@myheartinherhands

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!"

934 notes View Post

dangerousangleofadream

2 years ago