Falling into Mommy’s Arms (A Diaper Regression Story) — Part 5 (Conclusion)

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.

“NO! No, no, no, no, NOOOOO!!!!” I shrieked at the top of my lungs.

I was spread eagle, facedown on the grocery store floor, my legs violently kicking at the air behind me, my fists pounding the floor before me.

“You’re not LISTENING TO ME MOMMY!!!!”

Tears and snot were pouring down my face. Any semblance of my rational adult mind had evaporated the moment I hit the floor. The lower part of my brain, the infant part of my brain, had finally erupted from the sheer exasperation, desperation, anger, and helplessness that had been building for far too long now.

I was now suddenly deep into a primal fit of omnidirectional rage. A semi-conscious trance of indiscriminate screaming, flailing, writhing, tears, and wailing. An animalistic display of anger my brain broke down into involuntarily performing for anyone around to see it.

Or, what most people would call… a temper tantrum.

A screaming, crying, flailing toddler-worthy temper tantrum on the floor of the grocery store. And it was all because of my poopy diaper.

I took a deep breath and screamed out, “I… need… a… DIAPPPEEEEEE CHAAAANGE!!!!”

In the back of my mind, I felt the contents of my thoroughly squished and mashed diaper only getting more and more icky and yucky against my bottom and mushing into my groin as I flailed and rolled around. But this only drove my helplessness and rage even further.

I flipped from my front, onto my back, screamed even louder into the air, “I need a diapee change right now Mommy!!! My diaper is poopy! And yucky! And stinky! And I need a changggiieeee!!!!!”

The more I screamed and cried, the more my brain seemed to regress, detaching me from my surroundings. All I knew is that I wanted to be as loud as possible, because I was so, so upset.

I screamed and cried and pounded and rolled around again and again and again.

Had I been able to keep my eyes open long enough to see through my tears around me, I would have seen the veritable crowds of grocery store patrons all gathered around me at different times, staring in pity, disgust, and perhaps even slight amusement.

Then, upon smelling the stench of the diaper they could hear me wailing about, they would quickly move on to allow the next passersby to take their perversely curious look at what could only be described as an adult baby rolling around and crying about his poopy diaper on the floor.

It went on and on…

Until at last, after who knows how long, my voice went hoarse, my limbs became too exhausted to move, and I rolled over onto my back and went limp and quiet.

* * *

I had to admit… I suddenly felt better. A little bit, anyway, having found an outlet for all my rage.

Staring up, heaving for air, my eyes opened enough to see my Mommy come into view. She was standing over my head, leaning over me, looking down.

I could tell from her expression… she was not pleased.

“Well, I must say, that was quite the show you’ve just put on,” she said in a stern tone. “There must have been at least a hundred people passing by over the last several minutes who all just got to witness the spectacle of the boy wearing nothing by his shirt and a poopy diaper rolling around on the floor of the supermarket, screaming to the heavens like a true baby about the stinky mess he made for his Mommy to change.

“In case that makes you nervous, knowing just how many people saw it, don’t worry. I assure you many of them took pictures and videos of you with their phones, so your little stunt could be shared far and wide for those looking for some amusement at the sight of a naughty little boy earning himself probably the longest spanking ever issued to a diapered boy his age this side of the hemisphere.

“Now, are you finally finished? Are you finally pleased with yourself for all your screaming about the state of your diaper? Or should I leave you here a little while longer to continue humiliating yourself even more?” she asked.

Her sharp words cut me deep and snapped me back to my senses, filling me with burning embarrassment as my big boy brain came back online, so to speak.

With my senses now returning, I slowly looked around to see and hear the crowds of people still around all pointing and laughing. I started blushing red hot, the full weight of what I just did starting to dawn on me.

Then I looked down below to see what my Mommy had mentioned… I realized I wasn’t wearing pants anymore!

In horror, I realized that I had accidentally kicked my pants off during my tantrum!

Now, I was laying on the floor in nothing but my absolutely filthy, visibly brown and yellow, overloaded, poopy diaper. The one I’d just spend the last ten minutes rolling around in. I could feel every bit of poopy mess smeared into every crease and crevice of my butt, groin, and back.

My cheeks started burning redder. And the satisfaction of getting all my rage out once again was quickly supplanted by waves of regret, embarrassment and shame.

I couldn’t escape the feeling that no matter what I did, I only became more and more pathetic and infantile every moment. And my diaper… was more yucky, embarrassing, and visible than ever.

* * *

Suddenly, someone approached my Mommy. I realized it was the attractive man she spoke to earlier. The one who said he was the manager of the store.

“Excuse me, Ma’am. Is everything okay?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

My Mommy turned around, and to my surprise, seemed to completely transform her demeanor. “Oh my gosh, thank heavens you’re here!” she said in a gentle voice.

“I am so, so sorry about him throwing this tantrum about his poopy diaper right in the middle of your store! You see, I tried to use one of the changing tables in the bathrooms you have, but my little stinker is so stubborn and developmentally delayed, he just wouldn’t put up with me changing him in a public bathroom. I think because he’s so shy,” she professed.

“Now he’s throwing a huge toddler-level tantrum because he still wants a diaper change. And gosh knows he needs one. But I just don’t know what to do. Do you have any other possible solutions?” she asked.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” the charming store manager said. “I know how difficult diapered little ones can be. But you know what? Since you asked earlier, I think I’ve come up with just the thing. The employee break room in back has a changing table in their private, family-sized restroom. I can take you guys back there right now.”

“Oh thank god! You’re a lifesaver,” my Mommy said. And to my surprise, she even gave the man a quick hug!

Then, she reached down to help me up. “Come on, little stinker. The very generous, nice… attractive… manager here is going to help Mommy change your stinky pants.”

“Come on, little guy, be a good boy for your very wonderful Mommy,” the store manager said, also helping me to my feet. “She just wants to help change you out of that stinky diapee.”

I blushed hotly, hearing the way they were both talking about me. And I blushed even redder, seeing and hearing them seemingly… flirting with each other! Right over my head!

I was suddenly being walked by both of them toward the back of the store, while I waddled between them wearing nothing below my waist but my utterly stinky diaper.

I couldn’t ignore the sudden undeniable chemistry between them, the way they were smiling and making small talk about what a ‘handful’ I was. Which made me feel extra humiliated.

I was so distracted, I only barely registered the fact that my Mommy seemingly lied to him, or lied to me, about whether the other bathrooms had changing tables… for what reason I had no idea.

I was just too distracted by the squishy, stinky caboose I was waddling with on display, suddenly about to be taken for a diaper change by my Mommy… and a possible new Daddy?

* * *

When we got to the back of the store, the handsome manager showed my Mommy and me to the large employee private bathroom.

“Oh, you are an angel! Thank you so, so much,” my Mommy said as the manager opened the door for us. To my surprise, it did contain a relatively large diaper changing table.

“Do you need any more help?” the store manager asked as my Mommy pulled me into the bathroom.

“Do you know what?” my Mommy said, looking around. “I’m realizing, he kicked his pants off back there in the produce area! Would you mind going to grab them if you can still find them?”

“Of course!” the manager said. “I’ll be back shortly.”

The manager closed the door behind him. My Mommy turned around to face me… and the smile instantly faded from her face.

“Well, well, well,” she said, her hands on her hips. “What do you have to say for yourself.”

I shrunk in terror, welling up with defensive tears. “I… I… I didn’t mean to, Mommy…” I whimpered. “I’m sorry, really.”

She stared at me. “Oh, you’re sorry?” she said, rolling her eyes. “Oh, I promise you will be. There’s no doubt about that.”

She suddenly marched over to the toilet, pulled the seat down and sat on top of it.

“Over my knee. Right now,” she hissed.

“But…”

“Right. Now!” she barked.

Terrified, I slowly shuffled over to my Mommy in my messy diaper, and bent myself over her knee. She pulled my shirt off, throwing it into the corner, and yanked my shoes off, too, leaving me naked except for my diaper.

Then, from my upside down position, I spotted her digging through her purse, which I knew wasn’t good. My tears started flowing in earnest in terrified anticipation.

“Mommy, wait, I—“

I could barely get my pathetic plea for mercy out before the spanking started at full force.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

I was immediately yelping and writhing in pain.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

Even though many of the blows were landing on my poopy diaper butt, the diaper rash that had been building for the last hour made it so the sting was only that much worse.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

I shrieked and writhed in pain, but the spanking only got harder.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

“Mommy, please!” I shrieked and yelped. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorrrrryyyyyyyyyyyy!!” I wailed.

WHAP! WHAP—

Suddenly, the blows stopped. I heaved for breath, my poopy bottom on fire.

“What was that?” she asked.

“I said I’m sorry!” I whined.

“Get up,” she said, pushing me up to my feet.

As I stood up, I felt a head rush of dizziness, and realized my diaper now felt even heavier than before. I suddenly detected a new warmth in my groin, that embarrassingly enough… indicated I had just wet myself again during my spanking, adding more slushy warm yuckiness to my bottom already aching from poopy diaper rash.

But still, I was relieved that my spanking was apparently over.

“Look at me,” my Mommy said.

I slowly raised my tearful, sniveling gaze.

“You’re sorry for what?” she asked, her arms crossed.

I stood before her in my stinky diaper, my arms also crossed over my bare chest, feeling exposed in the chilly bathroom.

“Ummm… for throwing a tantrum,” I said. “That was very, naughty, and I’m sorry.”

My Mommy stared at me, then scoffed. “Well for that, I’m hardly the one you need to apologize to.”

Suddenly, I heard the door open behind me.

“Oops, didn’t mean to interrupt!”

I realized it was the manager again.

“Oh, it’s no problem!” my Mommy said. “I was just taking care of a little discipline on his bottom before I take care of cleaning his bottom.” They both laughed, much to my embarrassment.

She then turned to me. “Nose in the corner,” she abruptly ordered, pointing me to the bathroom corner. I immediately wanted to protest, but stopped myself, knowing I was already in enough trouble.

My Mommy walked me into the corner, pulled my hands behind my back, and pushed my face forward. She had never sent me to the corner before, and I felt utterly humiliated, standing there practically naked in the chilly bathroom, while I heard my Mommy return to the manager to resume their conversation.

“Anyway, as you can see, I did find his pants!” I heard the manager say, holding up a plastic bag. “Unfortunately, though, I had to double bag them. These pants have quite the poopy mess on them. I’m guessing while your little guy was flailing around on his poopy diaper during his tantrum, he had a little bit of a blow out.”

I blushed red hot. Not only was I being exposed to this man while in the corner, wearing nothing but my poopy diaper… I was now learning my poopy diaper had leaked and ruined my pants! I felt more humiliated than ever.

“Oh my god, this little stinker!” my Mommy sighed. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that biohazard! Thank you so much, you can just drop those right over there for now.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. Like I said, now that I see how much you’ve got your hands full with him, I’m happy to help out. I also brought a couple disposable puppy pads from the pet aisle you can use as a changing pad. No cost. It’s on the house,” the man said, dropping a package on the changing table.

“Oh my god, you are the man of my dreams right now. How can I ever repay you?” my Mommy replied.

“I can think of a couple ideas,” the manager said, causing them both to giggle.

Their voices lowered as they stepped just out of the bathroom, out of my hearing range. I was no longer able to track their conversation…

My face started burning red again. I was still trying to process what was happening. Mommy and this man were definitely flirting… but… weren’t Mommy and I in a relationship?

I guess I supposed that monogamy was never explicitly part of our discussions. And sex itself definitely wasn’t. I kind of just hoped that sex was going to… come along at some point between us? I was of course far too pathetic and babyish to ask about such a thing directly.

But now, I felt like I was being rapidly infantilized far more than I ever wanted or signed up for. I never imagined I would be… cuckolded. In a way. I suppose it was hardly cuckolding when the ‘man’ being cheated on is really just his Mommy’s baby. And there was nothing I could do about it now, anyway. Besides, could I really whine about being treated like a baby, while standing in a poopy diaper?

I didn’t know what to think. But I still couldn’t help but feel sudden burning jealousy over my Mommy, regardless…

* * *

My Mommy suddenly returned and grabbed my wrist.

“Alright, bud. Time to make that apology again. But this time, to the person that needs to hear it,” she said.

She pulled me over toward the store manager, stood me before him in my diaper.

“Now, what do you have to say for yourself?” she prompted.

“I… I… uh… well… I’m sorry…”

Smack!

“What’s that? I can’t hear you!” she scolded, delivering a sharp slap to my behind.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, mister!” I whimpered.

Smack!

“Sorry for what!” She shouted, delivering another smack to my behind.

“I’m sorry for throwing a tantrum like that, sir! It was very, very, babyish and naughty. And I know it must have upset your other customers. I promise, I’ll never do anything like that again in your store, sir,” I whimpered.

The store manager stared down at me… then shrugged.

“I accept your apology, little guy. So long as you promise to be extra, extra obedient to your Mommy, no matter what, going forward. Because she’s a very, very pretty woman,” he said.

My Mommy giggled, apparently flattered, while I blushed in humiliation.

“Yes, sir,” I whimpered.

“Alright, I’ll be up front. Let me know if you need anything else!” the manager said.

“Thank you so much again!” my Mommy said as he took off.

I blushed again as the manager left. I suddenly realized I never predicted this particular avenue of my humiliation. Being diapered was one thing… but being seemingly cuckolded?

It seemed all I could do is sigh and accept all the elements of my humiliating new fate.

* * *

The door to the bathroom closed and my Mommy locked it. Once again, we were alone in the bathroom.

My Mommy laid out a disposable pad on the changing table. Then turned back to me. “Alright, up on the changing table, stinker,” my Mommy directed.

I waddled over, climbed up, and laid back on the cool surface. I couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, even as my filthy diaper humiliatingly squished into my groin and bottom yet again. At least I was finally getting changed!

“Legs up,” she said.

I lifted my legs into the air, just like you’d change a baby.

“Grab those ankles,” she ordered.

I did.

“Pull them back and show me that stinky diapered bottom,” she ordered, directing my legs even further back.

“Good boy. Now stay just like that,” she ordered.

I was happy to comply, expecting that she was about to finally undo my poopy diaper. But after a moment, I suddenly realized…

She wasn’t undoing the tapes of my diaper…

She was retrieving something from her purse.

The hairbrush!

“Wha…” I started to say as she came back toward me, hairbrush in hand.

SMACK! — she sent a sudden blistering blow to my behind.

“I said keep those legs up!” she scolded as I yelped in pain and complied.

“Mommy… I… thought… but… aren’t you going to change my diaper?” I whimpered in confusion. I didn’t know what was going on!

“No,” she said coldly. “Not yet.”

My heart sunk.

“First,” she continued. “We have some more important business to take care of. Some very important business. And we have to get through it all, before you even think about finally getting out of that stinky, soggy, smelly mess you made. Is that understood?”

I whimpered, my eyes wide. But I fearfully nodded, obediently still holding my legs high up in the air, openly exposing my vulnerable, dirty-diaper behind.

* * *

“Now, before I change that diaper, there’s some more matters of discipline for us to attend to. Do you have any idea what those matters could be pertaining to, regarding your behavior?” She asked.

“I… I… I dunno Mommy…” I whimpered, my heart pounding.

WHAP! I shrieked from a sudden blow.

“Think harder!” my Mommy scolded.

“Uhh… uh… ummm…” my brain was totally fried, too terrorized and humiliated and beaten by the day’s events so far.

WHAP! I shrieked even louder from another surprise blow.

“What did you apologize to me about before?” she asked.

“Oh! Umm… throwing the tantrum,” I said.

“Correct,” my Mommy replied. “And indeed, that was very, very naughty of you. But guess what? That’s not all you’ve done that deserves to be punished. Can you tell me what else?”

“Oh! Ummm… ummm…” I broke into a hot sweat, terrified of being spanked again, but feeling like I had no choice to try to rack my brain for more to confess.

WHAP! WHAP!

“Think! ” she scolded as two more blows caused me to shriek again. “What else did you do that was naughty?”

“Oh! I pooped my diaper!” I blurted out in terror.

My Mommy smirked. “Good boy! That’s right. That was very naughty of you to poop your pants like a baby. What else?” she asked.

“Ummmmm… uh… oh! I should have gone potty when you first told me to!” I said.

“Very good!” she said, smiling again. “What else?”

“Hmmm… uhhh… uhh… oh, ruining my pants with my poopy mess!” I said.

“Oh, that’s absolutely right!” my Mommy laughed. “And what else?”

I frowned, racking my brain. I didn’t know what else to say…

“Well?” she asked, tapping my bottom with the hairbrush, sending a fresh jolt of terror through my body.

“Uh… uhh… well maybe, just because… I’ve had a disrespectful and fussy attitude in general and I’ve been a real naughty stinker who really needs to be better behaved for his Mommy at all times!” I shouted out in desperation.

My Mommy laughed again. “All very true! Very good. But what… else! What’s the worst thing you did of all?” she said, patting my bottom with the hairbrush again.

“Uh… I… uh… well… Umm… well…” I felt like I was going to snap in two. I couldn’t think of anything! “I don’t know, Mommy! I’m sorry! Please, just tell me so I can be your good little boy again! I don’t want anymore spankings!” I sobbed.

“Think back to the moment of when I discovered that you pooped your diaper. What did I say?” she asked.

“Ummm….” I murmured racking my brain. “I guess you said… it was bad enough that I couldn’t go five days without wetting myself. Let alone…. pooping myself?”

“That’s right,” she said.

“I’m sorry I made a big poopy mess!” I instantly blurted out. “I am!”

“Oh, I know, sweetie,” my Mommy replied. “But this is bigger than that. Because what does it mean that you couldn’t go a few days without wetting yourself, let alone pooping yourself? What does it mean that you were dishonest about?”

“I… uh… well…” I stammered, trying to keep up.

“What did you say you were, before I put that first diaper on you for the daytime? What did you say you were, to try to convince me not to make you wear it?” she asked.

“I said I was… potty-trained,” I said.

“That’s right!” she replied. “And what does it mean that you didn’t just wet yourself… you pooped your pants in public?”

“That I’m not… potty-trained?” I answered.

“Very good!” my Mommy condescendingly praised. “And so what does that mean you lied about? What does that mean you’ve apparently been lying about ever since the day we first met?”

“That… I’m potty-trained?” I said again.

“That’s right!” my Mommy beamed. “You lied to me about being potty-trained. What you showed me today is that it turns out, you’re not potty-trained at all. You never were potty-trained. And you started an agreement with me to be my little boy under false pretenses. And that’s very, very naughty! And for that, I’m afraid it’s time for you to receive quite a punishment!”

She lifted up her hairbrush.

“Mommy, please, you don’t understand!” I shrieked for mercy. “It was an accident! I swear! I... I’m potty-trained! Really, please! I didn’t lie!”

My Mommy burst into laughter. Then she grabbed and squeezed the seat of my poopy diaper, making me squirm and blush in humiliation from the squishing contents against my groin and bottom.

“Shameful! This is absolutely shameful! No potty-trained boy would ever poop his pants like this out in public! No, the truth is obvious to me now. You’ve been lying to me about your potty-training skills since the day we first met.

“I even wonder if today was all part of your clever way of revealing it to me, too. Refusing to use the potty, knowing how risky that was for you. Then making a big, public, poopy, stinky mess in the store, right when I’m in the middle of grocery shopping. Purposefully humiliating me with your sudden poopy diaper, as if you were a two year old. You are one, naughty, naughty boy!” she shouted.

“Mommy, no, I didn’t mean to,” I pleaded. “I mean, it was a one time accident, I’m potty trained—“

WHAP!

“Enough!” She silenced me with another painful blow to my behind. “Boys don’t just start pooping their pants at your age on accident. I can tell that potty-training is just not something you’re capable of. Nor have you ever been capable of it. You’ve been able to get away with faking your potty training for a few weeks or so. During the daytime, at least. Lord knows how you’re a super-soaker at night. But it looks like the party’s finally over. The fact that you still won’t admit the truth means you deserve this more than ever. Now hold those ankles tight,” she warned.

“Mommy, please, no—“

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

I shrieked as she erupted with a wave of blows against my bottom with the hairbrush! This time, with me in the diapered position up on the table, they hurt so much more!

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

I tried to lower my legs, but my Mommy just stopped, grabbed my ankles, pushed them back up, and screamed in my face...

“Feet. Up! Every time you drop those feet, I’m doubling the length of this spanking! Got it?” she scolded.

“Yes, Mommy!” I wailed in terror.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

I shrieked and writhed on the changing table.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

My ass felt like it was on fire! And the blows were only getting harder and faster!

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

I was screaming and begging for mercy at the top of my lungs, my arms and legs pulled back as tight as I could, snot and drool pouring down my face as I wailed.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

I was a broken rag doll of poopy diaper, snot, and tears. My Mommy held my legs and feet back on her own as she finished the job with harder blows than ever, apparently having given up on my own ability to do it myself.

“I’m sorry, Mommmmyy!!!” I wailed like a baby on the changing table beneath her.

I was broken. All I wanted was to just be her good little boy again.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

And with that, she finally stopped.

She let go of my legs and stepped back, allowing my legs to drop forward.

I went limp on the changing table, quietly subtly writhing in pain on my poopy, burning, diaper butt, silently sobbing to myself.

“Now, are you ready to admit it?” my Mommy asked. “Or do you need another round?”

“Okay!” I shouted out. “You’re right! I lied! I’m not potty trained! I’m not a big boy! I lied! I lied about not needing diapers! And I’m sorry Mommy! I’m so sorry!”

I burst into hysterical sobs as my Mommy watched me in silence.

I was gutted and despondent. I felt so humiliated and ashamed. I didn’t know what else there was for me to do.

But after a moment, to my surprise, my Mommy came over to me on the changing table, and pulled me to her chest.

“Oh, sweetie, I understand. And I’m proud of you for finally admitting the truth,” she cooed.

“Really?” I whimpered in her arms.

“Yes, hon. I am. That doesn’t mean you’re not naughty for what you did. But I’m proud of you for taking the first step to fixing the situation. And now I can finally explain all the things that are going to be different now for you in our relationship going forward,” she said.

I gulped.

Already, even with my bottom still freshly blistered and blazing with pain, I wondered if I would soon regret the false confession I’d just been coerced into giving….

* * *

“Alright buddy, here’s the deal,” my Mommy began, lecturing as I continued laying back on the changing table. “Before I can finally change that poopy diaper you’ve been laying in for who knows how long, we’ve got to go over a few new things.”

“You probably thought you would get off easy when I found out you’ve been lying to me from day one about your potty training, and that it turns out you’re a totally incontinent diaper pooper. You probably thought I’d just shrug it off and change your poopy diapers like it was no big deal, like it was no increased burden for me as your Mommy.

“Well that’s just not true. Nobody likes dealing with stinky, filthy, poopy pants like this,” she said, patting my poopy bum, making me squirm.

“I am furious that you kept from me the fact that you’re not only a bedwetter, you’re not only a pants wetter, but you’re also a full-blown, incontinent diaper pooper! Who knows how many poopy accidents you’ve been hiding from me, or just narrowly avoiding. And I can only imagine that now that the seal is broken, and you’re no longer under pressure to hide it, you’re probably going to be pooping your pants twice a day at least.

“When I signed up to be your caregiver, I didn’t realized I was signing on to change poopy diapers. But it looks like that’s what the job is, now, whether I want to or not. Because I have no interest in abandoning you as your caregiver, now that I see how helpless you are.

“But now that that’s the case, and it looks like that’s what you decided to impose on me, I’m going to impose just as much on you.

“If you want me to change that poopy diaper, you’re going to have to submit to a new, enhanced agreement about your behavioral expectations, one that reflects the changing circumstances of you finally revealing your actual potty-training age capabilities.

“Or, to put it another way, If it’s being treated like a baby you want, it’s being treated like a baby you’re going to get. From now on, you’re going to be living a much more strict, behaviorally controlled lifestyle as my little boy. Whether you like it or not.

“For starters, your first new rule. All diapers, only diapers. You will never, ever be using a toilet again. No matter what,” she scolded. “Since you apparently need diapers, you’ll be using them, all the time, no exceptions.”

I winced with horror, barely able to believe that just like that, I had just lost my permanent potty privileges. But in my state of terror, all I could do was give a meek nod.

“Further, if I have to change poopy diapers like I’m taking care of a two year old, from now on, you’re restricted to the behavior of a two year old, to make it easier for me to keep watch over you. Which of course, won’t be too hard for you, given that you’ve already thrown a public tantrum today more infantile than a real baby ever could.

“But to be clear, going forward, there is going to be a much more strict lifestyle that you are bound to. For example, you will no longer be using big boy words. You will no longer be eating big boy food. And you will definitely no longer be sitting on the potty. Ever. Under any circumstances. That’s a big boy privilege you’ve lost, and frankly, you just don’t deserve to have ever again.

“If I have to deal with your poopy diapers now, you do too. Which means you’re going to have to poop in your diapers no matter what, to force you to ‘smell your own stinky medicine’, so to speak, as a longterm punishment and reminder of just how naughty you are.

“But that’s just the beginning of it. From now on, you will now be treated exactly like a two year old, in every respect. And even more important, you will act like a two year old, in every respect.

“Failure to ‘act your age’—the age you really deserve to exist at given your abysmal lack of maturity—will result in spankings and other corporal punishments that will leave your bottom in such stinging pain, you’ll forget you ever knew any big boy words to begin with.

“Don’t worry, I’ll obviously be helping you learn all the expectations of your new behavior regimen with additional fierce hairbrush spankings and tightly bound strappings, as necessary, of course.

“Oh, and don’t be surprised if I have to seduce a Daddy to help me take care of and provide for you, since you’re turning out to be far more of a handful than I ever could have imagined.

“So… is all that clear?” she asked.

I didn’t respond. I was too lost in an overwhelmed daze, barely able to keep up with everything she was laying on me.

As I felt the filthy diaper squishing below me… and I thought back to that fateful moment of when I messed myself earlier today, the catalyst for all the ways my life was about to change, all I could think was… What in god’s name have I done?

Whap! A sudden swift blow to my behind brought me back to reality.

“I asked you, is that clear!?” my Mommy scolded. “Or do you really want to stay in that poopy diaper for forever?”

“Yes, Mommy! It’s clear,” I answered, my face bright red.

“And you totally agree to and understand everything I’ve laid out for your new behavioral and lifestyle expectations?” she replied.

I stared up at my Mommy, hesitated for a moment…

Then sighed. Who was I kidding. Even if I really did think I was potty-trained, she was right that there was more evidence that I wasn’t, now, given the state of my diaper. I needed her. Whether I liked it or not… it was hard to argue this new life wasn’t exactly what I needed.

… What I deserved.

“Yes, Mommy. I agree to it all,” I said.

My Mommy grinned. “Good boy. I’m so proud of you. Don’t worry, you’ll still have so much to learn going forward about just how to be my perfect little diaper pooping toddler boy. You’re so lucky to have finally found the Mommy you’ve always needed, one willing to change your poopy diapers, whether you wanted her to or not.”

I blushed and looked away in shame.

“Now,” my Mommy continued. “I bet you’re just absolutely dying to get changed out of this filthy, filthy thing,” she said, groping my poopy diaper on the outside again.

I frantically nodded my head yes. I certainly was.

“Well good,” she said. “But there’s one final thing to take care, first.”

“You see, I wouldn’t be a good Mommy if I rewarded my little baby for throwing a tantrum to try to get his way, would I? So, do you remember what we were about to do before you threw your tantrum?” she asked.

I shook my head no.

“We were about to finally finish my grocery shopping. My carts been sitting at the customer service desk for ages now, from where I left it to go deal with your little potty pants disaster.”

“So, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to help you off this diaper changing table without changing your diaper.

“You’re going to be well behaved and quiet as a church mouse as you follow me around the store in just your poopy pamper while I finish my grocery shopping. Don’t worry, almost everyone in the store has already seen that filthy diaper butt of yours by now.

“And you’re going to patiently wait until I’m all finished with the shopping, and have the car loaded up with the groceries, where I will then bring you back here for your much needed change. After all, it’s really my car seat that I’m most concerned about now, Mr. Poopy Leaky Bottoms.

“And you’re going to do all that with perfect, good boy, quiet behavior, because now you know your new place, as my new permanent diaper baby boy. And baby boys don’t fuss about their poopy diapers, because they know their Mommy is the one who decides when they get a change, no matter how uncomfortable they get. Is all that understood?” she asked.

“… Yes, Mommy,” I submissively whimpered

“Good boy,” my Mommy said, helping me up. “Besides, I have to swing by the diaper aisle to pick up some changing supplies, for you, anyway. I brought a spare diaper with me since your last accident, but I don’t think any Mommy would have packed everything needed to deal with a total poopy disaster like this!” she cackled, giving my bottom a pat.

And with that, I obediently followed her out of the restroom, once again still in my filthy, filthy diaper.

And I resumed shopping with her, obediently waddling around the grocery store with her, patiently waiting for my change, and ignoring all the stares and giggles from everyone around me at my expense.

Just like a good, pathetic little diaper pooper was supposed to do.

* * *

I wasn’t thrilled about walking around the store in my poopy diaper with my Mommy, still waiting for a change after all that.

But unlike when I was walking the store in my poopy diaper before… I was hardly on the verge of acting out. In fact, the rest of the shopping went by much quicker than I anticipated.

With the store manager even giving my Mommy an extensive tour of all the new products in the diaper aisle, which my Mommy eagerly snatched up, doting and cooing over me in front of everyone around about how every bib and pacifier she put in the cart was going to make me, “Just the most adorable, stinky diaper baby around!”

When she brought me back to the employee bathroom for my long-sought after change, to my surprise, the store manager came in with my Mommy.

And they flirted and made small talk while my Mommy rolled up her sleeves and got to work changing my filthy, filthy, poopy diaper.

Normally, I would have been mortified by the store manager being there, seeing me experience such a humiliating ritual.

But I was just so, so eager to finally get out of the filthy, stinky, poopy, sopping wet diaper I’d been lugging around for what felt like an eternity at that point, I didn’t raise a peep of protest.

And in fact, the feeling of having my hyper-dirty diaper lovingly changed on that table was exquisite.

Every aspect of the diaper change was downright heavenly. My Mommy was as gentle and tender as ever as she cleaned up my caked on, stinky, naughty, poopy mess, carefully treating my incipient diaper rash. It was almost like a spa experience.

And getting baby powdered and put into a fresh diaper felt like being re-born! I’d never been so happy to be put into a diaper in my life. The sensation was so profoundly wonderful, despite everything that had happened that day,I felt like I was falling in love with my Mommy all over again.

As we made our way home, part of me wondered what happened to shift my perspective. Why I had so little trouble putting up with my embarrassing baby treatment and forced poopy diaper wearing after my Mommy declared my new rules.

And I guess the reality was, knowing that my Mommy had declared me her new baby from now on, whether I wanted it or not, made embracing my new, babyish existence, almost effortless.

I still felt shame, of course, about just what a naughty little stinker I was. And I definitely still felt mortified by the videos I knew that were now online of me throwing a screaming temper tantrum about my full diaper in the middle of the grocery store.

But at the same time… I felt sanguine about it in a way that I wouldn’t have imagined ever possible before.

Because I knew now I was just a stupid little baby.

And that’s just the kind of thing stupid little babies like me, now, did.

My Mommy’s decision about my new life going forward was certainly scary. I knew there was no longer ever any going back, and I was totally, totally at her mercy, for my most basic needs from now on.

Not to mention how blushy it made me knowing that I would be pooping my diaper all the time from now on, and getting changed by my Mommy every single day.

But at the same time, as I felt my fresh diaper unconsciously fill up with fresh, warm peepee on our drive home, I couldn’t help but wonder… if it was exactly what I needed.

Or if, at the very least, being forced to become Mommy’s diaper pooping baby, was exactly what I deserved.

* * *

Late that night, after my Mommy had changed me into my bedtime diaper and tucked me in, she held me close in her arms as I drifted off to sleep.

(I was glad it was just Mommy and me tonight. Daddy—whether it turned out to be the store manager, or another hunky man my Mom seduced—would be for me to face another night soon. Of that, I had no doubt.)

“My darling, angel, little diaper boy. You need your Mommy for absolutely everything, don’t you,” she cooed. “Even to clean up your helpless, stinky, poopy messes.”

I just barely nodded and smiled, just ever so slightly still awake.

“You know, my little special baby,” she whispered. “I know I didn’t say this earlier, but one new rule about being Mommy’s special total diaper baby, is that if you’re extra, extra good, you just might get some very special, little baby rewards. Like the chance to taste some of Mommy’s delicious milk.”

Perhaps it was a dream, or just a half-dream, I was far too sleepy at that point to know for sure—but I felt my Mommy pulling my head to her breast, her naked breast, and directing my lips around her nipple.

I started thirstily drinking her incredible milk. And it filled me with an unimaginable warmth, safety, and joy. While my small penis grew harder and harder, safely encased in it’s padded protection, where any involuntary emissions I had could be safely and immediately absorbed.

And then I heard it. The Whispers. My Mommy’s whispers. The ones I was sure were only the work of dreams and my imagination.

The whispers that always seemed to lead me down the path of falling further, further into her diapering, loving, regressing arms.

You were such a good boy for Mommy. Eating those laxatives this morning without any idea in the world. Pooping your pants in the most childish way, due to your babyish fear of the potty, just like I knew you would. And all it took was the tiniest bit of encouragement, whispered in your ear, to get you to do the most babyish thing a little boy could ever do. Make a big, public, stinky mess in his diaper.

Mommy’s so excited to finally have you as her baby. Her real baby, which means you’ve given up all your control to me, so that I can take care of you and make you perfect in all the ways I want. No matter what.

Every poopy diaper I change. Every spoonful of mush I push into your mouth. Every spanking I give you. It’s all the best gift a Mommy could ever, ever ask for.

Because I know you’re my little baby diaper boy, now, making your poopy diapers in Mommy’s arms, for forever and ever from now on.

Was I really hearing what I was hearing? Or was this all just another dream?

The truth was, it didn’t matter. The only thing for me to do now was give in to the divine taste of her milk...

Listen to the whispers of magical regression...

And let them take me off to magical diaper dreams, forever and ever in Mommy’s arms.

THE END!