers under their bed?”

I didn’t dare answer that question.

“Put one on,” he says.

“What?”

“You heard me, Chuck. Put one of those fucking diapers on, right now.”

“But, Andy, come on. I just…”

“It’s the least you can do for me. After all the humiliation and bullying I’ve endured, the least you can do is show me what a real diaper-wearing baby looks like.”

In the moment, that made sense to me. In hindsight, I’m not really sure why it would’ve. But, there in that room with him, I believed that I owed him that much. To show him what it looked like when I wore a diaper.

I tossed all but one of the diapers aside, tucking that last one under my shirt so I could leave my dorm and go to the bathrooms down the hall. I figured I could change into it in a stall and then come back and lower my pants for him.

“No,” he says, holding a hand out to stop me. “Do it here. I want to see.”

I can’t explain to you what I was scared of. I didn’t think he was going to hurt me, nor did I even think he was going to run and tell everyone else what he had seen. But I was terrified of him nonetheless. And, too, I wanted to do right by him. I felt I owed him this–no matter the discomfort to me.

So. I do it. I pull down my pants and boxers, and I awkwardly try to put a big diaper on myself while standing up. I’ve seen–both of us have seen–plenty of naked men in our lives. Such is life on a team. But I’ve never felt so ashamed of myself, fumbling with the thick padding as my dick just dangled helplessly between my legs.

He didn’t laugh. He didn’t smile. He just sat there and stared at me. It was like he was studying me, you know? Analyzing me. I almost wished that he would start laughing or calling me names. Anything would’ve been better than the cold mysterious quiet.

Somehow, I got the diaper on. It wasn’t straight, it wasn’t tight enough, and it probably looked like a literal toddler put it on himself, but it was on.

“There,” I say to him. “You happy now?”

“Not really.”

“What else do you want me to do then?”

“Get on your hands and knees,” he says. “Crawl like a baby.”

I lowered myself to my hands and knees. There wasn’t much vacant space in the dorm room to crawl around, but I took a few awkward and shaky strides forward. 

Still, he didn’t look amused. He didn’t look like he was enjoying this. He looked angry. It almost looked as if my eagerness to do as he asked made him lose even more respect for me.

“Do you like that?” he asks.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. I still wasn’t going to point out that this wasn’t the sort of thing that I did when I actually was enjoying a diaper–let alone the added scrutiny of him being in the room with me.

“I just wanted to see what a real baby looks like,” he says. “So that when the other guys start mocking me and putting goddamn baby diapers in my locker, I’ll remember that this is what an actual man in a diaper looks like.”

“What can I do?” I ask. “Do you want me to talk to the guys? Talk to the coach?”

He shook his head. “What for? Unless you crawl around the locker room in a diaper so that they can all see you as I see you right now, I don’t think you’re ever going to get me off the hook.”

“Well, I could–”

“Don’t bullshit me me,” he spits. “Don’t pretend you’re actually going to do that. Because you’re not, right? You’re not going to go and show the whole team that you’re a little diaper-wearing infant.”

“Okay,” I say. “So what do you want?”

He responded by unzipping his pants, opening them up. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to–it was clear what he wanted and what I was expected to do.

I’ve never sucked a man’s cock before. I’ve never touched another man’s cock. I’ve never even considered it. I’m not, like, homophobic. I just… Well, I just never thought that I wanted any of that. 

In that moment though, watching him reach into his boxers and pull out a cock that was easily bigger than mine–I didn’t bat an eye. I still thought that I deserved whatever comeuppance he believed I was owed. And if he wanted me to suck on his cock, while I was on my hands and knees–diapered–I was willing to do it.

I’m not gay. I’m not bi. I’ve never craved a dick since that moment. It wasn’t some sort of transcendent experience that made me rethink everything I knew about myself.

At that moment, though, I just knew what I had to do. And I was willing to take one for the team–even if the team was pretty much just me in a diaper. I thought about telling him that I didn’t know what I was doing, and that I had never done anything like this before. But he knew that already. The point wasn’t that I was to sexually please him–well, at least not primarily. The point was that I was to be humiliated. The point was that he was proving to me that even though he was getting teased in the locker room, I was the pathetic loser actually wearing a diaper and doing whatever it took to be respected.

I wrapped my mouth around his cock and tried my best. The first few minutes were pretty awkward. He took my head in his hands and guided me up and down his shaft, occasionally slapping the side of my face when my teeth were getting too close to his skin. But eventually we seemed to be in sync. He didn’t even have to guide my head anymore–I had found the right series of movements and the rhythm to pleasure him on my own.

And I was pleasing him. I knew this because of the way he moaned. The way he shoved his cock as deep as he could into my mouth–often until I had to pause and try to catch my breath. I knew it from the things he said.

“Are you sure you’re not some sissy little princess, diaper-boy? I’ve never had a girl suck cock as good as you’re doing it right now.”

I won’t say I hated it. I won’t tell you that I liked it either. But. I won’t say that I hated it.

He finished on my face. When it became clear that he did intend to keep me on his cock until he climaxed, I grew increasingly nervous about how that would go down. I was terrified of him pumping his load right down my throat. I just…I couldn’t even imagine doing that. But at the last minute, he shoved me off of him so that he could erupt directly onto my face.

And that was how he left me–sitting on my dorm room floor in a diaper, with my face covered in his cum.

I’ll tell you this now, since I told you everything else–and because I know that what we say in these stories doesn’t leave the group: I pissed myself in that diaper after he left. And after that, with my face still a mess, I jerked off in my diaper.

If he had stayed, I’d have done it in front of him, too.

Andy stayed on the team for the rest of the season. The bullying slowly diminished until it finally stopped. I heard some guys say that they had just gotten tired of the joke, but I don’t think that’s what killed it. I think Andy Dimpton was a different guy after that night in my dorm room. He started walking with his head held up a little higher. When people made jokes about them, he looked them right in the eyes–seeming to challenge them to say something else. 

In the locker room after our last game of the season, I watched him and Kyle Wallace give each other a hi-five. Andy had done it–he had managed to turn around his reputation and become one of the alphas. 

And I was still in the absolute middle of the hierarchy–mostly ignored.

Andy never said a word to me again. He didn’t so much as look at me. It was like that night never happened. Or, that night–and me–was so insignificant that he never bothered thinking about it afterwards.

He transferred to a different school last year. I couldn’t tell you why. As far as I know, he’s never told a single person about that night. Certainly nobody else from the team. 

Meanwhile, the team has forgotten him and moved on. There’s new freshmen on the team to tease and pick on now. I like to help out with the hazing when I can. It’s important to let the new guys know where I believe I am on the food chain. And, too, I like to remind the other guys on the team that I’m not on the bottom of the barrel. I’m not a baby.

So, no, I probably haven’t learned a damn thing. Except that I can’t ever let my interest in diapers come anywhere close to my life on the team.