Kinkyberen - Kinkyberen

Na-na-na-na-na! You’re stuck in diapers! Hahaha! I love seeing you reduced to this. It’s amazing what the regression centers can do, isn’t it honey? I didn’t realise how powerful hypnosis could be. You’re basically just a big baby now!

Awww, you don’t think so? You think you’re still a man? You’re still a grown-up? That’s funny, because I didn’t realize grown men still sucked their thumbs. I didn’t realize they walked with a silly toddle wherever they went. I didn’t realize they spoke in an adowable baby voice all da time. And I definitely didn’t realize they squatted down and made stinkies in their diapers while their girlfriends talked to them!

Hahaha! You actually couldn’t tell, could you?! Oh my God, this is perfect. You were messing your diapee without even knowing it! Sorry honey, but your days as an adult are over. Sending you to the regression center was the best decision I ever made. Cry all you like stinky pants! These changes are permanent.

A whiff of powder. The quiet chorus of crinkling plastic. The shiver-inducing sensation of her fingertips grazing his most intimate regions. And then, amid this incongruous sensory medley came her voice: sweet, loving as ever, but with a new note of amused condescension.

"Honey, you know the rule. You made it yourself, remember?" Blair was smiling softly as she tugged at the cotton-and-plastic layers beneath her husband's naked groin. "Oh, don't think I blame you. You're absolutely right that sheets are pricey, and mattresses more so. So it only makes sense that we take care not to ruin them..."

Felix groaned softly, but there was no way he could deny the truth of her words. He had been a bit of an ass about her periods when she'd had her first few nocturnal leaks. He might have been half-joking when he'd first grumbled about how the bloody stains wouldn't ever come out, and how she really ought to wear something more protective than a flimsy little pad. But the joke had taken on a life of its own when he'd happened to notice that pack of "adult briefs" in the supermarket and impulsively thrown it into the cart with a chuckle. "Dare you to wear them," he'd chortled when she'd protested at how unfunny his joke was. "I mean, if you can't control your own bodily fluids it only makes sense, right?"

It was Blair's turn to giggle now as her hands slipped dexterously down over his vulnerable crotch, pausing to linger affectionately on his respectably-sized cock. "Sure, I admit it. I guess it was a hard ask at first when you said I ought to wear some better protection during my periods. But you know, you ended up being so right, honey! If we can't control our own bodily fluids and keep from damaging the sheets and mattress, we just need to use a bit of protection, don't we? And just like we're not going to ruin our mattress through my periods, we're also not about to ruin them through your, ahem, wet dreams..."

"But- but- they don't stain as much-" "Staining isn't the problem, honey," Blair reminded him, her smile widening as she felt his vulnerable cock stirring into life under her rhythmic ministrations. "It's the principle of the thing! Why should I have to waddle off to bed in a diaper for a week every month, while you get to lay there in your boxers and spurt jizz into our sheets with no protection whatsoever – and no consequences?" She smirked and tweaked his nose playfully. "And here I thought you believed in gender equality, honey!"

It was all very well to joke about it. She didn't need to tell Felix how she'd begun to feel the oddest attachment – attraction, even – to these bulky undergarments. She didn't need to confess to him that, horny as she often got during the latter days of her period, she now felt more excited than ever when she felt that thick bulk tucked between her thighs and cupping her pussy. And she definitely didn't need to tell him that she was already getting wet now: aroused by the irreplaceable sight of her tough husband hiding his face in shame at the powdery humiliation she was gently forcing upon him...

No, of course not. All she needed to do was laugh and tease him into blushing submission.

"What's good for the goose is good for the gander, they say!" she laughed, and was rewarded with a groan of mingled arousal and embarrassment as she forced his involuntarily stiffening member down into the powdery padding beneath him. "Don't worry, babe – you can dribble and cum all you want to now! You'll be wrapped up safe and snug, just like me...

"Now isn't that great?"

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Maturity Test Part 2

Chapter 1

Anna had been away for three years, throwing herself into work and life, the memories of her last visit to the regression school nursery and her friends there fading into the background. But now, it was time for her reclassification, and she found herself once again driving the familiar road back to the place where her friends had been left behind. She wondered how much had changed. How much had Rebecca and Olaf changed? How much had she changed?

Arriving at Olaf's place first, Anna hesitated before knocking on the door. She had kept in touch with Olaf and his girlfriend, Lilly, over the years, but hearing stories and actually seeing the changes were two very different things. Taking a deep breath, she knocked, the sound echoing loudly in her ears.

A moment later, the door opened, and there stood Lilly, a bright smile on her face. "Anna! It's so good to see you!" she greeted warmly, pulling Anna into a quick hug before stepping aside to let her in. "Olaf’s been looking forward to your visit."

Anna stepped inside, her eyes immediately drawn to the subtle yet significant changes in the apartment. The living room had transformed into what could only be described as a preschooler’s haven. Bright colors adorned the walls, and scattered toys filled the floor. A large playmat with a road map pattern lay in the center of the room, and in one corner stood a small table with coloring books and crayons.

But what really caught Anna's attention was the large potty chart on the wall, covered in stickers—mostly clouds with only a few suns scattered here and there. It was clear that Olaf’s potty training had regressed significantly. The sparse suns stood out like sad little beacons amidst a sea of rain clouds.

Lilly noticed where Anna’s gaze had fallen and chuckled softly. “He’s had a bit of a rough time with his potty training lately,” she explained, her tone both affectionate and slightly teasing. “But he’s doing his best, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Anna turned to see Olaf emerging from the hallway. The sight of him was both shocking and heartbreaking. He was wearing a pair of blue pull-ups, the childish design visible beneath his t-shirt. His once-confident demeanor was now replaced with a more subdued, almost shy, expression as he shuffled over to greet Anna.

“Hi, Anna,” Olaf said softly, a pacifier hanging from a clip on his shirt. He didn’t seem to notice it as he absentmindedly popped it into his mouth after saying hello, sucking on it softly as he stood there, fidgeting slightly.

“Hi, Olaf,” Anna replied, trying to keep her voice light and not show how surprised she was at how much he had changed. She could see the subtle influence Lilly had over him—his behavior, his clothes, even his posture all screamed little boy. “It’s good to see you again.”

Olaf nodded, his cheeks flushing a little as he tugged on his t-shirt, which didn’t cover his pull-ups. “Yeah, it’s good to see you too. We’ve been having lots of fun, haven’t we, Mommy?” he added, looking up at Lilly with a small smile.

Lilly beamed, reaching down to ruffle his hair affectionately. “We sure have, sweetie” “I’ll go get us something to drink,” Lilly announced suddenly, giving Olaf a quick peck on the cheek before disappearing into the kitchen.

The moment she was out of earshot, Olaf’s demeanor changed. His shoulders slumped, and he let out a heavy sigh, pulling the pacifier from his mouth and dropping it onto the table with a soft clatter. He looked up at Anna with a mixture of shame and desperation in his eyes.

“Anna,” he began quietly, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Lilly wasn’t coming back yet. “I need to talk to you. I—Lilly—she signed me up for Unpotty Training III,” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur.

Anna blinked in surprise. “Unpotty Training III? What’s that?” she asked, leaning in closer.

Olaf sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. “It’s not like the first two levels. Unpotty Training I and II were about getting you to have accidents, you know, just losing control sometimes. But this… this is different. It’s not about accidents anymore. It’s about not using the potty at all. They teach you how to… just let go whenever, wherever. No more control.”

Anna’s eyes widened as she processed his words. “And you’re the only one in the class who’s not… fully regressed?”

Olaf nodded, looking down at his pull-ups. “Yeah. It’s so embarrassing, Anna. All the other guys are in diapers, and here I am, still in pull-ups but being told I need to stop using the potty entirely. Lilly says it’s for my own good, that it’s part of accepting who I’m supposed to be, but… I don’t know. I want to grow back up, at least a little.”

“And that’s not all,” Olaf interrupted, his voice tense with frustration. “She signed me up for pacifier dependence too. I can’t go anywhere without it now. If I don’t have it... I just get so anxious, Anna. I don’t know what to do.”

Anna reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Olaf, why didn’t you tell her? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I tried,” he muttered, his eyes darting toward the kitchen again. “But she doesn’t listen. She thinks this is what’s best for me, but... I don’t want this. I want to grow back up, Anna. I don’t want to be stuck like this forever.”

Before he could finish, Lilly’s cheerful voice cut through the air as she returned, carrying a tray with two steaming cups of coffee and a sippy cup filled with juice. Olaf quickly popped the pacifier back into his mouth, his frustration hidden behind the plastic shield.

“Here we go!” Lilly said brightly, setting the tray down on the coffee table. “Two coffees for the grown-ups and a nice sippy cup of juice for my little man.”

Olaf forced a smile, taking the sippy cup in his hands. “Thanks, Mommy,” he mumbled, his previous frustration buried under a veneer of obedience.

Lilly beamed, clearly pleased with his response. “Oh, and Olaf, I don’t think we need to worry about you drinking from a cup anymore. Those days are long gone, aren’t they?”

Anna watched as Olaf’s grip tightened on the sippy cup, his knuckles turning white. He didn’t respond, just brought the cup to his lips and began to drink, his eyes focused intently on the table.

As they sipped their drinks, a faint hissing sound reached Anna’s ears. At first, she thought it might be coming from outside, but then she realized it was much closer—too close.

Olaf was wetting himself.

She glanced at his pull-ups, noticing the way the material was gradually swelling, the childish design fading as it absorbed the wetness. Olaf’s face remained calm, his eyes focused on the sippy cup in his hands as he continued to drink, completely unaware of what was happening. He looked so small, so helpless—more like a toddler than a preschooler.

Lilly, who was casually sipping her coffee, noticed Anna’s concerned expression and followed her gaze to Olaf’s pull-ups. A knowing smile spread across her face.

Lilly glanced at the clock on the wall, her eyes widening slightly as she realized the time. "Oh, look at the time," she said, her voice tinged with both excitement and a hint of urgency. "We need to get ready for the reclassification, Olaf."

Olaf looked up from his coloring, his brow furrowing in mild confusion. "Already?" he asked, sounding a bit unsure. The thought of the reclassification had clearly been on his mind, but he hadn’t expected it to come so soon.

Lilly nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. "Yes, sweetie. We don't want to be late. Why don't you get up and stretch your legs before we head out?"

Obediently, Olaf pushed himself up from the floor, his movements a bit clumsy as he shifted his weight. Then, with a soft sigh, she stepped closer to him, her hand reaching out to gently pat the front of his pull-up.

"Uh-oh, Olaf," Lilly said, her voice laced with gentle teasing as she placed her other hand on his padded bottom. "Looks like someone’s a bit soggy. Did you forget to tell Mommy you had an accident?"

Olaf's cheeks flushed a deep red as he looked down at himself, his eyes widening in embarrassment. "N-No..." he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling the dampness of his pull-up now that it had been pointed out.

Anna couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him as she watched the scene unfold. She could see how much it bothered him to be caught off guard like this. Lilly gently guided Olaf over to the corner of the room where his potty chart hung on the wall. “Come on, sweetie,” Lilly said softly, her tone warm but firm. “Let’s put another cloud on your chart, okay?”

Olaf’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as he nodded, clearly embarrassed by the ritual. He hesitated for a moment, but under Lilly’s gentle guidance, he picked up the blue marker and drew another cloud in the appropriate square. The marker squeaked slightly against the chart, a sound that seemed to echo in the room, making Olaf cringe a little.

“There we go,” Lilly said with a soft chuckle, ruffling Olaf’s hair affectionately. “Such a good boy.”

As Olaf stood there, looking up at the chart with a mixture of embarrassment and resignation, Lilly couldn’t resist adding a bit of teasing to the situation. “You know, Olaf,” she began, her voice playful, “if you keep this up, maybe this will be your last pull-up. If you get reclassified as a toddler today, we will switch to diapers full-time. Wouldn’t that be something?”

Olaf’s eyes widened in surprise and mild horror at the idea, but before he could protest, Anna, who had been quietly watching the interaction, decided to join in.

“Or,” Anna chimed in, trying to help Olaf smile, “maybe this will be your last pull-up because you’ll be allowed to grow up, Olaf. Maybe they’ll finally let you wear big boy underwear again.”

Olaf face showed a mix of confusion and hope, the idea of being allowed to grow up again clearly appealing to some part of him that still clung to his former sense of independence.

But before he could latch onto that hope, Lilly gently shot it down with a playful smirk. “Oh, Anna, you know Olaf’s too incontinent to ever go back to normal underwear. Even if they let him grow up, it’ll probably still be in pull-ups,” she said with a lighthearted laugh. “I mean, we wouldn’t want him having too many big boy accidents, would we?” Olaf shifted again, this time more awkwardly, caught between the two women’s contrasting views of his future.

Anna couldn’t help but smile at Lilly’s fierce defense of Olaf’s regression, though she knew better than to push the subject further. It was clear that Lilly had a vision for Olaf’s life that involved a lot more clouds on that chart, and perhaps even the inevitable transition to diapers full-time.

"Well," Anna said with a light shrug, "we’ll just have to see what the reclassification decides, won’t we?" She winked at Olaf, who gave her a small, uncertain smile in return.

Lilly gave Olaf’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Alright, let’s get you into a fresh pull-up before we head out, okay?” she said, her voice softening again. “We can’t have you going to your reclassification all soggy.”

Olaf nodded quietly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as Lilly guided him over to the changing area. She moved with practiced ease, quickly removing the damp pull-up and replacing it with a fresh one, giving Olaf a suppository for his nerves. The crinkling sound filled the room as she snugly fastened the sides, her hands gentle but efficient.

“There we go,” Lilly murmured, smoothing out the front of his pull-up before giving him another reassuring smile. “All set. Now, you’ll be nice and comfy for the big day.”

Once Olaf was dressed, the three of them made their way to the door.

This is my first time so please be kind with me :3

going full toddler part 5

Marie froze.

The soft ding-dong of the doorbell still echoed in her ears, but it was nothing compared to the thud-thud-thud of her heartbeat pounding in her chest.

She sat there, trapped in her playpen, still dressed in just her oversized T-shirt and a clearly visible diaper, her bib still snug around her neck. The highchair beside her was undeniable proof of what she had just been doing. There was no hiding, no chance to run. Whoever was at the door was going to see her just like this.

Her stomach flipped.

Steve, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed. He didn’t even hesitate as he walked to the front door, his stride casual, his smirk still lingering as if he wasn’t about to let a stranger see his little girl in the most embarrassing state possible.

Marie curled into herself, gripping her bunny tight, barely daring to breathe as she watched the door swing open.

And then—

The woman stepped inside.

Marie’s breath hitched.

She was stunning.

Tall, confident, and impossibly graceful, she carried herself with an air of effortless authority. Her honey-blonde hair was swept back into a perfect, elegant ponytail, not a single strand out of place. A flowing white sundress draped over her frame, accentuating the soft curves of her figure, and her lips curled into a knowing smile the moment she laid eyes on Steve.

“Steve,” she purred, stepping forward with open arms.

Marie watched in horror as Steve smirked—as if this was completely expected—and met the woman halfway, wrapping his arms around her in an embrace so natural, so intimate that it made Marie’s stomach twist.

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

She knew what that hug meant. The way he pulled her close, the way his hand rested on the small of her back—it was the same way he touched her whenever he brought her in for cuddles, the same warmth she thought belonged to just her.

But before she could even begin to process that, Marie’s breath caught as the woman pulled away and turned her gaze directly on her.

Her golden-brown eyes lit up at the sight.

“Oh,” she murmured, her voice rich with amusement. “Well, isn’t she just precious?”

Marie’s entire body locked up.

She wanted to disappear. Wanted to shrink into the floor, wanted to dive into the plush blankets of the playpen and vanish before this elegant, beautiful woman could get a better look at her.

But it was too late.

The woman was already stepping forward, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor.

Marie barely registered the movement beside her—only now noticing the boy standing just behind the woman.

He was dressed in shortalls—light blue, soft-looking fabric with an embroidered dinosaur peeking out of the pocket, revealing the unmistakable bulk of a thick diaper beneath. His T-shirt was a matching green, the cartoon dino on the front grinning happily. His cheeks were slightly flushed, his lips pressed around a pacifier as he suckled quietly, but his eyes were wide and curious as he stared right at her.

Marie’s stomach plummeted.

Another little.

Another diapered little.

Watching her.

Her hands gripped her bunny even tighter, her toes curling as her crinkly padding reminded her of exactly how little she was right now.

And then—

A warm hand slid under her chin.

Marie squeaked, her whole body stiffening as the woman crouched down, tilting her face up with gentle but unshakable authority.

“You must be Marie,” the woman murmured, her tone soft but full of something deeper—something that made Marie’s tummy flip. “Stevie’s told me so much about his little princess.”

Marie’s lips parted, but no words came out.

She was stunned.

Trapped in the woman’s gaze, frozen under her touch.

And then—before she could even process what was happening—the woman leaned in, brushing a kiss to her forehead, the soft floral scent of her perfume surrounding her, making Marie feel impossibly small.

It was warm. Maternal.

And then…..

Squish.

Marie gasped.

The woman’s other hand had drifted down—trailing over Marie’s tummy, her bib, and lower—before pressing gently against the front of her diaper.

Marie whimpered, her entire body going rigid as a wave of shame crashed over her.

“Oh, sweetheart,” the woman cooed, tilting her head as she gave the damp padding another deliberate squeeze. “You’re already a little soggy, aren’t you?”

Marie whimpered softly, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps as the woman’s warm palm lingered on the front of her diaper, pressing just enough to remind her exactly how little she was.

She felt utterly exposed.

And yet, the woman looked completely unbothered—like checking Marie’s diaper was the most natural thing in the world.

Steve’s chuckle sent another wave of heat crawling up Marie’s neck. “She’s a little damp, but I changed her just before lunch,” he mused, his voice rich with amusement. “Had to—this little princess had her first messy diaper right before I put her in her highchair.”

Marie’s heart stopped.

She squeaked, her entire body jolting as if she could somehow take back the words that had already been spoken. Her breath hitched, her hands clamping down hard over her bunny as shame crashed over her like a tidal wave.

No.

No, no, no.

Why—why did he have to say that?!

It was one thing for this woman to see her in a wet diaper. But this—this was worse. This was humiliating.

This woman—this stranger—who’s name she didn’t even know yet, now knew one of the most intimate, most embarrassing things about her. That just an hour ago, she had completely filled her diaper like the helpless little baby she was.

Marie could barely breathe, her entire body trembling with shame.

She chanced a glance up—just a tiny one—only to find the woman’s eyes twinkling with warmth and amusement.

“Oh, sweet girl,” the woman purred, her thumb gently stroking Marie’s cheek as if she could feel her embarrassment. “You really are just Daddy’s little baby, aren’t you?”

Marie whimpered, her face burning, but she couldn’t look away.

And then—

“Well,” the woman continued, still cupping Marie’s cheek with one hand while giving her diaper one last firm squeeze with the other, “I suppose you and Tim are more alike than I thought.”

Marie blinked, confused, her lip still trembling.

Tim?

Slowly, her wide eyes flickered past the woman’s shoulder—to the little boy still standing quietly behind her.

And before Marie could even process what she meant—

“Oh yeah,” the woman added casually, as if she were talking about the weather. “Tim already had his poopy Pampers first thing this morning.”

Marie’s jaw dropped.

Her stomach flipped.

Did she—did she really just—

Her gaze snapped back to the little boy in horror.

And what did she find?

Tim, grinning behind his pacifier, completely unbothered.

No blush. No shame. No embarrassment at all.

Just… a tiny giggle.

A tiny, amused, carefree giggle, like this wasn’t even a big deal.

Like he knew exactly what he was, and he didn’t care.

Marie could barely breathe.

How—how was he so okay with this?!

She felt like she was dying from the sheer humiliation of Steve mentioning her accident. Meanwhile, this boy had just admitted—completely casually—that he’d messed his diaper hours ago, and he was giggling about it?!

Marie couldn’t handle it.

Her hands flew up to her face, pressing her bunny tight against her burning cheeks as she squirmed helplessly in the woman’s arms.

“Oh, don’t be so shy, sweetheart,” the woman teased, bouncing Marie slightly as if she were just a fussy little baby. “It’s just part of being a little one, isn’t it?”

Marie squeaked.

She wanted to disappear.

But the woman just chuckled, as if Marie’s flustered state only amused her more.

Steve, of course, looked thoroughly entertained.

“I tried telling her that earlier,” he mused, crossing his arms as he leaned lazily against the doorway. “She’s still getting used to it.”

The woman hummed, clearly pleased. “Well, I suppose that’s what this weekend is for, isn’t it?”

Marie swallowed hard, her stomach twisting.

What—what did that mean?

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.

She’d never been put in a diaper so thick, before. It was simultaneously fascinating and mortifying.

She just couldn’t control her curiosity, rubbing her hands over the outside. It never had occurred to her that a diaper could force her thighs so far apart that she couldn’t help but waddle like an oversized toddler. Or that a diaper could so effectively prevent her from feeling anything through it, despite her burning bottom and her (surprisingly) wet and wanting princess parts.

As fascinating as her new diaper was, the threats her Daddy made as he prepared, powdered and applied her new diaper, while she could only sniffle, made her far more fearful than curious. Would he really make her stay in them until they were completely soaked, through and through, even if it took a whole day? Was he really going to make her go out to a movie with just this outfit and diaper on under her coat? There’s no way he would actually take her to their favorite restaurant, the one where the waitstaff knew their names, and make her sit at the bar, right?

While she knew she hadn’t been supposed to play her toy, much less make cummies in her diaper last night, surely this was far too severe a punishment, wasn’t it? Even if she had also played and made cummies in her diapers earlier in the week, a few times, when her Daddy was either out or busy, she had already gotten spanked for those (though he hadn’t used that damned hairbrush like he did this time…) and had her toy taken away, so she can’t be punished for them again; that just isn’t fair!

She did supposed that lying to Daddy about last night was extra naughty, and demanding that he leave her be while calling him a monster wasn’t really the most appropriate way to handle her upcoming punishment, but did that invite such harsh discipline? Still, she realizes that, as naughty as she has been, Daddy probably hadn’t intended to make her do those things.

That is until she uttered those rather foolish last words: ”You wouldn’t dare!”