QH Archives: Worked Out (Patreon)

“Not bad, Jessie,” he said. “You’re catching up.” Per usual, he was somehow being both genuine and condescending at the same time. Though I don’t think he ever saw it that way.

“You talk a big game…” I replied, catching my breath as I put my hand-weights down on the ground, “...for someone in a diaper.”

He blushed slightly, doing his best to look stoic and unphased. He was, of course, actually wearing a diaper. He was wearing only a diaper - this big silly white plastic thing with cartoon animal prints on it. The diaper, contrasted with his well-toned physique was...rather silly, putting it mildly.

“Low blow,” he said.

I laughed and shrugged as each of us grabbed our bottles of water. Somehow, the sight of a grown man in such an infantile garment had stopped being strange to me a while ago. It was his thing. A kink, I guess, or maybe more of a lifestyle. I didn’t ask too many questions - though I sometimes suspected he liked to flaunt it in my face, especially when we worked out together in his basement. Whereas I offered indifference and acceptance, I think he wanted more. Maybe he wanted a good spanking over my knees, or someone to stick a bottle in his mouth. It was a little tempting, but I had become fond of just pretending to be aloof.

“You can pick on me for what I’m wearing,” he finally shot back, clearly not ready to just leave it be. “But it’s only because you’re jealous of these.” He took this moment to flex, the contours of his sweaty biceps glistening in the light.

I hated conversations like this. Nothing soured my mood faster than his ‘man stronger than lady’ shit. My default was just not to acknowledge it at all, which felt like the right move here.

But today he persisted. “Come on, Jessie. Show me your guns.”

“I’m not going to play this game with you, Chris.”

“I get it,” he whined. “You can make fun of what I’m wearing, but when I pick on you, you suddenly can’t take it?”

I sighed. “Chris, you’re wearing a diaper. Think whatever you want, but me calling you a baby is not the same thing as you trying to make some macho point about how big and strong you are.”

“It is,” he said, sounding frustrated. “Come on. Just once. Come over here and flex and hold your arm up to mine. If it's bigger than mine, you can go ahead and call me a baby all you want to.”

The stakes seemed kind of low - but there was a good possibility that he was only going to see what he wanted anyways, and he’d take it and run with it. I could practically see his fragile masculinity drinking that up.

Still - maybe this was the motivation to start going to a real gym. “Sure,” I finally said. “Let’s do this.”

Staying where he already stood, which seemed like a defiantly sexist play in itself, he flexed his right arm. I slowly walked to him and while standing side-by-side with him, I flexed my left arm next to his.

The results were...interesting. One could argue that he had the “bigger” arm. But next to his lumpy and veiny appendage, my arm seemed better toned overall. And whether he thought he actually won his little stand-off or not, he had clearly not been expecting what he saw. He suddenly seemed jealous.

“S-see?” he stammered. “Bigger. Stronger. That’s that!”

We un-flexed and stepped away from each other. He could say whatever he wanted - I felt pretty good about myself at that moment. “Sure,” I offered - making little effort to hide my smugness.

“Let’s just call it a day,” he said, suddenly deciding to change the subject. “Get some food or something, maybe? I’m going to use the bathroom and when I come back we can talk about what we want to do.”

It’s hard to exactly pinpoint what set me off in that moment, or why it manifested as it did. Most likely, it was his silly male grandstanding that he was seemingly able to turn off when he realized he underestimated a woman - combined with the fact that he had the audacity to try any of that while he wore a goddamn diaper!

I stepped towards him again quickly, catching him off guard. I didn’t really think about what my plan would be, but when he stumbled to the side, I took advantage of the moment and shoved him down to the ground, landing on top of him - my arms pinning down his shoulders as he lay on his back.

“H-hey! What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m so sick of this shit,” I said. “You’re so big and tough? Then get up and go to the bathroom. Otherwise, you’re going to stay here and use your diaper like a baby.”

“What?” He struggled, and I put as much weight as I could on his shoulders. “Y-you’re being ridiculous!”

“Me? I’m the one being ridiculous?”

“I can’t…” he hesitated, clearly not wanting to say the truth out loud. “Could you please get off?”

“No. Either you get me off of you, or we stay here until you’re done using your diaper.”

He struggled again, flailing his arms, but I quickly shifted my hands to grip his upper arms, keeping them pinned down, while my legs held down his torso - rendering his legs just about useless.

“It’s just that...we just finished that workout and...I’m not at my best…”

“I feel fine,” I offered smugly.

“Come on. Jessie, you made your point. If you could just let me up, please?”

“Oh? What point did I make?”

“That…” the way he drifted off made me wonder if I had actually instilled any lesson to him at all. I could see the gears turning in his mind as he tried to figure out the right thing to say. “...I have to be...respectful.”

“I mean, sure. But, I was hoping for something a little more specific.”

“I can’t play this game right now,” he said. “Just...please let me up, Jessie. I have to go to the bathroom. I take this workout supplement and...it just goes right through me. Especially after a workout, you know? Please, we can talk about this all you want after I go to the bathroom.”

“That seems silly, doesn’t it?” I asked. “You wear these diapers and I never see you use them. And isn’t that what diapers are for?”

“But...I mean...yes...but I don’t do it when you’re around and…”

“Well, I’m giving you permission. Go ahead and use your diaper right now.”

“N-no, I can’t do that right now…”

“Why not? Just hurry up and piss yourself. Then you can go change and we can go on with our day.”

“I know but…” I could feel him surrendering a little and his resistance diminishing. I think he knew he wasn’t going to get me off of him. “Look...please...I’m not just going to...wet the diaper? You know? So...please, let me up.”

I hadn’t completely considered that possibility, and for a moment I reevaluated my plan. But no. I was staying where I was. This was still very much his problem, not mine. He could unleash an epic landslide into his diaper for all I cared. “I’m not getting up, Chris. I told you that.”

“But...Jessie!” Seeing the indifference on my face, he blurted out: “I’m going to mess myself if I don’t get up!”

“Well thank goodness you’re wearing a diaper then, right?”

“Jessie...are you really going to make me do this?”

“I really am. I’m not getting up.”

I expected this to drag on for a while, so I was surprised to see that he had almost completely given up in a single moment. His arms, which had at least been tense once he had given up trying to fight me off, went limp. I could feel his legs relaxing behind me. His eyes closed, and a single noise escaped his lips: “Mmph…”

Beneath me, I could hear him filling his diaper - a series of ripples and pops that were almost as embarrassing to hear as they probably were to be emitting. As it continued, his face flushed pink and he slowly opened his eyes, watching me as I watched him mess himself. Finally, I could hear him pissing himself, a steady stream that seemed to go on forever. I could feel the warmth of his diaper below me now.

Neither of us said anything immediately. I sat up, taking my hands off of his arms, and I slowly backed off of him, sitting on the ground near him. It was hard to see how full his diaper was as he lay on his back, though I was beginning to be able to smell it.

I felt like I should say something. I offered: “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah…”

I stood up, offering a hand to him, which he took. I pulled him back to his feet, and as he stood, the contents of his diaper fell to the bottom between his legs - the yellow-stained sagging bulge serving as a testament for what he had done.

“I...I never meant to put you down,” he said. “Maybe I just feel self conscious because of...you know...the diaper thing, and I get caught up on other things.”

“I know,” I said. “Do you...want help getting changed?”

“What? Y-you mean that you’ll…”

“I got you into that mess. I suppose I could help get you out of it if you wanted.”

He smiled and offered a small nod, and we started walking up the stairs out of the basement.

“But just for the record,” he said from in front of me, “I think at full strength, you wouldn’t have been able to do that to me.”

“Anytime you want a rematch, you just let me know,” I said with a smile.