Little Sister, Part 3 of 3 [Tier 3 Exclusive] (Patreon)

Three

“Have I given you enough time?” Maris asked.

I was sitting at one of the round tables in our office’s break room by myself. I had been alone for the last 20, or so, minutes. Until Maris had entered. She tried her hardest to give me some space as she prepared her lunch. But eventually she cracked. I had said far too much before, and now she was seated at the table with me–an information-starved expression on her face. She was practically salivating in anticipation for me to elaborate on what I had blurted out earlier.

“Do you really want to know?” I asked.

“More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

I recapped the story. Most of it. I left out the parts about diapers and baby paraphernalia. But the rest of it was the truth–my father had managed to court a much younger woman online. He brought her to our home. She and I hit it off. We had sex. And now he wanted to propose to this girl.

“Max, I have to tell you something and I don’t want you to be offended by it.”

I rolled my eyes, fully prepared to be offended. “Okay?”

“This is the most interesting thing you’ve ever done in your life.”

I sighed deeply. Not because I thought Maris had offended me, but because she was absolutely right. And she didn’t even know how much more interesting the story really was.

“What the hell am I supposed to do, Maris?”

“It’s not really fair, is it?” she asked. “Because I’m supposed to be the good friend now. The one who tells you to do the right thing. Or I give you some vague, sugar-coated, guff about ‘following your heart.’”

“And that’s…not fair?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to tell you any of those things.”

I laughed. “Okay, then. What would you rather tell me?”

“How fucking hot would it be if you were banging your future step-mother?”

Prize

They were gone by the time I got home from work. My father’s car was gone from the driveway and the house was silent. They were at Pine Ridge, enjoying an elegant meal before my father popped a question that would no-doubt throw everything in my already-confusing life deeper into chaos.

I wondered if I had enough time to get into my car and speed down to the restaurant. I’d barge through the door and race past the front desk. I’d run to their table and just throw it all out there. I’d confess to my father about the sinful things I had been doing with Quinn. Maybe Quinn would deny it–maybe she wouldn’t–but it wouldn’t matter. The moment would be spoiled and nobody would be proposed to. Quinn might even get sent home. In the weeks that followed, I imagined things would be awkward around home, but maybe we’d eventually get past it.

I stared at my car in the driveway, wishing I had the balls for that. Instead, I went inside and opened a can of beer and settled into the couch as I waited for them to return.

But I couldn’t sit there without thinking of her. The way her tight pussy felt around my cock. The way she smelled in her diapers. The feeling of her handling my body as she put me into a diaper.

I sure as hell couldn’t spend my time waiting for them on the couch.

I went back to my father’s room. Though, now, it seemed like it wasn’t really his anymore. Quinn had claimed it as her own. Sure, he slept there, and his things were there. But walking into the room now felt like you were walking into Quinn’s domain. It smelled more strongly of a nursery now than it ever had.

It was curious, I thought, that my father hadn’t ever mentioned diapers to me. I could understand why he didn’t. But we couldn’t keep pretending that Quinn’s attire and behavior were completely normal for the rest of our lives–assuming she accepted his proposal. Someday, he was going to have to sit me down and say: “Son, I think you should know that your new step-mother wears diapers and I intend to treat her like a baby.”

Or something like that.

To just be in that room felt like I was inside of her diaper. The softness of the baby powder, mixed with the sourness of used diapers.

I felt as if I had come a long way in a very short amount of time. Just days ago, the idea of an adult woman using a diaper probably would’ve icked me out. Now, I’d have killed to watch her use one in front of me. I wanted to see her wet herself–I wanted to see the diaper slowly become saturated and heavy.

No, I wanted to see her mess herself. I know she did it. I could smell it in the room.

I was digging through her trash can again. Her diaper pail. I was picking up every used, rolled up, diaper and giving it a good sniff to see if I could find the one she had pushed a present into the back of. After only catching whiffs of stale urine from the first few diapers, I wondered if all used diapers just smelled the same–regardless of what she did in them.

But the next one I smelled just about knocked me over on my ass. She had done something very naughty in this one. I clutched it tightly in my hands, holding it close to my body like it needed to be protected. I sprinted back to my own bedroom with my filthy prize–no thought yet given as to what I’d do with it.

As tempting as it was to close my bedroom door to further hide my shame, I left it open so I could better hear if my father and Quinn came home. Even though I was in my own room, I felt completely exposed with it open. I might as well have been in the living room. Or even the front lawn.

For a moment, I wasn’t sure what to do with the dirty stolen package. I wondered if I should just pull my cock out and stroke myself while smelling her diaper. Yes, I probably would do that eventually, but I knew that wasn’t the only reason I smuggled this into my room.

What I had really wanted was to watch Quinn poop her diaper. I couldn’t even explain it to myself. I never thought that was the type of thing that I wanted to see before. But now, I found myself fixated on the idea of it. I wanted to see her squat. I wanted to listen to her grunt as she pushed a firm shape into the back of the diaper. I wanted my hands on her padding as I felt it expand. I wanted to feel the warmth of her smelly load through the plastic.

This? This was the next best thing.

I carefully opened the diaper. I almost laughed–I damn-well knew what I’d find inside of it, but I was acting like I was going to be surprised. It was doubtful that I’d find an entire, intact, ham sandwich in it.

But when I unfurled the used garment, I was a little more surprised than I thought I’d be.

There was no mess. There was evidence of a mess–the padding, saturated with yellow pee, had a thick brown streak running down through the area her ass once rested. I could see remnants of the mess that once was. But it was gone now. Probably flushed away. That made sense, though it was a little disappointing.

Still, this didn’t really seem to matter all that much. My mind was taking what was laid out before me and filling in the rest of the picture. I could see her squatting. Pushing. Grunting and groaning. I could hear the crackling of the diaper’s plastic as it tried adjusted itself to fit the new mass being introduced to it.

My cock was rock hard, and I fished it out of my pants so that I could stroke myself. In no time at all, I felt myself ready to explode. And when I did, it only felt right to shoot it atop the stained interior of Quinn’s diaper.

News

I was sitting on the couch, my face pointed in the direction of the TV, when my father and Quinn returned home. I wasn’t actually watching it–I couldn’t even say what was happening on the screen. My mind was in a far off place, lost between thoughts.

Despite the fact that my father had already told me his plan for dinner that night, I tried to play it slightly aloof. I acted like everything was normal. Nothing was different about this night. I wasn’t expecting them to come home with some breaking news about their relationship status.

But to my surprise, they both seemed subdued as they entered the house. Neither smiled all that much. There was no sense of excitement in the air. He either didn’t ask his question…or he was rejected.

I tried my hand at some small talk, trying to coax more information from them: “How was dinner? Pine Ridge is usually pretty incredible.”

“It was good,” Quinn said, nodding. She flashed me a smile, but it seemed empty. Devoid of actual emotion.

“They changed up their menu,” my father said from the kitchen as he grabbed a beer from the fridge. It wasn’t like him to drink this late.

“Well, sure,” I said, shrugging. “Chefs are always changing up the menu in a place like that.”

“Last time I went, I had the best lamb bolognese I’ve ever had,” he said. “They didn’t have that this time around.”

I sincerely doubted he had ever had lamb bolognese anywhere else, though I kept that observation to myself. This was what he wanted to talk about instead of getting engaged? Something didn’t go to plan.

“I’m pooped,” Quinn said. If the atmosphere had been a little more joyous, I’d have looked for the wink or nudge. But this didn’t seem to be a pun–she just looked tired. “I might go read in bed for a bit until I fall asleep.”

I looked at the clock. It was just a little past 9 PM.

“Alright,” my father said, forcing a smile. “G’night.”

She smiled a little in my direction. I could’ve sworn she was trying to signal something to me with it, but damned if I knew what it was.

“Night,” she said aloud–a generic farewell that didn’t seem specifically aimed at either of us.

I sighed when she was gone. I didn’t want to have this conversation, but I felt like one of us had to rip the bandage off.

“Really though,” I said to him in a lower tone, in case Quinn was still in earshot. “How was dinner?”

He was in the midst of peeling off his clothes–just a simple suit. Either he hadn’t worn a tie, or he had already taken it off before I noticed. Now he was throwing his jacket over the arm of a chair and was working on unbuttoning his white shirt.

“Did you notice how neither of us said anything about being engaged when we walked through the door?” he asked.

It seemed like a rhetorical question, but I bit anyway: “I did notice that, yeah.”

He shrugged. “I overestimated what she wanted.”

“Ah, damn,” I said, hoping that my concern was at least a little believable. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

He chuckled to himself as he slid into his well-worn end of the couch. “I don’t know why I thought that was a good idea. I think I fucked things up.”

I was tempted to try comforting him, but it also felt like the first opportunity where I could be a little more blunt with him. “What did you think was going to happen?”

“Huh?”

“She’s, you know, a lot younger than you. And please correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems like the only thing you two have in common is your, uhm…” I really didn’t want to say the word, but I was in far too deep now. “...fetishes.”

“Oh,” he said, his face turning bright red. “Jesus Christ. You knew about that?”

Sure, I could’ve told him about how she sucked my cock in a diaper. Or about I pulled her diaper down from her ass on another night and fucked her. Or how she put me into one of her own diapers. Or, even, how while he was getting his proposal turned down, I had blown my load into one of her used diapers. But I figured it’d be best to leave those details out.

“I’d have to be deaf, dumb, and blind to not know what was going on around here,” I said. “She smells of baby powder. She dresses like a toddler. She…crinkles.”

“Shit,” he said. “I…I’m sorry, Max. I didn’t mean to expose you to all that.”

I laughed, almost convinced that it was actually supposed to have been a joke. “You seriously thought I wouldn’t notice?”

“Love does weird things to you,” my father said, sighing. “And lust. Lust too. That’ll do even weirder things to you.”

This I could relate to.

Warm

I didn’t even bother going to sleep that night–as I was pretty sure I’d have a late-night visitor. Sure enough, my patience was rewarded when I could hear my bedroom door opening, followed by the rustling of someone’s padded bottom as they tried to tip-toe through the threshold.

“Are you awake?” Quinn asked.

“I am. But my father’s still on the couch in the living room,” I said.

“Yes,” she said. “But he’s sleeping. And snoring.”

“We should be extra quiet,” I said. “Just in case.”

She sat on the edge of my bed, her diaper crinkling softly against the linens. “You knew I was going to visit?”

“I had a feeling you would,” I said.

“Ta-da.”

“My father told me about tonight.”

“Did you know he was going to ask before we went out?”

I nodded, though I didn’t think she could see that in my dark room. “Yeah, this morning.”

“How did you take that?”

“Not that well,” I said, laughing.

“And how are you taking the news now that you know I won’t be your new step-mommy?”

“It makes things slightly less awkward,” I admitted. “Though only slightly.”

She chuckled a little to herself as she put her hand on my leg. “Do I need to say why I told him that I couldn’t accept his proposal?”

Was it that obvious? Because, short of knowing that she’d be in my bedroom again tonight, I found it hard to predict anything that she did.

“M-me?” I asked, putting my most hopeful foot forward.

“Is that so hard to believe?” she asked. “Yes you, silly. Think of all the fun we could have together. You wouldn’t even have to sneak into your father’s room to rifle through my diaper pail.”

“You…knew about that?”

“Well someone made a big mess of the trash can,” she laughed.

I was thankful she couldn’t see my reddening cheeks–I hadn’t been nearly as careful as I thought I had.

“Speaking of,” she continued. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Uh…”

“You can be honest,” she said. “Tell me.”

“I…think so.”

“And what, exactly, were you looking for?”

I could’ve lied. I could’ve said anything, really. But I figured I might as well have told the truth. She’d probably like the truth.

“I wanted one of your diapers.”

“But not a new one,” she said. “You wanted one of my used ones?”

“Y-yes.”

“Why?” I couldn’t see her face that well in the dim light, but I just knew she was grinning.

“I wanted to, uhm, see it.” But I already knew that she’d ask me to elaborate. I tried to beat her to the punch by just spitting the rest of it out there: “I was thinking about you, uhm, using your diapers. And since you weren’t here, I thought I’d look at the diapers you used. Specifically, one that you might have…”

“Uh huh?”

“...messed in?”

“Dirty, dirty, boy,” she cooed. “Well? Did you have any luck? Did you find what you were looking for?”

“I did.”

“And what did you do then?”

“I…jerked off. Into the diaper.”

“That’s it?”

“What else would I do with it?” I asked.

“I thought you were going to tell me that you wore it,” she said, giggling a little to herself.

Goddamn. I hadn’t even considered that. I wasn’t entirely sure I’d have done that, but a seed of interest had at least been planted.

“I’m sorry I went through your diapers,” I said.

“Don’t apologize for that,” she replied. “I’m glad you did. You know, if you’d like, I could just drop off my dirty diapers directly to your room.”

I honestly had no idea if that was a joke or not–though my hunch was that she was being serious. “So long as we’re in this house with my father, I don’t know that that’s such a good idea…”

“I’m not going to live here with you and your father,” she said.

“Are you and my father…done?”

“I’m not sure. Probably. If we’re not officially done now, I’m sure we’ll have that conversation tomorrow.”

I sighed. For as relieved as I was that the nightmare of my father and Quinn dating was over, my heart couldn’t help but break a little for my father. Even if I thought it was wrong, he wanted it to work. And he didn’t know it yet–but I was at least part of the reason it didn’t work out.

“So, what then? You’ll just go home?” I asked.

“I may,” she said. “But if you had a place of your own…I could come stay with you.”

This was a fantastic idea. Of course, it was a fantastic idea a long time ago too, and it was a fantastic idea every time I had ever thought about it. It always seemed to come back to that age-old question: Was I staying because I thought my father needed me, or was I staying because I was afraid to be alone?

If it was the latter, I’d have an extra body to accompany me now. That same extra body that was slowly lying down next to me in my bed, cuddling up against me and pressing her diapered bottom against my firm cock. Her diaper was warm–much warmer, I suspected, than just her body being warm. I snuggled a little closer to her, enjoying the heat of her soggy diaper.

I wanted to pull down the back of her diaper again, and I wanted to slip my cock inside of her. But I heard her quietly rumbling snores and sleep suddenly seemed just as good an idea.

Leaving

Quinn wasn’t in the bed with me when I woke. I wasn’t too surprised by this, though I hoped that her exit had been timed so that my father hadn’t noticed her emerging from my room. That would have been beyond awkward. I was a little disappointed in myself for not thinking of this last night–before we fell asleep together in my bed.

I found my father in the kitchen when I stumbled out to use the bathroom, perched at the coffee-maker while waiting for the pot to fill. He looked exhausted. Heartbroken.

“Rough night?” I asked, though not incredibly interested in carrying a whole conversation with him right now. Still, I felt like some sort of contact would be good to take the temperature of the situation. If he had known that Quinn was in my room last night, I was sure I’d know.

“Hrm,” he muttered. “To say the least.”

“I’m, uh, sorry again,” I said.

“I talked to her for a minute this morning,” he said. “She said that she’s going to head back home soon.”

“Soon?” I asked. “How soon?”

I was careful–careful as I could be for only being awake for less than 15 minutes–not to sound too interested.

“Dunno. As soon as she can get a flight, I guess? Today or tomorrow, probably.”

“Oh.”

“That’s that,” he said, shrugging. “So it goes.”

I knew my dad well enough to know that this was him not handling the rejection well.

“Thanks for asking though,” he added, saving me from having to figure out how to proceed in the conversation. “Actually, I was thinking…”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m going to call one of the guys today. Roger or Jim, maybe. Gonna see if I can crash there tonight. Just until she leaves. I, uh, just don’t think it’ll be good for me if I’m around her right now.”

“Y-yeah, sure. Do what you have to do.”

“Are you going to be okay if it’s just you and her here alone?” he asked. “That won’t be too awkward?”

“I, uhm, think that’ll be alright, yeah.”

Unfolded

While Quinn was in the shower, my father gathered a few of his things and left the house.

He said: “I’ll be back when I’m back.” Assumedly, when the coast was clear and the diaper-wearing girl he had fallen for wasn’t in the house.

Meanwhile, I was still in the house with the diaper-wearing girl that I had fallen for. By a stroke of convenience, I didn’t have to be in the office that day. And so I just waited for her in the living room. There were a few times when I considered going to my father’s bedroom door and knocking on it–just to let her know that I was here. But she’d figure it out eventually, and so I thought I would leave her be until she emerged.

She seemed surprised to see me when she finally did stroll into the living room. Pleasantly surprised by the look of her smile. She was wearing one of her short skirts–mostly white with dainty pink ribbons on it–and a white tank with some sort of rainbow print on the front. Simple and cute–classic Quinn. But it was what peaked out from under her skirt that had me excited–the bottom edge of her diaper. Either her diaper was that short or her diaper was that thick. Either way, I felt a flutter in my chest.

“Why hello there,” she cooed. “No work today?”

“Not today.”

“How perfect. Your father? He’s…”

“He left,” I said. “He probably won’t be back until after, er…after you leave.”

Her smile faded a little as she sighed. “I wish that had gone differently.”

“I think we all do.”

“But he’s gone, right?” she asked, her lips already curling into a mischievous smile.

“W-well, yeah…”

“So it’s just you and me?”

I couldn’t act like this wasn’t what I wanted–I had been stationed in the living room all morning, waiting for the moment when it was just her and I in the house. But it was hard not to feel a little bad for my father. My happiness–my pleasure–at his expense?

She strolled up to me, pressing her soft lips against mine. I wondered if she was trying to distract me from these questions about ethics–or perhaps she was trying to distract herself. But I kissed her back, our arms wrapping around each other.

“I never got to ask you,” she whispered into my ear. “Did you like your diaper?”

It was a surprisingly hard question to answer. The experience felt soured by my father telling me about his plans to propose. I still couldn’t clearly remember what I did with the wet diaper between that moment and when I went to work. And maybe I liked it before that moment, but most of my memories of wearing the diaper seemed cloudy now.

“I think?”

She giggled, kissing me again–a quick smack on my lips. “You think?”

“The timing wasn’t all that great, that’s all. Maybe I shouldn’t have worn a wet diaper to the breakfast table.”

“You know what this means, right?”

I shook my head.

“It means you need to wear one again. Get a better experience.”

There was a split second where I wanted to tell her ‘no,’ like that was some sort of punishment. Actually, yes, that sounded quite nice.

“Well, if you insist.”

“Go to your room,” she said. “Take off your pants and lie down on the bed. I’ll meet you there in a minute.

I didn’t walk–I ran–to my bedroom, ripping off my pants and underwear in a flash, not even sure where I was throwing them. My backsplash atop the bed felt like it would have earned favorable scores from the judges.

My cock bobbed up and down as I waited, hard as a rock. I was curious how she was going to get that stuffed into a diaper.

It seemed I wouldn’t have to wait long, as Quinn arrived soon after, carrying a handful of things that she dumped onto the bed near my feet.

“I still only have these pink diapers,” she said. “Is that okay with you?”

“It is what it is,” I said.

Unlike the last time she diapered me, the light of day revealed everything that was happening. I could see her at my feet, standing between my legs with the bright pink disposable diaper in her hand. I still couldn’t get over how big they were, especially when unfolded. I watched her slowly unfurl the diaper into a flat form, my heart racing even faster.

“This is just as much for me,” she said. “I’m sad that I didn’t get to see your diaper in the morning. I bet it was pretty soaked?”

“Very,” I said, nodding. “I can’t believe it held that much.”

“Wait until you see just how much one can hold, big brother. Because we’re staying in these diapers all day.”

She hoisted my legs into the air as I arched my back, giving her enough clearance to slip the padding under my bottom before I was lowered atop it.

“Now then,” she said, grasping my shaft tightly in her hand. “What are we going to do about this? I don’t think it’s going to fit in the diaper…”

“This was your idea,” I said. “So I’m going to leave it to you to figure out what to do about it.”

“Lucky for you,” she said, a cheeky smile on her face, “I haven’t had anything to eat today. And I’m starving.”

Crawling

She slowly slid the back of her hand across her grinning lips, cleaning up the last remnants of the white liquid that was mostly swallowed. Meanwhile, I was trying to catch my breath while I remained on my back.

“There,” Quinn said. “That should take care of that. See? Getting softer already. I think we should be able to fit this into a diaper now.”

“Mm,” I moaned softly, the best I could do in terms of a confirmation.

There was a bottle of baby powder in her hand now, and she overturned it before beginning to shake a liberal amount over my slowly shrinking cock and between my open legs. It hadn’t occurred to me until just that moment, but I realized that I had become slowly accustomed to the scent of the powder over the last few days. It seemed to follow Quinn around, and it hung in the air when she left the room.

Still, it somehow smelled different now. Was it because it was more pure–not mixed with other scents? Or was it just different because it was on me?

“That should do it,” she said, turning the bottle back over again and closing the lid.

“You don’t think that’s too much?”

“Just being extra careful,” she said. “Don’t want you to get a rash or anything.”

“But it’s so strong.”

“Mmhmm. It’s nice, right?” she asked, nodding. “But what does it matter? If it’s just you and me today, then you can be as smelly as you want to be.”

I laughed. “And just how smelly are you going to be?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

I moaned again. Yes, I did.

“No pants,” she said as she pulled the sides of the diaper tight around me and taped them in place. “Babies don’t need them.”

“What about you?” I asked, pointing to her skirt.

“Oh please. This doesn’t hide too much. You’ll still be able to keep a close eye on my diaper. Unless you want a skirt. Is that it? You’d like one too?”

“N-no,” I said, feeling my face warm.

“Suit yourself. What do you say, Big Brother? Want to play?”

After being sucked off, I was feeling pretty depleted. If she had walked away for a few minutes, I could imagine myself drifting off to sleep. But looking up at her face and seeing that adorable–and mischievous–smile, I felt some energy returning.

“I do.”

“I know you’re technically my Big Brother,” she said. “But you’re still a baby. Remember that.”

“Uhm, sure?”

While I didn’t initially understand why she pointed that out, I quickly learned. She dropped down to her hands and knees and proceeded to crawl out of my bedroom. I had no doubt that she expected me to follow. I sat up before sliding myself off the bed and onto the floor. I could feel the thick diaper between my legs as I moved. I had already forgotten how delightful this was.

“I left something else on the bed for you,” she said from the hallway. “If you want it.”

Next to a small stack of extra diapers, some wipes, and the baby powder, there was one more item. A pacifier. My cheeks reddened at the very thought of popping it into my mouth, though I grabbed it anyway–just holding it in my hand for now, in case I wanted it later.

“You coming or what?” Quinn asked.

“I’m coming,” I said. “I just…haven’t crawled in a very long time.”

“It’s not hard–babies do it!”

I didn’t doubt that it was easy. It was the awkwardness that I had to get past. I slowly put one forearm in front of the other, before getting my knees working. Then, I was crawling.

When in Rome… I popped the pacifier into my mouth, holding it in place with my teeth. The pacifier itself didn’t seem to do much for me–but the idea of using this infantile item like a baby certainly energized me.

It was hard to believe how small this made me feel. Just being lower to the ground like this–movement restricted and my thickly diapered ass jutting out behind me. From this vantage point, it somehow seemed easier to loosen my inhibitions. I turned the corner out of my bedroom door and found Quinn waiting for me in the hallway–still on her hands and knees too. She crawled, and so I followed my little sister.

I had no idea where she was going, and I wasn’t sure that she did either. It just didn’t matter. It was fun to just crawl.

I tried to imagine myself explaining this to Maris later. I doubted that I actually would. She could be pretty open minded, but even if she was willing to understand this, she’d still mock me mercilessly.

“It’s fun, right?” Quinn asked.

“Mmhmm.”

“Come over here,” she said, stopping in the middle of the living room floor. “I’ll show you something real fun.”

Fun

For most of my life, whenever I had gotten too horny and spent some time alone with my hand, I’d be satiated for a while. It was sometimes kind of amazing how a climax could just reset my body. I could go hours–sometimes days–without being bogged down by naughty thoughts.

Yet, as Quinn lay on her back with me hovering above her–my diaper lowering on top of her diaper–it occurred to me that this wasn’t one of those times. Her putting her mouth on my cock earlier–and sucking me dry–had only lowered my libido long enough to get a diaper on me. My shaft had started to stiffen again the moment I began crawling behind Quinn in the hallway–when her padded ass was most of my view. And as my diaper touched hers, I was feeling hornier than I was when she sucked me off.

“See?” she asked, her voice hushed and breathy. “It’s nice, right? Two babies just playing?”

My hips gyrated, thrusting the front of my diaper against the thick padding between her legs with a chorus of rustling and crinkling.

“A-are you wet?” I asked, my voice a little raised, as I felt I had to talk over the noise of our diapers. Up until this point, the pacifier had still been dangling from my mouth. It dropped from my face as I talked, bouncing out of sight.

I knew the answer to this already–even if my eyes hadn’t been fixated on her bottom as we crawled, it would have only taken a casual glance to see the yellowed and soggy-looking area of her diaper. I just wanted to hear her say it.

“Mmmhmm. You should join me and wet yours.”

“I…I don’t think I can,” I said. “Not while I’m hard.”

“I think you can,” she said. “Try.”

There was an urgency in my bladder. A good cum would usually leave me needing an equally good piss afterwards. Still, I hadn’t ever pissed like this before–my erect cock pressed against my body by a thick diaper. I tried sending signals to my bladder to just release, but there was no response.

“Maybe it’ll take a few minutes,” I said.

“Aw,” she cooed, taking on a more infantile tone. “You don’t think we could coax it out sooner? I mean, if a lil baby girl like me can pee-pee her diapies, surely you can do it.”

“I think…this is working?” I said. I wasn’t peeing yet, but it felt closer now.

“Go on,” she encouraged, her voice getting even sweeter and smoother. “I wanna feel your warm diaper pressed against mine.”

“Ah…okay. I think…yeah. This is happening…”

I was peeing. If it wasn’t for the diaper–and its tightness around my waist–the stream might have hit me square in the face. Instead, it rebounded in the folds of the padding, trickling back down my skin and shaft like a waterfall.

“That’s it,” she said, nodding her head. “Fill it up. I want to feel your warm diaper against mine.”

She didn’t need to tell me, though. I was already grinding my saturated diaper against hers–small trickles of piss still dribbling out of me as I did. I could feel a heavier than usual weight at the base of the diaper, and when I felt it with my hand, it felt like a pool of urine had formed, not yet having found dry padding to absorb it.

“I want to fuck you,” I said, staring down her smiling face.

“Nuh-uh,” she said.

“No?”

“Not yet.”

I laughed. “When?”

“We have all day,” she said. “And maybe all night. And you want to just…jump into it?”

“Why not?” I asked. “We do it now. And then…we do it later.”

“See, big brother, this is why I like you. We compliment each other nicely, don’t you think?”

I nodded. “I…I really like you.”

“And just think,” she said. “This could be our life. Everyday. Every single moment, we could spend them in diapers–being naughty. Just move out. Get your own place.”

For a moment, I thought of my father. “But what about…”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “You have the rest of your life to get his forgiveness. It’s time you start doing things that make you happy.”

“Y-yeah.”

“Like moving out.”

“Right,” I said, nodding confidently.

“Doing things for yourself.”

“Right!”

“And living with your little sister.”

“Abs-fucking-lutely.”

“Mmm,” she moaned, her back arching. “I’m gonna do it, Max.”

“Do it? Do what?”

It was her cheeks that turned red now. “I want to poop my diaper.”

“R-really?”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Is that okay?”

“Yes!” I practically barked at her. “God… Yes. Please, just do it. I want to watch. I want to see it happen.”

“Your father,” she said. “He never watched me actually…mess. He’d clean up after, but–”

“No offense, Quinn. But can we just not talk about my father for the rest of the day?”

She laughed, nodding again. “Just hurry up and put your face between my legs. This is what you wanted to see, right?”

“Well, I mean…”

“You went tearing through my trash, looking for a dirty diaper, Max. Come. I’ll make one just for you. Hell, I’ll…can you go grab me a marker or something?”

“A marker?” I asked, laughing at the strangeness of her request.

“Yeah. Please? And do it quickly. I really have to go.”

I jumped up and ran to the kitchen, feeling the awkward weight of my soggy diaper bounce between my legs. I fumbled through the junk drawer until I found a black marker and then darted back, thrusting it into her hands.

Without a word, she pulled the cap off and leaned up just enough so that she could see her own diaper. Carefully, she scribbled some letters on her diaper–upside down to her, but legible to me: MAX’S.

“See?” she said, a smile on her face as she re-capped the marker and tossed it aside. “This diaper, and everything I put in it, is yours.”

My eyes were fixed on my handwritten name. “I’ll be sure to cherish it.”

“Okay, uhm, here we go…”

Again, I debated with myself if I wanted to remain hovering above her–watching down as she messed the diaper–or if I wanted to get up close and personal. Yeah, I needed to get right up in that diaper. I wanted to be there as it happened. I lowered myself between her legs, my face almost pressed against her diaper.

“Are you, uhmm, sure you want to be there?” she asked, the sound of her forceful grunt interrupting as she tried to talk.

“Am I in the splash zone?”

She laughed. “Not if the diaper, uhhhnnn, does its job.”

There was another grunt and I could feel her thighs tensing on either side of my head. I couldn’t see anything yet, but I swore that I could hear the subtle signs that it was starting. The puckering of her little asshole, and her filthy mess breaking the threshold.

Then, the sounds were far less subtle. There was a crackling, squelching, sound. The sound of the diaper crinkling as its shape changed to accommodate the emerging mass. And the everpresent hum of Quinn’s groaning in the background as she gave birth to her load.

“Oh wow,” I said, barely aware that I was speaking at all.

As badly as I had wanted to see her mess in a diaper, I supposed I had still kept my expectations low–what was I actually expecting to get from watching a woman shit herself? But this moment quickly lapped those low expectations. Watching the padding expand. Hearing her bowels unleash and the diaper’s reaction to it. The rapid shift in her diaper’s scent from powder-rich to a thick stench of sinful delight.

“Y-you did it,” I said. My tone had struck me as being kind of praising–with a hint of condescension. I liked it, and thought I’d stick with it. “What a good girl! Just look at my little sister–pooping her diaper like a little baby.”

“Mmm. Did you like it?” she asked, her voice softer now. Messing herself in front of me seemed to have peeled away one of her layers–revealing the vulnerable baby hiding inside the naughty brat.

“Very much so.”

“Come closer?” she asked. Begged. “Tell me how stinky I am?”

I shoved my face deeper between her legs, pushing my face into the warm padding. I was breathing her dirty diaper. Less than a half-inch of saturated padding separated my nose from the actual mess. It felt so surreal. So…enthralling.

“You’re so stinky,” I said. “Such a disgusting little girl.”

She moaned softly, her eyes closing tight as her whole body seemed to quake.

I kept going: “I see now why you wear a diaper all the time–why you always need to be treated like a baby.”

“Hm?”

“Because you are just a pathetic little baby girl. Hopeless and smelly.”

“Wh-what about you?” she asked, her hand grasping at the front of my diaper. “You look like a baby too.”

“Well, you’re a very bad influence on your big brother.”

“Y-you’ll do it too, right?” she asked.

“Poop myself?”

She nodded.

“I don’t have to, uhm, go. But…”

“We have all day,” she said.

“We do,” I said with a smile. I was already thinking ahead to what an apartment of my own looked like. A spare bedroom converted into a nursery. A place where emptying out the diaper pail was one of the common chores. A grocery list on the fridge that included ‘baby wipes.’ “Maybe even longer.”

“But you will do it, right?” she asked. Those big eyes could get me to do just about anything–even willfully pooping in a diaper like a toddler.

“Of course I will.”

Later

In order for me to turn the page and complete the next chapter of my life, there were two uncomfortable conversations that had to take place. Both of which would be with my father.

The first, and easier of the two conversations, was about my moving out. And to my surprise, it wasn’t actually that difficult of a conversation to have. I simply told my father that I found an apartment in town–not too far from the house–and that I planned on moving out.

He said: “About fucking time.”

“There’s a lesson to be learned there, right?” Maris said when we talked about it at work. “If the two of you dinguses had actually talked to each other years ago, you’d both have realized how badly you need your own spaces. Instead, the two of you continued to drive each other crazy in the same house far longer than you should’ve.”

She wasn’t wrong.

The second, and more complicated conversation, was the one about Quinn. I’d have to tell him that Quinn and I had bonded, fallen for each other, and that she was coming back to town so she could live with me. And while I wouldn’t say the word ‘diaper’ aloud, I was sure he could connect the dots and imagine the type of relationship we’d be sharing–the one he had wanted in the first place.

I kept stalling on the conversation. It didn’t make sense to have it until it was confirmed that Quinn was coming back. And…somewhere along the way, Quinn had stopped talking to me.

Radio silence.

We remained in touch after she went home to Toledo. There were plenty of conversations. Plenty of text messages. Naughty photos exchanged. Facetime calls that went on until one of us fell asleep or someone’s battery died.

And then she just stopped. Coincidentally, it was the day I moved into my apartment. I sent her photos of my belongings, piled in the center of my new living room. I sent her a photo of one of the pink diapers she had left behind–placing it in the empty room that I imagined as being our nursery. “Look,” I said. “All it needs now is a baby.”

There had been no response. Those, and future, messages went unanswered, possibly unread. It was like she vanished off the face of the Earth.

At the risk of backing myself into the uncomfortable conversation that I hoped to avoid, I broached the topic lightly one evening with my father. I wondered if he’d offer any insight on how else I could reach her.

“Have you, uh, heard from Quinn at all?” I asked. “Since she left to go back to Toledo?”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “Can you believe I actually asked her to marry me? What the hell was I thinking?”

No follow-up questions from me.

He seemed over it. He should’ve been–he had moved on. With my departure from the house, he seemed to have more lady-friends over. I didn’t even meet most of them, but I’d see the cars in his parking lot when I drove past on my way to my apartment from work. I was sometimes curious to ask if any of his new companions had a penchant for calling men ‘Daddy’ and wore diapers, but I bit my tongue.

Then I would remember a conversation Quinn and I had when she was staying with my father and I–one of the first conversations we ever had.

“I think I thrive on change,” she said to me. “I need things to feel new and exciting or else I grow bored.”

Ironic that even when considering how willing she was to poop in a pair of diapers for me, Quinn was still a young, immature, adult. I had forgotten that. She was never going to marry my father, and I was a fool for thinking that she was going to move in with me.

Somewhere out there, Quinn had found something new to excite her. Wherever she was, I had no doubt that there was a man who was very happy to be changing her diaper.

Sometimes I was mad about it. Sometimes I was just sad.

“It seems like a good thing,” Maris said. “She’s a little brat, sure. But she lit a fire under your ass, didn’t she? She got you to do something for yourself that you had putting off for a long time.”

Begrudgingly, I agreed.

Part of me wondered if I had always known this was going to happen. If–while she put a diaper on me or while my face was stuffed between her legs as she messed herself–there was a part of me that knew it was all fleeting. Nothing lasted forever–certainly nothing as good my ‘little sister’ Quinn.

I spent more time than I care to admit trying to hunt her down. I had little to go on, and I wasn’t even sure that what I had was accurate. Was ‘Quinn’ even her real name? To say that my investigation was hitting deadends was an understatement–I didn’t even feel like I was on a road, let alone a road that came to an abrupt stop.

The last trace of her I found–and I wasn’t even certain that it was her–came from tirelessly pouring through a thread about ageplayers in the Toledo, Ohio area on an online message board. A week ago, a profile under the name ‘LilSisQ’ had stopped into the thread to offer a simple ‘I am,’ when someone posed the question as to whether or not there’d be interest in a local munch. I clicked through to the profile, curious to see if they had posted elsewhere on the message board.

Yes, it seemed. But only once more. It was in response to a man from Tempe, AZ who had posted a personal ad. He was seeking a ‘little girl’ to pamper–literally and figuratively, it could be assumed. Her post was a response, simply reading: ‘Private message sent.’

I was curious, so I checked out Tempe-man’s profile. Unlike ‘LilSisQ,’ he has a long and robust history of posts to sift through. Though, I could tell pretty quickly that there was only one thing he wanted to talk about.

“Does anyone know the user LilSisQ?” Tempe-man asks in a thread a few months after his personal ad was responded to. “I thought we had something really special. She lived with me for a while. She had to go home to take care of something but then…she never came back. Now, when I reach out to her, she doesn’t answer. Nothing but silence for the last week or two.”

Other users send their condolences, though nobody seems to actually have anything like a lead or an answer.

From that point on, Tempe-man’s entire online life seems dedicated to finding her. He makes variations of the same post over and over again, over the course of months, asking if anyone has information on a Quinn from Toledo. Each time, less and less people react. His last post was just two days before.

He was still looking. He probably wasn’t done looking.

As tempting as it was to let my heart break again–both at the idea that I’d never find Quinn myself, and that I was just another on a long list of men who were left trying to find her–I found myself surprisingly at peace. My little sister was still out there–causing trouble and getting people to change her dirty diapers. That was all I really needed to know. If she ever found her way back here, I had a fresh diaper waiting.

And look what she had done for me–I had an apartment of my own, and I felt more independent than I ever had in my entire life. Maybe it would’ve happened without her, though who could say how long it would take.

So I’d just smile as I thought about Quinn. I’d think about her cute outfits. Her pink diapers. The smell of her diaper when she loaded it right in my face. And then, I’d squat and fill a diaper of my own in my nursery.

Need something else to read? Why not take a peak at all the other stuff on I've got lying around here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/master-index-of-55547916