Playing Dress Up With My Tykables

4 Things Miss Crinkle Finds Fascinating About The ABDL Guys She Babysits

1. How some, when they’re not babies, are the most macho Alpha guys, like bodybuilders or hockey players or something, someone who never loses, that goes around smirking at everyone at the gym, flexing their muscles at any opportunity. Yeah, those losers go home and tape up their diaper with cartoon puppies over those nice lower abs. Then they pop in their paci and spend their evening watching Paw Patrol and packing their pampers. And they’re as proud of their droopy diaper dumps as they are of their ripped abs and commanding pecs. If I put them in a playpen with another big baby they would probably show off the size of their pamper load to put the other diaper boy in his place. Trust me, a stinky load is usually the only big thing these guys are packing in their pampers. As babies they’re total simps and the most whiny during discipline. Pathetic and Hilarious.

2. How some are obviously little beta boys. The ones that care way too much, who who got picked on in school. They now act and dress like indie geeks. They may be skinny but they have bodies like weak little boys with soft bellies and little boy bums. They are overly polite and pathetically anxious about offending me. I can tell right away when they’re virgins. A lot of these boys are also bedwetters. Usually they love to talk about their favorite games, movies, anime, and manga or just babble for attention. That’s why I keep a paci-gag handy. Beta diaper boys are best seen and not heard. They are often premature ejaculators, which always makes me smile and sure to adjust their diapers frequently. It always gives me a chuckle when they suddenly freeze in place and shiver with a pathetic little whimper and eyes-shut-tight squirty face.

3. I can usually sniff out a bedwetting beta boy right away, even if he doesn’t smell like baby powder and pee. Insecurity just rolls off them. Bedwetting guys have always interested me, and I have a soft spot for them. I’ve always found it so cute and helpless. Bedwetting is so revealing, so babyish and says so much about a boy without him even being aware of it. I love that they are truly diaper dependent, and will have to wake up to a wet pamper everyday, no matter how old they are or how responsible they try to act. In their deepest subconscious, where true honesty resides, they know they are helpless babies. It’s so interesting to me how many of them eventually find their wet diapers exciting. I know a lot use their wet morning diaper as a fun humpy toy like the big toddlers they are. I always wonder what moms of adult bedwetter boys who still live at home must think, hearing loud crinkling and panting every morning, lol. Guess it’s just part of #boymom life.

4. Which kind of guy do I like better? A lot depends on my mood and the type of day I'm having, but honestly, big guys with tough guy swagger are my personal favorites. It's like being in the presence of a pitbull/poodle mix. They are usually so sensitive deep down, and I like how their tough guy act is just a thin layer on top and then underneath they are such a needy bottom in denial. These guys are definitely the ones I tend to find hot. It's probably why I’m drawn to college frat guys. Just a hint that they're diaper loving bottoms is everything to me. Gives them this wounded-hero vibe, and it's definitely a major turn on.

I’ve been babysitting since I was 13 and have always loved it. I love babysitting beta diaper boys, and I find it very rewarding, but, to be honest, I see them more like asexual baby brothers who are still in diapers. They are cute, small,  and not very impressive. I’m never going to be attracted to a grown man who has a 12 year old boy body, is a total virgin, is cringey-obsessed with diapers, and is a little humpy boy who doesn’t even want to jerk off with his hand like most guys do. As far as I’m concerned, beta babies need to hump that pamper-pussy alone in their cribs because their babysitters and moms definitely deserve a real man!👨 Sorry, losers.

“But that’s not fair!”

Isn’t that at the root of so much of our sexuality? That statement tends to glide under the radar of most of our fetish work, but lives and breathes in every movement of the subtext.

It thrives in every fantasy of a football player who starts having daytime accidents, and slips back into pull-ups.

We hear echoes of it with every forceful diaper check or diaper change with little to no notice, done by a dominant daddy in the backseat of a car.

We see it reflected in every leaky diaper that implies a lifetime of consecutive diapers that follow. “You had an accident, so you deserve diapers.”

But that’s not fair.

Exactly. It’s not fair.

The way we intertwine frustration and sexuality has always fascinated me. The power that’s at play in our simultaneous resistance and submission to an irritatingly embarrassing situation like that is intoxicating.

It’s not fair. It’s hot. We don’t want it to be fair, we crave the humiliation of a stacked deck. We want the grown ups to cheat and make things karmic and harsh. We desperately desire sudden and ridiculous consequences to our slight missteps.

We strain against the embarrassment and unfairness of it, while leaning in, desperate to make it worse and more unfair. We beg for spankings and leaky diapers and childish treatment for every misstep.

But that’s not fair!

We’ve come so far! We’re big kids now, we tried so hard to grow up and get out of baby world. We can’t go back! We’d fall all the way back!

Exactly.

Because it isn’t fair. But we like it that way.

Feeling little!

Are you ready for the bouncer? Are you ready for Daddy’s special bouncer, made for boys just like you?

Your hands and legs will be strapped and hang in the air, your whole body will float in the middle of the nursery in front of a giant TV screen. You’ll be lifted into your “seat”. It will press every inch of your diaper, from every direction, especially onto your special parts. Daddy knows how to make his boy excited about being an adult baby. For some boys, it comes naturally, for some it doesn”t, but every boy must undergo this treatment. It’s mandatory in Daddy’s house. Daddy knows how to make a boy excited, what makes him tick, and what parts of his body should be cared for if he wants the boy to be excited about baby shows, pacifiers, bottles, and diapers. Daddy knows what parts need to be pressed.

Yes, he will make you excited about Barney and Bluey. Yes, he will make you excited about sucking your pacifier. Yes, he will make you excited about cuddling him on his bare hairy chest. Yes, he will make you crave the bouncer. The bouncer will get you hooked on ABDL.

Before your first special afternoon, Daddy will slip a big, lubed, custom-shaped butt plug, that with every bounce will press your prostate so hard you’d think you are about to release a sticky with every passing minute. Then he will add a booster in front of the diaper, so your pointed-down little stiffy will continue to rub against the bouncer sear, and with every wetting the sensation be so slippery and addictive. You’ll be gooning and edging yourself for hours watching the bright colors in the nursery. You’ll be making moans and baby sounds, bouncing in the air, enjoying every second of it. You’ll try to move around as much as you can, excited by the lights and your body sensations. It will be so wonderful and intense, so sexy, you’d wish you were made an adult baby boy sooner in life.

You don’t only want Daddy from now on, you’ll need him. Only he can put you in place. In the bouncer seat. -------------------------------- Every boy has to go on the bouncer. @bilbng86 will go first today.

@abstron

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.

🤍🤍

Reconditioning (Part 1)

Summary: Two boys enter a haunted asylum after losing a bet. Before they can hope to escape, they must accept dramatic changes. This story involves pup play and diaper training. Which fate would you prefer?

The slightest crunch of debris under Connor’s footsteps broke the hush of the abandoned insane asylum. The boy froze and traded glances with his friend, Ash. Connor put on a confident grin and stepped fully into the foyer.

“Do you think the rumors are true?” Ash whispered, as if he feared waking the long-dead wardens.

“Don’t be such a baby.”

“I’m not,” Ash shouted, flinched, and slipped inside the room. “…a baby.”

“Well we lost the bet, so you better man up,” Connor growled.

Both Ash and Connor sighed, thinking of the humiliation they felt after losing the bet. Their friends had challenged themselves to see who could shoot their loads the farthest. The boys that came in last and second-to-last place would have to spend an hour in the scariest place they knew. The insane asylum.

“Do the spirits really come alive at night?” Ash asked, peeking down a dark hallway.

“We’ve heard the noises ourselves. The moaning and screaming,” Connor said, leading the way. Everyone in town talked about how the perverted wardens of the asylum tortured their patients with bondage, edging, milking, a hypnosis. Even in death, the spirits continued their erotic practice.

“The spirits only wake at night. That’s why the guys let us come an hour before sunset,” Connor said. Despite the threat of the asylum, both boys felt their cocks grow in their shorts.

Connor and Ash wandered the hallways for some time. Most doors were bolted shut, or lead to rubble filled rooms. They were looking for some kinky gear to show their friends, to show how brave they were to explore the ruins.

As he passed a closed door, Connor felt a warm sensation flood his body. He felt soothed and calm, like a hand was stroking down his ear and cheek. The comforting touch continued down his neck to his chest. He thought he heard someone whisper: “Good boy.”

“Connor, come here.”

“Don’t tell me what to–” Connor snapped as he turned to see Ash peering through the now-cracked door.

“Look,” he grunted and inched open the heavy metal door.

The dusty room had an examining table and a small cage. But the cluttered shelves drew the boys’ attention.

“It looks like stuff they use to ‘secure’ the crazies,” Ash said as he slipped into the room. “Aren’t you coming?”

“And get us both locked inside? The spirits may be asleep, but I’m not stupid,” Connor said.

“Fine, guard the door like a good boy,” Ash teased. “Oh look, there’s even a collar and leash in here.”

“I hate you so much right now,” Connor groaned. Ash was one of only a few that knew Connor spent a week as a dog–a literal dog–as punishment for skipping a day of his apprenticeship with a mage.

“Come one,” Ash laughed. “Put this on and I’ll let you pick anything for me to wear.”

“Fine,” Connor said, snatching the collar as he and Ash traded places. After a few minutes of rummaging, Connor returned with a dusty jacket. And a grin.

“Is that a…”

“Straitjacket,” Connor beamed.

“Ew, look how dusty that is.”

“A deal’s a deal. Or is this too much for little-”

“Don’t call me a baby!” Ash shouted. Or at least he tried too. The next thing Ash knew, his face was covered in the dusty canvas. The fabric wrapped down around his body, and the boy struggled through coughs of dust. He felt his arms pulled apart, then across his chest. He slammed against the door to break free, but only managed to get his head to pop out.

When his vision cleared, Ash found himself fully bound in the straitjacket. He thrashed and squirmed, only to lose his breath again.

“What the fuck did you do! Connor?” Ash realized he was alone in the hallway. That’s when he heard banging on the heavy door.

“Dude, let me out!” Connor was looking through the door’s small barred window, tugging at the collar tight around his neck.

“How did…”

“It happened to me too!” Connor cried. “This damn collar just… strangled its way on me. It’s okay, though. The spirits might be able to play tricks on us, but they can’t keep us in here. Not until–did you piss yourself?”

Ash looked down at his pants, slightly bunched up under the crotch straps of the jacket. A spot of warm, dark denim spread from his groin.

“Shit! This hasn’t happened since… since…”

“Dude, stay calm.”

Ash gave Connor an unsure glance, then bolted down the hallway.

“Fuck!” Connor shouted, throwing all his weight at the locked door and its lever. With a sore shoulder, he turned to a window across the room. The sun had nearly set.

(Read Part 2.)

💖 20 Things This ABDL Babysitter Loves About Diaper Boys💖

1. The timid look on their faces when I tell them to lay down on the changing table and their facial expressions when I spread their legs, pull down their dirty diaper front, and giggle at their somehow always tiny pee-pee while gagging on their pamper stink and making disgusted faces.

2. The sound of crotch snaps snapping on a cute baby blue onesie, snugly holding up a helpless diaper boy’s saggy pamper.

3. The way diaper boys move their hips and try to hide their little moans and grunts when I pull their new pamper front tight and start fastening the tabs. And the whimper they make when I make sure their pee-pees are pointing snugly downward in their fresh diaper.

4. How they blush and look down or away when I ask them how their diaper is doing when we are out in public.

5. The way a diaper boy's eyes look when he looks up at me from the changing pad while I'm putting a paci in his mouth and patting his pamper.

6. When they stand perfectly still and try to act casual while I check their diapers and adjust the diaper in back, making sure to sniff.

7. Their reaction to the loud crinkle of their wet diaper or a butt pat when we are out in public.

8. That blank “pee-pee” face boys make while doing a pee in their diaper and their happy relieved expressions afterwards.

9. How they can be so embarrassed but also so ready to put their old stinky pamper in the diaper pail like a good boy and the look on their face when I make them sniff it and then wave and say “bye-bye” to their poopy diaper before dropping it in the pail.

10. The sweet smell of lavender body lotion, baby powder, and wet boy pamper.

11. How they give up all of their dignity and are totally humiliated and contrite but silently thankful for their babysitter and their clean soft pamper and safe crib at night.

12. That scared look in their eyes and their hands trying to cover up their pamps when I have a friend over and I’m babysitting a diaper boy loser.

13. The rush I get when a little one is almost asleep but wakes up because he realizes that his cold pamper is soaked and wants a diaper change right now. And the bigger rush I get from letting him wait in his soggy cold and eventually poopy pamper, crying like a real toddler, while I watch on the baby monitor and calmly sip tea.

14. I love how diaper boys on social media ask me to watch them while they poop in their pamper. Even though it’s in private in a locked room and just for me and the camera, I can sense their humiliation. It’s hot when they stop suddenly after making grunting sounds. How they shift awkwardly and make the most adorable scrunchy faces, knowing full well a woman on is watching them on a full length video camera zoomed in on their bulging pamper and blushy blank poo-poo face. And then when they look so proud after and waddle over to show me the sag and want to be praised, I love telling them that I’m glad I can’t smell their stanky loser butts and to get a life! Diaper boys are so needy!

15. I especially love when a cute diaper boy has had a laxative and then he is playing or watching television distractedly when, suddenly, he starts to fill his pamper without warning. I adore the loud sounds and his his face first expresses discomfort and then panic, as he starts to realize what is about to happen. So adorbs. But my fave thing is when they can feel themselves starting to poop their diaper, there is this cute blank face with fear building up, and an awareness that they are going to look so dumb helpless and are no match for the physical act and mess going on in their pamper.

16. I love it that these spoiled toddlers always want out of their wet and poopy diapers so they can go play or watch tv, only to complain and fuss when its diaper change time. I love teaching them that babies don’t decide when they get a new pamper.

17. I love the small grunts and eye bulging expressions when I strap them down on the changing table and rub their pamper like a metronome, edging them with an unstoppable feeling. No relief, no mercy, as they get progressively more desperate.

18. The cute confused look and then gasping burst of energy when I give them a time limit to make diaper humpies. For example, twenty seconds on, ten seconds off, just to drive them crazy with frustration, till they almost make a sticky diaper. Then I make them beg and only then do I allow one more twenty second session. Their eyes stare like the world is about to collapse in on them, their heads droop, they don't seem able to vocalize clearly, they whimper and quiver their lower body, trying to finish in their pamp, they stammer and force out words that don't mean anything just like the babies they are. And if they manage to get a release in time I make them yell “baby make goo-goo!” It’s hilarious!

19. To see a sweaty panting diaper boy’s face redden with humiliation as he senses he might not be able cum in time with his pee-pee contained inside double dry stiff diapers, no matter how fast and hard he humps, but he just keeps trying until the timer goes off, and then he whines like then immature crybaby that all diaper boys are.

20. Seeing them trying to squat without being noticed (failing, of course). I imagine their humiliation and desperation as they realize they will soon be stuck in a poopy diaper. I find it fascinating, and I just get a nice rush seeing it. This is one of my faves for sure, and I have spoken with other ladies who also mentioned how nice it is to see a diaper boy squatting like the helpless immature toddler he is and trying to stifle his grunts and farts while making an invariably silly, cranky, and guilty poo-poo face. Cute diaper guys squatting, making dumb scrunchy poo-poo faces, their hands on their hips, their pamper starting to droop, is the stuff dreams are made of for this diaper boy fangirl :) I always wonder what goes through their mind in that moment.