Earlier at Daycare

[Mike D]

Hi folks - 

I hope you enjoy the second part in my daycare short stories series. There will be a third and final part coming soon. As always, characters are 18+ and comments/ critique are welcome! This story contains a lot of discussion about messing. You’ve been warned. 

 

Earlier at Daycare (or Mike and Katie Part 2)

 

Her phone was ringing. 

 

Sandra glanced at it and saw “MIKE DAYCARE” flashing on the screen. 

 

She had just sat down on the back patio with a small joint and a glass of wine. This was supposed to be her “me time.” True, it was only 11AM, but non-traditional mommies like her had to find time and ways to relax whenever they could. Hell, traditional mommies could get baked and buzzed before noon for all she cared, and she knew plenty of them did. She needed this today. 

 

Mike had been a whiny grump that whole morning, culminating in a tantrum (as in legs kicking and arms pounding on the floor) when she’d informed him that they were out of milk, and he’d have to have apple juice with breakfast instead. Call it the “terrible 32s.”

 

She probably should have disciplined him, but she had decided to let it go, wordlessly handing him the sippy cup of juice once he had calmed down enough to take it. They both knew she had “won” whatever battle he had thought he was fighting. She always did. 

 

He had lain there on the kitchen floor, drinking his juice morosely and occasionally making little post-crying shuddering sounds until it was time to get ready to go. There was no time for a proper breakfast. 

 

Getting Mike dressed and out the door had been equally trying. He’d completely soaked his pants not 5 minutes after she had changed and dressed him. Normally she left him in his nighttime diaper for longer, but they were already off to a late start, and she had taken a chance that the apple juice had already gone through him. No dice. 

 

She supposed she should be pleased that these morning wettings were routine for both of them now. In fact she couldn’t recall the last time he had asked for the potty in the morning. He stayed in, and fully used, his bedtime diaper until it was time to get ready to leave. 

 

Sandra hoped this in-between-diapers-and-potty-training stage wouldn’t last much longer. No parent or caregiver enjoyed it - at any age. Life would be sooooo much easier for both of them when she had him back in diapers full-time, when his accidents would no longer be considered “accidents”, and when she would have full control over when and where he was changed. 

 

In an effort to speed things along, she had read everything she could about effective potty training strategies and procedures, and then started doing the exact opposite with Mike. 

 

So for instance, when they were at home she let him stay wet for as long as possible after an accident (without risking damage to the carpet or furniture of course). Mike had always been less-than-meticulous about his hygiene, and it hadn’t taken long before he was perfectly content to sit in wet pants for as long as she wanted him too. Sometimes he wasn’t even aware that he needed a change until she announced it.

 

The delay tactic had the added benefit of making additional wettings even easier and less bothersome for him. 

When you were already wet, what did it matter if you got a little wetter?  In fact, why bother holding it at all in those circumstances? Much easier just to let go at the slightest urge. It was a vicious circle that Sandra was orchestrating with the gentlest, most nurturing of hands. 

 

When she saw signs that he needed to go, she would ask him if he was “about to make pee pee?” This subtly suggestive phrasing allowed her to maintain the illusion of concern for his continence, while often provoking him to wet on the spot. His cute little “potty face” was a dead giveaway, even if he didn’t always wet enough to soak through the thick trainers. Sandra loved knowing that she now had the power to make him wet himself on command. She wondered if the staff at the regression clinic could leave him with that mental trigger? It might be fun and useful, even after he became fully incontinent. 

 

She had also changed how she dealt with cleanup. Instead of changing him in the bathroom while standing up (as one would for a “big boy” that had had an accident, and as recommended in literally every potty training guide), she had started laying him down on a changing mat in the living room for every change.

 

In truth, this arrangement made more work for her (and potentially more mess because the cloth trainers did not open at the sides like a diaper). But she knew that there was nothing quite like holding a man’s legs in the air and gently wiping his bottom to induce feelings of deep, infantile dependence. It’s a trigger that is wired into our subconscious literally from day one.

 

Changing him in the living room also reinforced the idea that poop and pee (and the cleanup routines that followed) weren’t necessarily things that had to take place in the bathroom. They could happen anywhere. And that was fine. It was good. Mike was realizing that he had options now. And one of those options was simply a lot more convenient when he was engrossed in a more preferred activity. In fact, accidents could now be expected at these times, unless she or the daycare staff intervened. And she rarely did. 

 

She’d even allowed him to poop in his pants at the park the other day, despite the very obvious cues that he was about to have (or was having) a bowel movement.
 

She’d watched with amusement as Mike paused his little game in the sandbox and froze, staring off into space as if mesmerized by the act of filling his drawers. Any experienced parent or caregiver who saw that expression and posture would have recognized instantly what was happening. Thankfully, she seemed to be the only one looking in Mike’s direction at that moment, and they had the sandbox to themselves.

 

She knew she wouldn’t able to change him there, despite his regressed state. But 

Mike didn’t want to leave, and had even requested to go back to playing after she had called him over and checked him (NBD right?).

 

Letting him play in dirty pants was an enticing proposition on some levels, but not something she wished to expose others to. She ended up having to literally drag him from the park while he fussed loudly and lied that he hadn’t gone poopy in his pants and he didn’t need changing. 

 

She had managed to find enough privacy between their car and the one parked next to it to hastily tape his naptime diaper on over his soiled training pants. At least the car seats were protected. Mike had started to object to this, but one stern look from Sandra and a quick smack to his squishy backside put a stop to that. She was done taking crap from him today, at least in the idiomatic sense. 

 

The car ride had been less-than-pleasant in terms of the smell, but making him sit in his mess like an awkward toddler was worth it.  
She’d even taken a detour through the McDonald’s drive-through to prolong his suffering. When they got home, she had put him in his booster seat at the kitchen table and made him finish his happy meal before finally taking him to the living room for a change. 

 

When doing so, Sandra noticed that the diaper she’d put on him was a little wetter than she expected, and also lightly soiled in spots from the escaped contents of his training pants. This discovery gave her a wicked idea: She gave Mike a single, cursory wipe to scrape the bulk of the mess off his bottom, and then she taped his slightly poopy butt back into the slightly poopy and wet diaper. 

 

Mike was surprised at first, but knew he was in no position to object. He didn’t even complain a few minutes later when she pulled him into her lap, clad in just his tee shirt and a wet and soiled diaper, and fed him an extra large sippy of warm milk as if he were an infant drinking from a bottle. 
 

She had decided not to tease him too much - the diaper and baby treatment were more than enough to humiliate him. But even so, she couldn’t resist a few tickles, crotch pats, and bum squishes along with feigned ignorance as to where the smell of a stinky baby was coming from? 

 

When he finished the bottle (oops sippy), she had patted his messy bottom a final time and sent him off to his bed to nap alone - leaving a faint whiff of dirty diaper trailing behind him down the hall.

 

Mike was rashy and grumpy when he woke up, and she was down an expensive pair of cloth training pants that were now in the trash, but overall the afternoon at the park had been worth it. 

 

She knew the daycare felt and treated him differently (for obvious reasons). But she also knew, based on his daily activity reports and her conversations with Katie, that what was happening at home was having an effect on his toileting at Sunny Hills as well.
 

At this point, Mike was pretty much functionally incontinent unless consistently reminded not to be. He needed to be back in diapers. They were almost there. But he was still stubbornly, even adamantly resistant to this next step in his regression.

 

Daytime diapers were a bad word in their house, which was partly why she had decided to leave their eventual (inevitable) introduction to the staff at Sunny Hills. She figured Mike would be less willing and/or able to resist that change when the time came if it came from the daycare staff. 

 

She knew from talking with his mother that he’d been very difficult to potty train. And he was still obviously diapered in the photos from his 3rd birthday party (Sandra had a practiced eye for these things, and Mike’s mom wasn’t shy about sharing photos). So it probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he was equally difficult to diaper train. 

 

And besides, that knowledge had proved beneficial in lots of fun ways, even before Mike had started his regression therapy. 

She remembered it vividly. It was the first time she had become aware of her dominant side on such a sexual level. His blushy reaction to her gentle teasing about having his dirty dydee changed in front of all his little party friends had made her so wet she’d left a visible spot on the crotch of her jeans. 

 

Their love making that night had been incredible, especially after she started using the baby talk voice again, teasing and encouraging him to have an “accident” inside of her instead of pulling out like usual. When she knew he was close, she had pulled him in tighter, shoving her tit in his mouth and telling him to be a good baby for her as he gushed inside her while protesting weakly around her slick nipple. 

 

Unfortunately, it was also a bittersweet memory, because it had marked the start of a relatively sad time in their marriage when they learned that they would never be able to have children of their own. She’d have to content herself with Mike to fulfill both her sex drive and her more domestic nurturing and mothering urges…

 

Sandra shoved these thoughts from her mind and returned to the present. 

 

Could she let the call go to voicemail? No. Probably not. Probably should not. She knew from experience that Sunny Hills wouldn’t call unless there was some sort of problem, and she had found it really annoying when parents hadn’t answered her calls when she worked there. 

 

Reluctantly, she picked up the phone and wasn’t surprised to hear Katies cheerful voice coming through from the other line:

 

“Hi Sandra, It’s Katie over at Sunny Hills…”

 

“Yes I’m fine, thanks. It’s not an emergency or anything, but I wanted to talk to you about Mike…”

 

“Yeah - he’s been a handful for us too, which is actually part of the reason I’m calling…”

 

“Well he made some poor choices this morning in terms of his behavior, acting out and throwing toys, and he was also more emotional than usual…”

 

“Yeah we’ve had lots of tears about little things this morning, so I decided to keep him in with me during outside playtime.”

 

Without really realizing it, Sandra’s hand had snaked down to her crotch as she envisioned Mike being punished by Katie for acting so babyish. 

 

“And then, while he was inside cleaning up the mess he had made earlier, he had a pretty big accident in his pants…”

 

“Yep…“

”No, and I’m sorry I wasn’t watching him more carefully. He actually hasn’t been very good about telling me when he needs to go this week, so I’ve been trying to keep a sharper eye on him. It’s usually pretty obvious when he needs to poop, but…”

 

“Yes exactly! [Katie punctuated this affirmation with a good natured laugh]. But this time I didn’t notice until I smelled him. And unfortunately, he didn’t tell me about it either - before or after.”

 

Sandra’s hand was inside her panties now. She had to suppress a moan. A finger slid it’s way into her slick crease. 

The thought of Mike, knelt on the floor, busy with some task, and quietly pooping in his pants like a 2 year old was absolutely exhilarating. The thought of the smell betraying him to Katie was almost too delicious to bear.

 

That kind of thing wasn’t supposed to happen in the preschool classroom. And there had been no other, more likely culprits present to pin it on. Katie would have known from the first whiff that it was her Little Helper who had dirtied his pants. 

 

She wondered if Katie had bothered to ask his permission before she reached down and pulled back the bunched elastic waistband of his not-quite-diapers to confirm with her eyes what her practiced nose was already telling her?
 

He hadn’t pooped yesterday, so it was probably a pretty big one, and the trainers didn’t have as much room in the seat as a disposable diaper. Katie would have seen it immediately. 

 

She wondered what his face looked like when she got down on his level and asked him in a serious, but nurturing tone, if he had poop in his pants, and if so, why hadn’t he come and told her he needed changing like he was supposed to? 

 

She also wondered if he had tried to lie about it at first, despite the visual and olfactory evidence to the contrary. Perhaps he had even stomped his foot and shouted: “not got stinky!” or “no change me!” in a petulant and ineffectual attempt to dodge her persistent questioning. 

 

Fuck, that mental image made her so wet…

 

She pictured him doing the “walk of shame” down the hallway towards the changing facilities, one hand held tightly in Katie’s, and the other clamped tightly over his dirty bottom, trying desperately to keep the load inside from shifting around too much.
 

The trainers she had been putting him in were basically pull-on cloth diapers (sans cover), and would probably contain the mess unless he sat in it, but Mike didn’t seem to know that. He had held his bottom the same way at the park the other day, even as claimed in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear that he was not poopy. 

 

She snapped back to the conversation when she realized that Katie was still talking.

 

“It’s no big deal. Luckily, the toddlers were also having outside play time so the changing facilities in that classroom were free for us to use in private…”

 

That did it. 

 

That mental image - of Mike laying teary-eyed on the plastic-covered cushion of the toddler room changing table, his thumb in his mouth, his striped tee shirt tucked up over his pot belly, naked from the waist down with his soiled “big boy pants” tied up in a bag next to him, with Katie wiping his poop-covered bottom, and his crotch already glistening from where she had wiped him previously - all of those things combined into the image that pushed her over the edge into one of the strongest “solo” orgasms she’d ever had.

She shuddered, and bit her lip. It was Katie doing these things, and seeing Mike in this way. It was almost too much to think about right now. She’d need to process it later, and maybe rub another one out…

 

She realized Katie had paused: “Sandra? Are you still there?”

 

“Yeah - sorry - I was just walking upstairs” Sandra said, breathlessly. 

 

“No worries…Anyway, I got him cleaned up and into a fresh pair of trainers - he’s out of spare training pants and backup clothing by the way…”

 

“Yeah, well I noticed he was a little damp right after he arrived, so I changed him then. But then during morning snack time he completely soaked that first back up pair of undies as well as his clothes…”

 

“Yeah, as in wet up to his armpits…”

 

“Nope. He definitely didn’t. He knows the rules about telling me, but I think he was just too busy with his snack to put his hand up, so I’m not too worried about it…”

 

“Well we can chat about that when you come to pick him up…”

 

“No, he seems fine. I think he’s completely zoned out right now. He’s actually sitting on the floor, putting a car in his mouth. In fact, hold on just a sec:”

 

Mike, sweetie - get that out of your mouth. It’s yucky. You’re not a baby.

 

“Sorry - where were we?…”

 

“No. You don’t need to do that. If he has another accident, I’ll just put one of his naptime diapers on him and he can spend some time helping Miss Julie in the toddler room until it’s time for pickup…”

“

Sandra? Did I lose you again?…”

 

“OK, good. Look, that’s actually not the reason I’m calling. Or at least not the main reason. I’m calling because I wanted to let you know that I think he REMEMBERS…”

 

“Yes - as in before before…Before he was a little. I think he remembers ME.”

 

 

 

To be concluded…

 

[aldl4811]

Thanks and exciting work! 

[Pierry Louys]

Wow that a story !

I think Mike remember things but get confused that he likes his new life ! 

[LilLew]

Thank you for writing these! You don't get to see much quality soft domme fiction out there.