QH Archives: Sticky Situations (Patreon)

We hadn’t spoke since we left the party, and it was a pretty long drive home. I had opened my mouth a few times to say something - maybe offer an apology at the very least - but she would only hold up a hand to silence me.

It wouldn’t be until we had both entered the apartment and the door was closed and locked for the night that she’d break the silence.

“I don’t want to hear any excuses. I don’t want an apology. I don’t want to hear about how this isn’t going to happen again. We had an agreement and you let me down.”

“I know,” I said. It was all I could say, really.

“This wasn’t the first time. It wasn’t even the second or third time. I feel like I can’t even touch you in public anymore without you creaming your pants like a fucking teenager.”

“I...I just…” But really, what was I going to say? I didn’t even know how it had started. I never really had a problem like this before, but suddenly every time she tried to show me some affection in public, I’d just...immediately blow my load in my pants. And she was right, this wasn’t the first or third time she had caught me like this.

But what she hadn’t known was all the times it happened and she hadn’t caught me. Not that I could ever admit it to her.

“You remember what I said, right?” she asked. “Do you remember what I said I’d make you wear if you kept doing this?”

“I do,” I said, my face flushed with warmness.

“Take your pants off,” she ordered.

I didn’t hesitate. I still had the belt marks on my ass cheek from what happened the last time I didn’t comply quickly enough. I fumbled with my belt, but soon had my pants pulled down.

There, in the open, was my current stage of punishment. After the third time she caught me with sticky pants in public - a rather embarrassing moment while walking downtown with her, where I managed to suddenly cum my pants with an audible moan when she had only playfully rubbed my ass - she said enough was enough.

I had been forced to gather all my underwear and dump them into the trash can. They were in the dumpster that night, and by morning, they were gone forever. In their place, she had bought me some panties. Her logic was that maybe I needed some shame to curb my little problem.

It didn’t work, obviously. With my pants down and my yellow panties exposed, a big telling wet spot on the crotch, nothing had changed.

“Clearly having your big boy pants taken away wasn’t enough. Maybe I was foolish for thinking that panties would be any different. If anything, I think you came even faster at that party than you ever had before. And all I did was whisper in your ear if you wanted some beer.”

I didn’t really have anything to say. Yeah, she was probably right, I might have liked the panties more than I expected to. More than she expected.

“Take your panties off. I wasn’t kidding when I told you what you’d be wearing next. And I bet you think I was bluffing, but I came prepared.”

I stepped out of my pants altogether now, letting my damp panties drop to the floor as well. I was very aware of what the threatened punishment was. But even now, I still didn’t believe it. It still seemed far-fetched.

“Follow me,” she said, and I did. We went straight into the bedroom where she held out a hand for me to stop, and as I did so, she slowly pulled a box out from under the bed. “I went to the grocery store and the drug store first, to see what they had,” she continued. “I was a little let down by what I found. The products I saw just didn’t feel like enough of a punishment. They were made to be too...discreet.”

I swallowed nervously. Suddenly, her threat seemed to have a little bit of weight to it. Had she really gone to the store? And...if she hadn’t bought anything, what did she have now?

“But, as always, the internet comes to the rescue. I quickly found something that exceeded all my expectations.”

With that, she reached into the box, tore into some plastic packaging and pulled out something. The sight of it simultaneously made me blush, my heart race, and any trace of my ego completely deflate and collapse on itself.

It was a giant disposable diaper, bright pink and seemingly made of a heavy crinkling plastic.

“So this is how it's going to be now,” she said. “Diapers. No more laundry. No more stained pants or panties. And any embarrassing wet spots are completely taken care of.”

“But...diapers? I can’t wear those! They look so...big. And loud.”

She bent the diaper back and forth in her hand, and as they crinkled loudly in her hands she laughed and nodded to agree. But then she shrugged and tossed it to me.

“Put it on,” she said. “And the diaper stays on until morning.”

“But what if I have to…”

She cut me off: “If your diaper is dry in the morning - and I mean completely dry and free of your sticky little accidents, I’ll give you some panties to wear to work. But...if you so much as dribble a drop of pee from your pathetic cock, I’ll toss your panties in the dumpster too and you’re going to be wearing these diapers all day long.”

“But I can’t do that! What if I have to use the bathroom?”

She shrugged again, laughing. “I mean....they’re diapers, right? Look, I told you the rules. If you want to sleep in my bed tonight, put that diaper on. Otherwise you can go find some other bed to make a mess out of.”

And I put the diaper on. I didn’t know exactly what I was doing, and it was harder than I thought to put a diaper on myself, but I did it. And when I crawled into bed, where she had already been while I was in the bathroom trying to figure out how to diaper myself, she put her hand on my padded bottom, feeling the squishy garment.

“It’s kind of cute,” she said. “...In a completely pathetic way. Good night.”

“G-good night,” I said back.

And maybe it’d be a good night for her, but her hand on my diaper had caused me to...well…  So I was left wondering: would she be able to tell in the morning? Or would it have dried? Or would the very act of her checking my diaper cause me to just do it all over again?  

My mind moved on to trying to figure out what I would need to do in the office to avoid anyone discovering the loud thick diapers that I’d be wearing under my pants.

I had a random thought - a thought that came to mind a few times since she had discovered my habit of premature ejaculation - maybe I could see a doctor about this?

Or, maybe, I thought, I could see just how far this punishment would go?

This story has been re-edited and partially re-written since its original publishing on Tumblr. This version exists exclusively for my Patrons.