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Trying something a little different than my normal fare. ------ “Can I come in?” you hear her call from outside the door. “Yup!” you call back, smiling to yourself. For some reason, you’d expected that. “Hi!” she said, poking her head around the shower curtain to see you. She cheesed at you a little, then pulled back out. So, the jammies weren’t a coincidence then. They weren’t your favorite, and they were subtle enough that she could wear them around close company without anyone guessing, but they’d still been bought with you in mind. You heard her fiddle around by the sink, but she didn’t wait until you finished up like you’d expected. Oh well. Not long after she left, you’re ready. Water off, you grab the towel and dry. As you hang it back up, you notice the fresh clothes you’d brought to put on are gone. Not exactly subtle. You’re smiling now, but you straighten your face as you leave the room. “Oh sorry. Did I take your clothes?” she asks, seated on the bed with an inviting grin on her face. Still no pull-up. I guess not today. “I think you might have done that on purpose, baby,” you answer in a faux-stern tone. Daddy voice. “I was just playing,” she says, turning on the little voice as she gestures for you to join her on the bed. “I don’t know, taking other people’s clothes isn’t very nice, is it?” “It was funny,” she says, getting all up in your space even as you were still getting into the bed. “Sounds like we might need to teach you what happens to little girls who take things that aren’t theirs.” She doesn’t respond, unless returning your gentle kiss counts. You rub her back through those silky pajamas. She’s been so busy, so stressed. She’s had very little time to just be with you. You know that, of course, but it can still be hard. Now that you’ve opened up about your kinks to her, the paranoid part of your brain is all too happy to interpret any period without any indulgence as a sign that she’s reached the point where she just isn’t interested if this is part of it. So even the in-between pajamas and the cutesy little prank are a welcome gesture. Her antics have you getting hard already, and of course she can feel that too. Her fingertips find your tip, and just…brush. Ooof. She said once that when she is stressed, she needs you to move her slowly through the gears. And so, while your hand moves between her legs, you stick to slow, gentle strokes of her inner thighs. She shudders. You keep at that for some time, kissing her softly when you both manage to stifle your moans. After three or four minutes like that, she takes her palm and rubs it across the tip, coating it in the generous amount of the precum she’s drawn out of you. She likes that. The wet hand wraps around in a firmer, fuller grip of your shaft. Mmmmm. Go time. You gently move your fingers beyond the hood you’ve been teasing for the last few minutes, and you feel a wetness of her own as you let her body betray where exactly to apply your ministrations. A few more minutes, and you’re both very close now. With her other hand, she raises her shirt, showing her stomach and inviting you to finish right there. She’s mostly vanilla, but she likes to be cum on, and she gets off on other people getting off. It works well enough. You adjust yourself slightly, carefully focused on what you plan to do. Actions have consequences. Oh yes! With a final thrust of her hand and your hips, you bust, and it works. You miss her belly entirely, shooting off your load right onto the cutesy zoo print on her satin shirt. She follows your lead a second later, her whole body shaking as some stress visibly leaves her face. You collapse onto each other. On top of her, you’re careful not to plant your arm in any of the several deposits still on her top. There are more kisses, and lots of smiles to go with the cuddles. Finally, it’s time to get up. You need to make dinner, and she has work to do. Go time. She stands up, and moves to unbutton the dirty shirt. The cum has mostly dried. “Ah ah,” you say, gently taking her hands away. “You can keep that on until bedtime, princess.” She looks confused. “This should help you remember whether it’s really a good idea to steal Daddy’s clothes.” She grins almost as wickedly as you surely are. You sense that childish print might get dirtier before it gets cleaner. I think she learned a valuable lesson here today.

I had inspiration for a one-off today, so I wrote it. Enjoy. __________________ The Talk Honey, could you come downstairs please? We need to talk … You’re not in trouble, but we need to have a little chat. There you are. Come sit next to me. Did I tell you you’re looking handsome today? Cuz you are. O, don’t roll your eyes at me. I know you’re perpetually embarrassed by your stepmom, but you’re eighteen, a little old to still be blushing every time I give you a compliment. Here’s another compliment: I’m proud of you. You’re doing so well at school, and you’re adjusting so well. You even followed the no-pants at home rule without my even reminding you today. I know it’s silly to you, but it really helps me keep an eye on your diapers. Speaking of, lemme check … Just as I thought, damp but you don’t need a change. And clean too. And don’t go making your pouty face. I can see when you’re wet and I can usually smell when you’re messy, but I can’t always tell if you’re wet enough to need changed, and sometimes you have those small poopy accidents, and I can’t tell if you passed gas or just made a very small mess, or if you’re about to make a much bigger mess in your diaper. That’s why sometimes when you’re poopy you have to wait for a change, so I can make sure you’re all done. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to talk about how you’re doing such a good job adjusting to being back in diapers. Remember when I first put you back in diapers, how hard you cried? I didn’t cry because I wanted to be brave for you, but I was crying on the inside because when you’re not happy, I’m not happy. That’s what it’s like being a mom, even a stepmom and even when her baby is eighteen. You cried so hard I thought my heart would break for you. And then the tantrums, o my gosh. All that yelling about how you don’t need diapers and your accidents weren’t that bad and how you’re a grownup and can make your own choices. But you never stopped me from changing your pampers or ever took them off on your own, and that told me you knew deep down you need your diapers and that I’d made the right choice by not giving you a choice. I’m just so glad you stopped having those tantrums before I had to spank your bottom. It's been almost two years since your last spanking. You hated it so much then and went on and on about how you were too old for it. Remember how you would argue you were too big even when you were over my lap, and you’d keep arguing right up until the first spank? Then the sniffling and the tears. I didn’t like spanking your bottom then, and I didn’t want to have to start doing it again. Imagine how you’d feel thinking your spanking days were behind you and then getting turned over my knee, having your wet diaper pulled down, and having your stepmom spank your bare fanny until you were a sniffling, crying mess with your feet kicking and your nose running just like when you were little. Just imagine yourself as technically an adult, coming off your stepmommy’s lap holding your little red bottom and doing the spanky dance from foot to foot with your privates on display but too worried about your sore bottom to even think to be modest. Don’t think it can’t still happen by the way, but I hope your spanking days are over just like you do. Imagine how your diapers would hold in the heat of your spanking. With how often you’re wetting, I wouldn’t even be able to put you in the corner bare bottom anymore. I’d have to diaper you again right away and it would keep your poor bottom so warm, and anybody visiting would be able to see your spanked red thighs peeking out from under your diaper, as if you in the corner sniffling and with those big tear streaks on your face wouldn’t tell them you’d just gotten off stepmommy’s lap. Anyway, I’m so glad just the threat of a spanking, and a few warning swats to your bottom, were enough to put a stop to those tantrums. I think you’d pee all over me during your spankings, but more importantly, I never liked having to spank your bottom no matter how naughty your choices were. We’re both lucky those few spanks I gave you when you were legs up on the changing table finally got through: let stepmommy do what’s best for you, put you back into diapers, or you’d be in for one heckuva trip over my knee for a bare bottom spanking with my hand and hairbrush. But phew! No need for that kind of discipline, and you’re doing so well adjusting not just at home but at school. Remember your first week back at school in diapers? That very first day, we went to the nurse’s office to drop off your diapers and changing supplies. You were so upset because the diapers wouldn’t fit in any bag we had, and you had to carry the two packages through the hallways. If I was embarrassed for you to be back in diapers, I can only imagine how you must’ve felt walking past all your schoolmates and teachers. Nurse Jenny was very nice about it all. She wanted you back in diapers two years ago because of your accidents, but I kept saying you’d get past it, that the doctors would figure it out and I didn’t want to hurt your self-esteem by putting you back in pampers like I was giving up on you ever using the potty again. Nurse Jenny tried to tell me how much worse for your self-esteem it must be having accidents in your pants that everyone could see, but I thought I knew best. Three outfits a day you were going through before we tried pull-ups, and those were so leaky you were still coming home in different pants than I sent you to school in. And socks, and sometimes even shoes. Remember how icky it felt when your weewee accidents would run down your legs into your shoes? Poor little lamb. It was your stinky accidents that changed my mind. I tried to tell myself they were one-offs, but Nurse Jenny was adamant. I still didn’t believe it, and I felt sorry for her having to help you clean up after those times you messed your goodnites, but I thought I was doing what was best for you. Even if, as you and I learned too many times, goodnites just aren’t made to hold the kinds of accidents a big kid – sorry, young adult – like you can have in them. Dirty pull-ups, dirty pants … Let’s face it: dirty diapers are much better, if we’re grading on a curve. Cleanup on someone your size isn’t easy, heaven knows, but much easier to clean up your dirty diapers. At least everything usually stays in your diaper. Blowouts happen – heaven and everyone else shopping at Walmart that day knows that too – but more stinky accidents than not were blowouts when you were having them in your goodnites. It was almost as bad as when you browning your tighty whiteys twice a day. Bottoming out your huggies is, well, not convenient, but more convenient, don’t you think? Of you course you do. And hasn’t Nurse Jenny been so nice? She didn’t get cross when you disobeyed her and she had to go pull you out of class to change your diaper even though you knew to go to her when you needed changed. Remember what the three of us talked about? … That’s right: your diapers can’t help you if you don’t get them changed. They’re not any better than your tighty whiteys if you sit in class until they’re sopping wet cuz you're afraid someone will wonder why you’re leaving class and don’t need to ask permission, or if they hear your crinkling or see you waddling. You’ve even learned to walk in your diapers with barely any waddling at all unless they’re soaked or full. You don’t even cry anymore when you need to go see Nurse Jenny. Yes, she told me about how you’d shown up at her office door sniffling those first few days, wearing such a sad frown almost pleading to get you into something dry and clean. And I know you don’t like the way she baby talks to you during your diaper changes, but if it helps her get through a yucky job, more power to her. Besides, she sent me a video of one of your changes like I asked her to, and I don’t think her baby talk was over the top or too embarrassing. You are a much tush huggy fudger at least twice and usually three times a day. There’s no use denying it, and you may have been pouting in that video and trying to look all grumpy and grown up, but I saw how you giggled and squirmed when she tickled your sides and blew that great big raspberry on your tummy. No use denying that you liked it. That’s why I started doing it at home. You can’t hide the little squees and smiles you make when I tickle your tummy any more than you can hide what you do in your diapers. And isn’t baby talk better than awkward silence like you have something to be ashamed of? Because you don’t. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You can’t help your accidents. That’s why you’re back in diapers, like a toddler who could be potty trained but for whatever reason isn’t it, except you’re an adult. And that’s okay, and you now that now, and I’m proud. And you’re doing so well socially. I know it was hard at first, but it did take longer for word to get around that you were back in diapers. You said it would happen by lunch time that first day, but it took the whole day … Yes, that is a meaningful difference. Trust me, I know these things. That’s why I’m the stepmommy. A few people saw you carrying them into school, but I suspect a lot of people thought that was just a rumor when word started to get around. Then you had that leak in class when you didn’t go to Nurse Jenny. Most of your classmates thought it was just another one of your accidents, and they were used to those. I bet the girls who babysit must’ve recognized those two half-moons on your cheeks as a leaky diaper. Nothing else leaves wet spots like those except huggies that just can’t hold anymore, but they didn’t know for sure. But it wasn’t until gym … Don’t make that grumpy face with me. We’ve been over this. I know the school would have excused you from gym, but you need the exercise, and if you have to take gym, you have to change for it. It’s not my fault there’s nowhere private for you to change for gym. Anyway, it wasn’t until gym that the rumors were confirmed. Remember how upset you were? I had to come up to school just to calm you down, sitting in the coach’s office until you stopped crying. My boss wasn’t happy – so much missed work leaving work to bring you fresh clothes, but when I explained our new solution, she agreed anything I needed to do to get you used to your new “underpants” would make me a better, more productive worker in the long term … I’m not verbally putting quotations marks around “underpants” when I refer to your diapers as “underpants.” You always say I do that, and I don’t have any idea what you mean. Anyway, when your new “underpants,” became common knowledge, and you had a good cry with me about how embarrassing it was and how it was even more embarrassing that everyone knew you were in coach’s office crying with your stepmom cuz everyone saw your new “underpants” and you felt like such a baby, I said it would al turn out okay, and I was right, wasn’t I? Of course I was. I know there are bullies who still tease you, but almost everyone in the whole school knew about your accidents already. So many accidents – big ones, small ones, wet ones, stinky ones – it was common knowledge you had them. I’d be at the beauty parlor and one of the other women would be talking about how their teen said one of their peers had a big accident in their pants at school, and I’d blush just like you are right now and not say a word when all the women agreed someone who has those kinds of accidents should be back in diapers even if they are eighteen. It seemed like most of the town knew someone who knew someone who had seen or heard about your problem, and it’s not like we live in a small town. I’m just sorry that it seems like everyone knew you needed to be back in diapers before I was ready to admit it to myself. But other than the bullies, you’d had so many accidents and so many destroyed pull-ups that most of your classmates didn’t even make fun when they found out you were wearing diapers at school. They knew you needed diapers even before I did. Remember what they used to say? “Ew, gross, they should be in diapers.” I know most of them were teasing, but they had a point. And I’m sure it doesn’t bother them that you aren’t leaving puddles in the classroom or interrupting class. No more “Mrs. So-and-so? It happened again,” and the teacher had to ask if you had an accident in your pants again, and you’d deny it right to their faces until they made you stand up and then sent you to Nurse Jenny, and then the custodian having to come in and clean up if it got everywhere. I don’t know if you know this, but in the other sections, no one would sit in the same chair as you. And as smelly as your poopy diapers can be, they’re still better than poopy pants. Your social life actually improved when I put you back in diapers. You're not eating lunch alone anymore cuz people aren’t afraid you’ll pee on them if they’re sitting next to you. Isn’t it nice eating with your classmates? And I bet you like the attention you’re getting from the girls in your class. It’s not exactly romantic attention, like we talked about when you thought maybe that one girl liked you. It’s more like they think of you as their younger sibling. That’s why it’s the girls who’ve stood up to the bullies for you more than the boys, though plenty of boys have stuck up for you too. Isn’t that nice of them, telling the bullies to mind their own business and that you can’t help it if you still need diapers because your dirty your undies and isn’t that better than what it was like sharing a classroom with you before? That sure did shut up the bullies; well, most of them. You don’t even come home crying anymore. I’m so proud of you for that. You can even play sports again if you want. I know you worry about waddling on the field or going two hours without a change, but we can double-diaper you like we do for car rides, movies, church, going out to eat, shopping, the park, and the beach. I know everybody can tell you’re wearing diapers when you’re doubled up, but isn’t that just proof that no one will make fun? If they all know and no one – well, almost no one – points or laughs or teases, that just proves most people will be nice about it. You even went to a party, and I know how brave of you it was to do that. We’re lucky to have a neighbor like Samantha, and luckier that she’s in your class. Isn’t it nice to have someone you’ve known your whole like come hang out with you when mom and I have a date night? … What? She’s not your babysitter, sweetie, we’ve talked about that many times. She’s just a friend who comes over to spend time with you when we’re not around. Really. I know it’s embarrassing for you when she changes your diaper, but it’s embarrassing for her too, not to mention yucky. It’s been so nice of her to take you places too, like that party. When I was your age, disappearing into a bedroom at a party would start all kinds of rumors; I know she was worried about that because the two of us talked about it, but I assured her everyone would know she was just helping you change your pampers, and I was right. People would’ve assumed that even if I didn’t tell her to leave your soaked diaper at the top of the trash in the kitchen just to be sure. Everybody already knows you wear diapers. Isn’t it better for people to know you were just getting your diaper changed and not that have any confusion or rumors that you had intercourse with her? You don’t want a reputation for being easy or loose or “scoring” with women, do you?. Neither does Samantha. She told me the last thing she wanted was for people to think the two of you were having sex or, worse, that you’re dating. It’s so wonderful to have a good, virtuous girl who thinks not only of her own reputation but yours as well for a friend, isn’t it? I know you have your urges, of course, which are perfectly natural. You can’t help those any more than you can help everything else to do with your diaper area. We don’t have to talk about birds and bees you’re not ready, but just know that when you’re read to discuss love and relations, I’m here for you. I just hope it’s before you leave for college. In the meantime, it’s best if we both just keep pretending you don’t do anything in your diapers except pee and poop yourself. I spoke with Pastor Sarah, and she agrees some things are better left undiscussed. She was so eager to have that conversation over; “Please, let’s just stop talking about it and pretend this never happened,” she said. She really lives by her word, as a pastor should. And she was so wonderful in organizing that fundraiser so the men’s bible study group could you build you a changing table in the mother’s room for when you pack your pampers during services. The acoustics really are something in there, aren’t they? So anyway, I just wanted to say how proud I am of you. I know it’s been hard, and I know the future can be scary sometimes, but you’re doing so good. It’s so hard being eighteen and ready to be a grownup but still needing diapers, but I really do believe the further you get into adulthood, the easier wearing diapers will be for you, if only because you’ll get even more used to it than you’ve already gotten. It’s so much easier already and it’s only been a month, right? What a month! And you have so many people who will help you. Such a loving community. And you know you can always come to me for anything. I love you, and I always will. You’ll be stepmommy’s little diaper butt no matter how old you get. Awww, there you go blushing again. Gimme a hug, and then let’s go get your pants changed. If I’m not mistaken – and I’m definitely, definitely not – you’ve been filling your diaper this whole time. March your butt straight to the changing table, stinky pants, and we’ll get you clean and dry and happy in no time. Well, about twenty minutes judging by your waddle, but we’re getting faster at it every day, handsome. Scoot!