Twitter Story: Later than Sooner (Patreon)

Later than Sooner

It happens unexpectedly, right in the middle of hanging out.  It's just you, your best friend, and your spouse. Then the air starts to ripple like the desert but with no heat.

No.

It's not the air, it's space itself that is flapping like a sheet in the wind.

A foam playmat sprouts up from the living room floor like time elapsed grass and you suddenly know what's about to happen.  All over your home, the hallmarks of overgrown infancy manifest. Shiny plastic toys and cuddly stuffies pop into existence and scatter themselves around.

You can't move, but it's all you can do to contain your excitement when you look over into the kitchen and see hints of empty baby bottles and baby food jars where the  empty pizza boxes from lunch used to be.  You just know that there's a highchair where your seat used to be!

A shudder of delight and relief runs through you when you feel the breeze of fresh air on your thigh. Your pants have disappeared! Your underwear has become incredibly thick and crinkly! Your shirt has stretched and buttoned between your legs. You're in a diaper and a onesie!

Reality flaps like a tablecloth, and you're no longer sitting next to your spouse, but are snugly planted in their lap with their arms wrapped around your waist.  Your eyes start to water! You never thought this would happen! Not in a billion years. Never to you!

The last thing to change is that the T.V. changes from whatever background noise you had on while hanging out to an episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. Transformation complete!  You sigh and immediately start pushing a load into your diaper, while your bladder relaxes.

You can't help it. It feels as natural and involuntary as breathing to your body.  A giggle at wonderfully helpless the process is, even as the mush expands.

"You poopin'?" your partner asks.

Half giggling, half grunting, you nod.  They give you a pat on the head.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

You finish pooping and are jolted out of your euphoria when you see your friend. They're standing on the playmat, bowlegged, wearing just a t-shirt and a very wet Huggies.  They look like they want to rip the diaper off but they're afraid to touch it.

"Why am I in a diaper? Where did all this baby stuff come from? Is it wet?! WHY is it wet?! What's going on?!" They look at you.  "Why are you dressed like a baby? What's that smell? Did you just shit yourself?!" Then to your spouse. "Why aren't you dressed funny?"

Your new caregiver slides you off their lap and down onto the floor. The feeling of your lumpy mess spreading is less satisfying than you imagined it would be, mostly because of your friend's confusion.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!"

Your spouse walks up to them and looks at the wetness indicator on their Huggies.  "I think someone had an accident and needs a change." They look at you.  "Two someone's, actually." They take your friend by the wrist. Your friend tries to yank away, but they're helpless.

Helpless to resist, your friend is led to the spare bedroom.  Like a good baby, you crawl behind so that your caregiver doesn't have to come back from you.  Your friend, meanwhile, keeps asking questions that are going unanswered.  "Why are you treating us like babies?!"

"Maybe because you're wearing a wet diaper," your partner chuckles, giving your friend a playful swat on their padded backside.  They cry out, more in confusion and panic, than actual pain.

You suddenly feel very awkward. It wasn't supposed to go down like this.

Your friend doesn't know you're ABDL. Your partner does.  Did?  Does?  It's hard to tell how much the reality alteration has affected their perception and memory, and how much is them having fun and going along with it. The lack of surprise and safewords is telling.

Every time you've imagined something like this, none of your vanilla friends were present in your mind, they too were in diapers but didn't know any better, or were secretly into it, just like you.  This Option D is none of the above.  And they aren't happy about it.

The spare bedroom has been remade into a nursery, with your name stenciled in proudly on the wall above the giant crib.  Including all the extra toys, the rocking chair, and the changing table, it's exactly what you wanted.  Your friend's shrieks of disbelief sour the moment.

This is not how you wanted them to find out about this side of yourself.  They're screaming bloody murder while your partner straps them down to the changing table.  One would think they were being violated instead of having a nice soothing diaper change.

Your partner just soothes and tuts at them, wiping their ass and slipping a new diaper underneath them, talking about how they'll have to tell your friend's Mommy and Daddy what a fuss bucket they were. Whether from confusion or fear, that shuts your friend up.

They're put on floor next to you and stare down at the fresh diaper like it's a blood sucking parasite.  "Why am I wearing Pampers now?"

You blush.  "I think you're wearing one of mine..."

Their eyes widen as if seeing you for the first time. "Do you know what's going on?"

Yes and no.

You're up on the changing table, and having your onesie unbuttoned before you decide to answer. Your friend spend the entire change asking whether you know how old you are, or begging you to 'snap out of it'.  It kind of ruins the change for you.

When it's done, they point at you and say. "You're blushing! You gotta know that this isn't real. That this isn't right!"

You're suddenly very tongue tied.  You don't know what to say or where to go from here. What and how much do you tell them

Do you tell them about your kink and how this is somehow one of your wildest fantasies come true? Do you admit you remember everything, but pretend that you're just as squicked out as they are?  Or do you play dumb baby until their Mommy or Daddy comes and picks them up?

Maybe if you explained everything to them, they'd see the merits of this lifestyle, and they could learn to have fun with it too.  They are your best friend, after all.  Or maybe they'll reject you entirely, cursing your name as they're strapped into their car seat.

A ring at the doorbell signals that you might not have time to choose. Playdate over. Friend's caregiver is here.

"Same time next week?" the grown-ups confer.

"Yup. Just pack more diapers, next time."

"Or we host it at our place."

Your friend's pleas fall on deaf ears.

This could work.  Give your friend some time to get used to this wonderful new reality.  Then see how they feel about it at your next playdate.

They'll come around. They're your bestie. You'll tell them, too. It's just that sooner isn't always better than later.

(The End)