Standards [Tier 3 Exclusive] (Patreon)

“Did...did you just shit in your pants?”

She needn’t have bothered asking. She had heard what had just occurred. She could look down and see the newborn bulge in the back of my diaper if she had wanted. I know she could smell the answer to her question - I certainly could.

“I just changed your diaper,” she said. “What was it - ten minutes ago?”

“I...I didn’t have to go then.”

“You just took a shit the size of a Buick in your diaper. You’re telling me that you didn’t know that you had to go when I changed you? You couldn’t have told me that?”

“I-I’m sorry…”

I wasn’t especially sorry. I was a dirty little baby. I was disgusting. Not only had I been holding onto this load for quite some time, but I had been waiting for just the right moment to drop that bomb. Shortly after a diaper change - that she was already not completely happy about - seemed perfect.

“So, what, I’m supposed to just change you again? Waste another diaper on you? Did you think that your special baby diapers were cheap? Because they are most certainly not.”

But what was the other option? Regardless of how recently she changed my diaper, I still needed to be changed. She’d be pissy about it - she always was anyways - but you had to do what you had to do.

She was walking away.

“H-hey,” I said. “Wait. I...but...I need to be changed.”

“I’m so fucking sick of changing diapers,” she hissed. “I’m taking a break. You’re just going to have to stay in that one for a while.”

“Well then...at least give me the key? I’ll do it myself.”

My diapers were contained by a pair of plastic panties. Plastic panties with a chain looped around my waist, latched shut with a small padlock - with a key that was in her sole possession.

“Fuck off. If you were allowed to change your own pampers, I wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of getting those panties in the first place.”

“But...what if I get a diaper rash?”

“Who does that hurt more?” she asked. “Me? Or you? That’s not my problem. I’ll be happy to apply some rash cream to your poor little asshole later when I actually do get around to changing your filthy diaper. But until then? I don’t care.”

“Y-you’re just going to leave me here then? In a shitty diaper?”

“Yes. Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I have other things to do. Believe it or not, my world doesn’t revolve around you. Your world revolves around me.”

“But…”

“Your timing couldn’t have been worse,” she said. “Whatever that stinky little stunt was that you were trying to pull, I’m thinking it might have backfired on you.”

She may have been right, but I wasn’t completely sure what she meant. With just about everything involving my diapers - the goal was humiliation. When I loaded this particular diaper, I was seeking the same thing I always had - her harsh dominance over me. Her mocking. Her supposed displeasure. It was why I did anything that I did. It was why I’d load my diaper while we were grocery shopping. It was why I’d wake her up in the morning with the stench of my pants. It was why I had given up on using the toilet so long ago that I wasn’t sure that I could make it to one now if my life depended on it. It was why, in my moments alone, I’d write out my pathetic fantasies for internet forums filled with other diaper-wearing babies like myself.

This wasn’t the first time she had simply refused to change my diapers - but her remark about “backfiring” had me curious.

“What do you mean?” I pleaded.

“I’m going out.”

“Out?”

“Out. You do realize I have a life outside of wiping your shitty bottom, right?”

“I know, but…”

“But what?”

“When will you be back?”

“When I’m done.”

“Done...doing what?”

She sighed. “If you absolutely must know, I have a date tonight.”

“A...date? But…”

“Oh, let’s not pretend we’re stupid. How long has it been now since I’ve allowed you to please me in any way? How long has it been since you were actually able to please me? I’m going out. Would you like to see his cock? The pictures make it look pretty good, and he swears that it's even bigger in person. I suppose we’ll find out.”

“What about me?” I said, feeling more pathetic than usual. I’m sure I sounded just as pathetic. “What am I supposed to do?”

She shrugged. “Frankly, this night is all about me for once. I’m not sure that I care what you do.”

“But...my diaper. I can’t change myself.”

“I suppose you’ll just have to wait.”

“But…”

“What? What now? I’ve been looking forward to tonight for a week. But go on, now. Tell me all about how I should set aside my excitement so that I can take care of you. Yet again.”

“I just...I don’t know if I can stay in this diaper for...however long it takes you to finish your date.”

“Well now, you should’ve thought about that before you went and filled it up to the brim, hmm?”

She was right. I just nodded.

“Do you want your diaper changed?” she asked. I was hesitant to answer that question. Given how adamant she had just been that she didn’t want to do it - I worried that this question had to come with some strings attached. How would I end up paying for it if I said yes?

“Yes.”

“Okay then,” she said. Then she turned around, again, and kept walking.

I held out my hand as if I had more to say to stop her, but I didn’t actually end up saying anything. She had gone into her room and closed the door behind her. I was left in my filthy rank diaper.

30 minutes had passed and I hadn’t heard a peep from her. I continued to pace around the house in my increasingly odorous diaper that I had no hope of removing myself. I wasn’t sure what else I could do. Was I supposed to get on my knees and beg? Because I would’ve done that in a heartbeat.

The bedroom door opened, at last, and she emerged in an absolutely stunning outfit. Short black skirt. White top. Black cardigan. Silver jewelry. She looked incredible.

“Oh,” she said, sniffing the air. “I suppose you’re wondering what I’m doing about you and your little...situation.”

I nodded, though her back was to me.

“I made a call. She’ll be here shortly.”

“A...call? Who? Who did you call?”

“Her name is Dawn, and she’s on her way. Obviously, you don’t know her. But I think you two will get rather well acquainted tonight.”

“Is she supposed to be, like, some sort of…”

“Babysitter?” she said, cutting me off. “Oh, yes, that’s exactly what she is. Most gals in the neighborhood only deal with actual infants. But with the rate that I offered, Dawn would probably change the diaper of everyone on the block if she had to.”

“But...I don’t need a…” I knew better than to complete that sentence.

“I know how scary strangers can be,” she said in a condescending tone, “but I’m doing you a favor. All things considered, I think it's better that your diaper gets changed by a stranger than you stewing in it all night long.”

There was so much happening that I could barely keep up. She was going out? With another man? There was a woman coming to the house who was going to change my diaper?

She went back into the bedroom again, and I continued to pace. I was afraid to do anything else. With a mess like this in my pants, I didn’t dare sit down. I just waited, doing my best to avoid starting at the clock. I didn’t know how long I had been in my diaper.

Finally, there was a knock at the door.

“Can you get that?” she asked from the bedroom.

“What? But...I’m…”

Another knock.

“For god’s sakes, can you just answer the fucking door?”

I sighed, stomping my way all the way to the door. I had gotten so frustrated with the fact that she was making me answer the door in my diaper that I...forgot that I was opening the door in my diaper.

He didn’t say hello to me. He just laughed when I opened the door. Laughed and shook his head in disbelief.

“Jesus,” he finally said. “Now I’ve seen everything.”

“She...she’ll be out soon, I guess,” I said, doing my best not to look him in the eyes. Tall, handsome, fit - I felt even more pathetic in his presence - an impressive feat, given my current state.

“You, uh, like this?” he asked. He struggled to deal with my stench. I watched him try to hold his breath, wave the air away from his nose, and switch to breathing from his mouth. It brought me the slightest bit of satisfaction to know that I was causing him some discomfort. But, when the cost was me standing before him in obviously dirty diapers while he waited to take my wife out on a date...he still had the upper hand.

I wasn’t sure how to answer his question. Yes. But it was a complicated ‘yes.’ Everything we did here was born out of a desire to try it. But everything was much different now than what I expected it would’ve been.

I just nodded. It was the easiest answer.

“Yeah, well have fun with your diaper,” he said. “I’m going to fuck her brains out tonight.”

I didn’t care for him. And if I knew my wife well enough, I doubted she liked him very much either. She was probably using him far more than he thought he was, or would be, using her. A match made in heaven.

The doorbell rang again.

“Can you get that?” my wife said from the bedroom. Realizing she hadn’t addressed our first visitor yet, she added: “I’ll be right out.”

“But, I already…”

“Do you want to get your pampered behind swatted in front of our guest? Go answer the door.”

The man laughed and shook his head. “I’d be happy to do the swatting,” he said in a tone that may have been low enough that only I heard it.

I ran to the door again.

“Hey,” the young woman said. “I’m Dawn. I’m the, uh, babysitter?”

She was scanning me up and down as she introduced herself. Her expression seemed unreadable to me. Either this was already more insane than she thought it would be, or this was the perfect amount of insanity to her.

“Uhm, come in,” I said, stepping aside so she could come in.

“I’m going to go ahead and assume that you’re the baby?” she asked.

I nodded.

“What gave it away?” my wife’s date asked.

“She wasn’t kidding - you’re just a big ol’ baby.” What else had my wife told Dawn?

“Alright,” my wife said, emerging from the bedroom. “I think I’m ready now. Oh. It looks like everyone’s here?”

I looked to Dawn, who looked to my wife’s date, who looked to me, who looked back at my wife. Most of us seemed skeptical of the situation, seeming uncertain where they fit into whatever grand machination this evening was. But within seconds, everyone seemed to have figured it out. It was all about humiliating me.

“We’ll be out late,” my wife said. To me: “Don’t wait up. I’m sure Dawn will give you an early bedtime anyways.” To Dawn: “You have free reign over the house and the baby, of course. Should you need anything, just text me and I’ll do what I can.”

“Very well,” said Dawn.

Just as quickly as everyone had suddenly appeared, my wife and her new date were gone for the evening. Now, it was just me and Dawn.

I didn’t completely buy my wife’s story that she simply hired a “regular” babysitter with a handsome salary to convince her to take care of a baby as overgrown as myself. Even a babysitter desperate for work would likely run for the hills the second a stranger told them to change their husband’s diaper.

I tried taking a chance on getting more information out of her: “So...do you do...uh, this often?”

“You stink,” she said. It didn’t even feel like a response. She was starting her own conversation instead.

“Did...she give you the key? To my pants? Because, uhm, if I could just have it, I could go ahead and...take care of that?”

“Do you think I’m dumb?”

Truthfully? I may have underestimated her upon my first impression. Blonde hair, chomping on some gum, big hoop earrings, low-cut shirt, tight pants. If she wasn’t the stereotypical babysitter, then she was on her way to play the stereotypical babysitter in an adult film.

“No…”

“She didn’t go through all the trouble of hiring me if she was just going to let you change your own diaper.”

“But…” I tried to reason with her: “You don’t want to have to change these diapers, right?”

“I want to do my job. And my job is taking care of babies. You? You’re a baby. Bigger, stinkier and somehow married, sure. But you’re still just a baby.”

“I just think that…”

“That’s your problem,” she spat. “You think too much. You’re thinking at all. Babies don’t think, you know? I don’t know what kind of rules your Mommy has for you while she’s here, but while I’m here, you’re gonna have to follow my rules.”

I was about to say something else, but thought better of it. I wasn’t scared of Dawn - I was scared of my wife. But Dawn still had a direct line to her, and it was probably in my best interest to at least see where this was going.

“All done?” she asked. Her tone changed to mock baby-talk: “You don’t have anything to say to your mean ol’ babysitter?”

I shook my head.

“So, you want me to change your diaper?” She held up the key to the locking pants.

“Y-yes.”

“Tell me why.”

“Why?”

She sighed. “Why you need your fucking diapers changed. Tell me why.”

“Oh. I...might have…”

“Might have? Do you give your wife - your mommy - that kind of bullshit? We’re well past speculating about the contents of your diaper, honey. You’re not wearing Schrodinger’s Diaper. I want you to tell me why you need me to change you.”

I was feeling flustered. Who the hell was this woman, and where did she pull “Schrodinger's Diaper” from?

“I messed my diaper.”

“Ugh.” Less a word and more a disgusted noise, accompanied by her rolling her eyes. “Mess. Oh, did you mess it up? Was it all nice and tidy before?”

It sounded like she was mocking me, but I wasn’t completely sure.

“Mess. It sounds so polite. So boring. Yes, I’m sure whatever you did in your little baby diapers was a big mess. But why don’t you tell me what you actually did to make them a mess.”

I felt my cheeks glowing pinker. “I...shit myself.”

“No, I don’t like that either,” she said. “It makes you sound like a regular adult who isn’t wearing diapers. Try again. Remember - you’re just a baby. A pathetic toddler, at most. You’ve just made a mess out of your diaper. You need to go beg Aunty Dawn to have your diaper changed. What are you going to tell her?”

How the hell was this real? This woman just burst through my door a short time ago, and now she was critiquing the way that I was describing how I messed my diaper?

I sighed. I could already see what was starting to happen - I wasn’t trying to find the right thing to say for the sake of getting past this awkward conversation. I was trying to say the right thing so that I’d please her.

“I...pooped my diaper.”

“Better. But not the best. Try again.”

What else could I say? How else could I say it? If I wasn’t in desperate need for a change, I would’ve just given up. That option wasn’t on the table right now. I was left scrambling to figure out what the hell the magic password was that was going to to get her to help me.

I had to be smaller, dumber. I needed to go all the way down - there was no point in just being a little more cute about it.

“I…” deep sigh,, “...made a poopy in my diapies…” I hadn’t even intended to take on the infantile affectation my voice ended up taking. But it was probably for the best. I didn’t want to have to do that again.

“Oh, that was perfect,” Dawn cooed, clapping her hands together in front of her. “Come, let’s get you out of that absolutely stinking diaper and into a fresher one, yes?”

I nodded.

“And just where do you keep your spare diapers, anyways?”

“Spare room,” I said. “In the dresser there. She...usually changes my diapers in there, on the bed.”

She grabbed my wrist firmly, pulling me down the hallway. She didn’t know where the spare room was, but she flung open doors until she figured it out.

“There we go,” she said at last.”Let’s get your dirty bottom up on the bed,”

I did as she asked, laying on my back as I carefully lowered my heavy diaper onto the bed.

“Your wife told me all about you. Well...she told me that you wore diapers. And that you had done a rather nasty thing in your diapers. Actually - that was all she told me. But, really, isn’t that at all I needed to know? You’re just a baby?”

“You’re kind of stupid,” she added. “I’m sorry if that comes across as mean - but it's the most likely of the two scenarios.”

“Two...scenarios?”

“One,” she said, holding up a single finger. “You are stupid. You’re completely oblivious to the life your darling wife is living behind your back. The men, and women, she’s out fucking and having a good time with.”

I swallowed hard, my heart beating fast.

“Two,” she said, holding up two fingers. “You are complacent. Beyond complacent. You’re so complacent that you might as well roll over on your stomach so that your wife’s boyfriends have a surface they can fuck her on. I don’t know. Call me crazy, but the latter option seems so crazy - so far-fetched - that I have to believe it’s more likely that you’re just stupid.”

She wasn’t far off. Truthfully, it was a little bit of both. I had no idea how vast my wife’s world was outside of my vision, but I had known it was there. There was a time when it felt like a fair trade. I came to her with my kink and she not only embraced it, but gave me the time, space, and tools to let it take over my entire life. And then, while I ignorantly waddled around in diapers, she was off having all of the fun that I wasn’t giving her.

“It looks like she’s getting a little more brazen with her adventures though, hmm? Was this the first time you met one of her dates?”

I nodded. It was the first time I knew that the man was - or would be - banging her. There had been men before who I’d later suspect of filling that role for her. “Friends from out of town.” “Old co-workers.” “Water company employees.”

“You’re kind of stupid,” she said again. “Just a stupid little baby.”

I shrugged.

She climbed onto the bed too, straddling my bulky, plastic-pants and diaper. Slowly, she started to grind herself on the front of my diaper, causing the panties to crinkle loudly in a rhythm with the gyration of her hips.

I thought about stopping her...but I didn’t. It was the first time in months - many many months - that a woman had even so much as suggested something sexual near my body. In my dirty diaper, I was erect.

“It’s a shame,” she coed. “I can almost kind-of feel your little cock somewhere below me. But it’s like a...uhm...hot dog in a rolled up sleeping bag.” She giggled at her analogy, continuing to grind on top of me.

“Are…are you going to change my diaper?” I couldn’t believe that I was asking that at this moment. “M-maybe...when you’re done?”

She swung her leg over my body so that she was kneeling on the edge of the bed over my body again. I was thinking that this was the moment she’d fetch the new diaper - but instead, she started removing her pants. She slid them down to her knees and carefully lifted one leg to work them past her feet before changing to the other leg. When she was left in just her baby blue panties, she straddled me again. The bottom of her panties had already grown a little darker in color. She had no shame in getting off on my condition.

“I guess I’m kind of a freak,” she said. “Like you. Sort of.” She let out a small moan as her panties started grinding into my diaper again.

“Are you even a babysitter?”

“I’m your babysitter, sure. By trade? I mean, not for like, 10 years. But when I saw your wife’s ad…”

“Ad? Wh-what ad?”

She laughed, then moaned, then laughed again. “I mean, I’m sure you can imagine it. ‘Seeking: Attractive young woman to humiliate and embarrass my disgusting husband.’ Or something like that. And then she just held down the ‘Shift’ and ‘4’ key so that there were two or three lines of dollar-signs.”

She had found her rhythm again, and the slow grinding on my padded cock - while the weight of her body pressed my ass deeper into the massive mess I had created in my diaper - was starting to get me off too.

“Don’t tell her I said this,” she said. “But, mmm, I’m liking this whole...disgusting baby thing? Like, don’t get me wrong, I’m going to go home tonight and take a shower and a coffee cup of bourbon. But right now it’s kind of working for me.”

I didn’t say anything. I thought I had wanted my diaper changed, but now I realized I just wanted this.

“You like this too, huh?”

I nodded.

“Want to see who can come first?”

The last thing I wanted was for this to be a competition. I wasn’t even sure if coming first meant winning or losing. My hands reached up to grab either side of her slender waist, but she slapped them away.

“Hands off. Another move like that, and you can spend the rest of the night tied to the bed.”

Fuck. Why did that sound so appealing? Regardless, I kept my arms on the bed. Not only did I feel helpless, but I felt that I was purposefully forcing my body into this helpless state - resisting all urges to run my hands over her body.

“You’re...so stupid,” she said again, her breating getting heavier and her moans getting louder.

“I’m not,” I said.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. The speed at which she was grinding her moist panties on me made it impossible to think about anything else. But as she seemed to grind harder and deeper into my diaper, I suddenly realized the purpose of her challenge about who would climax first: if she was to come first, then I likely wasn’t going to come at all. And it looked like she was about to…

“Oh god…” she moaned. “Fuuuuuck…”

I sighed in frustration. The closest I had gotten to someone else getting me off in months, and it still wasn’t close enough.

She laughed and sighed as she caught her breath. She looked down at my face, and then down to my diaper and shook her head as she slowly slid off of me; her panties looking far more damp than they did before.

“Stay there,” she said. “I’m getting a drink.”

I remained on my back, filthy and frustrated. I put my hand on the front of my plastic panties, finding the spot she had been grinding to still be warm and wet. I tried to absorb every microscopic droplet of it into my hand. I proceeded to grasp the stiff lump through my plastic pants and diapers, hoping to eke some sort of pleasure out of this moment. It was no use.

“Gosh, that must suck,” she said upon entering the room again, a glass of water in her hand. “You’re probably pretty horny, right?”

I nodded.

“Which would you rather: to get off, or to get your diaper changed?”

That was a good question. A really good question. I hated myself for moments like this - damn my pragmatic and practical sensibilities.

“A change…”

“A change? Really? You’re just full of surprises. Well...not your diaper. There’s no mystery about that.”

She was going through the drawers again, and when I finally heard her withdraw something, it didn’t sound soft and crinkly. It sounded...hard. Metallic.

“You’re going to cooperate,” she said, “because you wouldn’t want me to give your wife - or is she more your mommy - a poor report.”

She grabbed one of my wrists, stretching my arm above my head before latching a handcuff to it. The other half of the cuffs were latched onto the bed posts. I sighed. I had been here before. With those exact cuffs.

As predicted, Dawn had found both pairs of cuffs and she walked around the bed to my other arm and did the same. There was no point in resisting. What could I do? Any amount of resistance would’ve only landed me in trouble - not to mention would put me at risk of not getting that diaper change.

Though...I was beginning to think that I wasn’t getting that either.

“You know how this plays out, don’t you?”

“No?”

“You’re stuck in your bed now, and you might just get to stay like this all night.”

“All...night? You mean…”

“Until your Mommy and her new friend get home? Afraid so.”

“But…”

“I know,” she said with a shrug. “That’s going to be very humiliating for you.”

“But, my diaper.”

“I know,” she said. “I did promise I’d change your diaper. I didn’t say when I’d change it, though.”

“Please,” I pleaded. “Please...it’s so uncomfortable.”

She sighed. “Fine. If I must.”

The key was in her hand, I wasn’t even sure which nook or cranny it had been pulled from. The click of the lock as she turned the key inside of it was the sweetest noise I had ever heard. Finally.

“You know where I found your Mommy’s ad, right? One of the same message boards that you probably frequent yourself.”

She eased the plastic panties down my legs before untaping the sides of the diapers and peeling the front of the diaper down between my legs.

“Your wife tells me that you write out little fantasies on message boards. I’ve probably read some of them,” she said. “You should do a little write-up about this online. I think you could tell the story of how your mean Mommy went on a date and left you with a crazy babysitter who got herself off by rubbing herself on your disgusting diapers. I bet everyone would love to hear about that.”

She shook her head at the conditions in my diaper. But she held her ground. There was no flinching or gagging. Armed with some baby wipes, she slowly and methodically began cleaning me off.

“I...I could do that,” I said.

“Make me sound more cute than I am,” she said with a giggle.

“You’re...pretty cute.”

“Then make me sound even cuter.”

“Nobody will believe this,” I said.

“They don’t have to. Let them get off on your wild night.”

“For what it’s worth,” I said, “this would make for a pretty cliched diaper story.”

“Not if you tell it well. It’s like...a standard, you know? Like jazz standards? A well known idea that anyone can just pick up. Or, you know, make a variation of. Your variation is that this really happened to you.

I laughed at the idea of a “diaper standard.”

It took a few handfuls of wipes, but she eventually was able to completely clean me. The old diaper was rolled up and discarded and the new diaper was slipped under me. A heavy dusting of baby powder later and the new diaper was sealed up, with the plastic panties pulled back up and locked shut.

“Am I...going to remain cuffed to the bed?”

“What do you think would make for a better story?”

I sighed. “Yeah, okay.”

I’m going to go drink some of your beer and watch your TV,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll come by in a little bit and check your diaper again. Maybe I could try and see if it's even possible to make you come while you’re wearing those panties? Otherwise, I guess you can just hang out until Mommy gets home with her friend. I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to miss the big show later.”

“You don’t think she’d…”

She shrugged. “I know I’d read that story.”

She left the bedroom, leaving me bound to the bed in just my locked diaper, my arms cuffed to the bed with no hope of me being able to move or do much of anything.

I had no idea what the rest of this night would hold, but I knew one thing: Tomorrow, I was going to have a hell of a story to write.