2011

All characters in this story are over 18 years old. This story has been checked with Grammarly for clarity, spelling, and grammar. The story is told in a non-linear way, moving between present-day events and flashbacks. And there will be twists and turns.  Chapter 1 He lay on the padded surface. The odor from the messy diaper lingered heavily in the nursery. Although she tried to keep her expression calm, a look of discomfort crossed her face before she continued with the diaper change. She unfastened the very messy diaper carefully, folding it away from him. He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. He kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling, sucking on the oversized pacifier, wishing he could pretend none of this happening. Her grip under his ankles trembled slightly—not from effort, but from the horrific smell. She wiped his buttocks carefully. It was a big mess, but honestly, it wasn’t surprising. He was nineteen after all. When she finally got through wiping him clean, she lowered his knees and reached for a thick diaper. She slid it underneath him, lifted his legs again just long enough to put the diaper into place, applied some baby oil and lots of powder, then fastened the tabs. After the diaper change, she guided him to the crib, lifted the bars into place, and offered him a sympathetic smile. “I know this is really hard,” she said softly. “But mom is really glad you agreed to this.” He didn’t respond—just kept quietly sucking on the pacifier, eyes lowered. She hesitated, then quietly said: “Maybe mom is right… maybe you need this as much as she does.” She turned and stepped out of the nursery, having just finished her first of what would be many messy diaper changes.   Chapter 2 He lay on his back in the crib. The nursery was softly lit. Along the wall stood a changing table. Its shelves lined with a thick selection of diapers, some cloth some disposable, but all very thick. Next to them sat bottles of baby powder, baby oil, various rash creams and wipes. A few more supplies—like suppositories and enemas were also in easy reach.  The highchair stood on its own near the other wall, sturdy and a little oversized, with a padded seat. A bib, a spoon, and his empty bottle rested on the tray. The baby food his mom gave him always tasted bland and unpleasant. The formula, though sweet, wasn’t too bad by comparison. In the middle of the nursery was a playmat with toys—train sets, coloring books, and other toys he was forced to play with. They mostly just left him feeling bored. His young adult mind longed for something more stimulating than stacking blocks or pushing with Thomas the Tank Engine around in circles. He lay there daydreaming in the crib. It would be dinner soon he thought. Probably another serving of bland baby food—vegetables again, most likely—followed by the usual two bottles of milk. He heard the front door close. His sister—only two years older than him—was probably heading out. His mom, on the other hand, was always there and she never left the house without him. Wherever she went, he went. Even in public, around people they knew and didn’t know, nothing about his “baby” state changed. The way he was dressed at home was the way he was dressed outside. Public or private, his attire, his routine, and the way he was treated all stayed the same. How did it all start, you’re wondering? Well, this wasn’t a punishment. And it wasn’t something forced on him out of cruelty. Odd as it looked from the outside, it had begun as a kind of therapy, not for him, but for his mum, Sandra.  Chapter 3 Sandra had been sinking for years. Some days she moved quietly and slowly, as if her thoughts weighed too much for her. Other days she didn’t have the strength to move at all. Her laughter had dimmed, then faded, and finally just disappeared altogether. She longed for meaning, for something to hold on to. Her children, Shane who was nineteen, and Kimberly, twenty-one, still lived at home, but they were adults now and busy with their own lives. Sandra was proud of them, of course she was, but their distance left her feeling alone and isolated. The house just felt hollow. Sandra felt hollow.  She missed looking after them in that deep, instinctive way a mother misses the small hands that once clung to her. And with Shane, the ache was even deeper. He had been such a sweet baby. Easy, cheerful, and really affectionate. Sometimes she would catch herself remembering the warm weight of him in her arms and his smile as she changed his dirty diapers. She missed it all.  Eventually she sought help.  Her therapist listened with patience as Sandra described the loss she couldn’t quite name. “I don’t know how else to say it,” Sandra admitted. “I just… I feel so empty. The kids don’t need me anymore and I miss them. I deeply miss them as babies, specifically Shane.” Her therapist nodded, signalling Sandra to continue.  “I miss having a baby. Not just a child. A baby.” Her therapist moved closer. “Then what is it you truly long for, Sandra? Say it plainly. This is a safe space for you.” “I want Shane back,” she whispered. “The diapers, the feeding, the highchair, the crib. Caring for him the way I used to. I miss all of it.”   Chapter 4 Shane woke up slowly from his crib. His body, and diaper, felt heavy, and his mind wasn’t exactly sharp either. Just… dull and bored, like most mornings. He heard someone shifting around nearby, and then Sandra’s face came into view over the crib rail. “There you are,” she said, way too cheerfully. “Morning, baby.” It was obvious she’d been up and about for a good while. Her hair was already tied back, and she looked put together in that way she only did when she was going out somewhere important. And today was one of those days: they were going to see Grandma. Sandra talked about it nonstop all week in that slightly nervous, excited way, much to Shane’s annoyance and embarrassment. “Grandma going to be thrilled,” she’d said for the tenth time last night. “She hasn’t seen you like this yet. Her beautiful baby grandson. She can’t wait to see you.” Sandra lowered the crib. “Come on,” she said excitedly. “We should get you ready.” Sandra held his hand as she led him to the changing table. As soon as he was laid down, Sandra sighed under her breath. “Oh, Shane… you’re absolutely soaked,” she murmured.  Sanra ripped the tabs and she folded the front of the soaked diaper down. She grabbed a handful of wipes and started wiping Shane. She then applied a generous amount of baby oil and powder to his groin and buttocks.  “Since we’re going out,” she said, reaching under the table, “you’re getting the thicker ones.” She secured him in the extra thick diaper and gave the waistband a small tug to check it. “There. That should do in case of any wet or messy accidents.” She helped him step into a plain white shirt and babyish dungarees, fumbling with the straps when they kept twisting. “Oh, sweetheart… c’mon, hold still for Mommy,” she said. She untwisted one strap, then the other, muttering under her breath. “Honestly, you’re just like you were when you were little,” she said. “Wriggling all over the place.” “Oh—wait, I almost forgot,” she said suddenly, turning back to the changing table. She rummaged for a second and then returned holding his pacifier. She clipped it gently to the front of his dungarees and lifted it to his mouth without making a big deal of it. “There we go,” she said, giving the pacifier clip a quick check with her fingers. “All ready now, sweetheart. You look adorable as always.” When she pressed the pacifier between his lips and Shane felt the bulb fill his mouth. “Alright,” she whispered to herself. “Let’s go.”    

I mess when I get the slightest urge so this means I'm out and about and just let it slip out whatever I'm doing. I do like walking around in a poopy nappy, I do tend to change as soon as I can. When I'm at home in the early morning and I have my normal morning poo and I like to stay in that for a little while and sit in it as well. I always clean thoroughly.   

Locking diapers on always fascinated me but never really done it 

--- Chapter 15 --- Greg had made all haste to the ER and was quickly placed into a room, where he lay on the upright amazonian-sized bed with his brother still in his arms. Charlie had floated in and out of sleep on the ride over and during the transfer from car to hospital, had stuck his thumb in his mouth. The nurse was kind enough to let him stay in Greg’s arms as she took his vitals, comforting both of them in the process. “Did he vomit?” she spoke quietly to avoid worsening the headache. She was at a standing desk on wheels with a laptop, typing in all of the vital measurements into the electronic report. “Once,” Greg replied at the same volume, glancing down at his brother, who stirred. He tensed up slightly, hoping he had remembered correctly; the exchange with the woman who saw the incident and cleaned him up hadn’t exactly been a calm information dump. “Good,” she smiled as she made that note, then grabbed a pen-like object. “Once is normal.” She walked up to Greg and clicked the end of the pen, which generated a small light. Reaching forward, she placed a hand on Charlie’s back. “Charlie, hun?” she spoke a little louder. “I need you to open your eyes, sweetie.” He fluttered his eyes open and looked to the woman, keeping his thumb in his mouth. She smiled and showed him the flashlight, explaining she needed to shine it in his eyes. He nodded in understanding but winced all the same when she did it. She had him follow her finger, then gently felt his neck and head. She asked if he could show her his mouth, but he shook his head, refusing; Greg frowned. “It’s okay,” she comforted him with a hand on his back, then set it on Greg’s forearm. “It’s not necessary.” He nodded in appreciation, though his concern was more with his brother refusing; it was rare that Charlie was uncooperative, and if he was, it was usually to drive towards a goal (or for harmless fun, though neither seemed applicable in this moment). The nurse made a few more notes and excused herself, promising the doctor would be in soon. As soon as the door shut, Greg let out a sigh, leaning back in the bed. He had expected some kind of movement from Charlie, but none came. The Amazon swallowed, unwilling to try and start a conversation just yet, but he felt a tightness in his chest as his thoughts spun. Was Charlie mad at him? Had the woman done something to him? Did the hit on his head change him? “Gregory Vankor?” He blinked, looking up to see a male doctor who looked like he was at the end of a long shift. He had bags forming under his eyes, stubble across what looked like a normally clean-shaven face, and his trimmed hair lay in all different directions from the adding and removing of masks and hats. “Yes, sir,” Greg nodded as he stiffened up in the bed. “And this is Charlie?” he asked with a tired smile, sliding his badge over the reader at the mobile laptop. “Yeah,” he responded on his brother’s behalf, who looked to the doctor but didn’t move. “Good to meet you, I’m Doctor Garby,” he greeted them with a nod as his eyes quickly scanned the screen, a hand slipping into his coat pocket. “So, Charlie was hit on the head?” “Yeah,” Greg gulped, rubbing his brother’s back. “He was under a playground bridge when a boy ran across it.” “Ouch!” the doctor exclaimed as he pulled a flashlight from his pocket. “You’d think they’d have designed those things with that in mind. Look at me, kiddo.” He repeated the same tests as the nurse, starting with the flashlight, then following the finger, then touching his neck and head, though he didn’t try to look in Charlie’s mouth. He heaved a sigh as he leaned against a counter. “He’s awake, alert, and responsive. He doesn’t seem confused or irritable, and appears comfortable,” the doctor observed as he looked between the two brothers. “I see no signs of danger, no symptoms that would suggest we need a CT scan. But I’d like to keep him here for a few hours. Sometimes there can be delayed symptoms.” “Okay,” Greg nodded, but Charlie squirmed, looking up to his brother with a pleading expression; he frowned, struggling with balancing appearances against admitting his brother was acting differently. He, too, would have preferred to get him home so they could speak plainly. “I’m sorry, bud, better safe than sorry.” Charlie let out a defeated sigh as he relaxed and lay his head against his brother’s chest. He didn’t seem to have the energy to fight it. The doctor smiled and nodded, logging out of the laptop. “Nurses will check in hourly. Call us if anything changes,” he explained, gesturing to a call button at the side of the bed. “And with any luck, the next time I see you, I’ll be letting you go home.” Greg thanked the doctor, who promptly left, and the room fell silent. Leaning back into the mattress again, he watched Charlie drift off to sleep, and he sighed, closing his eyes. With the tentative call that his brother wasn’t seriously injured, Greg’s mind could stop panicking at the possibilities … though some things were still disconcerting, he was gratified it wasn’t worse. This gave his mind space to think and process other things, like what happened at the park. He reflected on the conversation with Lauren … how close she had been monitoring them and how little he did. He knew Charlie was capable and rational enough to protect himself and to make smart choices, yet Greg had to face that his Little brother was physically vulnerable in this world. For all the annoyance he felt for his mother always fretting over him as if he were truly a helpless baby, this didn't happen under her watch. Lauren had started going into length about her job, friends, the dating market, gabbing to him like he was an everyday friend; she had let her guard down and stopped monitoring the playground, and he did nothing to compensate. She had trusted that he was as vigilant as she was. “He’s an unfit parent!” And then there was her. He had never felt that kind of rage before. He swallowed as he recalled Charlie’s panicked expression inside the car and felt a flash of anger again at the woman locking the door. He took in a deep breath, trying to keep calm, and silently thanked Charlie for getting the door open in time. If he hadn’t… well, Greg wasn’t proud of what his idea had been. “He’s an unfit parent!” He clenched his jaw. It was the one thing he had been fearful of since the transfer of guardianship. His thoughts swam on all the advice Charlie had given, and all of the instructions his mother had laid out over the years leading up to this … all of it, he had resented and avoided. He hadn’t wanted to rise to expectations; he had wanted to defy them. “Gregory?” He took in a sharp breath, opening his eyes and jerking in surprise from the nurse touching his shoulder; she gave an apologetic smile. He wasn’t sure if he had fallen asleep or just let his mind wander for that long. “Is everything okay? Any changes?” she asked as she checked Charlie’s neck, gently rubbing and tapping in places to see if he’d wake. He made a few groans and moved his head, his thumb finally coming out of his mouth as he hid his face in Greg’s chest. “Yeah, all good. No changes,” the Amazon nodded, gently rubbing his brother’s back. The nurse brought him some water, for which he thanked her, and she left. Glancing at the diaper bag on a table next to the bed, he opened it up and pulled out Bart; smiling, he gave the stuffed bunny a squeeze like a hug for himself, then placed him next to Charlie. He reached in again, pulled out a blanket, and draped it over him. “Geggie,” Charlie groggily spoke, his voice hoarse, and they made eye contact; Greg swallowed, wanting to burst into apologies. “Thirsty…” “Oh,” the amazon nodded as he reached out to the cup the nurse had brought, but as he looked to his brother, they shared a look. “Right,” he quietly chided himself, setting the cup down and pulling out the bottle from the bag. He looked at the water, not sure what he was looking for, but handed it to his brother at an angle, who drained it. Gesturing to the cup if he needed more, Charlie shook his head and wrapped his arms around Bart. “Charlie,” Greg began as he tapped his fingers on his brother’s back. “I, uh… I’m… so sorry.” He left a beat for Charlie to say something, but he didn’t even move. Greg shifted in the bed with a sigh and continued. “You’ve wanted me to step up,” he lamented as he closed his eyes, feeling a surge of emotion choking his words. “To be… to protect you. And because I … didn’t want to, we … you …” “I love you,” Charlie spoke up after clearing his throat, pushing through the gravelly feeling. He kept his head and eyes down and slightly repositioned himself to use Bart more like a pillow. Greg blinked and stared down at the top of his brother’s head; they hadn’t said that to each other since he was a kid. He felt a twist in his gut, not sure that response made him feel any better… but the amazon took in a centering breath and decided to prioritize Charlie’s feelings instead of his own guilt. “I love you too, bud,” he replied quietly. Charlie shifted again as he made a noise of discomfort, shifting Bart’s head and arms as he sighed, “You did great.” “What?” Greg blustered in confusion. “You did what any good parent would have done,” he yawned quietly after looking over his shoulder to the door. “Might wanna call Saki.” “Why?” he asked instinctually, having a hard time bouncing between his thoughts and Charlie’s sporadic conversation topics. “She’ll help,” Charlie sniffed, thinking back to the many times Angela had adjusted the narrative on their family’s behalf. Greg mouthed a response as he dug his hand into his pocket, pulling out his silenced phone, and blinked in surprise at the number of notifications he had already missed; several were texts from Lauren, but most appeared to be notifications from GlamFam. He cursed inwardly as he pushed it aside for the moment and dialed Saki, who picked up after a single ring. “Mr. Greg,” she greeted pleasantly, as usual refusing to use his first name without an honorific. “Hey Saki, I, uh,” he started uncomfortably and cleared his throat. “May need your help with something that happened today.” “By all means,” she replied coolly, and he heard the sound of shuffling before she spoke again. “Start how you would like.”

Does anyone else here play with diaper bondage with a care giver or by themselves. I just finish a self induced 2 plus hour diaper bondage session where I had to sit in a wet and messy diaper until my ice timer melted allowing me to access the handcuff key to unlock my self.