Mommy’s Little Pilot (Caption)

The following story contains adult content and is intended only for adult readers over the age of 18. Any characters depicted in adult situations are over the age of 18. This story is entirely fictional and has been written and shared for entertainment purposes only.

“Now hold on tight to your toy airplane, sweetie, while Mommy changes that stinky pants!”

I grab my adult diaper boy by the armpits and make an airplane Vrooooooom! noise as I lift and place him on the adult-sized changing table. He giggles happily as he lays back waving the toy airplane back and forth over his head.

“Aw, Mommy’s baby loves his airplane toy, doesn’t he? He loves being Mommy’s little pilot, doesn’t he?” I tease and tickle my little one, causing him to laugh even harder, blushing red and drooling around his paci in that adorable way I love so much.

“Maybe Mommy’s little boy will even grow up to be a big pilot one day? Huh? Does baby wanna grow up and be a pilot?” I coo.

My little guy eagerly nods his head.

“Well then, fasten your diaper belts and prepare for clean up!” I say, fastening him to the diaper change table. “You just keep being Mommy’s good little airplane pilot while Mommy changes that diapee,” I say. He smiles big and continues waving his plane back and forth.

Of course, I’m realistic enough to know by now my little guy will never actually be ‘growing up’ to become a pilot. Not at this point. Not anymore.

The most obvious reason is right beneath my nose—the giant poopy diaper I discovered him in moments ago! At his adult age, still pooping one’s pants is a dealbreaker for most aviation programs, as far as I know.

Except the thing is, it wasn’t that long ago, when my little guy was in his late teens… he really was on track to become a pilot. He was studying hard. Taking advanced classes in high school. Even preparing to register for the air force academy.

But then, before he got the chance to actually move out… my special man suddenly started having trouble with his potty training again out of the blue.

It started with wetting the bed. Then leaking weewee during the daytime. Then he even started having full blown day time wetting accidents. I knew it was probably from all the stress he was facing trying to grow up so fast and become an impressive aviator.

Being the patient Mommy I was, I didn’t shame him. I just told him it was probably time for him to start wearing diapers again, when the problem got too bad. Oh, and of course he was just going to have to put off his plans to move out and join the air force until he figured out how to get a handle on his accidents.

He was devastated, of course. Even angry. At me, of all people!

He even threw a massive tantrum at the time, telling me he refused to wear diapers, and accused me of somehow causing his problems by monitoring and restricting his potty habits so closely in the first place. (What choice did I have as his Mom, knowing he was having so much trouble with accidents still at his age?) He even accused me of somehow sabotaging and poisoning him with pills to cause him to have accidents—an outlandish suggestion! How could he even conceive of such a thing?

But of course, as a strong Momma, I knew what was best for my baby boy, and immediately took care of the issue by giving him the spanking of his life—for his own good—then holding him down and diapering him again like a baby, since he wasn’t mature enough to do it himself.

Shortly after that, he had his first big poopy accident in his diaper. (Maybe the laxatives I secretly slipped in his lunch played a part in that… but I really was just concerned about his lack of BM’s over the past 24 hours!)

And as he waddled up to me, asking me to change his poopy diaper, something in him finally broke, and helped him accept his new role in the house. He was Mommy’s baby boy, who needed help from his Momma because he still went potty in his diapers.

Ever since then, his behavior has only gotten better and better.

In fact, it’s like with every wet and poopy diaper he makes, it’s like his grown-up self leaves a little bit more, and he becomes more and more his true, babyish self, accepting all the help he now needs from his Mommy to deal with his wet and messy accidents.

Like now, as he babbles and gurgles with his toy airplane, while I unsnap his onesie and take a look at the damage—the big bin of baby toy airplanes I bribed him with for being a good boy during diaper changes definitely helped tremendously!

“Oh, stinky boy! This big pilot really delivered a big mushy payload in the back of his diapee for Mommy,” I comment, giving his over-flowing, stuffed, poopy diaper a playful pat and squeeze, causing him to giggle.

I then un-fasten the tapes, push his legs up, and begin happily wiping down his poop-caked bottom. I can tell from his giggles he enjoys the cool sensation.

“Oh yes, my little pilot loves having his Mommy clean up his poopy bum-bum. Yes he does! Yes he does!” I coo, causing him to blush and giggle some more.

Of course, sometimes I might feel a little guilty about the role I might have played preventing my little guy from moving on, growing up, and achieving his big pilot dreams without his Momma…

Like with the special diuretic medicines I might have mixed into some of his drinks at the early stages of his accidents.

But then again, that’s when I look down and see the look of pure glee on my little boys face as he stares up at his airplane above his head, while feeling the special joy of getting a diaper change from his beloved Mommy, and I see the pure happiness in his eyes, and know this was far better than anything else that could have been out there for him if he’d been allowed to leave.

No, I think to myself as I pull away my little guy’s dirty diaper, powder his behind, and wrap him in fresh, crinkly padding and pick him up for a hug and kiss…

“Being able to play airplane in your diapers with Mommy will always be so much more fun than being an actual, boring old, grown-up pilot, right little guy?” I say.

“Yes, Mommy!” he says eagerly through his paci.

I give him a hug and a kiss, and send him back to his playpen, where he’ll continue being Mommy’s special little diapered pilot for forever and ever.

THE END.