Time For A Wet Sloppy Sucking

"What? Will I have sex with him? Well -- I really think he does expect that since we'll be sharing one hotel room the whole time -- and it's probably something he really needs now, but I promise I'll ask him to use protection. So like I said -- there's no reason for you to be so jealous about it."

Even though your wife seems to think that all she's doing is being a good friend to him, you still can't help feeling jealous and hurt, but there really isn't anything you can do without seeming to be a real jerk about it. It's just that you had always thought that you would be the one who would take her to Hawaii some day, and that it would be a really romantic place for the two of you to visit together. And now you have the pain of thinking about it being a romantic vacation for her -- but without you.

Karma

“Brooke, honey? What did I say about swimming into the deep end without your floaties?”

You wince at her words, the infantile tone of her voice.

“I can swim, you know!” you retort, splashing the water in frustration.

“Drop the attitude, honey. You’ve been swimming for a while. Time to check your diaper.”

“Fineee,” you whine, “Only cause I’m thirsty anyway!”

Maggie just laughs at your silly little display. She knows you’ll huff and you’ll puff, but you’ll always obey.

Like the obedient little diaper girl you are.

You waddle over to Maggie, shaking slightly from the cold. You no longer care about the swim diaper bulging out of your pink swimsuit.

Maggie wraps a towel around you, rubbing your arms to warm you up.

“Did you have fun swimming, dear?” Maggie asks sweetly.

“Yeah!” you answer.

“Any poopies?”

“Maggie!” you shout as she adjusts your swimsuit and pulls back your swim diaper, “I didn’t!”

As if you knew.

You’ve long since stopped paying attention to the state of your diaper.

“All clean!” Maggie says in a proud disbelief, “Good job, Brooke!”

Maggie hands you a Sunny D and sits next to you. You greedily gulp it down.

“I’m so proud of you, Brookie,” Maggie says with that same maternal twinge you hate, “Did you know that? I’ve been your best friend since kindergarten and have never been prouder of you.”

You look at her, confused. “Proud? Wh-why?”

“Because, silly goose, you adjusted to your new life so well! I thought you’d struggle and fight! Yet, look at you! You’ve turned into such a well-behaved diaper girl for your Daddy!”

Your new life.

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment. You think about your descent into diapers. Your loss of autonomy. The conversation when your husband became Daddy.

Despite wanting to run and hide, you look into Maggie’s eyes, mustering as much pride and dignity as you can. “Th-thank you, Maggie.”

“You’re very welcome, cutie pie. And now that you’re right where you belong, I have something to tell you.”

Something about her tone made you weary. “Tell me what?”

“It was me, Brooke.”

Your heart skips a beat. Maybe two.

“What was?”

“Everything. All of this. This was all my idea. I was the one who convinced your Daddy you’d be happier being regressed. I found the medicine that put you permanently back in pampers.”

It was her?

“Wh-why would y-you d-d-do that?” you stutter, barely more than a whisper.

“Don’t act so surprised, sweetie. You were always so immature it’s not a big loss. And someone as immature as you deserves this. But they definitely don’t deserve someone like your husband.”

“I’m not immature!” you squeal, stomping your feet, “Not! Not! Not!”

Maggie laughs. “Sure, Brooke. Besides he was supposed to get with me, not you. We met him at the same party and I said I was gonna get a drink and go talk to him. And what did you do?”

You look at her, eyes wide in realization. This is some sick revenge. “I-I…but he was perfectly happy with me!”

“Then why did he send you back to diapers? I barely had to convince him! You’d think he’d want his wife diaper free if he wanted to be with her! But he sent you right to the nursery without a second thought.”

“No! He loves me! Not you!”

“Honey, of course he loves you! Why do you think he changes your diapers and makes sure you’re cared for? He just…doesn’t see you as a woman anymore. You’re…well, this.”

A diaper-dependent baby reliant on her Daddy.

“It’s not fair! I don’t want to be a baby! I want my Dadd—I mean Husband!”

“It’s too late for that, little one. You’re in diapers now. Permanently. You’re Daddy’s special girl. But that part of your life is over. You’re too regressed to be in an intimate relationship, sexual relationship. You have your stuffies now.”

It’s too much for your little head. You grab the towel and hide your head. Looking—and acting—every bit like the regressed baby you’ve become.

“Awww, is my little Brooke throwing a tantrum?” Daddy laughs, rubbing your back.

“Hey, hun,” Maggie says, “I was just telling Baby Brooke she’s gonna have a new Mommy.”

You’re on the verge of yelling until you hear the unmistakable sounds of kissing.

Daddy was kissing Maggie.

The implications shatter you. Your husband clearly doesn’t see you as a woman. As a sexual partner. Not anymore. This isn’t cheating to him because you’re not someone capable of being cheated on.

To him you are a baby. There’s no coming back from this. You’ve regressed past the point of no return.

And then there’s Maggie. Your “best friend.” Your Maid of Honor. Who doomed you to a second babyhood all because your husband chose you over her all those years ago.

The worst part is you’ll never escape. You’ll be in your crib helplessly filling your diapers while Maggie sleeps with your husband.

Treated like a helpless, needy baby. Listening to them coo you while you’re on the changing table, messy diaper permeating the room.

She won. You’re status as a pamper packer is inescapable.

“Isn’t that wonderful, Brooke?” Daddy asks, “You have a Mommy! Now we’re one happy family!”

“No!” you squeal wildly, “She did this! She wanted me to be a baby so she could get with you Daddy! She’s lying to you!”

Daddy sighs. “No, honey, she’s not. She told me everything. And she was right. I deserve a real woman. And you deserve loving caregivers and clean diapers. This way everyone wins!”

Except you.

Daddy moves the towel from your head. You see Daddy and Maggie looking down at you like a tantruming toddler.

A silly, helpless diaper girl.

“Come on, Brooke,” Daddy says, “You’re going to love your new life!”

“I promise, honey,” Mommy adds, “We’re one big, happy family now!”

All Part of the Plan, Ch. 2

This caption is part of a four-part series I'm writing with the wonderful @destinedfordiapers! You can find part one here.

"Uh-oh!" I said in a playful, sing-song voice. "Do I smell something stinky?"

My boyfriend straightened up and turned around slowly. His face was scarlet with embarrassment and frozen in an expression of horrified disbelief. He'd just finished doing his first poopy in his pants as an adult.

I'd been waiting for this to happen for days, and it had been hard not to start cheering when I'd seen that look appear on his face, the look that said I'm not going to make it this time. We'd been sitting in the living room watching TV when he'd suddenly jumped to his feet and rushed out of the room, and I'd followed behind him, urging him on like a proud parent. "You can do it, baby! Show me how a big boy uses the potty!"

He hadn't even made it halfway to the downstairs bathroom.

His bladder control had become practically non-existent thanks to the drugs I'd been slipping into his food and drink, but his bowel control had proved to be a little more stubborn. It had definitely been getting weaker over the past couple of weeks, but by watching his diet and being careful not to stray too far from a toilet, he'd managed to avoid having any messy accidents. Now, however, he'd finally had a number two potty emergency in his pants.

It was all I could do not to rush forwards and pull him into a big hug and cover his blushing face with kisses. He looked adorable standing there in the hallway, like a guilty toddler who'd run off to try and hide his dirty diaper from his Mommy! His Mommy. That's who I was, even if he didn't know it yet. I was his Mommy, sometimes strict, sometimes loving, and always in charge.

"Pants down, baby," I told him. "Time for a diapie check!"

He didn't move. He was probably still paralyzed with shame, the poor little guy, and in any case it was too early to start introducing punishments for disobedience. That could come later.

I slipped my fingers into the waistband of his jeans and pulled them down, with some difficulty, over his thick disposable. Again, it was a struggle to stop myself squealing with delight. His diaper was drooping between his legs lower than I'd ever seen it droop before, not just soaked with tinkle, but thoroughly weighed down by the big whoopsie he'd done in it.

It was so cute! It was so sexy! Seeing a grown man reduced to this gave me a thrill like nothing else. I could feel my panties getting damp, a very different kind of dampness from the sort that my boyfriend had now gotten used to waddling around in.

I patted the sagging seat of his diaper and gave him a pitying, condescending smile that I had to fight to keep from becoming a smirk of satisfaction. "Oopsie," I said. "I guess you couldn't make it after all."

My boyfriend found his voice at last. "Please, just let me go and take care of this," he said. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. "I can handle it myself."

I shook my head. "That's not how it works, baby. I've told you before, I don't want you isolating yourself over this. I'm going to be involved with your diapers. Changing them is my job."

"But this time is different! Please babe, this is just a one-off! I must be sick or something!"

"Sweetheart, we both know you've been struggling with your bowel control lately," I said. "I understand how embarrassing it must for you to admit that you're a pants-pooper now too, but even if you turn into a big toddler who’d fit right in at nursery school, I promise I’ll still be here for you.”

His face turned as red as a tomato. “I’m not going to turn into a big toddler who’d fit in at nursery school!” he shouted.

“I didn’t say you would, honey,” I crooned to him, stroking his hair soothingly. He was a little taller than me so I had to reach up, but I was sure he didn't feel bigger in that moment. “I was just saying that if that happens, I’ll still love you just as much as I do now. I'm trying to be supportive, baby. Do you understand that?"

He nodded mutely.

“Then I don’t think raising your voice just now was a very nice thing to do, was it?" I asked.

“No..." he mumbled. "I’m sorry.”

"Good boy."

I knew he was biting back his retort. I knew he must want to tell me that I was being infantilizing, that I was only making him feel more embarrassed, that it would be better if I just ignored his diapers and let him deal with his problem with as much privacy as possible, but despite all my assurances, he was still worried I'd ditch him, and he didn't want to get into a fight and risk pushing me away.

After all, wasn't I being the perfect girlfriend? How many other women would be so understanding if their boyfriend suddenly started peeing and pooping himself like a baby? How many other women would still be willing to get intimate with him, even if that intimacy increasingly didn't go past a handjob on the changing table?

I did feel a little bit guilty at times for all the humiliation I was causing him, but seeing him on his back with his legs in the air and a wet diaper spread out beneath him always made it all worth it, and changing messy diapers was going to feel even more empowering. I couldn't wait!

"Let's get these off then, sweetums," I said, helping him take his jeans fully off his legs, leaving him in nothing but his loaded diaper below the waist. Then I took his hand and started leading him upstairs to the changing table in our bedroom, relishing every adorable crinkle made by his babyish underwear on the way. “Don't worry, baby," I said cooingly, "I'll have you out of that yucky diapie and into a nice clean one in no time!"

I think some of you guys are  missing the point!

Prostate induced orgasms, penis free orgasms, analgasms, boi-pussygasms, sissygasms, or squirtygasms…

Whether or not he likes them is really not the point here.  That he achieves them is, because it renders the penis completely and utterly irrelevant.  Once he can orgasm without his penis, then there really isn’t any reason that chastity shouldn’t be permanent. He can no longer complain about how long it’s been since he has cum, can’t complain about “blue balls” or swollen balls. 

Further, once you have emasculated him to the point at which he orgasms by being penetrated, then it is also harder for him to cling onto some of those masculine stereotypes he loves so much.  

Whether or not he prefers this type of orgasm over the classic male form, or in fact whether he likes it at all, has no relevance.  This is now what is available to him, he can choose to embrace it… or not.  That part is up to him.  If you are a bit of a sadist like me, its even more enjoyable when he doesn’t. 

The hottest new trend

Girl, look at this new see through apron I got! Now lil baby can see all he wants while I’m changing him, but I don’t have to worry about him getting too excited!