Tale #8: No More Worries

Tale #8: No More Worries (Content Tags: ABDL-themed, diapers, messing, wetting, involuntary mental regression, Halloween themed, very light sexual reference.) "What's the matter? It's not like you don't dress this way all the time." The woman teased, reaching down to give the padding a playful squeeze. "That's in the bedroom, Katie. That's not how I want people, especially your friends, to see me." Katie smiled, and brought her hand back up to move the strand of hair away from the young man's eyes. "Oh, Bill...You're getting too worked up. It's a costume party, it's Halloween; nobody's going to think twice about you being my big baby Billy tonight." Bill's expression lacked certainty, but he knew there was no point in trying too hard to argue against her. While it might not look that way from the outside, his wife was the final voice in their household, as she'd been the entire time that they had dated. Bill's facade as a big, tough man was just that: a ruse. His wife may have acted demure and soft-spoken when they were a couple in public, but their private life was completely different, with her being a domineering boss-bitch at home, and particularly in the bedroom. He didn't mind that side of her, quite the contrary! His long hidden kinky side, where he indulged heavily in age-play that saw his role being shrunk down to that of a tot, had never felt more nurtured than it did with Katie. She was the first woman he had ever shared that side of himself with, and it had appeared like a perfect match, as it supplemented the stern, maternal dominance she hid inside. Key and lock, that was the nature of their relationship, and for the past couple of years, it had worked as a perfect agreement between their personal proclivities. He would dress up in diapers, suck a pacifier, and crawl around the floor; she would put her hands on her hips, make sneering jabs at his expense, and baby-talk him while encouraging him to make tinkles for her. The caretaker persona she took on was less on the caring side, and more on the humiliating one; Bill hadn't thought he'd like such a rough edge to his babying, but over time, it'd proven to be far more arousing than he could have imagined. There was a certain amount of vitriol, of toxicity, that made their arrangement all the hotter; it had awoken things inside of him, that he didn't know he had. But this? This was a big step outside his comfort zone. Katie hadn't sprung it on him until earlier that evening, whenever she'd reminded him of the party they would be going to. He'd honestly forgotten that he'd agreed to it; he'd already come to contentment with the idea that he'd sit on the couch to watch scary movies, while periodically getting up to hand out candy to smiling trick-or-treaters. He didn't so much mind the idea of going to a party, even if it would mostly be friends of his wife, but he'd been less excited when he heard it was a costume party. Much less excited whenever she pulled out a diaper and told him it would be part of his 'costume' for it. "We'll be mommy and baby, doesn't that sound fun?" She'd cooed, as if there was nothing strange about exposing their homelife dynamic to the public. He'd put up arguments against the idea, because frankly it sounded mortifying, but she'd been very persuasive. Little by little, she had worn him down with her arguments. 'Nobody will know. Everyone will be wearing silly costumes. You probably won't even be the only big baby there. Won't it be exciting to get away with? It'll only be for a few hours, and you barely know any of them anyway. There will be drinks, and I'll be the one driving, so you can just focus on having fun.' One by one, she rattled off comforting answers to quell his doubts, and he'd slowly relented to them. There wasn't much to his rebuttal, except for the concern that it might be embarrassing, and she'd dismissed that anxiety as him thinking too much about it. That was always his problem, according to her, that he thought too much about everything. She wasn't wrong, at least not in a technical sense; there was a reason he took anti-anxiety medication, because he was always getting stuck in his own head about everything, no matter how small or silly. It was a reason their roleplay was so comforting to him, because it allowed himself to completely abdicate himself of those worries, and return to being an unconcerned baby. His anxiety disorder also made him second-guess whether his worries were valid, or if he was just being tricked by an overactive imagination about what the worst scenarios might be. So, somewhat begrudgingly and definitely nervously, he'd finally agreed to her terms about tonight. And so his personal 'bedroom' gear had been transformed into 'costume party' attire. A thick, nursery-printed diaper taped around his waist, a pacifier clipped to his onesie, and a bonnet and booties to help exaggerate things more neatly into the realm of 'costume', instead of fetish attire. Leaving the house felt wrong, and sitting in the passenger seat of their sedan, while thickly diapered, did little to change that. He knew she was right, that it was a night of costumes, and so nobody would be any the wiser, but he couldn't help worry over the details. What if he looked too happy? If he was caught blushing? Hell, what if he pitched a tent? The thought was so mortifying, that he almost wished he'd asked to have his little admiral caged up for the occasion, so he would at least not have to worry too much about his own inevitable arousal. Arriving at the party, everyone and everything, appeared as normal as any typical costume party could be. People were dressed as mostly goofy or sexy things, instead of scary, so he at least felt a little less self-conscious about his own attire. Just as his wife had warned though, he really didn't recognize any of these people. "Hey, Katie! I didn't know you had a kid; he's a real cutie." One woman chirped, coming up to the couple as they walked into the main room. "Yup, that's my baby Billy. Can you way hello to the nice woman? That's one of mommy's friends from college." Katie replied with a grin, keeping her hand interlocked with Bill. With a little blush, the man laughed it off and extended his free hand to shake: "Heh, yeah...I'm her husband, Bill. Nice to meet you." "Oh, so grown-up! Well, Bill, I'm Jennifer. If you want to get something to eat, we have a snack table over there; you can get a drink too, unless your mama needs to get you a bottle..." Bill gave his wife a pleading look, and she released his hand, so that he could toddle off to get a bite to eat. He didn't want to be rude, but if felt off to have a stranger cooing at him, and he would rather stuff his face than continue a conversation. For the first hour of the party, that would be his primary move: he'd snack and pour himself punch, while awkwardly mingling with some of the other men who had gotten dragged here by their significant others. Just as his wife had said, he wasn't the only big baby, and the other costumes weren't all that more dignified either. The men were all dressed in silly costumes, ones that most self-respecting boys wouldn't be caught dead in, while the women had all dressed skimpy. It felt like a bizarre frat party, except everyone here was at least in their mid twenties, and the ratio was far less of a sausage fest. "So, uh, was the baby costume...?" Bill casually asked one of the other men. "My girlfriend's idea of a joke, yeah. I told her I'd wear it, but the trade is going to be some, uh, full service afterwards, y'know?" The other man chuckled, already sounding more than a little tipsy. Bill could hardly judge, since his own cup hadn't known emptiness since he'd gotten here. He was no lightweight, but he was definitely starting to feel the booze hit him hard. "...Man...They really spiked the punch, huh?" That got a dumb laugh from a few of the other guys, and it made Bill stop for a moment to consider how strange this alleged costume party actually was. It was as if the two genders were partitioned completely, with the women all chatting and having a good time by themselves, while all the men hung shyly around the punch bowl. The only exception he saw was that a gay couple had the two men separated in equal ways, making one man among the women. It didn't feel like a frat party, it was starting to feel more like a dance at a junior high, where the boys were all too much of wimps to ask the girls to dance with them. "Hey...Uh...You guys know anybody here? Or...?" "Hell no, bro. This is my girl's circle, not mine." "Same here, man. Pretty sure my wife just knows people from work here." "Yup, total strangers." What were conceivably the odds of that? That none of the men here would know anyone else, but all the women seemed to be already acquainted and chummy. It wasn't completely impossible, sure, but it ticked another box in the column of this party being uncomfortably strange. Bill took another sip of his punch, really not able to even taste the alcohol in it; whoever made it must have put in a ton of sugar, or simple syrup, or something, because it practically tasted like Koolaid or Hawaiian Punch. He took another glance at the women and noticed that none of them had the same red solo cups that'd been left by the bowl. Were none of them drinking? He knew Katie said she wouldn't drink, because she would be the designated driver, but was that the case for all of them? There weren't even enough men here for all of them to have brought a date, so were they abstaining for purely personal reasons? Women liked to watch their figure, sure, but this was supposed to be a party! What if there was something going on here? What if the strange incongruities were pieces of evidence that pointed toward a darker plot? What if-- What if. What if. What if. That was always his problem. Frowning and tapping at his temple with his finger, he tried to push the intrusive thoughts away. He was needlessly nervous over something innocent, and his high-strung brain was trying to weave his anxiety into stupid scenarios to worry himself sick over. There wasn't some conspiracy at play, this wasn't some suicide cult, it was just a lame party on Halloween. Still, he should try to be a little more social, shouldn't he? The alcohol hadn't proved the wonderful social lubricant that he'd been hoping for, but he could still be polite on his own. He may be dressed like a giant toddler, but he didn't have to play the part by hiding away with the other little boys. He poured himself another cup and wandered away from the devolving conversation of his drunken peers. His wife was ensconced in a circle of women, all within a ten year range of her, and they seemed to be giggling about something scandalous. With a sloppy grin, Bill stepped up and gave Katie a gentle tap on the shoulder. "Hey babe...How's it goin?" She turned her head and smiled sweetly, "Hey there, baby. I think you meant mommy, didn't you? You been playing nice with the other boys? Having some snacks?" Bill didn't feel the same pang of embarrassment as he did earlier, the alcohol having helped to numb that response, especially now that he'd been allowed to acclimate. None of the other men had made any comments about his costume, except to playfully point out the similarities of their situation, so he'd almost forgotten he was supposed to be ashamed in the first place. "Heh, yeah. The punch is really good, you should try some." He offered, putting up the plastic cup to his wife. She put her palm up and shook her head, "That's all you, baby. I don't need any of your juice; I said I'd drive, didn't I?" He let out a gentle whine, "Aww, come on, Katie...Juss' one sip won't hurt. What's a party without some drinkin?" With a tip-toed pat to his head, she gave her friends a knowing look, and then directed herself back to her husband. "You have fun, Billy, okay? Mommy's just going to talk to her friends for a while. Have as much punch as you want." The condescending tone was familiar, but it wasn't welcome in the setting they currently stood in. Katie was letting her bedroom persona leak out, and admittedly, he feared he might be doing a little of the same. And speaking of leaking out... His bladder was suddenly feeling really full! Had he really been drinking that much? That it was already time to break the seal? He glanced down at the bulging front of his onesie and momentarily wondered what it would be like to piss himself in public; the idea was kind of hot, but after another second of reflection, the thought turned totally sour. Instinctively, he pressed his thighs together, and was left grimacing at how much the thickness of the diaper hindered that. His wife had already turned back to her friends to continue her conversation, and now he was just standing awkwardly behind her, like a little boy who was waiting to ask his mommy something important. "Umm...Katie?" "Baby, I told you I'm trying to have a grown-up conversation here. I'll check on you in a bit." "N-no, I know, but I umm...I need to..." "Billy, I'm not going to repeat myself. Am I clear? Go back to the other boys." Yup, bedroom Katie was definitely loose, and her stern tongue quickly melted his confidence into a puddle. And speaking of puddles... It'd started while she was dressing him down with her terse words; his bladder had reached its limit, and he could feel a warm wetness spreading across his crotch. He still stood in place, slack-jawed and with a thousand yard stare, while the piss pooled around his balls. Without thinking, his free hand had settled on the front of his onesie, and so he could feel the force of the flow within, and the rising temperature being created by the swelling garment. As always, it was quite pleasant, but it should have felt like much more of a problem. This wasn't a tiny tinkle, this was a torrential flooding event; the stupidly high liquid capacity of the ABDL-styled diaper was more than capable of containing it all, but it still put a hefty weight on the fabric of his onesie. As the flow finally ebbed, the man gave a gentle squeeze to the squishy material, and felt his member quite enjoying its dampened quarters. Bill finally wandered back to the snack table, where he noticed that things had somehow devolved even further than how he'd left them. There was giggling, there were armpit farts, and there was juvenile chatter in which vocabulary had been stripped down to a grade school level. Nobody seemed to notice his soggy diaper, and so Bill too was soon to forget it. A little more drinking to get on their level, and he was cracking dumb jokes too. And then there was a gnarly fart. It was the sort of gaseous event that one would normally find in a stupid comedy, where toilet humor was seen as acceptable to lean on; it was the kind of fart that a foley artist would construct, to put in something like 'Dumb and Dumber' or anything equally immature. The powerful sputtering, which didn't cease its juicy rasping for what felt like an eternity, came from the prodigious padding of a plump man in his own baby outfit. Unlike Bill, his costume was clearly store bought: there was no onesie, and it was a giant costume diaper, along with a bib and oversized pacifier. The rest of the boys stared, possibly in disbelief, as the portly drunk began to bend his knees and stick out his butt. He looked like the fart had initially been involuntary, but now that it was going, he was trying to be the life of the party by making it go further. That red-faced pushing, possibly from the alcohol or the strain, would indeed result in a longer toot, but it would also cause something else. After ten rippling seconds of weapons-grade flatulence, the wetness hit an apex, and the sound of splattering plops replaced the trumpeting; the clown wasn't just ripping a fart now, he was painting the inside of his diaper with a nuclear explosion of shit. Stunned, Bill watched as the cloth of the fake diaper didn't just bulge, but sagged and stained a brazen brown. It didn't look real, or at least, it didn't feel real, but it in fact was. Worrying about his wet diaper now felt petty, seeing as someone had just crapped their pants in the middle of the party. He expected the grotesque release might derail the event altogether, but the women hardly batted an eye, and the men? They were just laughing...Including the man whose ass was now undoubtedly caked in hot shit. It was funny, sure, but shouldn't it have been seen as crossing a line? Drunk was drunk, but this was... Funny. Yeah, it was really funny! Bill started to giggle too, unable to stop the mirth from welling up inside of him. His mind was becoming so clouded, so simple, that laughter felt like the only appropriate response. "Hehe! He did a big poopie!" "Yeah, his diaper is all icky now!" "Just like a baby." The group of men had completely ceased to sound like adults, becoming Kindergartners at best, and at worse, well...There was a poopy diaper, wasn't there? Billy kept up his gigglefit, hunching over to clutch at his gut, right before a bubbling fart of his own blasted into his soggy diaper. "Hehehe...I gotta poot-poot too!" He wasn't the only one; the small group of costumed men was becoming an impromptu garage band, where brass was king. The average intelligence of the immediate area was dropping precipitously, and it even sounded like some of the others were beginning to poop themselves too, regardless of whether or not they were wearing a baby outfit. Billy tried to keep a clear head, at least until he could feel something sticky slithering into his seat like a smelly serpent. He was dooking in his diaper, just like the drooling moron before him, and he felt no social anxiety over it. He was just making poopies, like a good boy should! He squatted down to let the logs exit with more ease, and he could feel the onesie stretching to accommodate the lumpy mass he was constructing back there. His head felt so empty, so happy....His hand went to fondle the warm bulge, as if it was a stimming toy. Looking down at his cup, he decided to drink the last of it, even though he ended up dribbling on himself in the process. It was around that time that a shadow came to loom over him, while he sat there on his haunches, with a fresh load of manure in his seat. "That's right, baby...Just push out all those worries, forever. No more of those silly anxiety pills, no more overthinking everything." Came the cooing voice of his...Mommy? He craned his neck, smiling and drooling, right before another fart squeaked out and brought with it another fat turd. No more worries, no more thoughts. Never again.