Everyone in Their Right Place [Tier 3 Exclusive] (Patreon)

I honestly don’t remember how the diaper-thing started. I’ve seen stories before from people–usually men–talking about how they had some sort of diaper fetish that their significant other found out about. Sometimes those stories end poorly, with the ‘adult baby’ getting tossed to the curb. Other times, they get what they wanted all along.

But my story felt a little different. I was never any sort of ‘diaper fetishist’ before I met Olivia. And, as far as I know, she wasn’t some diaper fetisihist herself. The idea–the concept of diapers–just sort of happened. Maybe we saw it on a TV show, or one of us read about it in a magazine.

Suddenly, somehow, we were talking about diapers quite a bit.

“Don’t you think it’d be cute, Miles?” she’d ask. “You can be the little baby. And I’ll be your mommy.”

It was never a fight or an argument. She never really had to sell me on diapers. From the very beginning, I was in. I liked the idea just as much as she did–further evidence that the idea seemed baked into the foundation of our relationship, and always had been.

It was never a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

We were playing chicken for a while, it seemed. We’d tease each other with talk of diapers, baby bottles, and soggy bottoms–always poking to see if this would be the conversation that forced either of us to finally break down and say “Okay, fine, let’s get some damn diapers.”

And then, one night while we were eating out at a restaurant, she dropped the bomb. Casually and nonchalantly, she had slipped it into the conversation so breezily that it almost didn’t register with me for a moment.

“I’ve got some diapers waiting for you back at home,” she said with a little shrug, before taking a sip of her Pinot Grigio. “They’re very big. And very cute.”

We skipped dessert, getting the bill immediately after the last forkful of dinner was in our mouths.

We took our time. Once, every week or so, we’d pour ourselves an extra glass of wine or an extra cocktail after dinner. Then we’d retreat to the bedroom, where “Mommy” had an open diaper waiting for “baby’s” bottom. It was a lot of rubbing and caressing. I’d playfully suck my thumb, or sometimes her breast. We’d fool around until I wet myself, though the ritual of the diaper change was usually interrupted by passionate sex.

The idea of our little game growing and expanding seemed inevitable. We didn’t talk about that much, but we didn’t have to. We were clearly on the same page–we were loving diapers and we wanted more.

Once more, she’d be the one to introduce the next phase of our fantasy. I came downstairs one Saturday morning–still a little groggy from a late night of hot sex and diaper-pissing–only to find her waiting for me in the living room with a fresh diaper already waiting for me on the floor.

“What do you think?” she asked. “Maybe we keep you in diapers for the rest of the weekend?”

I was ecstatic about this idea. And what a blissful weekend it was–it was the time and space we needed to further flesh out our roles. Removed from its position as just elaborate sexual foreplay, the baby dynamic felt newer and fresher than it ever had before. Olivia began to find a measured balance between a doting caretaker and a naughty disciplinarian. And I, meanwhile, found the courage to further embrace my role as the baby.

It wasn’t just getting used to the added bulk of diapers between my legs as I went about the weekend. It was also about loosening my inhibitions, and trying to familiarize myself with a more infantile sense of innocence.

And, at Olivia’s insistence, the bathrooms were completely closed off to me.

“I just think that if you’re going to be my baby, you need to fully commit to diapers, don’t you think?” she had asked. “And I promise, whatever you do in your diapers–no matter how mushy or stinky it is–I’ll take care of it for you.”

And that was all I needed to hear. That night, while she watched from the couch, I squatted down in the middle of the living room and messed myself. It was the point of no return–the point at which we knew that this was going to be a much bigger part of our life moving forward.

For a while, weekends were for diapers. I’d come home from work on a Friday and she had a diaper waiting for me. And I’d stay in them–usually without pants, whenever possible–until my last diaper change on Sunday night.

But things were always evolving. It wasn’t enough to just wear diapers during the weekend. Soon, weekends were also for onesies and more ‘appropriately infantile’ clothing. I was drinking out of bottles and being spoon fed by Olivia. Mommy. When a pacifier was planted between my lips, it was expected to stay there until she took it out.

And soon after that, it became clear that the weekends weren’t enough. From the moment I came home from work, until the morning when I got dressed for a new day at the office, my big boy clothes and underpants were exchanged for diapers and onesies. I was a baby more often than I was an adult.

To be clear, this was as much my idea as it was hers. At no point did she try to force something on me that I didn’t want. This simply felt like the natural progression of things, and I was pushing for it just as much as she was. We had fallen in love with our new roles, and it brought a new kind of love and trust to our marriage.

The sex, it should be said, was less frequent at this point. But it seemed like a fair trade. We were discovering entirely new ways to be intimate.

But this is also where things began to slow down. For as long as I had to go to the office and be a normal adult, there was a limit to just how often I could be Olivia’s baby. And there were few limits left to leap over while I was in my diapers. She was already feeding me, bathing me, and changing my diapers. We had experimented with everything from harnesses and cuffs to enemas and catheters. Our home-life was still remarkable, but without the constant evolution that we had grown used to, a hint of staleness began to permeate our lives.

And this is about the time that Aaron came to stay with us.

***

Everyone should have at least one ‘best’ friend. That person who you’ve known for so long that the two of you just completely understand each other at a basic level. For me, this was Aaron.

We met in first grade, sitting next to each other in Mrs. Palmer’s classroom. We bonded over crude drawings of Mrs. Palmer–a grizzled old woman who was clearly decades removed from the era in which she actually enjoyed her job–getting eaten by lions or abducted by aliens. In the years that followed, we’d fall down the same rabbit-holes together: comic books, video games, collectible card games, etc. We even went to college together.

I was the one who finally broke away after I took a job two states away. It was a bittersweet moment in both of our lives–we had an incredible run, but it was inevitable that there’d eventually be a split in the river.

We kept in touch, as best friends ought to. I met, fell in love with, and married Olivia. He met, fell in love with, married, and then divorced Christiana.

The divorce had rocked Aaron pretty hard–with Christiana not just taking his money, but his optimism for ever being in a healthy relationship again.

I didn’t have much to offer except my time, though he was grateful for that much. I offered him the spare bedroom for a week or two–however long he needed to escape and recover while Christiana took her time moving out of the house they shared.

“The spare bedroom?” Olivia asked when I ran the idea by her. “You mean your nursery?”

“I know. But…”

“No, I understand,” she said, a sympathetic smile on her kind face. “That just means we’ll have to move all the baby stuff into the master bedroom. I can change you on our bed.”

“Change? But…”

“Did you think that I was going to just put away your diapers for a week while Aaron stays with us?”

“But he doesn’t know,” I said. “And…he can’t know.”

Up to this point, we had managed to keep this little game completely to ourselves. There had been a few times where we ventured outside of the house together while I had diapers on under my pants, though we were always very careful about it. As far as we knew, nobody else knew about our world except for us.

She bit her bottom lip. “Please?” she asked. “Can I please keep you in diapers while he’s here? I promise, I can be careful.”

I had to admit, the concept was very exciting. Waddling about my home in a diaper, and still needing her to change me–all while trying to hide it from Aaron? Considering the staleness we were feeling as of late, this felt like the exhilarating push we needed.

“Maybe,” I said. “On a trial basis. We take it slowly. Carefully. But I reserve the right–we both reserve the right–to call it off if it seems too risky at any point.”

Her eyes lit up as she wrapped her arms around me and she kissed my lips. “I’ll be careful. And…this will be fun.”

***

I’ve seen Aaron thousands of times in my life, but I had never been so scared to see him as I was when he pulled up in our driveway for his week-ish residency at our place. My diaper–which I had gotten so used to that I would usually just forget about–suddenly felt thick and heavy in my pants.

“There he is,” Aaron said, getting out of his car with a wide smile on his face. “The goddamn man. My hero. Miles!”

I swore that I could feel my cheeks warming when he called me a ‘man.’ That seemed like the exact opposite of what I was anymore.

“I’m just your friend,” I said, sticking my hand out towards him. “And this is what friends do.”

“You don’t understand,” he said. “I needed to get away. I can’t thank you enough.”

He swatted away my hand, giving me a tight hug instead. He was a hugger–always had been.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“You just seem, uh, tense or something.”

I laughed, shaking my head. It annoyed me that he caught that. But if anyone was going to, it’d be him. Moving about in my diaper–around someone who knew me so well–had me on edge. It felt like I was always just one poorly planned movement away from exposing Olivia and I’s weird world to him.

“I’m good,” I said. I gave a firm nod, perhaps to reassure myself just as much as him. “Promise.”

“I’m glad to hear that, man,” he said, giving me another hearty pat on the back. “I’m in need of some good vibes right now.”

“Hey, that’s why you’re here, right?”

It didn’t matter how long it had been since the last time we got together, we were always able to quickly catch up and find our classic cadence with each other like no time had passed at all. Within minutes, we were sitting on my couch and trading stories about drinking in college and ill-advised camping trip stunts.

“Well, well, well,” Olivia said, suddenly appearing at the living room’s entrance. “Look who it is.”

“Look at me?” Aaron laughed. “Look at you! You’re now the only woman in the world I give a damn about.”

He had sprung from the couch and ran to Olivia, giving her a tight bearhug. I was lucky, I supposed, to have a best friend and a spouse who got along as well as they did. For a time, after Olivia and Christiana entered the picture, the four of us had been so incredibly tight.

“Hey,” Olivia said. “I’m so sorry to hear about Christiana.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t try to turn you two away from me like she did with the rest of my friends,” Aaron said with a shrug.

“Oh, she tried,” Olivia said, laughing. “I told her to fuck off.”

“That’s true,” I added. “I was there when she got the call.”

“See?” Aaron asked. “That’s why I love you two.”

“We’re happy you’re here too,” Olivia said. “But, I’m afraid I need to interrupt this catch-up session for a moment or two. Miles, can I borrow you?”

I slid forward to the edge of the couch as I felt a frightened gulp roll down my throat. “Uh…of course.”

Aaron laughed. “Is this the part where she pulls you aside and tells you that she doesn’t want me here?”

“Oh please,” Olivia immediately replied, laughing too. “If anything, I’d be telling him to hit the road.”

I followed Olivia out of the living room and down the hall to the kitchen.

In an almost-whisper, Olivia told me what she had needed: “I wanted to check your diaper.”

My heart was racing again. For the last few weeks, we had developed a comfortable routine of unannounced diaper checks. Gone were the days of me hunting her down in the house and asking for her to change me.

“R-right now?”

“I’m being respectful of the fact that Aaron is here,” she said. “But as long as you’re wearing diapers, I still need to check and see if you need to be changed or not.”

“Do you really think I’m going to load my diapers up while sitting next to Aaron on the couch?”

“Well it's bound to happen sooner or later, don’t you think?”

I grimaced, realizing we had never really talked about the logistics of diapers while we had company.

“I mean…you are going to let me use the bathroom, right?” I asked.

“And waste the diapers?”

“But…”

“Come on,” she said, her hand softly stroking my cheek. “We can make this work. We’ll do frequent diaper checks.”

“You can check my diaper 20 times in an hour,” I said. “But he’s still going to know if I poop my pants.”

“We need a signal,” she said.

“A signal?”

“Like…something you say or do to warn me that you need to mess yourself.”

“And then what?” I asked.

“You…leave the room, I guess. And you do it. And I know that I need to hurry up and get over to you so I can change the diaper.”

I shook my head as I sighed. “I don’t know… That seems kind of dangerous to me.”

“Please?” she asked. “I…I really want to keep this going.”

It was always hard for me to say no to her. Moreso while I was in diapers. I wanted her to be happy. Hell, I wanted to be happy myself–and I was always happier while I was in a diaper.

“Okay,” I said. “But we need a good signal. Something that we could, potentially, say or do often without it sounding suspicious.”

Olivia laughed. “Just say that you’re going to the bathroom. I mean–you’re not going to actually be using the bathroom. But he doesn’t know that.”

It seemed like a surprisingly good plan to me. Inconspicuous enough, but not a complete lie.

“That works.”

“Perfect,” she said. “Now then, before I send you back to Aaron, I still need to have a look at your diaper…”

***

Pork chops on the grill were my specialty, and we ate well that night. With full bellies, and the latest round of beer and cocktails in hand, we watched the sunset from the deck while catching up. Laughing and chatting, it was surprisingly easy to forget how soggy my diaper had managed to become over the last hour.

“...and he had this stupid hat, you know?” Aaron said to Olivia, somewhere mid-story.

“Wait, I think I’ve seen pictures of that hat,” she said, playfully slapping me in the shoulder. “It was like a fedora, right?”

“Yes!” Aaron exclaimed. “A fucking fedora. God, he looked like a damn clown.”

I blushed, trying to laugh off the playful ribbing the best I could. “Look, it was just an experiment, alright? I was trying something new. And it didn’t last long–on account of how much Aaron made fun of me for even buying a hat like that.”

“It wasn’t just a fedora,” Aaron said. “It was a purple fedora.”

Olivia laughed loudly again.

“It was a bad hat!” I exclaimed, trying to laugh along. “I learned a lesson. And I threw that hat in a dumpster.”

I had felt a stirring in my abdomen since dinner–not an uncommon sensation, considering big meals had a knack for reminding my body that I needed to make some room. Still, I had been absent-mindedly pushing aside that feeling for a while, only to suddenly realize that the stirring had grown to a point where it could no longer be ignored.

I nervously shifted in my seat, feeling the wet diaper beneath my body as I did. This was it. The test of our signal. The test of whether or not I could realistically expect to keep up this diapered lifestyle while Aaron was in our house.

“I, uhm, have to go to the bathroom,” I said.

It wasn’t until after I said it that I realized how awkward our signal actually was. Adults didn’t announce to each other when they were going to the bathroom–and they certainly didn’t interrupt another conversation to do so.

Aaron, never one to miss a beat, laughed. “Are you, like, asking permission?”

“Uh, no…I just… I’ll be back.”

I quickly got up and hustled back into the house, hearing Aaron and Olivia giggling behind me. For Olivia, I was sure that this was an especially humorous moment. Not only was she likely seeing the same flaw in our signal that I was, but she also knew the real reason I had made that announcement: someone was about to fill up their diaper.

I shut our bedroom door and immediately let my pants fall to the floor. I paced back and forth across the bedroom, thinking about my predicament. If I was to play by the rules, then I’d be squatting and pushing my bowels into my diaper. But…could I actually do that when my best friend was present at my home? This man knew just about everything about me. Except this. And I couldn’t even imagine what he’d say if he knew.

I had to go. And I was going to–eventually. I just needed to pace a little longer.

“It certainly doesn’t smell like anyone used their diaper yet.”

Olivia was closing the bedroom door behind her.

“I…I’m sorry. I’m trying, but…it’s hard while I know that Aaron is out there.”

“He doesn’t know,” she cooed to me as she stepped closer. “It’s just you and me. Mommy and baby. You can do this.”

“I know, I know. I’m trying.”

She wrapped her arms around me, letting them slide down my sides until she was cupping the back of my diaper with both hands. “Go on. I know you have to go, so just do it.”

“I will…”

“I want to see you fill your diaper for me right now,” she said, whispering directly into my ear. “How naughty is that? You making a big stinky mess in your diaper while your best friend is just a few yards away–completely oblivious?”

I moaned a little. She had an amazing knack for knowing just what to say to me. My heart pounded faster and I could already feel her words overriding everything I had been thinking about. I was no longer thinking about how weird it was to be doing this while Aaron was at my home–I was instead thinking about how badly I wanted to show Olivia that I could fill my diaper right now.

It didn’t take much effort at that point. My body was ready, whether my consciousness knew it or not. With one thunderous push, I felt the heavy load shoot into the back of the diaper–instantly expanding the padding and causing it to sag from my hips.

“Oh my,” Olivia said into my ear, her hands still on the back of my diaper. “Someone really had to make a dirty little mess, huh?”

I could only offer a pathetic “Uh huh” in response.

“Quickly now, let’s get you out of this stinky diaper so you can go back to pretending you’re a big boy.”

“Y-yes, Mommy. Please.”

***

I couldn’t shake Olivia’s words from my mind. We were all sitting outside together again, now with some tiki torches lit as the sky had grown much darker, and all I could think about was how I was just ‘pretending’ to be a big boy.

I wasn’t the only one with a secret–this was just as much Olivia’s as it was mine–though I had the most to lose if we let it slip.

“I really wish I could pinpoint where things started to go wrong,” Aaron said into his glass of just-poured bourbon. We were entering the less-fun part of the night, it seemed. The part where the alcohol brought out the sad stuff we had managed to avoid while laughing at the old stories earlier.

“I don’t think that’d actually be helpful to know,” Olivia said. “I mean, even if you knew what that moment was, there’s still nothing you can do about it.”

“True,” he said. “But maybe it’s less about changing the past and just knowing what I could do differently for the future.”

“That still suggests that it was something you did,” Olivia said. “Last time I checked, it takes two people to be in a relationship.”

I felt useless, sitting there in my fresh diaper with little to add. I was a little boy, watching the adults have a conversation without me. They went back and forth, talking about the nature of relationships, how they worked, and how to be the best partner you could be. Meanwhile, I was staring off into space, thinking about Olivia’s hands on my diaper as I filled it to the brim.

“What about you two?” Aaron asked. “You guys have one of the healthiest relationships I’ve ever seen. What’s your secret?”

Olivia and I looked at each other. She smirked, and I might have too.

“It’s hard to put into words,” Olivia said. “It’s, like,  a deep understanding of each other’s needs, I guess.”

Aaron laughed. “Sounds complicated.”

“But it’s not,” I finally added. “It’s…natural. And maybe that’s the secret. When something feels so right that it’s effortless, you know it’s a good fit.”

I may have been talking about diapers just as much as I was talking about marriage.

“See, that makes sense to me,” Aaron said, wagging his finger in my direction. “That’s what I want. That’s what I need. A relationship that just feels completely natural.”

“It’ll happen for you too,” Olivia said. “With patience.”

“Patience,” Aaron repeated. “And…diapers?”

A sudden silence washed over the dimly lit deck as both my and Olivia’s mouths dropped open. Olivia and I exchanged terrified glances, each hoping the other had an explanation as to how the d-word had just come from his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Olivia finally said to Aaron. “What did you just say?”

“Diapers, right?” Aaron said, chuckling a little. “I guess there’s no way to bring it up without it sounding awkward, so I figured I’d just…say it.”

“What do you know about that?” I asked.

“Not much,” he said. “And, really, you don’t owe me any additional information about it. But if this was supposed to be some sort of big secret, you need to work on your subterfuge.”

“N-no,” I stammered. “There’s no, uh, diapers. I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Olivia sighed, putting a hand on my thigh. “I don’t see the point in just lying to your best friend about it.”

“And,” added Aaron, “it’s not like I can’t tell when you’re lying.”

He’s probably right about that. I rarely ever lied to anyone–mostly on account of the fact that I’ve never been very good at it. And if anyone knew that about me, it was probably the two people sitting next to me.

I changed gears: “How did you find out?”

Olivia nodded, also seeming to be quite interested in the answer.

“I wish I could say it was just a few small details that I pieced together,” he said. “I’d love to be able to show off my detective skills. Alas…I think the two of you did most of the work for me.”

Olivia and I looked at each other again, telepathically trying to guess what misstep we might have made.

“I guess the clues were all there,” Aaron continued. “Maybe I would’ve come to the same conclusion at some point anyways. The crinkling sound coming from Miles’ pants? How self-conscious he seemed to be about every single one of his movements. The scent of baby powder wafting out from the hallway where your bedroom is?”

I watched Olivia offer a little shrug, seemingly saying: “Yeah, those are all pretty good points.”

“But,” Aaron said. “The actual, uh, smoking gun? You might want to invest in one of those diaper disposal systems, you know? Like those little trash-can looking things with the plastic liners? I bought one for my sister when she had a baby. Because, like, you probably shouldn’t just leave dirty diapers sitting on top of the trash can in the bathroom. And then there was another one in the kitchen garbage can.”

A long “Fuuuuuuck” leaked out from my mouth.

It was such a stupid mistake for us to have made. Perhaps it was another byproduct of having only been exploring this space in a vacuum with each other–it was far too easy to overlook the simplest of details.

There was a lot more that Aaron could have said that he didn’t. Like how these weren’t plain white medical-grade diapers–they were colorful with infantile prints on them. And they were big. These weren’t baby diapers. And these weren’t for someone suffering from incontinence. These were clearly for the fetishists.

Another silence hung over the deck for what felt like hours. Decades, maybe.

“To be clear,” Aaron finally said. “I’m not judging.”

Olivia laughed. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

“Oh, it’s plenty fucking weird,” Aaron said, laughing himself now. “But it’s also none of my business. Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut about it. But, you know, if it wasn’t me noticing, it might have been someone else. And wouldn’t you rather hear it from me?”

“Yes,” Olivia said, nodding. “Absolutely, yes.”

“I can leave well enough alone,” he said. “But I’ll say that I’m happy for the two of you. Whatever it is you’re doing–no matter how weird it is–it’s clearly working. And I’m jealous of that.”

I was feeling torn. Having the knowledge of diapers and our baby/mommy lifestyle out in the open–even if just partially–had me on edge. But Aaron was right that if anyone was going to know about it, I’d probably want it to be him. Still, I was speechless, unsure of how we were ever going to move on from this moment.

Thankfully, Olivia was there to take the reins.

“So,” she said to him, smiling. “Now that we’ve acknowledged the diapered elephant in the room…do you have any questions?”

My head spun towards her so fast that I feared I might have given myself whiplash. “Olivia!”

“What?” she said, shrugging. “Do you really expect us to sit here and talk about college-day hijinks after that truth-bomb just dropped? I think it might be good for us to talk about it out loud. WIth someone we trust.”

I wasn’t sure I agreed, but as with most things, I was willing to defer to her judgment. She was ‘Mommy’ after all.

And, too, I suspected this was the moment she needed. The next evolution of the game. The new horizon. The road out of the stagnate place our fantasy had landed as of late.

“What if I make a few guesses,” Aaron said. “Assumptions. And you can tell me whether I’m right or not.”

“Okay,” Olivia said.

He pointed at me. “He’s the one in diapers. I mean, he’s obviously got the crinkling bottom. But…he’s the only one wearing diapers.”

“Well, right,” Olivia said. “He’s the baby.”

“And that would make you…”

“The mommy.”

Aaron laughed, a hearty guffaw that even included an unironic slap of the knee. “Amazing. And so what does being a, uh, mommy entail?”

Olivia shot me a playful smirk–a metaphorical rolling up of the sleeves as she prepared to get into it. “What do you think it entails?”

“I dunno. Maybe it depends on what you expect the big baby to do with those diapers?”

“Well,” Olivia said, still smirking, “I can assure you that this big baby uses his diapers quite often. And thoroughly.”

“Thoroughly,” Aaron repeated, as if rolling the word around in his mouth. “So, you’re saying that he…”

“Careful,” Olivia said. “Once details like that are out in the open, I won’t see any reason for Miles to excuse himself when he needs to use his diaper.”

My eyes grew big as I looked at Olivia in disbelief. “W-wait…what?”

Aaron mulled over her words for a moment. “But wouldn’t you say that every baby needs both a Mommy and a Daddy?”

“Wait a second,” I said. I said it again: “Wait a second. What are we talking about now?”

“I’m not sure what I’m saying,” Aaron said, laughing again while he shook his head. “Maybe it’s the alcohol talking. Or…maybe I’m just an emotional mess right now and nothing I say is going to make any sense. But, I don’t know, I guess I’m…curious? Interested?”

“I wouldn’t do anything without Baby’s consent,” Olivia said, putting her hand on my thigh again. “But taking care of a big baby like this is a lot of work. I wouldn’t mind the help.”

There was a ringing in my ears, and everything around me seemed to be blurry. I could barely process what was being proposed. My best friend? Exposed to the strange depths of the lifestyle that Olivia and I had crafted for ourselves?

“Well?” Olivia asked me. It was as if she was waiting for me to answer another question–one that she hadn’t even actually asked–as best as I could recall.

“Well what?”

“What do you think?” she asked. “Are you willing to let someone else in?”

That was a complicated question. The answer was essentially ‘yes,’ but probably with the caveat that it be anyone other than my childhood friend.

So, instead, I said: “Maybe. What do you think?”

This was almost the same thing as me saying “If you want this, you can have it.” She knew I’d defer to her decision. But, also, she wouldn’t let something happen if she truly thought it was a bad idea.

She looked into my eyes, her lips slowly opening. But she didn’t have to say anything. I could already see what she wanted. She wanted to see me crawling around on my hands and knees while her and Aaron talked like adults. She wanted me to fill my diaper while the two of them watched. She wanted Aaron to change my diaper. She wanted him to feed me a bottle. She wanted me to sit on the floor in my dirty diaper while Aaron–a man and the Daddy–bent her over the bed and fucked her from behind.

I spoke before she could: “Yes.”

“Yes?” she asked.

“I want that too.”

“A-are you sure?”

I nodded.

***

It took some time, but we’re all patient people. We talked about it. Drank to it. Slept on it.

And I woke up the next morning in a brand new world.

“What are you doing?” asked Olivia as I grabbed a pair of pants and began to put them on.

“Wh-what do you mean?” I asked, baffled by her question.

“You’re putting pants on?”

“I guess I am, yeah. Should I not be?”

“Do you remember anything about last night?”

Last night existed, in part, as a fever dream. I could only remember bits and pieces–a loose collection of scenes that didn’t all connect with each other. But it was slowly coming back to me.

“Maybe,” I said.

“You don’t need to hide your diaper anymore,” she said.

Aaron. Daddy. Right.

“I… Am I just supposed to waddle around the house without pants on?”

“How about a onesie?”

It seemed better than nothing. “Sure.”

She took it upon herself to select one from the closet. I shouldn’t have been surprised to see that the one she pulled out was one of the most embarrassing that I owned–a silly looking number styled like a sailor’s outfit. Even when it was just her and I, the sight of it made me blush.

“Really? That one?”

“It’s cute,” she said. I love seeing you wear this one.”

Possible translation: “You want to see me happy, don’t you? Because this would make me happy.”

“Okay…fine.”

“And how’s your diaper holding up? Any nighttime accidents?”

“N-no, I don’t think so. Feels pretty dry.” Nighttime accidents were incredibly rare, but when they did happen, it usually came after a night of drinking. Thankfully I was feeling only a little hungover, and not very hungover and soggy.

Still, this was the point in which I’d usually go ahead and wet myself–that morning pee would need to happen sooner than later.

“Maybe I’ll just use it now, though. And you can change me real quick?”

“You can wet it whenever you want,” she said. “But I might not change you right away?”

“Why not?”

“Well, I just think that Daddy should see the whole process, don’t you? We can’t start without him.”

“Daddy…” I repeated to myself. This was real? This was actually happening?

I imagined that I agreed to all of this last night. I vaguely remember that. And, if asked for my compliance again in the morning, I’d imagine that I’d probably agree to it again. But this didn’t change how surreal it was.

As if she had read my mind, or at least detected my hesitancy: “You are okay with this, right?”

I nodded.

“You’re sure?”

“What if I wasn’t?”

“I’d go out into the living room and tell Aaron that we’re calling it off. Simple as that.”

More than anything else, that was what I needed to hear. I didn’t want to put a stop to this right now. But if I wanted to, it was good to know that I could.

Soon after, I was looking at myself in the mirror in my sailor onesie. The bottom was bloated by my thick diaper, and Olivia had even pinned a pacifier onto the garment.

“I know this is scary,” she said to me, giving me a supportive pat on the padded bum. “But Aaron knows what he’s getting into too. And we trust him. Right?”

I nodded. I did trust him. Not only to be respectful of me while I was in this state, but I trusted him to bow out if he didn’t think he could be respectful.

Here goes nothing.

It was me–not Olivia–who made the last minute decision to get down on my hands and knees before exiting the bedroom. I could’ve just walked out there with her. But if I was going to do this, I was going to commit.

And that would be Aaron’s first impression of Baby Miles–crawling out from the bedroom on my hands and knees in a cute sailor onesie, my thickly diapered tush swaying from side to side with every lunge forward.

I had no idea what kind of reaction to expect from him. My best friend since grade school–he had seen me at my best and at my worst. But he had never seen me like this–crawling towards him while dressed like a toddler.

In a matter of seconds, I watched his expression change and evolve. First, confusion. Surprise. Disbelief. Then, I could that he wanted to accept it. It was just outside of his grasp. Then, it either clicked, or he decided that he’d just figure it out as we went. He smiled–acceptance.

“Is it wrong to think that you look perfect like this?” he finally asked.

“I’m glad someone else finally gets to see that,” Olivia said, beaming. “I’ve been saying that for years.”

“Gosh, years?” asked Aaron, running a hand through his hair. “This has been happening for that long?”

“It has.”

“Damn,” he said, laughing. “Miles, buddy, I know you’re probably thinking that you’re the one who should be feeling humiliated right now. But…I feel like the odd one out here. I’m like an intruder, barging in on what seems to be a perfect ecosystem.”

“It’s okay,” I said, looking up at him. “You’re good.”

“This is hardly a perfect ecosystem,” Olivia said. “I mean, it works and we love it. But we’ve needed something new. Fresh. We needed you.”

“I’ll try not to let you down,” he said. “But I, uh, have no idea where to start.”

Olivia smiled, sliding her hand across my back as she walked past me. “The thing about taking care of a baby–no matter what the size–is that it’s very reactive. The baby has needs. You just have to figure them out and take care of them. Like, right now? This big baby just woke up, and he woke with his diaper still clean and dry. Can you guess what that means?”

Aaron smiled. “His diaper won’t be staying dry for much longer?”

“Exactly.”

If I had waited long enough, I knew that Olivia would’ve pushed things forward herself. But I found myself slipping deeper and deeper into my little space as I remained on my hands and knees, looking up at the adults talking. Baby-me knew what had to happen next.

“Oh!” Olivia exclaimed, perhaps seeing the expression on my face. “I think…” She reached down to my bottom, cupping the diaper with her hand. “I don’t think his diaper is dry anymore.”

Aaron smiled. “Yeah? Is he… He’s wetting himself? Right now?”

“Come feel for yourself,” she said, beckoning him towards us with her other hand.

He wastes no time in trotting across the room so that he can put his hand on my diaper as well. He’s there just in time too–able to catch the last 15 seconds or so of a truly epic piss. I doubted I could’ve wet myself with their hands on me to start, but by this time it’s far too late for me to stop. It’s humiliating–on the verge of being transcendently erotic–to have both of them touching my diaper as it swells and grows heavier. A little moan escapes my mouth.

“He likes it,” Aaron says.

“Of course he does. He’s a baby. The only thing he loves more than using his diaper is getting it changed. In fact…” She squatted down a little further, letting her hand slide between my legs to the front of my diaper. She found exactly what she was looking for–a firm lump in the diaper’s padding. “Just as I suspected. For as embarrassed as he pretends to be with having you see him like this, Baby Miles still can’t help but get turned on when there’s a hand–or two–on his squishy diaper.”

“Is that so?” Aaron asked. “Baby likes getting his diaper touched?”

To my surprise, I felt a hand creeping through my legs and squeezing the firm lump in the front of my diaper once more. But when I looked at Olivia, I found that both of her hands were at her sides.

“Well how about that,” Aaron said with a laugh. “Baby’s got a stiffy in his diaper.”

I was mortified, having just had my diapered erection caressed by my best friend.

Mortified…and ecstatic.

“And so clearly the baby needs to be changed now,” Olivia said.

“Do you usually do that right away?” he asked.

“Sometimes. Sometimes I let him marinate in it a little. He likes that.”

Aaron laughed, playfully swatting me on the bottom. “I bet you do, huh, Baby?”

I nodded, my cheeks burning red.

“I’m going to start some coffee and some breakfast,” Olivia said. “Maybe I’ll let Daddy and Baby get better acquainted?”

“That’s an excellent idea,” Aaron said.

“If you want to hold off on changing his diaper, we can take care of that after breakfast,” she said. “I’ll show you how it's done.”

“I’d love that,” Aaron answered.

I loved that too, though I was sure the only expression on my face was that of utter humiliation.

Then Olivia was gone, and it was just the two of us. Men. Well, a man and a boy.

“This is wild, huh?” Aaron asked me.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Try to imagine how I feel.”

He was pacing around me while staring down at me; taking in the full picture.

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Please,” I said.

“I like you like this.”

“Y-yeah?”

“I mean…don’t get me wrong. I’d like you no matter how–who–you are. You’re my friend. My best friend. But in a weird way, this feels like the most real you’ve ever been.”

“You really think so?”

“Obviously you’re not really a big baby. But to see you take on this whole persona in the name of having an amazing relationship with your wife…it’s incredible. This is who you are. This is who you’ve always been. A great friend. A great partner. A…great baby.”

“Th-thank you,” I said, blushing. “But don’t you worry that this is going to change everything?”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t think so. The only thing getting changed is your diaper, right?”

We both laughed.

“You’re still my best friend,” he said. “I want us to get out to some ball games this summer. We still need to go and see Wilco live, right? I want to do those things.”

“Yeah.”

“But…I also really want to bounce you on my knees like you’re a fucking toddler.”

My eyes lit up–it might have been the greatest thing he had ever said to me.

He strolled back to the couch and sat down, patting his lap. “Come on over.”

He and I both probably expected some hesitancy. His hand was already hovering above his lap, ready for a second round of signaling that it was alright for me to approach him. But I had already made up my mind–I wanted this. I crawled towards him.

I wondered what Olivia had expected to happen when she went to the kitchen. Would the two pals just talk out the weird new dynamic in the house? Or would we just avoid eye contact and politely beat around the bush for a bit. Judging by the look of her face when she returned to the room a few minutes later, whatever it was that she was expecting–it wasn’t this.

“Oh,” she said, eyes wide. “Am I…interrupting something?”

“Interrupting?” asked Aaron, laughing. “No, I’d say you’re just in time.”

I was sitting on Aaron’s lap, with my back to him while I faced out into the room. His legs gently bounced up and down, jostling my body on his lap as he did. My thick diaper, heavily saturated, sloshed and squished between us.

“So, I guess things are going well?” she asked.

“Swimmingly,” I said.

“Speaking of swimming,” said Aaron, “this diaper is feeling like an abandoned towel at a waterpark. Are we sure this thing will last through breakfast?”

“Eager to change your first diaper?” Olivia asked, laughing. “I can assure you that’ll hold. He’s been in worse for longer.”

Aaron shot me an amused smile, probably curious about what a worse diaper entailed.

“Come on,” she said. “Breakfast is on the table.”

For a brief moment, as I waddled behind the other two towards the dining room, I honestly expected a normal shared meal around the table. There’d be a plate sitting out for me, just like there’d be for Olivia and Aaron. A cup of coffee. A fork and a knife.

But that was a foolish thought, and I already knew that before I even took a step into the dining room. A hunch that was proven accurate almost immediately.

There were only two spots set on the dining room table. And between those settings was the oversized high-chair–a custom job from a few months earlier that had been one of Olivia’s favorite purchases.

“Holy shit,” Aaron exclaimed in awe of the large piece of furniture.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she replied. “We like it so much that I put in an order for a large changing table. I think we’re still a few weeks away from receiving it, but I’m quite pleased with its quality.”

“Well?” Aaron asked, turning to me. “What are you waiting for? Get on up into your big baby chair so we can have breakfast.”

He seemed to be acclimating quickly. Too quickly? Maybe not. Aaron had been this way since we were kids–he always hit the ground running. It was why he was so damn good at Sonic the Hedgehog. And, probably, why he rushed into a marriage that didn’t pan out in the long term.

I slid into my high-chair, my sagging bottom squishing against my skin as Olivia lowered the tray down in front of me to seal me in. My breakfast–pre-chopped pieces of toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon, were set in front of me on a Paw Patrol plate. Orange juice in a sippy cup. No utensils. The finishing touch was the bib that she tied around my neck.

Everyone was in their right place. I watched the adults sip at their cups of coffee and lift forkfuls of food to their mouths. Aaron talked about his recent investments, while Olivia gave him an overview of the new platform her office was moving to.

At one point I tried to interject, offering a story about some of the recent changes my company was making.

“The adults are talking now, Miles,” Olivia said in a sugary-sweet tone. “You just work on your breakfast, okay?”

I remained silent for the rest of the meal. And with every conversation, anecdote, and shared joke, I felt smaller and smaller–my status as the baby in the room only becoming more clear.

“This was a fantastic breakfast,” Aaron finally said, patting his belly.

“Thank you,” Olivia said. “But it wasn’t anything too fancy.”

“Breakfast for me is usually just an energy bar and an overpriced cup of coffee,” he said. “I can’t tell you the last time I had a home-cooked breakfast. So good. And since you made breakfast, I’ll clean up.”

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” Olivia said with a wry grin. “But there’s something else we should clean up first.”

Their eyes were on me.

“What are we waiting for?” asked Aaron. “Let’s get this baby a clean diaper.”

It was Aaron who cleared off the tray before lifting it away from the chair. But as I began to slide off the chair, he stopped me.

“You stay there,” he said. “I got you.”

My mouth opened, ready to question what he meant, but he moved before I could get the words out. His arms were suddenly on me. His muscular arms. Had he always been this ripped? He was…lifting me. Picking me up out of the chair as if I was a toddler.

He was carrying me.

“Alright,” he said to Olivia. “Lead the way. I’ve got the baby.”

The look on her face was unlike any I had seen before–and I thought I had seen them all. She was equally surprised and impressed, with a hint of lust. Maybe she was thinking the same thing I was: Daddy, yes.

He eased me down on my back once we got to the bed in the master bedroom.

“Seeing as how this is just a soggy diaper,” Olivia said, immediately getting into it, “this won’t be too hard. It’s the stinky ones you have to watch out for.”

“Yeah? I bet this little one makes some real messy diapers for his Mommy.”

“You’re not officially a parent until you’ve had to deep-clean a blow-out,” she said, winking down at me.

It was embarrassing–every single thing about this moment. This whole morning, really. It was all so humiliating. But I loved it too. As evidenced by my hard cock–which I was pretty sure hadn’t gone soft since they put their hands on my diaper before breakfast.

Olivia unsnapped the bottom of the onesie, my plump diaper expanding out from the once-tight space with a dramatic fwomp.

“Would you like to do the honors of untaping his diaper?” she asked Aaron.

“I’d love to.”

One at a time, slowly, he pulled back each tape. I felt the tension in my body increase as each sticky strip was unfastened. I knew what would come next–the front of the diaper being open, revealing my boyish erection.

It wouldn’t have been the first time Aaron had seen my manhood. Skinny-dipping. Pantsing pranks. Gym locker rooms. Drunken nights of curiosity. But it was the first time seeing it like this. He was looking down at me–an adult looking down at a little baby in his soaked diaper.

The look on his face was, again, one I had never seen before. Like a proud poppa, perhaps.

“Do you like this?” he asked. His voice, from way up there, seemed to boom down on me. “Do you like being a baby?”

I nodded.

“I can tell,” he said.

“Pretty cute, isn’t he?” asked Olivia.

“Adorable,” Aaron said, without an ounce of irony or sarcasm in his voice.

“I like him like this,” she said. “It just feels perfect.”

“I totally get that,” he replied. “But…what about you?”

“Me?”

“You’ve clearly been taking good care of him. But are all of your, uh, needs being met?”

She bit her bottom lip. “Oh, well…sure. I mean, I’ve needed to take care of the baby.”

“You know what I mean,” he said.

“Sex is…complicated,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m still attracted to him. We have our ways of pleasuring each other. There’s nothing that’s wrong with our sex life…”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” Aaron said.

“But… Like, actual sex? The deeper we get into our roles, the more challenging it is to pull that off.”

“We all have needs,” Aaron mused aloud while staring back down at me. His hand was suddenly on my shaft, tightly gripping it. “I…I can help. Both of you. If you want it.”

I glanced at Olivia’s face at the same time that she looked at mine. We didn’t need to actually say anything–we were clearly already on the same page.

Yes. Let him in. Completely. Let Daddy take care of us.

Olivia stepped closer to the two of us, and her hand was on Aaron’s shoulder. She leaned in, her lips close to his ear.

“We could use a daddy around here,” she said in a hushed tone–though one loud enough that I could hear.

“I’m here,” he said.

“Take care of the baby, then,” she said. “And then…”

“I’ll take care of you?”

She nodded.

He looked back down at me, his eyes meeting mine, as he began to slide his hand up and down my shaft. It took a pathetically short amount of time for him to milk me–my cock quickly spurting a creamy white mess onto his hand and my belly.

“I ought to finish cleaning you up,” he said. “But…”

“Go,” I said. “Take care of Mommy. I’ll wait.”

He smiled and nodded before turning to face Olivia, who was already leaning in to kiss him.

This was okay.

This was good.

We were moving forward once again.