Turned Into Mommy and Auntie’s New Baby Boy — Part 2 (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.

I frantically tried the doorknob of my locked nursery door again and again, but it still wouldn’t budge. I realized that my Mom had switched the lock to the outside of the door when she transformed my bedroom into a nursery. And somehow, I had been locked in.

The pain in my bladder was becoming unbearable. As I stood in my nursery, naked except for my disposable pull-up, I began to panic.

“Mom? Mom!” I shouted out, knocking on the door. “Mom, are you out there? Mom! Mom!!! I think the door is locked, Mom! Please, come help me!!”

I frantically screamed for help and pounded on the door louder and louder. But when I paused to listen, I still heard no sign of her. For all I knew, she had left the house to run errands that morning.

I turned around and started pacing back and forth in my nursery, hunched over in pain and squeezing my hands to my crotch. I wracked my brain, desperately trying to think of what to do. I suddenly had to pee worse than I’d ever had to pee in my life! I needed to get to a bathroom, right now!

Of course, as I frantically looked around the room for any possible solution, the most obvious one was staring me in the face when I glanced down…

I was wearing a diaper. A pull-up, goodnite. But a disposable garment, made for exactly this purpose.

But no! I swore to myself. The idea of it was mortifying. There was no way I was going to actually use the humiliating thing my Mom made me wear for my non-existent bed-wetting. There had to be another way!

Suddenly, I heard movement down the hall! It sounded like my Mom, coming in from outside!

“Mom! Mom, up here!” I shrieked, running to the door, frantically banging and screaming again. “Mommy!!! Come here!!!”

I paused, heaving for breath, desperately waiting for her to appear. My bladder ached in agony. I crossed and twisted my legs. Just a few more seconds, I told myself. I only had to hold it for a few more seconds…

“Mom?” I called out again, my ear pressed to the door.

I still didn’t hear anything. My heart sank. Did I miss her?

I turned around again to continue frantically pacing. And just as I turned and took a step—

“Bryan!”

Her voice startled me half to death.

I spun on my heels, and in a state of shock, I saw my Mom suddenly standing in the doorway.

“Bryan, what’s wrong? Why were you screaming?” She asked.

I stood in the middle of my nursery, staring back at her with a slack jaw, suddenly unable to move or speak.

“Bryan? Are you okay? Did you need me or not?” she repeated, folding her arms and staring at me.

But I was still helpless but to give a distant, vacant stare. It took me several seconds before my brain finally realized what was happening. And when it did… I just about wanted to die.

Hissssssssssssssssss

I was wetting myself. I was helplessly wetting my pull-up, right then and there, right in front of my Mother as she stared me down.

I managed to turn away and close my eyes, suddenly feeling the hot warmth of my piss pouring into the front of my disposable diaper, soaking into the padding and sagging around my shaft and balls.

It just kept coming and coming and coming. And soon, what I feared might happen, happened. My pull-up started leaking. Badly.

I suddenly felt a stream of hot piss pouring out of both of my pull-up’s leg bands, running down my legs, and gathering in a pool of piss around my feet.

And yet, I still couldn’t stop going. My bladder just continued to helplessly release.

Hissssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

As I stood there with my eyes closed, my whole body turning beet red in embarrassment, I was sure that this was the end. There was no way my Mom wasn’t noticing what was happening right before her eyes.

But just as my bladder was finally almost finished emptying, I heard my Mom call from the doorway again. “Bryan? Hello?”

I looked up to see her looking at her phone, seemingly distracted by some text conversation while she was trying to talk to me. I realized it might have been my saving grace.

“Sorry!” I said, finally managing to snap out of my pee-induced trance long enough to respond. “I’m fine! I just… the door got locked from the outside. Thanks for opening it for me.”

“Oh!” My Mom said. “Oh, no problem, sorry about that. Yeah, I should have warned you that I reversed the lock when I converted the room. Hopefully we can keep an eye on that so you’re not locked in like that again. Let me know if you need anything else.”

And to my surprise, she turned and walked away.

I took a deep breath and finished emptying the last drops of my bladder with a huge sigh of relief. Then I finally looked down to assess the damage.

My pull-up was soaked to the very max, visibly yellow, drooping, and still pouring pee down my legs into a puddle onto the foam, multi-colored padding at my feet.

I reached my hand down and squished my soggy diaper, wincing at the strange feeling of mushiness and the sensation of cooling urine squirting down my legs.

I groaned. I was such a mess.

I looked back up and saw the door was still wide open. I knew I had just gotten impossibly lucky, given that my Mom somehow didn’t notice what I was doing right in front of her.

But now, I felt a fresh surge of panic. I had to change before my Mom did discover that I had soaked my pull-up!

I waddled over to the door to close it, wincing with every step as the soggy pull-up mushed between my thighs and made an even bigger mess on the colorful foam floor.

Then, I waddled back over to the diaper pail, eyeing the wipes and other supplies on the changing table, hoping they would be enough to help me clean up. I knew the key thing was that I just had to get the soggy pull-up off me. I would figure out how to dispose of it and clean everything else up, later.

But just as I started to carefully drop the sopping wet pull-up down my legs…

“Oh, Bryan, before I forget…” I suddenly heard my Mom’s voice behind me again. I froze, looking over my shoulder to see her opening the door. She stepped into my bedroom, then stopped and stared at me from across the room.

“What are you doing?” She asked me as my wet pull-up was still around my thighs.

“Huh?” I squeaked, not turning around and quickly yanking my pull-up back up.

“It looks like you’re trying to change out of your pull-up. What are the rules about your pull-ups in the morning, hon?” she asked in an accusatory tone.

“Ummm…” I said. “Sorry, I thought you wouldn’t mind if…”

“I do mind,” she said, cutting me off. “You know I need to check your diaper before you change. Were you trying to hide something? Are you wet?” she asked, marching into the room.

I felt my face suddenly getting hot. “No, no, I’m fine, really, I just…”

“Oh, baby, you’re soaked!” My Mom said, suddenly grabbing the crotch of my diaper. “And look, you leaked all over the floor! Bryan, what has gotten into you? You know better than this! I can’t believe you wandered around your room and made such a mess while you were leaking like this!”

“No, Mom, it’s not what it looks like… I… uh… I mean…” I stammered, burning bright red.

“My gosh, this thing is absolutely drenched with peepee! This is a mess, young man. This pull-up didn’t stand up well to your accident at all,” she said as she continued to rub and squeeze my soggy, saturated diaper against my groin and bottom. “We need to get you properly cleaned up and changed before you leak anymore across your bedroom. Come on, go ahead and hop up on the changing table for me, hon.”

“What!?” I blurted, staring at the changing table in horror. “Mom, no, I don’t need your help to clean up. I’m fine! Really, I just—“

SMACK!

My Mom suddenly gave my wet bottom a sharp slap. “Not another word, Mister! This isn’t a discussion. You are soaking wet, you’re dripping all over the floor with your pee, and you weren’t even going to tell me about it until I checked you myself. This is not acceptable behavior for a boy your age. In fact, it’s the behavior of an actual baby. So since you want to act like a baby, you’re going to be treated like a baby. Which means up on the changing table so your Mommy can change your diaper and clean you up. Right now!”

I looked up at my Mom with humiliated, wounded eyes. But finally, I gave a meek nod and let her help me climb up on the changing table.

She put her hands on my chest, guiding me back to a laying down position. I then cringed in horror as I felt her tearing the sides of my pull-up open. “Mommy… no… please…” I whimpered, knowing my crotch was about to be fully exposed to her.

“Oh hush. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” she said as she spread my legs open and opened up my diaper, revealing my cold, tiny, pee-soaked genitals. “Oh dear, you are just soaked with peepee,” she said, shaking her head. “I need to start using baby powder on you to keep you from getting a rash.”

I covered my face with my hands as my Mom pulled the pull-up away and started using handfuls of cool baby wipes to start wiping and cleaning me up. It was bad enough that she was seeing me naked. The fact that she was wiping my genitals and butt-crack clean were about a thousand times worse!

“I can’t believe you told Auntie you just had a minor bed-wetting problem,” my Mom said, shaking her head and holding the absolutely saturated pull-up up for inspection. “I don’t know how long you’ve been dealing with this issue again, but it’s clear you have a major bed-wetting problem. No wonder you were distracted at college and failed your classes.”

I grimaced, wanting to argue with her terribly humiliating insinuation, but not knowing how without digging myself even deeper into a hole.

“Well, seeing how these so utterly failed the test, we’re just going to have to change you into real, proper diapers at night from now on,” she said. “I’m just glad they make the equivalent of baby diapers, even for boys your age.”

My alarm at her statement turned to downright horror as I watched her suddenly retrieve from under the table a package of real, medical style, bright white, adult disposable diapers.

“Thank god I thought to pick these up, just in case the pull-ups didn’t do the job,” she said, pulling one of the massive, baby-style, super-padded, tab-style adult diapers out of the package. “Why don’t we try one on now to make sure they fit. I don’t want to have any surprises when we’re getting you ready for bed tonight.”

I was mortified as she unfolded the huge, baby-sized diaper before my eyes. It felt like my worst nightmare was taking place. Being forced to sleep in a toddler’s nursery and wear pull-ups was bad enough. There was no way I could let her change me into actual diapers.

“Mommy, no!” I screeched. “I don’t need those! Listen, there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not really a bed-wetter, I swear! I was… I wasn’t telling Auntie the truth.”

My Mom paused and put her hands on her hips. “You’re not a bed-wetter? Then how’d this diaper get so full, huh?” She asked, holding the soaking wet, soggy, yellow, used pull-up to my face. I blushed and recoiled as the utterly humiliating smell of my own pee hit my nose. “Because it looks to me like you really wet the bed, last night, hon,” she added.

“No, I didn’t, really!” I pleaded. “I didn’t wet the bed. That’s not how I wet my pull-up. I woke up dry, like I always do. But what happened is… well… I just had an accident after I got up. That’s all! Because my bedroom door was locked! That’s why I was calling for your help, remember?”

My Mom frowned, seemingly taking my explanation seriously. “Really, Bryan? Are you serious? You’re not exaggerating or stretching the truth?” She asked.

“Yes, it’s the total truth, I swear,” I said.

“You promise?” She said.

“I promise on anything, Mom. Really! Please, you have to believe me!” I pleaded.

My Mom looked away, let out a long sigh. “Okay, dear, I believe you.”

I let out a huge sigh of relief.

“Alright, then,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go ahead and finish getting you changed into one of your new big diapers,” she said, grabbing the big, puffy adult diaper again.

“What!” I shrieked, sitting up on the changing table. “But I told you I’m not a bed-wetter! I don’t need that!”

“What you told me, dear,” my Mom replied, “was that you’re not just a bed-wetter. You’re apparently also a day-time wetter now, too. Which means we need to change you into a diaper for the daytime, as well.”

“What! Mom, no, I’m not... I mean, I told you the door was locked! Remember? That’s the only reason—“

“Honey, I stepped out of the house for a couple minutes at the most,” she explained in a calm voice. “And I came running right to your door just seconds after I heard you calling out for me when I came back in. In total, the most amount of time you were locked in your room was less than five minutes. If you’re seriously telling me you can’t hold your peepee for even just five minutes to make it to the bathroom on time, that means you need to be in diapers, hon,” my Mom explained, putting the new diaper under my butt.

“But Mom, no! You can’t be serious! I’m not going to wear diapers during the daytime now! I’m not a baby!” I shrieked in horror. “There’s no way! I won’t let you! I’m sick of wearing diapers! I’m not gonna let you put me in that thing—“

I sat up on the table and tried to jump off and run. But suddenly—

Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!

“That is enough!” My Mom shouted, suddenly pinning me back on the table, holding my ankles up high, and laying into my exposed, naked ass with her bare hand.

Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!

“Oww, Mommy, stop!!!” I shrieked at the top of my lungs, bursting into tears of pain and humiliation.

Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!

But she just kept going, lighting every inch of my bare ass on fire as I laid helplessly folded backwards on the changing table, my ass totally exposed.

Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!

By time she was finally finished, I was sobbing and crying like a hysterical baby on the changing table. Any willpower I had to resist was broken. I just wanted it to stop.

“There!” She shouted, finally letting my feet down. “When you moved back in, I warned you that I wasn’t afraid to punish you if need be. Well now, you’ve forced me to just give you the first spanking of your life, because you refused to behave. Now, are you ready to apologize and behave? Or do I need to continue?”

“No… no…” I whimpered in pain, wiping my tears and snotty nose on the back of my hands. “I’m sorry, Mommy, I’ll be good, I promise…”

“And what does that mean?” She asked, her arms crossed.

I looked down at the diaper still unfolded below me on the table, looked back at my Mom, and sighed in utter, humiliated defeat. “I’ll wear my diaper, Mommy,” I murmured.

“Good boy,” my Mom said, taking a breath before pushing the thick, puffy, white, disposable diaper under my butt again. “I hope I never have to give you a spanking like that again. But that depends on you, okay?”

“Yes, Mommy,” I answered, doing my best to dry my humiliating tears.

I cooperated with the rest of my diaper change in a stunned daze, still in disbelief that she had just spanked me so painfully, and even more disbelief that I now had to wear actual diapers!

I hated myself for giving in so quickly. But the sensation of being spanked made me feel so utterly trapped and helpless in her grip. I now just felt so powerless to resist her, and I wanted to do anything to make the horrible spanking stop.

My Mom expertly pushed the diaper under my butt, doused my whole groin and bottom with baby powder, thoroughly rubbed it in, and finally taped the massive, crinkly garment up tight around my waist.

Finally, she had me stand back up while she checked the fit.

“There, that looks like it’ll do perfectly,” she said, sticking her fingers into the leg and waist band. “Hopefully your clothes fit over it, since it’s so big and puffy. But I guess your diaper needs to be extra big and puffy to absorb your accidents, given how much you leaked your pull-up. So if your clothes don’t fit, you’ll just have to run around in just your diaper and t-shirt till we buy you some proper fitting clothes, instead!” she teased with a laugh.

I looked at my Mom, wounded and humiliated by her comment, then walked over to the mirror.

I stared at my reflection in shock. Now naked in nothing but my big, puffy diaper, the colorful nursery decorations surrounding me, the smell of baby powder and stale pee still in the air…

I felt like I was literally a baby again. And I was mortified.

My nose twitched. I looked away and started to blink. And finally… I burst into hysterical tears once again.

“Aw, what’s wrong, hon?” My Mom asked, coming over and rubbing my back.

“Mommy, I don’t want to be a baby again!” I wailed. “Please, please don’t make me wear diapers again! I’m not a baby! I want to be a big kid!”

“Aww, it’s okay, honey, it’s okay,” she said holding me while I sobbed. “Mommy’s got you. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

I sobbed for several more minutes on my bed while she sat next to me, holding and comforting me. Finally, she spoke up again. “Alright, baby, how about this. If you can be an extra good boy for me for the rest of today, which means wearing your diaper all day today, and you can be an extra, extra good boy when Auntie comes over tonight again for dinner… if your diaper is still dry at bed time, I’ll consider not making you wear diapers during the daytime anymore. At least so long as you don’t have another daytime accident.”

“Really?” I asked, looking up with hopeful eyes.

“Really, hon,” she said, giving me a comforting squeeze. “After all, the diaper is just there for your protection. So if you can prove you don’t need it, you can wear big-boy undies again, I promise.”

I took a deep breath and dried my tears. “Okay, Mommy. That sounds good. I promise I’ll be extra good today and I won’t have any accidents.”

“That’s my boy,” she said with a big smile. “Just let me know when you have to use the potty, today, and I’ll go ahead and take that diaper off for you so you can go. I don’t want you fiddling with the tapes yourself. And it’ll be good for me to help keep an eye on your bladder schedule while we help figure out what’s been going on with you, anyway.”

“Okay, thank you, Mommy,” I said, sniffling and finally hugging her back.

My Mom gave me one more squeeze, then left the room to let me finished getting dressed.

I took a deep breath and sighed. I was mortified by the huge, puffy diaper between my legs. It felt about a thousand times more babyish than the relatively thin pull-up! But I was hopeful that I wouldn’t have to wear it longer than just the day. I just needed to focus on being the good boy I said I would be.

As I got dressed, my jeans thankfully just fitting over the super-bulky, crinkly diaper, I remembered how my Mom told me that my Aunt Hazel was apparently coming over for dinner again that night.

I sighed, vowing to myself not to let my perverted, unacceptable horny thoughts get me into any hot water again. Or cold, sticky ‘water’, for that matter.

With an air of newfound determination, I turned to leave my room… Only to suddenly feel my sock get wet as I stepped into a puddle of my own pee from earlier.

“Oh, right,” I murmured, remembering I still needed to clean up the mess I made on my bedroom floor when my pull-up leaked.

As I left to go get cleaning supplies, I couldn’t help but worry that my wet sock was a sign my Mom was right… What if I did need big, puffy, adult diapers to keep myself from making a mess?

No, I told myself. No, I don’t need diapers. I don’t need diapers, because I’m not a baby, I said to myself over and over again as I scrubbed my floor.

I’m not a baby. I’m not a baby. I’m. not. a. baby.

Right?

* * *

“Can you pass the gravy, Bry-bry?” my Auntie asked me from across the table.

It was dinner-time, and similar to last weekend’s dinner, I had been practically held captive by my Mom and my Aunt’s boring conversation as we ate the big meal my Mom had prepared.

There were two important differences from last weekend, though.

The first difference was that I was determined not to have any perverse thoughts about my Aunt’s bosom… no matter how frustratingly alluring her voluptuous breasts were, practically staring at me across the dinner table.

Instead, I stared into my plate of chicken and mashed potatoes, pinching my leg to keep my mind from wandering where it shouldn’t, any time I had a dirty thought.

The second big difference was this time… I was wearing a diaper.

It was still a dry diaper, thank god. And of course, I still had no intention of using it. But to say that it was humiliating to sit at dinner with my Aunt and Mom—feeling the invasive, puffy, crinkly diaper under my butt and between my thighs the whole time—was an understatement, to say the least.

But thankfully, the evening seemed to be going by just fine. And my plan to stay ‘good’ for my Mom all night seemed like it was still going well.

Or at least it was going well, until suddenly, toward the end of dinner, my tummy let out a loud, painful gurgle.

I grunted, bent forward, and gripped my stomach, surprised by the ferocity and suddenness of the discomfort.

I looked up in embarrassment, but fortunately, my Mom and Aunt didn’t seem to notice.

After a few more minutes, my stomach painfully grumbled again—this time, even worse. And a minute after that, it twisted and growled even louder.

I now knew something wasn’t sitting right in my tummy. I realized I needed to use the bathroom.

I looked up at my Mom, and patiently waited for a polite moment to interrupt her conversation with my Aunt, still doing my best to be ‘extra, extra good’.

But the two kept talking and talking and talking, so I finally spoke up, interrupting them anyway. “Umm, Mom?” I asked. “Can I, uh… can I be excused to use the bathroom?”

I chose my words carefully, knowing that what I was really asking was for my Mom to take my diaper off so I could use the bathroom—an utterly humiliating question in the best of times, let alone in front of my Aunt, who I already immensely humiliated myself in front of the week before.

My Mom stopped her conversation, looked over at me. “Okay, hon, in a minute. Dinner’s almost over. Why don’t you finish what’s on your plate, first, okay? Then I’ll take you.” She then went right back to her conversation.

Her answer made me want to scream with frustration, but I was still determined to stay on my ‘best behavior’. So I gritted my teeth and continued forcing the food on my plate down my throat… even though I could feel every bite I swallowed only increasing the pressure in my bowels exponentially.

After several more agonizing minutes, with the food on my plate finished, I was starting to get desperate. I could feel the pressure in my gut getting worse and worse, and I now knew, without a doubt, that I had to get to a toilet, fast.

“Umm, Mom? Bathroom?” I finally worked up the courage to ask again.

“I said in a minute, dear!” My Mom snapped. “You can be patient. Auntie and I are in a conversation and I’m not ready to get up just yet. So be a good boy and don’t interrupt us again, okay?”

I was furious. But once again, I managed to bite my tongue and resume staring down at my empty plate, still determined to demonstrate I was patient like a ‘good boy.’

Finally, it was when I was practically curling my toes and breaking into a hot sweat, that my Mom and Aunt got up from their seats.

“Shall we go to the living room?” my Mom said.

“Absolutely. Let me just help you with those dishes first,” my Auntie said.

“Nonsense, Bryan’s got it. Cleaning the table is how he’s proving to me he’s a good boy for Mommy tonight,” my Mom smirked.

I gritted my teeth, furious that my Mom seemed to have forgotten, but too terrified to ask again. But finally, as my Mom was just about to walk out of the kitchen, my stomach exploded with another loud groan, and I blurted out, “Mom, the bathroom, remember?”

My Mom paused, looked back at me, and laughed. “Oh, right, hon, of course,” she said. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Just let me know when you’re finished,” my Aunt suddenly piped up. “I have to go as well, now.”

“Oh, well in that case, ladies first,” my Mom said to my Aunt. “We can wait.”

My jaw dropped in disbelief.

“Oh, well that’s very mannerly! Why thank you,” my Aunt said, giving me a gleeful smile as she made her way to the sole bathroom down the hall.

“Mom!” I hissed in anger. “I really have to go!”

“Excuse me?” my Mom scolded. “I don’t want to hear it, young man. Guests should always be given the bathroom first, even if you are worried you can’t hold it for a few minutes like a big boy. Now you are on thin ice, mister, so I would shut that mouth of yours and focus less on whining and more on behaving yourself for the rest of the night. Another outburst like that and I’ll put you right over my knee again before bed.”

I was furious, but I knew I had no choice but to shut my trap. After all, I knew all it would take was one more word to throw all my hard work so far that night at being ‘good’ down the drain, and end up in diapers 24/7, after all.

“Yes, Mom, I’m sorry,” I murmured.

“I’ll come back to take you to the bathroom when your Auntie is finished. Until then, you can go ahead and get started on those dishes,” my Mom said, then left to go start watching TV in the living room.

I gritted my teeth, took a deep breath, and went to start collecting the dishes. But just as I started carrying over a plate to the dishwasher…

Glugggrrrrllllrrr

I grunted and doubled over in pain from another debilitating cramp in my stomach.

Now I knew it was now or never. All my previous concerns went out the window. I now had only one priority—getting to the toilet, ASAP.

I started frantically waddling down the hall, using every bit of my willpower to avoid shitting my pants. At this point, I was perfectly willing to rip off my diaper myself to use the bathroom. I would deal with the consequences later.

But when I got to the bathroom, the door was locked, the light was on under the door. It was clear my Aunt was still in there.

I began helplessly pacing and gripping my stomach in agony, praying for her to finally come out.

After several more minutes of agonizing waiting, I worked up the courage to do what I knew my Mom would be furious about… I knocked on the door.

“Auntie?” I called out. “I’m really sorry to interrupt, but are you almost finished? It’s an emergency!”

I anxiously waited for her response. Finally she said, “I’ll be out in a minute, dearie.”

I gritted my teeth and continued pacing, the pain getting worse and worse and worse. I found myself desperately waiting to hear the toilet flush—the signal she was almost finished.

But I didn’t hear it! I just kept waiting and waiting and waiting!

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was just about to start pounding on the door, begging for her to hurry up, when suddenly, just as I turned toward the door and raised my fist—

Grrrgggggggooowwwwwrrllllllllllllleeeerrrrllllllll

My stomach exploded with one of the most powerful gurgles I’d ever felt, causing me to gasp and fall to my knees. Then, as my stomach slowly twisted and groaned even louder, I squeezed my eyes shut, bit my lip, quietly moaned and…

PHLRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

I erupted with one of the biggest farts of my life…

And I started pooing my pants.

I felt the turd dropping into the seat of my diaper in abject horror. It was like it was in slow motion. Like a slow moving train crash happening before my eyes.

I felt the poop drop into the seat of my diaper, then stop.

I clenched my butt closed, then desperately jumped back up to my feet. I immediately broke into a hot sweat as I prayed that didn’t actually just happen.

But I could feel the horrifying, sticky, warm load now pressed between my cheeks, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it.

I stood frozen for several seconds, totally mortified. I could barely believe what I had just done.

Then, I suddenly heard the toilet flush in the bathroom. And to my horror, my stomach erupted with a new wave of gurgling pain ten times worse than even the one before.

I suddenly knew I was about to poop again, whether I wanted to or not. I also knew that my Aunt was now about to walk out of the bathroom. And more than anything, I knew I just desperately wanted privacy.

My instincts took over. I suddenly turned and made a break for my bedroom, running bow legged from my pooped-in diaper and aching bowels.

I got to my room just in time, slammed the door behind me, squatted down, and finally let my body take over.

Unnngghhhhhhhhhhhhggghhhh

I grunted low and loud as I finally released my bowels into my diaper as hard and fast as I could. I could immediately feel the hot, messy poop push down into the seat of my pants and quickly smear outward, up my butt and down toward my crotch, filling up the back of my big, crinkly diaper.

Under normal circumstances, the sensation would have certainly been one of the most humiliating, mortifying sensations of my life. But in my moment of unbearable desperation, I wanted only one thing—relief of the excruciating pressure in my bowels. And as I pushed, my bowels seemingly took command of my whole body, forcing me to squat and push more and more and more.

I squatted in the middle of my bedroom and squeezed the rails of my bed with my hands as wave after wave just kept coming, filling my diaper with more poop than I’d ever pooped in my life.

Finally, after several last waves of grunting and farting, I finally felt like I reached an ending point. And as I stood up…

Hissssssssssssss

My bladder let loose with a heavy torrent of pee into the front of my diaper, concluding my involuntary, badly needed relief.

Finally, it was over. I was gasping for breath and dripping with sweat. As I slowly opened my eyes, my situational awareness gradually returned. I began slowly remembering where and when I was.

I slowly stood back up and cringed in disgust and shame as I felt the hot, warm mess I just made smear across my butt cheeks.

I then started burning bright red with mortified embarrassment.

I was finally, just now realizing, what I had just done.

* * *

I stood in place and frantically looked around my room for several seconds, desperately trying to figure out what I could possibly do.

But ultimately, I knew I just needed to change myself. And thankfully, I was in my room, and all the supplies I needed were there, as resentful as I was about them being in my room every time till now.

I waddled over to the diaper changing table, taking big steps and cringing as I felt the load mushing and sagging in the seat of my pants. I undid my belt, kicked my jeans off, and was about to take my shirt off, when suddenly—

There was a knock on my bedroom door.

“Bry-bry? You in there?”

It was my Aunt. I froze, mortified, not sure what to do.

“Um, yes!” I shouted back. “Do you need something?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I couldn’t hear you properly when I was in the bathroom, but you sounded—“

“Auntie, no!” I shouted as she started opening the door.

But it was too late.

Suddenly, my Aunt was standing in my doorway, staring right at me, as I stood in the middle of my room, wearing nothing but my diaper. My fully-loaded, pooped-in diaper.

“What are you doing in here, hon?” my Aunt asked, walking right in, seemingly not batting an eye about the fact that I was wearing a large, disposable diaper.

“Uh… nothing, Auntie! Never mind!” I said, quickly trying to grab my jeans again to cover my humiliating situation.

My Aunt closed the door behind her and continued her approach. Suddenly, she stopped and loudly sniffed the air. Then, a slow, knowing smile crossed her face.

“Ooooh,” she said. “I know what my little boy’s been doing in here.”

“Huh?” I squeaked, looking back in mortified disbelief.

My Aunt only grinned wider as she approached, confidently wrapping her arms around me…

And then patting the bum of my poop filled diaper.

“Uh-oh!” She grinned. “My little boy needed to run away after dinner to do a poopy, huh? I should have known. Little boys are so predictable.”

I cringed, paralyzed with humiliation as I felt her pulling my waist-band back to look into the back of my diaper, followed by her squeezing and pressing my poopy mess into my backside.

“Well no worries, dear, let’s get you changed, huh?” She said. “Why don’t you hop up on your changing table and Auntie can clean you up.”

“Huh?” I squeaked in horror.

“It’s okay, dear, I’m happy to help your Mom out with your poopy diapers,” my Aunt replied. “I used to do it all the time, the last time you were in diapers.”

“Oh!” I gulped, my face blushing red hot. “Oh, no, that’s okay, Auntie. I can clean myself up.”

“That’s very funny, little boy,” my Aunt said. “But if you were capable of changing your own diaper, you wouldn’t be pooping in one. Now get over here and put your butt on the table, mister. You’ve got a stinky bottom that needs to be changed.”

I was suddenly too terrified and vulnerable to resist her demand. I gave a timid nod, then slowly walked over, cringing as the mess shifted between my legs.

She then picked me up and plopped me on my bottom on the changing table. I winced in disgust as I felt the mess in my diaper smear even more.

“Oh my, that’s a real poopy diaper, isn’t it?” My Aunt teased, laying me back on the changing table and patting my poopy diapered bum. “What has your Mom been feeding you?”

I blushed even redder, closed my eyes and started tearing up. “Please, Auntie, I don’t want you to change my messy diaper.”

My Aunt frowned, looked down at me. “Really?” She asked.

“Please, no. It’s too… embarrassing. I can’t handle it. I’m not… I’m not… I’m not a baby,” I squealed, bursting into tears.

“Really?” she asked again, her voice genuinely incredulous. “You’re saying you don’t want to be my baby?”

I shook my head no.

“Even if being my baby means…” Suddenly, she pulled her dress down, fully revealing her gorgeous breasts. “Getting to drink my milk?”

My eyes nearly popped out of my head. My tears dried up and I stared in sudden awe for several seconds. I was speechless.

She smiled, then walked over to me, bent down, and whispered in my ear as she placed her hand on my bottom, gently patting and holding my poopy, diapered butt.

“I may have been born at night, little guy, but I wasn’t born last night. I can smell the difference between peepee and cum. I know exactly what kind of accident you had last weekend while you were calling my name.”

“Huh??” I blurted in horror.

“I know you want me to treat you like my little boy, Bry-bry,” she cooed. “I know that’s why you made a big sticky mess in your pants last week and asked me to put you in a diaper. And guess what, I was happy to do it. And I know that’s why you knocked on the bathroom door just now, right before making a big poopy mess in your pants. Because you want me to change you. And guess what, I’m even happy to do that. And guess what else? I even know you’ve been staring at my boobs every chance you get. I know you want Auntie’s milk, little boy. And best of all, I’m really happy to do just that, just for you.”

My heart was pounding out of my chest. I could barely believe what I was hearing.

“But if you want Auntie’s milk,” she continued, “you have to stop pretending you don’t want to be my baby.”

Suddenly, she pulled her dress back up and stepped away, staring down at me with her arms crossed while I continued staring up at her in dumbstruck silence.

“So, what’s it going to be?” she asked.

“Huh?” I replied.

“I mean, do you want to be my baby and drink Auntie’s milk? Or do you want to keep fussing about how you don’t want to be a baby, instead?” She asked. “Because you have to choose one or the other, dear. And I need to finally know what it’s going to be from now on, right now.”

I continued staring back in silence, still totally flabbergasted. Slowly, my brain started churning enough for me to make sense of what she was saying.

I was mortified about the idea of her changing my poopy, filthy, messy diaper. Whether it was right now, or let alone ever again.

But when I stared at her boobs… I was just enraptured. I wanted to hold them and suck them more than anything.

Suddenly, I felt my cock waking up. And to my immense embarrassment, even in my soggy, poopy diaper, my little soldier started standing on end.

My Aunt looked down, grinned, and put her hand on my crotch, feeling my stiff weewee through my diaper.

“Well, I think we know what answer he wants to give, don’t we?” She laughed.

She then began gently pressing and massaging my hard cock through my diaper, making me squirm and writhe with pleasure. I closed my eyes and gave a helpless, gentle nod.

“Well then,” my Auntie said. “Why don’t we take you over to my bed for a feeding, huh? My little boy could use some dessert milk.”

My Auntie suddenly dropped the straps of her dress, revealing her full naked breasts to me again. My little wiener suddenly felt like it was about to explode.

She then took my hand to help me sit up. As I sat up on the changing table, I cringed in disgust as I felt my mushy, poopy bottom smush once again.

“Uh, wait, Auntie,” I murmured. “Shouldn’t you… you know… change my poopy diaper, first?”

My Aunt smiled and laughed. “Oh, so now you want me to change your poopy diaper?”

I gave a sheepish nod.

“Are you gonna be my little baby boy from now on, then, after all?” She asked.

I stared back at her, torn again with indecision for several moments. After all, I had been fighting an uphill battle for my adulthood for weeks now! Would this mean me finally just giving it up? After all that??

But as my eyes drifted down to her bare breasts, my cock spoke for me. I knew I didn’t have a choice.

“Yes, Auntie,” I squeaked with horny, thirsty lust. “I’ll be your little baby boy from now on, I promise.”

“Oh, I’m so glad,” my Aunt said. She wrapped me in a big hug, shoving her glorious, naked tits in my face. “Now come on, let’s get you some of Auntie’s milk,” she said, taking my hands again.

“But wait!” I said, feeling my poopy, mushy diaper again. “I thought you said you were going to change me first!”

My Aunt laughed. “No I didn’t, dear. I asked if you were going to be my little baby boy from now on. And little babies don’t get to decide when they get their poopy diapers changed. Their Aunties decide that for them. Now come on, it’s milk time.”

I was stunned. But before I could raise another peep of protest, my Auntie pulled me off the diaper changing table, brought me over to my bed anyway, and smothered my face with her tits, my full diaper and all.

I began ravenously sucking her boobs, enraptured with heavenly bliss, both of us moaning as she squished my poopy diaper against my bottom as I thirstily suckled.

It felt utterly humiliating, infantilizing, and naughty to be stuck in a poopy diaper while I drank Auntie’s milk… which only made me all the hornier. Especially knowing I didn’t have a choice in the matter.

It was only a few minutes before I spurted into my poopy diaper with one of the hardest climaxes of my life. I grunted and groaned and squealed as my Auntie pressed her hand against the front and back of my diaper, assisting me in getting as much of my sticky load out as possible.

“Good boy!” She cooed over and over again in my ear. “You’re Auntie’s good little diaper pooping boy!”

When I was finished, we were both hot, sweaty, red-faced messes. And we laid down in my bed, catching our breath.

I squirmed and winced as I felt my disgusting, mushy diaper still pressed against my butt cheeks. But knowing that my Auntie was going to clean me up… strangely made it not so bad. After all, if I really was to just be Auntie’s baby now, what was there to be embarrassed about, anyway?

But was I really a baby? Or did I just make a terrible mistake?

Did I even have a choice in the matter, anymore?

With questions and feelings and a million other things swirling around my head, I finally cleared my throat and asked my Auntie a question that was now top of mind. “What’s… my Mom gonna say about this?” I asked. “Does she… know?”

My Aunt smiled. “Don’t you worry about her, dear. As far as she’s concerned, you’re just a much bigger baby than she realized. And she’ll be happy to have the extra help from her sister taking care of you from now on. In fact, I think she’s enjoying having you as her little one again just as much as me, but in her own way.”

I nodded and looked away. I then wondered for a second which one of them was more responsible for turning me into a baby. I suddenly secretly suspected that some laxative had been put into my dinner that night by one of them in order to humiliate me with the mortifying, poopy accident I had. But I had no proof, and I knew it would likely be pointless to ask.

I looked around and took in the sight of my toddler bedroom once again.

I felt a strange sting in the pit of my stomach as I realized that it had finally happened. I had finally given up my adulthood, the thing I had so much feared. And the nursery I so resented staying in… had become perfect for my new, humiliating, babyish needs. It seemed that I would never leave the nursery, after all.

“Auntie,” I asked. “What if I’m not really a baby, though? What if this is all just a big mistake?”

My Aunt smiled and brushed her hand through my hair. “You know how I know you’re my baby, Bry-bry?”

“How?” I asked

“Because I’m about to take you over to your diaper changing table, and change your poopy diaper, whether you want me to or not. That’s how I know you’re a baby, dear. And the fact that you might start tearing up and crying during your change only makes it all the more so,” she grinned.

I frowned, finding her logic as diminishing as it was hard to argue with.

“Come on,” she said in a cheery tone, pulling me over to the changing table. “It’s time for me to clean up that poopy butt of yours before it stinks up the whole house.”

As I felt myself helplessly put up on the changing table, my diaper opened up, my poopy bottom cleaned up by my Aunt, I started doing exactly what she said…

I started crying.

Maybe I was crying because I knew I would never be a big kid again. Maybe I was crying because I was so embarrassed to have my poopy diaper opened and changed like this.

Or maybe… I was crying because my Aunt was right. I was just a silly little baby.

Mommy and Auntie’s silly, diapered, fussy little baby, forever and always, from now on.

And maybe, just maybe, that wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

THE END.