The Baby & The Skunk Tail

[PeculiarChangeling]

I got the idea for this story from a real experience, which I wrote about on Twitter. You can read the backstory here! 

 

“You know the rules,” Daddy said. “We’ve practiced, but I want to make sure you’re okay with it, alright?”

I nodded enthusiastically, sitting almost naked on the edge of the bed for dressup; the only article on my body was the steel cage around my bits, one that’d been there for two weeks since my last ‘outing’.

I’d met all his friends before, we’d been at munches together, we’d talked about kink, but this would be my first experience where I was ‘out’ in front of them all at once. I knew I’d be in good company, but I also worried about being the only Little, the only one there who’d be in diapers.

“Tell me the rules,” he added.

“I may not use the potty,” I said. “I can only refer to you as Daddy. I can’t hold it when I need to pee. And I can’t even ask for a diaper change. I have to drink water every thirty minutes, and if I leak, you’ll spank me.”

Daddy began laying out my outfit next to me. My top, white shirt with black sleeves, and a black-and-white striped skirt. I’d objected to the skirt, at first–”I’m a boy!” I’d pointed out–but Daddy had countered that I was a baby, and I didn’t get to decide what I wore…and then he’d added that if I complained again I’d get the spanking of a lifetime.

“And what do you say if you’re nervous?” he asked.

“Yellow,” I confirmed.

“And if you want to leave?”

“Red.” He made me practice my safe words before we did anything, every time.

“Good baby,” he said, laying out a diaper with three whole stuffers, alongside a pair of thigh high white stockings and, oddly, duct tape. “And remember–you can’t mush until I say you’re allowed to. When I say your diaper looks full, then you go.”

My tummy squirmed at that–I hadn’t gone number two in a day and a half, and now I’d have to wait even longer. “O-okay, Daddy.”

He smiled, and set out one more item next to my outfit–a plush tail with a clip, also with black and white stripes. A skunk tail, to be specific, with a pronounced curl at the end.

My eyes widened and my cheeks turned pink, but I knew better than to object again.

“I made sure you’ll have enough capacity,” Daddy promised. “As long as you are careful, your diaper won’t leak–but if you aren’t mindful of how you go potty, you’ll be in big trouble.”

I nodded again. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Lay down, and let’s get you dressed.”

I obeyed, watching him as he prepared my diaper. The stuffers were crucial–without them, I’d certainly leak–but they’d provide a serious puff to my diaper that’d make it stick out even more than normal.

I watched him unstick the tape on the first, adhering it inside the diaper, right at the front. The top edge came up to the very front of the diaper, so it’d be right over my cage. I assumed he was going to lay out the stuffers so that there was a single uniform layer of extra padding throughout the diaper, but instead, the second stuffer went right over the first–at the front, so it’d be packed around my caged cock.

My eyes widened as he took the final stuffer, which he folded in the middle and ripped in half. Sticking them back-to-back, he then put the layer right at the front of the diaper, slightly offset, so that my bits would be nestled in between four layers of stuffer inside my diaper.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Oh,” he said, offhanded. “Just making sure you’ll be nice and snug.”

I nodded, uncertain for a moment, but decided to trust Daddy. He wouldn’t steer me wrong.

Lifting up my butt, I let him put the diaper on me, with a liberal amount of powder. Once he’d folded it up and taped it securely, I could really feel the excessive amount of padding around me–it puffed out heavily all around my cage, pressing me into the absorbent layers, making the front of my diaper stick out heavily.

And he wasn’t done there. Reaching to the side, he grabbed the roll of duct tape, applying two lengthy pieces to the front of my diaper.

I knew why. The tapes were going to be fighting for their life, and they’d need some support.

Next came the skirt, shimmied up over my legs. It was long enough to cover my diaper, even with the extra poof, as long as I didn’t bend over too far.

The stockings made me feel particularly cute, and when I sat up and raised my arms, daddy pulled the black and white shirt over my head.

I admittedly already had a distinctly skunky look to my clothes–black and white vertical stripes conjured that image–but it’d probably have been overlooked without the tail. Once Daddy clipped the back of the tail to my skirt, and used a safety pin to hook the top to my shirt so it’d stay upright while I wore it, the look was unmistakable.

At least I didn’t smell the part, yet…

“You look adorable,” he praised, and I blushed under the complement. “Are you ready to go?”

“Mhmm!” I said.

Daddy was already dressed, though his clothes were more neutral than mine–Black pants, a white T shirt, and a black jacket. The black-and-white look matched me, though on him, the color choice made him look assertive and cool. On me, the colors just emphasized that I was a tiny, smelly baby.

The party was only a little ways away. Our mutual friend, Milo, was hosting, since his yard had a very tall privacy fence, and only single-story neighbors. The perfect situation to host a kinky party.

He drove–of course–and parked in the driveway. I felt shy about getting out in full view of the front walk, but nobody was around to see, and I quickly scurried inside.

“Gary!” Milo declared, waving us in. He had on a canvas apron, but everything beneath it was black leather–he and his pup were big into that look. “You’re the first ones here. I was just getting the grill ready, so I hope you’re hungry!”

“Famished,” Daddy said. “Do you have anything to drink, though–this one’s thirsty.”

Milo laughed, getting the implication. He may not have been able to see my diaper, but he knew what I liked, and certainly had the implication. “Sure, there’s cups and ice out back.”

We followed him out. His pup was on all fours in the back, in his own costume–collar, muzzle, and even more leather. From the kneepads, I instantly guessed that he wouldn’t be allowed to walk tonight, any more than I could use the bathroom.

I got handed a cup of soda, and obediently began sipping on it while the other guests filtered in. Another pup with his master, Dina, as well as a pony girl in latex and high, high heels, accompanied by her mistress, Megan.

Before long–though not before a second cup of soda–we were all seated around picnic tables, chowing down on Milo’s burgers.

I felt the need to pee, and without reservation, let loose, flooding my diapers for the first time that evening. Seated, it all rushed to the back, quickly soaking into the padding around the seat.

I wasn’t worried about leaking. Like daddy said…

Uh…

Oh.

I shoved down my concerns, and focused on eating. I almost missed daddy’s comment, asking how long I’d been in my cage.

“Baby?” he repeated.

I knew he knew the answer, so I was answering for everyone else. “It’s…been two weeks,” I admitted, flushing brightly. I knew how I had to phrase it, and my word choice had been chosen to be as humiliating as possible. “Since I got to make stickies in my dirty diapers…”

That got a round of chuckles from the table. The pony chimed in, “My mistress has had me caged for six months, I don’t know why you’re complaining.”

“Don’t brag,” Megan chided.

I squirmed–I loved the focus being on me, but I hated it too, especially since it meant someone was probably about to ask–

“What’s the tail for?” Milo inquired, in between bites of a burger.

Flushing even pinker, I hoped Daddy would explain. Instead, he just said, “Why don’t you tell them, baby? You were so excited when you told me.”

“I…” I said, turning pink. “Um, there was this artist I found a couple weeks ago, and. Daddy?”

He gave an approving nod, a ‘go on’ gesture. Not what I’d been hoping for.

“He drew a picture of a…well, a boy who looks like me, wearing a skunky onesie and a really big stinky diaper. I showed it to daddy right away, and, um. Begged him to…” I buried my face in my hands, burning bright pink. “I begged for permission to take my cage off early and make stickies because I liked the picture so much.”

More condescending smirks. Milo, at least, did the math and guessed, “And he said yes, right?”

“Only…on the condition that I show everyone how cute the picture was,” I said, “By…being like the boy in the photo myself.”

“He was sooo excited,” Daddy chimed in. “He agreed instantly as soon as I got out his wand.”

I covered my face even more, wishing I could melt into a puddle on the ground. “Daddy!”

“Hmm?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”

That was code for, ‘Safe words’. I could tap out now with a ‘yellow’ or ‘red’ but instead I just shook my head. “I’m okay.”

“Good skunky.” He leaned over, giving me a kiss on the top of my head, before changing topics, granting me a slight reprieve. “So, Dina–I see a new collar on your pup there. What’s the story there?”

The conversation shifted away, and my burning red cheeks got a moment to cool down while I worked on my dinner–and drank another cup of soda that Daddy dutifully provided for me.

The night was, in many respects, a typical barbeque. Milo got out a frisbee so we could play fetch with the pups–during which I wet myself again, soaking the middle of my diaper so that it swelled between my legs–and, for the most part, we just stood and talked, catching up on this or that. Megan’s pony told us excitedly about her upcoming top surgery, Milo had funny stories from work, the evening passed casually.

Until about the third time I needed to pee.

Daddy’s warning hung in my head. I knew he wouldn’t hesitate to paddle me in front of the other guests, and I hated leaking anyways. But, as the pressure in my bladder built, I grew more and more confident of what Daddy had planned for the evening.

If I just peed standing, everything would trickle down to the middle, where I’d already saturated my diaper. Heck, if I sat down it’d be even worse, soaking through and pouring out the side where I’d already flooded it.

I needed to make sure everything stayed in the front of my diaper, soaking into all the stuffers around my caged bits at the very front of my diaper.

Only one option presented itself.

Blushing so hard the red crept all the way up past my eyes, I paused in the middle of a game of frisbee fetch, getting down onto my hands and knees. To direct the flow properly, I had to stick my butt up into the air as far as possible, so high my skirt fell back and showed off my diaper to everyone.

“What’re you doing there, lil skunky?” Daddy asked, though he already knew the answer. “Marking your territory?”

I felt too utterly small to answer, and only mumbled a few words as I forced my bladder to let go. My plan, at least, worked–everything flowed to the stuffers in the top of my diaper, and I didn’t leak–but even the pups were giggling at my display as I used my diapers.

“Mmm…” I said, wiggling a little to get the last drops into place. I couldn’t even stand when I was done peeing, I had to wait, my skunk tail in the air and diaper incredibly visible, until everything had soaked into place.

And when I stood, Daddy was waiting for me with a fresh drink–just water, this time. “Good baby,” he praised, stepping in to kiss me before passing me the water.

I drank, and tried to say, “Thanks, Daddy.” Instead, I just mumbled, “Th-thnn…”

He beamed, reached beneath my skirt to give my bottom a squeeze, and returned to his chat with Milo.

The flood gates didn’t close there. Especially as I felt the saturation right around my parts, and the constant intake of water, my ability to hold it had tanked. I seemed to need to pee every five minutes, and according to the rules, that meant I needed to go right away–no holding, no waiting.

My blushes never faded, and it seemed like I was on my hands and knees displaying my increasingly heavy diaper more often than I was standing. I couldn’t participate in the conversations anymore–even if I regained my big boy words, the constant interruptions of getting down to potty kept pulling me away. Each use lasted longer and forced me to stick my butt up higher, as I had to wait for everything to drain into the increasingly scarce dry spots in my diaper’s many layers.

And, as my diaper grew fuller and the stuffers swelled, I was reminded more and more of my cage, my frustration. The two weeks since I’d last made my diaper sticky…and the fact that I had no idea when Daddy would let me out again.

Eventually, Milo got a bonfire going. Smores were had, and shared, and Daddy fed mine to me–making no effort whatsoever to avoid getting goopy marshmallow and melted chocolate all over my face. He did, however, make a big fuss of wiping me up, cleaning off all the little bits and chiding me for making such a mess.

When he got done, I was right back on all fours, dribbling pee into my increasingly saturated diapers.

As heavy as they were, I’d begun to worry that they might just slip off–or that, despite all my caution, I might leak anyways. That’d be the worst outcome–humiliating myself for all to see, only to fail anyways. I pondered this as I piddled into my pampers for the millionth time.

“Daddy…” I mumbled, as I got to my feet.

“What is it, skunky?” he asked.

“I’m–” I almost broke a rule. My headspace had been shoved so deep and my thoughts were so clouded that I couldn’t remember them all, and I nearly said, ‘I’m gonna leak’. I caught myself at the last minute, and had to change to, “I’m…thirsty.”

He caught what I’d almost said, but since I’d fixed my words, I’d narrowly avoided punishment.

“Alright,” he smiled. “It’s not even time for your next drink yet, but I’ll go get you some water.”

I couldn’t have flushed deeper, but I sank even smaller anyways, wiggling in my intensely heavy diaper. It felt as though I had a medicine ball hanging around my waist, and even the duct tape was beginning to struggle. As heavy as it felt, it just made things more humiliating every time I had to drop to my knees and add a little more moisture, feeling this enormous, swollen garment squelch between my legs.

It seemed I didn’t even need to mush to live up to my skunky tail and clothing–the smell of increasingly stale urine was floating heavily around me, so much that even the pups were gesturing at their noses and snickering.

The first was close to embers, and the night was drawing to a close, and I was sitting on Daddy’s lap when he said it.

“Hey, skunky baby,” he said. “Don’t you think your diaper’s getting full?”

I melted. The thought of arguing or resisting didn’t even enter my head. I was Daddy’s little helpless skunk, and I’d do as I was supposed to.

Getting off his lap, I assumed the posture I had for every accident. My intensely heavy, squelching diaper pointed right in the air, wavering slightly from all the weight, skirt flipped down to display everything without a lick of modesty, my tail wiggling with my shaking body.

I didn’t have to work very hard. My body was ready to go, and as soon as I screwed up my face and began to push, the mudslide began. My diapers were already at capacity, but the tidal force of muck packing into it felt to me as though I’d doubled the weight–though that had to be my imagination at work, at least in part. I could feel the padding bulging and straining to hold it all, and the little grunts of effort that escaped my lips rang in my ears.

As much as I’d needed to go, I was pushing, grunting, and whimpering for most of two minutes before I was done. Exhausted, utterly little, I gave my mushy tush one last wiggle before I flopped over, sitting down on the ground with an incredible mushy squelch that made me moan out loud. I stank–truly living up to my outfit, and my nickname, the odor of my latest accident assaulted my nose and smelled so badly I couldn’t imagine I’d ever feel like a grown up again.

It was only then that I noticed everyone smiling at me, the snickers from the pups, the pony girl’s barely stifled giggle.

Wriggling, I looked to daddy. “Huh?”

He smiled back at me, though his nose was wrinkled. “Baby skunky,” he said, “You were sticking your butt up so you wouldn’t leak, right?”

I nodded. “Yuh-huh.”

The pony girl laughed, unable to keep it contained anymore. Daddy simply explained, “Well, you didn’t need to worry about leaking this time.”

My eyes widened. He was right–I could have gone sitting down, or found a discreet place to just squat and go. I didn’t need to worry about the urine flowing to the stuffers, the mush ended up in my seat no matter how I went, so…

I’d just played the part of the skunk. For no reason, other than that it’s what I was.

Putting his hand over his nose, Daddy said, “You really stink. Why don’t you go play in your diaper on the other side of the yard until it’s time to leave, so you don’t bother the grown ups? I’ll start getting ready to go home, but if you stay here much longer we won’t be able to breathe.

My eyes were huge, and the suggestion–that I was too smelly and little to even be around the adults–elicited an unstoppable moan from deep in my throat.

“Mhm,” I mumbled, rolling back onto my hands and knees.

There was no point in trying to walk–good skunks didn’t walk. Enormous stinky diaper on proud display, I crawled across the yard, sat down, and reveled in the incredible squelch between my legs.

I was daddy’s little skunk baby, and nothing more, and I loved it.

 

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Instead of the usual Patreon plug, I have something different: I'll be doing micro-fiction commissions tomorrow on a live stream to raise money for the NNAF (National Network of Abortion Funds)! 

My normal commissions are closed, so if you want a story done by me, this is the only way to get one. All proceeds are going directly to charity. I posted more details on Twitter, and when I go live on Picarto I'll also be sharing the link on twitter, so check it out over there for more information!