Back to Basics — Regressed by Mother-In-Law (Sister-In-Law Also Ends Up Diapered) Preview

[TheLittleWriter]

Sitting on his mother-in-law’s lap, diapered and sucking on a pacifier, Steven couldn’t help but wonder how his life had come to this. Just months ago, he was Joan’s husband, struggling to find work but still a man in his own home. Now, he spent his days dressed as a baby, under the complete control of his mother-in-law, Margaret.

Maybe if he had refused Joan’s idea, things would have turned out differently. Maybe he would have found a job and kept his dignity. Maybe Joan wouldn’t have reconnected with her ex—wouldn’t be dating him, sleeping with him, while Steven sat in a nursery, waiting to be fed and changed.

But it was too late for maybes.

Margaret pulled the pacifier from his mouth and offered her breast. Steven hesitated, but his body had already been trained to accept. He latched on and began to suck, slowly at first, then faster as the familiar routine took over. “That’s my good baby,” she said, her voice warm but firm.

Steven shifted, uncomfortable, feeling his diaper grow warm as he nursed. He knew what was happening, but there was no point in fighting it. This was his life now.

His mind drifted back to the beginning—to how it all started.

 

Chapter 1

Mother-In-Law

 

Steven sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window as Joan drove toward her mother’s house. His hands were clenched in his lap, his stomach twisting with shame. He didn’t dare look at her. Not after everything.

This was his fault. At least, that’s what Joan said. Losing his job was bad enough, but failing to find another for over a month? That sealed it. Bills kept piling up, and with Joan’s salary alone, they couldn’t afford to stay in their home.

She had given him a choice—move in with her mother or be on his own. She wouldn’t wait around forever, and she wasn’t going to waste her life supporting a man who couldn’t pull his weight. If he refused, she would leave, and divorce would follow.

Steven couldn’t risk that. Joan was everything to him.

So he agreed.

They packed up their things, said goodbye to the home they had built together, and now here they were, pulling into his mother-in-law’s driveway.

Margaret’s house was as pristine as he remembered. Big, elegant, the kind of home that radiated wealth and success.The kind of success he had failed to provide for Joan.

And there she was—Margaret herself, waiting on the porch.

Even at fifty-five, she barely looked over forty. Her posture was perfect, her hair flawlessly styled, her presence commanding. At first glance, no one would ever guess she was a mother, let alone to twins. Margaret was always polished. Always in control. And she had never been shy about her opinions—especially about Steven.

The moment Joan parked, Margaret stepped forward with a warm, welcoming smile—directed entirely at her daughter.

“Joan, sweetheart,” she said, pulling her daughter into a hug. “I’m so happy you’re here. You must be exhausted from the drive.”

Then her eyes flicked to Steven. The warmth dimmed slightly, her smile tightening at the edges. Not quite a sneer. But not far off.

“And Steven,” she said smoothly. “I assume you’ll be staying as well.” Her tone was polite, but Steven felt the unspoken words hanging in the air. For now.

Margaret’s home was just as immaculate inside as it was outside. Not a speck of dust in sight. Everything had a place, and everything stayed in it.

She led them through the hall, guiding Joan toward a spacious guest bedroom—clearly set up with comfort in mind. Steven stepped forward instinctively, but before he could enter, Margaret turned to him with a raised brow.

“You two can stay here,” Margaret said. “Millie is out of town this week. But she should be back next Monday.”

Steven exhaled in relief.

Millie was Joan’s mirror image—tall, blonde, gorgeous. But that’s where their similarities ended. Millie was the most obnoxious woman Steven had ever met. Lazy, entitled, living off Margaret’s money without a care in the world.

“It’s going to be fun,” Margaret continued, a note of amusement in her voice. “Having my two babies back home again. And well… Steven too, I suppose.”

Steven’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

Joan dropped onto the bed, already making herself comfortable. “Thanks, Mom. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Of course, sweetheart. You deserve to be comfortable.”

Then she turned to Steven.

“And you’ll be looking for work right away, I assume?”

Steven straightened, eager to show effort. “Yes, absolutely. I’ve already put in some applications.”

Margaret tilted her head slightly. “That’s good to hear. But until something comes through, you’ll need to contribute around the house.”

“Oh, uh, sure. I guess I can do a few things—” Steven said.

“That’s a good boy,” Margaret said with a grin and something darker behind her eyes.

Something about the way she said it made his stomach twist.

The first few days were physically exhausting and mentally draining. Steven was up early every morning, scrubbing floors, vacuuming, dusting, washing dishes. Whenever he had time to spare, he was forced to work on his resume. Meanwhile, Joan was already getting calls about possible jobs.

“You can’t just leave me here alone with your mother,” Steven said when Joan told him about her interview.

Joan frowned. “We need the money. The faster we both find jobs, the faster we can leave.”

“But—“

“No buts,” she cut him off. “Now get back to your chores. You know Mom doesn’t like you lazing around.”

Steven sighed.

There was always more to do. No matter how much he cleaned, Margaret always found something else.

And she always watched him.

"A real man takes responsibility.”

"You should be grateful to contribute, Steven.”

"Is Joan the only one who ever cleaned up after you?”

He wanted to argue. Wanted to snap back. But what could he say? He was a guest here. He had no leverage. So he kept his head down and did what he was told.

On the fourth day, Margaret called him into the kitchen.

“Steven, dear. Remember how you were complaining about doing the dishes?”

Steven hesitated. He didn’t remember complaining—just saying his clothes were getting wet.

“Well, I remember.” She said, holding something pink and frilly in her hands—an apron covered in Disney princesses. “That won’t be a problem anymore.”

Steven blinked. “Uh… what’s that?”

“Your apron,” Margaret said simply. “If you’re going to be doing housework, you should at least dress the part.”

Steven stared. She couldn’t be serious. “…You expect me to wear that?”

Margaret arched an eyebrow. “I expect you to show me some respect and thank me for getting you such a cute apron.”

He looked toward Joan, expecting her to say something. To defend him.

But Joan just sighed. “Steven, just wear it. Stop making things difficult.”

Steven felt his face flush. “It’s ridiculous,” he muttered.

Joan’s expression hardened, and she didn’t need to talk for Steven to know what she was thinking. Her words had been very clear. Either he obeyed her mother, or he could pack his things and find a place to live without her.

Slowly, reluctantly, he took the apron and pulled it over his head. The fabric felt absurd, hanging over his clothes. Too soft. Too delicate. Too childish.

‘Thank you, Margaret,” he forced himself to say with a smile.

Margaret beamed. “There’s a good boy,” she said, patting his cheek.

Steven’s jaw clenched, but he forced himself to stay quiet. This was just temporary. Just until he found a job. How could it get worse?

 

Chapter 2

The Incident

 

 

The week passed in a slow, suffocating haze. Every day blurred into the next—wake up early, clean the house from top to bottom, endure Margaret’s judgmental gaze, and try not to react when she made pointed remarks about what a real man should be doing with his life.

Steven had started to adapt, as much as he hated to admit it. He had little choice. Joan was too busy applying for jobs to argue on his behalf, and Margaret had made it crystal clear that he was expected to earn his keep. The apron, as humiliating as it was, had become part of his routine.

It wasn’t worth the fight.

And just when he was starting to settle into the rhythm of things, Millie came home.

The front door swung open with force, and a shrill, excited voice echoed through the house.

“Mommy! I’m home!”

Steven barely had time to process the words before heels clacked against the hardwood floors, and Millie swept into the kitchen like she owned the place.

She had the same blonde hair and striking features as Joan, but where Joan exuded maturity and elegance, Millie was all about herself. Her designer handbag was tossed onto the counter without a second thought, and she flashed Margaret a perfectly manicured smile. You wouldn’t believe she was a woman in her mid-thirties.

“Did you miss me?” she asked, leaning in to press a dramatic kiss to Margaret’s cheek.

“Of course, sweetheart.” Margaret chuckled, smoothing her daughter’s hair fondly. “The house has been far too quiet without you.”

Then her eyes landed on Steven.

“…Oh my God.”

Steven tensed as she burst into laughter.

“Oh, this is too good.” Millie stepped closer, grinning ear to ear. “You’re wearing a princess apron?”

Steven’s face flushed hot. He wanted to tear the damn thing off, but he knew Margaret wouldn’t allow it.

“I mean, I always knew you were a bit of a sissy, but this?” She turned to Margaret, eyes twinkling. “You’re making him play housewife?”

Margaret smiled sweetly. “Oh, he’s been very helpful. Haven’t you, Steven?”

Steven’s jaw tightened.

Millie giggled, reaching out to ruffle his hair like a child. “Aww, you’re adorable.”

Steven jerked away. “Don’t touch me.”

Millie smirked. “Relax, princess. I was just admiring Mommy’s little helper.”

Steven wanted to disappear.

And worst of all—Joan didn’t say a word. She just sat there, looking at her phone as Millie and Margaret mocked him. It was as if she didn’t care anymore and it had only been a week since they moved in. He feared his relationship with his wife would deteriorate at this rate.

But he endured it because he felt they were right. If he couldn’t provide for Joan, what could he expect from her?

The following weeks were pure hell.

If Margaret was subtle in her condescension, Millie was the exact opposite. She took every opportunity to mock him—calling him princess, housewife, and even Margaret’s little sissy maid. She never missed a chance to pat his head, pinch his cheek, or smirk at his discomfort.

Steven tried to tune her out. But then Joan got a job, and things got worse.

“You’re working for him?” Steven’s voice came out strained, disbelieving.

Joan barely looked up from her phone. “Yeah. It’s a great opportunity.”

Steven’s chest tightened. “Joan, he’s your ex.”

“And?” She gave him a bored glance. “It’s not a big deal, Steven.”

Steven gritted his teeth. “It feels like a big deal.”

She sighed, setting her phone down. “Steven, grow up. It’s a job. He owns the company, but I don’t even report to him directly.”

Steven crossed his arms. “That doesn’t change anything.”

Joan ran a hand through her hair, her frustration evident. “You know what? I don’t have time for this. You should be happy for me. This job pays well, and it means we can move out sooner.”

The word stung.

Like she was the only one trapped here.

Steven swallowed hard. “That’s not the point.”

Joan grabbed her purse, rolling her eyes. “Whatever, Steven. I don’t have time for your insecurities.”

And then she was gone. Leaving him alone with Margaret and Millie eight hours a day, five days a week.

Joan was home less and less. At first, Steven tried to ignore it, told himself it was temporary, necessary—she was just busy. It was good that she had a job, right? They needed the money.

But something felt different.

She started coming home later and later. At first, it was only an hour or two past dinner, but soon, Steven found himself eating alone at the table, pushing food around his plate while Margaret and Millie cast knowing glances at each other.

She used to text him during the day—little things: How’s your job search? Miss you. Hope your day’s okay. Those messages stopped. Now, whenever her phone buzzed, she’d glance at it, smirk, and turn the screen away.

And the worst part? She had started dressing differently.

Joan was never the type to care about makeup or her hair when going to work, but now she left the house looking like she was going on a date.

At breakfast, Steven watched as she smoothed out her skirt, adjusting the way it hugged her hips. Her perfume lingered in the air, something subtle and sweet—something she hadn’t worn in years.

Steven swallowed, forcing a smile. “You’re really dressing up for this job, huh?”

Joan didn’t look up from the mirror. “I just want to look professional.”

Steven nodded slowly. “Right. Professional.”

His stomach twisted.

The days were long, filled with endless cleaning, cooking, and listening to Margaret’s passive-aggressive remarks about what a husband should be. Every evening, his body ached, his mind exhausted from constantly keeping up, keeping quiet, keeping small.

So when the first accident happened, he blamed the coffee.

It was late afternoon. His knees ached as he scrubbed the kitchen floor, Margaret standing over him, checking for invisible specks of dirt. The warm scent of lemon cleaner lingered in the air, and the cool tiles pressed against his palms.

Suddenly, it happened.

A strange warmth pooled between his legs. His body tensed. His breath hitched. For a moment, his mind refused to process it. But then, the slow, horrifying realization sank in.

His hands trembled as he lurched to his feet, bolting toward the bathroom.

Margaret’s voice followed him. “Steven?”

He slammed the door shut, heart hammering. Frantically, he yanked down his pants, staring at the small but undeniable damp spot.

It was nothing. Just an accident. Too much coffee. Stress. That’s all. Nothing to worry about.

He cleaned himself up, forcing deep, steady breaths. When he stepped out of the bathroom, Millie was leaning against the counter, her lips curled into a smirk.

Steven froze.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

Her eyes flicked to his pants.

Steven forced a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “No. Nothing.”

“Mmm. If you say so.”

She knew. Somehow, she knew, he could see it in her eyes. But it was a one-time thing. It wouldn’t happen again.

The next day, it happened again.

Then again.

It was just a few drops. But it became more frequent.

Nothing, however, would’ve prepared him for when it happened in his sleep. The first time Joan noticed, Steven woke to the sound of her sharp intake of breath. It was still the middle of the night. He didn’t register what had happened at first. The room was dimly lit, the hum of the ceiling fan the only sound—until Joan ripped the covers off him.

“Oh my God, Steven.”

The sheets beneath him were soaked. Steven’s breath caught in his throat. Panic rushed through him, cold and suffocating. His hands clenched into fists as he scrambled to sit up, but the damage was undeniable.

“Are you kidding me?!” Joan asked in disgust.

Steven opened his mouth, but no words came out. His mind was blank. Horrified. “I—I’m sorry,” he finally stammered.

“Steven, you’re a grown man. This is not acceptable!”

The door creaked open, and Steven flinched as Margaret stepped inside, her sharp eyes immediately scanning the scene. It was his worst nightmare. His mother-in-law stood there with that disapproving gaze of hers.

“Well,” she said smoothly, exhaling as if she had been waiting for this moment. “I think Stevie here is showing us who he truly is.”

Speechless, Steven tried to argue. He tried to tell her to get out of his room. But it wasn’t his room. It was hers. It was her home and he was only a guest.

“I suppose we’ll have to take some precautions,” Margaret said with a grin. “We can’t have you ruining the mattress.” She turned to Joan, her voice practical, almost casual.

“I think it’s time he started wearing protection.”

 

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Hi guys, here's one of my latest stories. You can read it now on Amazon Kindle — Back to Basics: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DWJ38LPL

You can also find Wife's New Boyfriend Is My New Daddy: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DSR2VKVB

Claire's Regression: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DS2S4FXW

You can also read Daisy's Perfect Summer: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DLVJYHH5

Here's a link to The Diary of a Diapered Cuckold: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DPFLGMNJ