More Sticky Situations (Patreon)

It's my pleasure to bring you a sequel to this story, Sticky Situations. This was written as a commission for a patron. Just a reminder that if you have a story idea you'd really like to see, or if there's a continuation of a particular story that you'd like to see, you should reach out to me and we can discuss a commission of your own.

I had a good time writing this story. Enjoy!

By the time the alarm’s arrogant beeping filled the bedroom, I had already been awake for an hour. I had been staring at the ceiling, my mind adrift in thoughts of how I got to where I was now. Between my legs, under the sheets, was the only thing I had worn to bed - the thick pink diaper I had been given last night. The very one that I had been given as a replacement for the panties that were also supposed to have been a punishment. The very diaper that I had managed to cream inside of not long after putting it on. For as much as I wanted to say that she was overreacting...she might have been right.

I woke with an aching bladder, and my impulse - as it was every morning - was to go to the bathroom. The diaper complicated this, though. I worried that if I got the diaper off, there was going to be no getting back on. Worse - I’m not sure I wanted to see her reaction if she knew I had been trying to bypass her punishment.

And so I waited for her to wake. I wasn’t sure what her plan was going to be. She did say that if I had managed to keep my diaper dry I’d at least be afforded the privilege of wearing panties to work instead of the diaper. As the pressure increased in my bladder, I found myself weighing my options. Would an inspection of my diaper this morning reveal my accident last night? If not, it could just buy me a day in panties and toilet access. Hardly a victory...but enough of one that it was worth trying for.

“Good morning,” I said to her as she slowly sat up and stretched.

“Morning,” she said, stifling a yawn.

I wanted to say more, but she had already slid off the bed and was lumbering across the bedroom to the bathroom. I was jealous.

I grasped the front of my diaper, hoping that I could curb some of the mounting pressure by holding myself tightly. To my astonishment, the diaper was so thick that I could barely even find my shriveled manhood within. Worse, the feeling of pawing at myself in the diaper was starting to awaken an erection.

Great, I thought. I was either going to piss myself, or cream my diaper. With my luck...probably both.

From inside the bathroom, I could hear the shower spring to life. I sighed, pulling the sheet over my head. The pressure in my bladder was reaching a fever pitch, and I was afraid to even touch my diaper for fear that I’d explode in one way or another.

The running water was not helping.

Centuries passed. Eons, maybe. But at last, the bathroom door opened, and she emerged, wearing a bathrobe and her hair up in a towel.

“What are you still doing in bed?” she asked. She had every reason to ask - her morning shower was usually the time I made coffee, got dressed, and fetched the newspaper from the street.

“I...I was waiting for you.”

“Oh, right,” she said dismissively, as if she hadn’t even been thinking about how she sent me to bed last night. “I suppose you want to show me your diaper, yes?”

“I...well...yes.”

She walked to her wardrobe, pulling out some clothes for the day. While her back was to me: “I suppose you have good news for me if you’ve been waiting for me patiently like this. If it was bad news, you probably wouldn’t be so eager for me to see that diaper again.”

I nodded - but realizing she couldn’t see me, I said: “It’s good news.”

“I’m impressed. I’ll be honest - I thought for sure that you were going to wake up to a sticky diaper.”

I swallowed, realizing that she wasn’t that far off. I had only gone to sleep in a sticky diaper.

“How do you want to do this?” I meagerly asked.

“Stay there. I’ll come to you.”

I wasn’t sure if this was a good or bad position for me to be in. I felt like lying on my back might be better for my bladder, given that it was a position I was unaccustomed being in when I pissed. But I also felt more vulnerable - not a good way to feel when my trigger happy cock was involved.

She slowly walked around the bed and pulled the sheet back from my body, carefully revealing my diapered body. I knew it was going to be awkward, but this was worse than I thought. It was worse than being naked. It was worse than her seeing me in the panties.

A quick laugh burst from her lips and she shook her head. “I forgot how pathetic you looked in this.”

I tried to shrug nonchalantly, but I felt my cheeks blushing and my cock twitching. Of course this was going to turn me on.

“Well...it doesn’t look pissed in. I suppose that’s a good start.” She grasped the bulky diaper between my legs - as I had done earlier - giving it a gentle squeeze. “Feels as fluffy and dry as when you put it on.”

My cock became a little more erect. Please, I wanted to say to her. Please stop. Just let me go.

“But I suppose the real question is how we’re going to check and see if you’ve been a good little boy who can manage to not blow their big sticky load into a diaper.” The pointed words were devastating the strands of my ego left, as I’m sure was her intent.

“It’s dry,” I said with a nod. There was no way that she would ever take my word for that - but I felt like I had to try.

She put a finger to my lips again, silencing me.

“I suppose it’s possible that if you came into your diapers last night, I might not be able to tell now. I mean...I can certainly tell when your boxers or panties are a little crusty from your dried up little ‘accidents,’ but this will be interesting.”

She put her left hand on my exposed belly and slowly slid it down my body. My eyes widened and my mouth opened - though I couldn’t form a single sound. She was literally going to feel the inside of my diaper. This couldn’t have been any worse for me. Because even if she didn’t feel the evidence of my accident last night, she was liable to…

“I would hate to waste a diaper by taking it off of you if you actually have made a sticky mess in there. But, if it’s clean...well, you’ll have earned your panties.”

Her fingers reached the waist of the diapers, and she gently burrowed her fingers into the plastic garment as her hand delved inside. My cock, quickly growing to the promise of her nearing hand - whether I liked it or not - was fully erect by the time her hand found it.

She laughed and shook her head. “I should’ve guessed this would excite you. This is more action than you’ve had in a while and…”

Her expression changed from one of sinful delight to one of disgust. I didn’t have to ask why - I knew what had happened.

No sooner than her hand had entered my diaper, and her hand between the thick padding and my cock, I felt myself releasing. I didn’t even have a chance to warn her - my cock was erupting, and I was coming onto her hand.

“Are you...fucking kidding me right now?”

“I...I’m so sorry. I swear...I did not know that was going to happen! I didn’t know your hand was going to go…”

“Don’t blame this on where my hand is or isn’t. I don’t care if I reach into your diaper and wrap my fingers around your cock and pull on it 12 times. I literally just brushed over your cock and you came all over my fucking hand?”

“But…”

“You can stay in that diaper,” she said, pulling her hand from the diaper. We both watched as my pale white cream dripped down her fingers and over her hand. “You can stay in that all day.”

“But...work...and…”

“You were so close,” she said as she dangled her hand out in front of her with disgust, as if it was covered in blood or guts. “I was literally a second away from allowing you take this thing off.”

“You can’t possibly expect me to wear this diaper all day! I...I have to pee now, though! Badly! I can’t hold it all day!”

“That’s not really my problem,” she said with a shrug. “The diaper seems pretty thick to me, so I bet it's pretty absorbent. Maybe take it easy on the coffee this morning and you might just make it through the day with only a diaper rash instead of a rash and soaked pants.”

“A...rash?” I shook the thought from my head - that wasn’t the detail I wanted to talk about. “But this diaper… It’s so thick. And it’s so loud and crinkly!” As if to sell my point, I squirmed about in the bed, my diaper loudly broadcasting every movement.

“I don’t know what to tell you. You know what you’ll have to do if you want to remain in the sliver of good graces I have left to offer you.”

She walked back into the bathroom, her hand hung in front of her as she rushed to cleanse herself. The door closed again.

It could’ve been worse, I thought. I’m not sure how. But there was a lot she could’ve done with a hand full of my come and my vulnerable body lying before her. Though, maybe it was enough that I was diapered with the expectation that I’d wear it all day.

I thought about what she said. I supposed there really wasn’t anything actually stopping me from just ripping the diaper off, throwing it in the trash, and going about my day. It was quite tempting. But I didn’t feel good about it. There was no doubt that she wouldn’t let that slide. I’d be kicked out of the bedroom at the very least. Who knows how much worse things would get after that.

It was probably in my best interest to play this game.

I rolled off the bed, quickly trying to formulate what my plan would be for the day. Could I call out? Work from home? Unfortunately, neither seemed too viable - I did have some meetings on the schedule that I probably needed to be present in the office for.

If going to the office - in a big noisy diaper - was inevitable, the next question was how did I go about mitigating any potential damage? How could I go about my day without arousing any suspicion about what was going on in my pants?

First things first - I had to pee, and I had to do it quite badly. The likelihood of me making it through the whole day without pissing myself seemed just about impossible - and so my realistic options were to either just accept my fate and piss in my diaper, or to take the diaper off. Seeing as how I already knew I wasn’t going to do the latter, that really only left me with one last question: when was I going to piss in my diaper?

I walked down the hall to the second bathroom where I usually got ready in the morning. I saw the toilet there, mocking me with its existence. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror - my cheeks still bright red. As I brushed my teeth, I considered the pressure in my bladder and debated my options again: Was it better to be dealing with the painful pressure in my bladder, or dealing with maneuvering about in a wet diaper? I had no experience in walking around with a wet diaper as an adult, so I felt like I didn’t have enough information to make a good decision. Still...every second that went by was another second of discomfort that was slowly increasing and getting worse. I needed to make a choice.

Fine, fine. Let’s...get this over with.

Honestly, I thought it was going to be harder than it was. I thought I’d end up squatting over the ground, straining as I forced myself to piss. But it was as easy as deciding that I needed to piss myself - and almost immediately I began feeling my anguished cock spraying into the diaper.

Everything about the moment felt alien to me. I couldn’t believe how helpless I felt as my bladder emptied itself completely as I stood there. The diaper grew warmer and heavier as I filled it - the fluffy thickness between my legs suddenly becoming denser.

I stepped out of the bathroom after finishing, and as I made my way back to the bedroom, I found that my best walk was still pretty close to a waddle.

“Well, well, well,” she said as I entered the bedroom. She could see exactly what I had done, almost immediately. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“M-maybe I could have a new diaper before work? Please?”

“I don’t think so. I made the rules very clear.”

“But...this one is completely soaked already. You can’t expect me to go to work like this.”

She stepped forward, getting closer to me. I took a tiny step back, but she continued to approach me until she was in my face.

“You have the audacity to blow your disgusting sticky load all over my hand while it's in your pampers? And then piss yourself? And then you’re going to ask me for a fresh diaper - despite the fact that I already told you that you’d be wearing them to work today?”

“I...I know. But…”

Her hand grasped the front of my diaper, giving it a slight squeeze. Without even being able to stop myself, I moaned softly. Not that I needed any reminding, but she had once again easily called attention to just how pathetic I was.

“You didn’t just wet yourself,” she said, her voice dropping to a softer - almost flirtatious - tone. “You completely soaked yourself, didn’t you?”

“Well...I had to go and…”

“Oh, don’t go making excuses. Why don’t you just admit to me that you’re a baby who needs his diaper?”

“But...I…”

“Big boys don’t have all these problems, you know. Big boys don’t make little cummies in their pants every day.”

I hated the word “cummies,” but the way that she used it - the way that she mockingly said it in this sexy voice - struck all the right nerves. I felt myself becoming erect again.

No, please no. Not again.

“Maybe this should just be the way things are now, yes?” she said. Her fingers were in my hair now, running them through it on her way to the back of my head. Goosebumps formed on my skin and my heart began to race again.

“I...maybe I should just get dressed…”

“What’s the rush? Are you really that eager to get to the office and sit in your big squishy diaper all day?”

A new wave of shame washed over me, adding to the plethora of emotions I was already feeling. She was right, of course. The truth was that the sooner I got out of this bedroom, the sooner I could stop worrying about the possibility that I’d cream my diaper again. Still...there was this deepset and dark sense of shameful joy in chest. Reduced to a helpless diapered toy - constantly on the verge of coming or pissing myself - I liked it more than I could ever admit.

“Is that...Is that a little stiffy I feel in your diaper?” she cooed to me. “I thought so. I should’ve known you’d like this.”

“P-please,” I stammered. “I don’t want to…”

“You don’t want to what?”

“I...don’t want to…”

“Hmm? I couldn’t hear you. You don’t want to…?”

“Come. I don’t want to come again.”

“Oh? Is that something that could happen?”

Her hand was still on my diaper, and I felt her grip tightening a little, the soggy diaper enveloping my slowly erecting cock.

I nodded.

“Gosh, I sure hope not. Could you even imagine? Then you’d have to go to work in a diaper that you’ve not only pissed in, but that you’ve also made multiple sticky little messes in.”

More than she even knew, I thought, considering last night’s little accident.

“Please...just let me go,” I begged, even if I was sure it wouldn’t matter.

“I’ll let you go in just a moment,” she said, her lips getting closer to my ear so that her silky voice was seeping directly into my brain.

“I...please...I…”

It was over before it started, really. I wasn’t even completely aware of how stiff I was, or how aroused I had even been, when my cock was suddenly convulsing - spitting up into my diaper yet again.

I felt my face twist and contort and my muscles tighten as I came with her hand on my diaper. She slowly pulled her face back from mine, a devious smile set upon it.

“Aww, did you just have another little naughty accident in your diapers?” she asked with a mocking babyish tone.

I felt tears welling in my eyes and I pulled away from her, humiliated and ashamed of myself.

She continued to laugh to herself as she got dressed and ready for the day. I quickly climbed into some clothes, grabbed my things, and left for the day. The truth was that everything was kind of a blur following the moments after I squirted into my diaper again.

My mind was a mess as I thought about my soaked diapers and the ease in which she was able to make me come in them. I was thinking of the day ahead of me - wondering if I’d end up needing to use my diaper again. Or if I would leak.

As reality finally caught up with me, I was in the parking garage of my office, and I grabbed my shoulder bag. I slung it over my shoulder, the bag making an interesting ‘splat’ sound as it landed on my moist bottom. Best I could tell, I hadn’t sprung a leak yet. There was no telling whether or not it would stay that way, but all I could do was hope for now.

I just about sprinted through the office, quickly bypassing a few desks of known chatterboxes who would want nothing more than to talk my ear off about what they ate for dinner last night or what show they watched. The only rule today was survival. There was no time to be friendly - and I needed to limit my exposure to other people.

I threw myself into my chair at my cubicle, taking a deep sigh of relief. My plan, at that moment, would be to just sit in that chair all day. Don’t get up for anything. Don’t drink water. Don’t drink coffee. Don’t eat lunch. Just stay in the chair - stay sitting in my wet sticky diaper - all day until it's time to go home. And then hope that this is all over.

A few hours passed successfully - or as successful as they could. I had managed to stay in my chair all day, though it hadn’t been an especially comfortable few hours. Once warm and conforming, the wet diaper only seemed to get colder and denser - a cruel and constant reminder that I was going to be stuck in this state for a while.

I had even broken the rules I set for myself. Not long after parking myself at my desk, I began feeling the effects of a coffee-less morning, and when my cube-neighbor Jeff asked if I wanted a cup of coffee, since he was heading over there anyways, I agreed to a cup - knowing damn well that it would only add to my stress later.

That was a future-me problem, I thought.

Eventually, I’d become future-me. Sitting at my desk, feeling the already-familiar strains of my bladder as it began to tease that it might need to be emptied sooner or later. While the setting may have changed - the distress was all too familiar. It was this morning all over again, and I already knew how that ended.

I broke another part of my plan and left my desk for lunch, choosing to go outside for a few minutes, hoping that a short walk around the building would help get my mind off of things.

But of course, my phone rang not long after I had stepped outside. It was her - no doubt wanting to have a mid-day check in on her new little project.

“H-hi,” I said, already feeling especially powerless.

“So? How’s it going?” she asked in a sing-song tone.

“It’s...going.”

“No leaks, I hope.”

“No, not that I can tell.” I quickly ran a hand over the front and back of my pants - as I had already done five times since walking out of the office - and finding no signs of rogue dampness.

“Good. I imagine that means there’s extra room in your little diaper in case you need to go again.”

“I...I really hope not,” I said, afraid to admit that I was already well on track for having a second accident.

“Really?” she cooed. Her tone had changed again. It was that slower, more teasing, tone that she had used on me this morning. I swallowed, already afraid of what she was trying to do. “You’re saying that you wouldn’t want to be trying to do your big-boy job and suddenly have to stop so that you could piss your diaper again?”

“N-no...please...I…”

“I know, I know. I’m probably going to make you cream your soaked little diaper right now. God knows there’s probably already a decent layer of dried come in there.”

I said nothing, not wanting to admit that this was exactly the case.

“You’ve still got a long afternoon ahead of you. I’ll spare you further humiliation right now. But only because I’m willing to bet you’ll have enough of it on your own soon enough.”

The call ended soon after, but her words stuck with me as I waddled my way back to the office entrance and to my cubicle.

Again, the clock was ticking - the real clock, for sure, but more specifically the clock on my bladder. The pressure was only mounting, and once again, I knew that it was only a matter of how soon.

Unlike this morning, there was a little bit more of a reason to try and hold out longer. I didn’t know the capacity of a diaper like this - but I was more worried than ever about springing a leak with another wetting.

It was surprisingly sooner than I thought, though. It happened just as she said it would: I typed away at my keyboard, doing my best to remain productive despite my brain being everywhere else, when the pressure in my bladder had become almost entirely unbearable.

I let out a single “Fuck…” softly to myself.

Then, I was pissing again. Another long steady stream into my diaper. My hands stopped typing, and the world seemed to fade away while I concentrated on just filling the diaper. I could actually hear the diaper getting saturated again. The diaper warmed again, with my fresh piss reconstituting the diaper as it mingled with the stale cold dampness from my previous wetting.

But absorbent diaper material seemed to be a commodity in short demand, and I could sense the wetness spreading inside the diaper - desperately seeking new surfaces to be absorbed in. The wetness spread up my bottom, pooling between my cheeks for a moment while it seeked dry padding. I could sense my cheeks were on fire again.

I can’t panic, I thought. I just have to go about my day and wait this out. There’s no reason to think that this is just going to be the worst case scenario.

A new feeling of dampness slowly began to appear between my thighs and the thick diaper. My eyes grew wide as my hand darted between my legs.

Wet. The diaper leaked, and it had begun to saturate the crotch of my pants. I didn’t even think about it, I darted to the restroom. While I don’t think anyone would’ve noticed, I was so completely oblivious to the world around me that everyone could have seen it and I wouldn’t have known.

In the bathroom, crammed into a stall, I assessed the damage on my pants. Thankfully, their dark color did a decent job of hiding the dampness. Maybe this wasn’t quite the disaster that I thought it was. Still...what was I supposed to do for the rest of the afternoon? Sit in my pissy diaper while it continued to leak into my pants.

I called her. Surely, she’d understand this emergency.

“This better be important.”

“I...I wet myself again and…”

“So? We both knew this was going to happen,” she said.

“But… It’s leaking now. My pants are getting wet and I still have a few hours left in the day and…”

“I’m not sure what you want me to do about that. If you’re asking me if you should go home, the answer is absolutely not. And if you’re asking for me to come to your office and change your diaper - as tempting as that is - it’s just not happening.”

I blushed a vibrant red, disgusted in the part of myself that badly wanted that exact thing to happen.

“I just...don’t know what to do and…”

“I’ll tell you what to do,” she said, once again donning her teasing sensual tone. “You should grab a hold of your bulging pissy diaper and squeeze your little cock with it. And as you’re spurting in your diaper again, and your piss continues to dribble into your pants, you can thank me.”

I wanted to protest. I wanted to tell her that this wasn’t the time for her games. Yet, my cock was already erect in my diaper, and I could already feel my hand between my legs.

Every movement my fingers made was like squeezing a sponge. I felt warm piss seep into my pants as I made my cock quiver, and in less than a minute, I came into my diaper yet again. Sitting on a toilet - may pants pulled up over my twice-saturated diaper while she was on the phone, listening to my labored breathing and hopeless panting.

“Th-thank you,” I finally murmured, catching my breath.

“Good boy. Now go back to work. We’ll deal with your disgusting pants when you get home.”

The call ended and I sighed. I’d have to walk back to my desk like this. I’d have to sit in my chair for the rest of the day like this. I’d have to face her like this.

Deep inside, I think this was exactly how I had hoped this would play out.