Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Pilot
The clock on my computer ticked down the final minute of my workday. Tick! Tock! chimed the grandfather clock in the reception area, as if echoing my impatience. With a sigh of relief, I shut down my computer, gathered my things, and clocked out.
Stepping out into the bustling city streets, I made my way to the nearest bus stop. I sank onto the bench, grateful to take the weight off my feet, and waited for my ride home. The bus arrived, and I climbed aboard, requesting a single ticket to the outer-town area where my house was nestled.
As I settled into a seat beside an elderly lady, she turned to me with a troubled expression. “Did you see the news? As of today, Friday, the government is increasing taxes!”
I responded with a sigh of frustration, “Of course they are! Those thieves robbing our hard-earned money and spending it on stupid things!”
The lady’s expression darkened. “It’s ridiculous, some trickle-down economics trickery! Making the rich, richer! I’m glad I’m not working anymore, but my poor grandchildren are burdened by it. I hope the government can fix up their act soon, otherwise, they’ll be another crisis calling. Anyhow, this is my stop.”
I rose to let her pass, my mind racing. Could the tax increase be that severe? I hoped the lady was simply misinformed, otherwise, I might struggle to make ends meet this month. I plugged in my earphones, seeking solace in music as I rode towards home.
The bus pulled to a stop, and I stepped off, the melody still echoing in my ears. A sense of unease crept over me as I walked down the familiar streets. Reaching my empty driveway, I unlocked the front door and stepped inside. An ominous-looking envelope lay on the floor, thicker than usual. It was addressed to me, William Rand.
I left the envelope in the kitchen, my curiosity piqued but my need for a shower overriding it. I headed to the bathroom, shedding my work clothes and stepping into the warm spray. After my shower, I dried off and dressed in the comfy pajamas I had laid out that morning.
Back in the kitchen, the envelope beckoned me. With a mix of anticipation and apprehension, I reached for it, ready to face whatever news it held.
Chapter 2: My Wish & The Button
Intrigue gripped me as I settled onto the living room sofa, clutching the mysterious envelope. Inside, alongside a letter, lay a simple button. Curiosity piqued, I unfolded the letter and began to read.
My Dearest William R,
Upon perusing this missive, you shall discover a most curious object nestled within its confines: a button. But oh, dear William, this is no ordinary button! It is a talisman of whimsy, a conduit to the extraordinary.
William, more curious now began to read faster.
This button, you see, possesses capabilities most marvellous. Should you desire a castle in the clouds or a symphony of songbirds, simply conjure the wish within your mind’s eye, press the button with a flourish, and voila! Your heart’s desire shall manifest before you.
But heed this warning, dear William, for with such power comes great responsibility. Use this button judiciously, for its magic is potent and its consequences far-reaching.
With anticipation of your enchanting adventures,
Your ever-devoted Lady on the Bus
After absorbing the letter’s fantastical claims, I found myself holding the button with a mixture of skepticism and excitement. What should I wish for? The question echoed in my mind, as my thoughts drifted back to simpler times, when stress was a distant concept.
A wave of determination washed over me. “Button,” I declared, “I wish my life was more like it was in the past. I want my stress to be gone, like when I was younger.”
With a firm press of the button, I held my breath, expecting… something. But nothing happened. A moment of confusion passed before a wave of dizziness overwhelmed me, and I slipped into unconsciousness.
Chapter 3: Realisation & Consequences
I awoke with a start, wooden bars looming all around me. Disoriented, I felt something thick between my legs. A glance downwards revealed a massive adult diaper, adorned with childish designs and secured around my waist. “What the hell is going on?!” I shouted, my voice echoing in the unfamiliar space.
My hands felt warm and bulky. Raising them, I saw they were encased in giant blue mittens. As the horrifying reality dawned on me – I was trapped in a crib, wearing a diaper, with mittens on my hands – a sharp pain jolted me from my bladder.
“Oh no, I need to pee!” I thought frantically. “I am NOT pissing in this diaper!” I tugged at the diaper tapes with my mitten-covered hands, but they wouldn’t budge. Panic set in as I realized I was helpless.
My desperate cries for help went unanswered. I squirmed, squeezing my legs together and pressing my padded hands against my diaper, but it was no use. Warmth spread through the diaper, and I whimpered in defeat as I wet myself.
Suddenly, the door creaked open, and my ex-girlfriend walked in. She peered at me through the bars, her eyes fixated on my bulging diaper. “Uh oh! Looks like the little baby boy is having a little accident in his diaper!” she exclaimed.
Embarrassment washed over me like a tidal wave. My ex-girlfriend was watching me wet myself while wearing a diaper and mittens! “Let me out of here! I don’t want any of this!” I pleaded, but she only smiled.
“Awww, the likkle wikkle baby is trying to talk to me, I can’t understand you,” she cooed. “Is it that your diaper is wet? You know that your diapers can hold three wettings baby, so don’t think I am going to change you yet!”
As my pee stream subsided, a tear rolled down my cheek. She noticed, her tone softening. “Aww don’t be sad, baby, let’s get you some yummy food for that big tummy of yours! I’m certain that’ll make my little baby boy feeling better.”
She unlocked the crib, lowering the side. “Come on, get out of your crib for mummy,” she coaxed. Mummy? She’s not my mummy! And I’m not sad because I’m hungry! I crossed my arms in protest, determined not to leave the crib until I got a change.
“Baby! You better be out of your crib, in the next three seconds, otherwise I will spank you so hard that I’ll give you a valid reason to cry. Now get out of your crib this instance!” she demanded, her voice stern.
Fear gnawed at me. Would she actually spank me?
“Oneeeeeee,” she drawled.
Should I comply? No, I wouldn’t give in. “Mphm!” I retorted defiantly.
“Twooooo.”
My heart pounded.
“THREE!”
She yanked me out of the crib by my wrists. Blindfolded and restrained, I felt my diaper being pulled down. “Some baby has been naughty this morning. Naughty babies, like you, get punished.”
A sting on my bottom confirmed her words. “Owwwwwwww!” I yelped.
SWAT. SWAT. SWAT. The spanking continued, each blow sending a wave of pain through me. I was an adult man, reduced to tears in a wet diaper, being spanked by my ex-girlfriend.
“Now I think my little baby will be more obedient. Isn’t that right?” she asked, her voice gentler now. I nodded through my tears.
She released me, and I rubbed my sore bottom as she pulled up my diaper. “Now, it’s time for some corner time. Then I will let my little baby get some food. This little baby has some actions he needs to think about.”
She led me to a wooden stool in the corner, handing me a baby bottle filled with milk. “If you want to be out of the corner, I want this entire bottle drank,” she commanded.
Nodding, I began to suck on the teat, the warm milk flooding my mouth. Here I was, an adult man drinking from a baby bottle, wearing a wet diaper, and sitting in the corner. It couldn’t get more humiliating. But the fear of another spanking loomed large, and I knew I had to obey.
Chapter 4: Feeding Time
As I sat in the corner, bottle in hand, I replayed the events leading to this absurd situation. What had I wished for? The memory eluded me, but I knew this wasn’t it. I had to escape these diapers.
A plan began to form. The button must be in the living room. If I could finish this bottle, get fed, and make it back there, I might have a chance. I sucked down the remaining milk with renewed determination.
As if on cue, she reappeared. “Has baby finished his milkies? Yes he has! Such a good baby for mummy!”
The praise felt good, yet shame gnawed at me. I had to get out of this reality.
She helped me up, my diaper sagging heavily. My legs felt wobbly, and I stumbled, landing with a sickening squelch on my sopping bottom. “Awww, my little baby is struggling to walk today. Don’t worry, mummy will help.”
She hoisted me up, her hand pressing against my wet diaper. I was carried downstairs to the kitchen and placed in a high chair. As she strapped me in, the diaper pressed against my crotch. It was an uncomfortable yet strangely stimulating sensation. I shook my head, refocusing on my goal.
She opened a jar of baby food and began feeding me, making airplane noises with each spoonful. It was disgusting, but the memory of the spanking kept me compliant. Soon, the jar was empty, replaced by a sippy cup filled with apple juice. As I reached for it, a sharp pain stabbed my bowels. I clutched my stomach, dropping the cup.
“Good job, it’s a sippy cup, otherwise that would have gone every— Uh oh, looks like them laxatives and diuretics that I put in your milk are starting to help. These are just another part of your punishment baby. You will be spending your day in this diaper and then you’ll be sleeping in it. You’ve got to learn to listen to mummy. Now, show mummy you can listen and drink up your sippy cup while she cleans.”
Humiliation burned through me. I hadn’t just wet myself; I was about to soil this diaper too. I grabbed the sippy cup, gulping down the apple juice as my bowels churned. It was no use. Warm pee flooded the front of my diaper, followed by a torrent of mushy mess. I sat there, mortified, as my diaper filled with my own waste.
Finally, the onslaught ended. I had never felt so childish, so utterly degraded. The strap of the high chair pressed the mess against my genitals, the warmth strangely arousing. No, focus!
“Something smells funny,” she chirped. “I think someone had a little messy accident in their diapie. That’s all for your punishment today baby, well other than the fact that you’re not getting changed till tomorrow morning, that is. So, now I think it’s time for some play time in the living room.”
My heart leaped. The living room! My plan was back in motion.
She unbuckled me, and I took a wobbly step forward, my legs weak and unsteady. The inertia from the movement, coupled with the weakness in my legs, sent me sprawling forward. I landed with a wet, squishy slap on my diaper-clad bottom. The impact sent a fresh wave of nausea through me, and the muscles in my bowels clenched involuntarily.
A muffled squelch resonated from beneath me as the contents of my diaper shifted and spread. I could feel the warm, wet mess pushing against the fabric of the diaper, the back sagging lower with the added weight. Shame burned through me hotter than the discomfort in my overloaded diaper.
She knelt down beside me, her eyes widening slightly as she took in the sight of me sprawled on the floor. “Oh dear,” she cooed, but I could detect a hint of amusement in her voice. “Seems like someone needs to be a bit more careful.”
Taking a firm grip under my arms, she hoisted me up into a standing position. As she did so, I winced at the feeling of the squished mess squelching further inside my diaper. The stench was overpowering, even to my own nose.
“Come on, Let’s go play.”
Chapter 5: Going back, maybe.
She placed me, with a patronizing pat on my soiled bottom, into a playpen that had mysteriously appeared in the living room. “Mummy will turn on the television for you,” she cooed, flipping to a channel filled with garish colors and annoyingly cheerful jingles.
As I watched the babyish program, a wave of self-disgust washed over me. I needed to snap out of this trance and find that button! While she was gone, I carefully pulled myself up, clinging to the playpen’s edge for support. My diaper sagged heavily, threatening to topple me over.
I scanned the playpen, moving toys aside with my mitten-clad hands, but the button was nowhere to be found. Then, a glint caught my eye—just outside the playpen, within tantalizing reach. I lunged forward, my fingers brushing against it, but I couldn’t quite grasp it. Frustration surged through me. I had to get out.
Summoning all my strength, I pushed against the top of the playpen, hoisting my diaper-laden body up and over the side. With a soft thud, I landed on the carpet, freedom at last.
I scrambled to the button, clutching it tightly. “Put things back to normal for me,” I pleaded. “Make me an adult again without all this babyish stuff and make my ex-girlfriend no longer my mummy!”
I pressed the button with desperate hope, just as Emily reentered the room. But before she could reach me, darkness closed in, and I lost consciousness once more.
Chapter 6: Home sweet home, maybe.
I awoke on the living room floor, clad in a cold, wet, and disgustingly soiled diaper. The playpen was gone. As I struggled to my feet, a knock at the door startled me. I scrambled upstairs, my diaper crinkling and swaying with every step. Finding my pajama pants in the bathroom, I pulled them over my mess and hurried downstairs.
At the door stood my ex-girlfriend, Emily. “Hey, William,” she began, “I think we should talk about things… I feel really bad about how our relationship ended. Can I come in?”
Eager to mend fences, I agreed without a second thought, the state of my diaper forgotten. She sat down in the living room, recounting our past grievances, and I found myself agreeing with her. But then she paused, sniffing the air. “Do you smell that? It smells like… poo and pee, mixed together…”
My face flushed. “No, I don’t smell anything,” I lied, but it was too late. Her eyes narrowed, focusing on my suspiciously bulky crotch. A sliver of the diaper’s colorful pattern peeked out from under my pajama pants.
“Oh my God, William! Are you wearing diapers?” she exclaimed, rushing over and yanking my pants down to reveal the truth. “I guess I’m going to be your mummy from now on,” she declared, “and my first action is to change this diaper, young man.”
Embarrassment and a strange flicker of arousal warred within me. I frantically searched the room for the button, but it was nowhere to be seen.
“Come on, little one,” Emily coaxed, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. “You don’t want to be punished, do you, stinky baby?”
I blushed, my newfound obedience taking over. I followed her meekly, despair settling in. The button was gone, my life irrevocably altered. I was trapped in this infantile existence, with work and diapers looming over me like a never-ending nightmare.
She led me upstairs to my room, where, to my horror, a stockpile of diapers and a changing mat still remained, along with the ominous crib. The button had played a cruel trick on me, and I was left to face the consequences of my ill-conceived wish.
“Oh, look at this. You’ve prepared everything so nicely for me to use on you. What a good boy you are! Maybe I should lock up that little cock of yours in chastity. I can see it trying to get hard in there. Adult babies like you aren’t supposed to be getting stiff!” She teased, despite the fact that I was a grown man. Her hand moved down to the front of my diaper, gently rubbing my cock through the soft padding. With just a few strokes, I felt myself release prematurely, filling my diaper with sticky, messy cum. A groan of pleasure escaped me as the afterglow settled in, mingling with a deep sense of shame. I couldn’t believe I had just climaxed inside my wet and messy diaper. My face burned with embarrassment as I reflected on my actions – a grown man cumming into such infantile and messy, wet diaper.
“You’ve been a naughty baby,” she scolded. “Mummy will have to order a chastity device for you. Until it arrives, no more playing with yourself in those little diapies. I’ll be watching, and if you disobey, you’ll find yourself in frilly panties and cute sundresses, my little girl instead of my little boy. Do you understand? Behave, okay?”
Feeling utterly powerless over my own body and actions, I nodded in shame. She guided me to lay down on a changing mat she had prepared, expertly undoing the tapes of my diaper. As she cleaned my penis, she also took time of wiping away the evidence of my sticky release with her finger and making me eat it, the humiliation deepened as she made me eat my own cum.
“I think this little baby needs a thorough bath to ensure every nook and cranny is spotless. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” she remarked. The embarrassment peaked as I realized she was going to bathe me herself, stripping away any last vestige of dignity.
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