Baby Mav
patreon
bABy Island: Chapter 3
🕑 Added 2022-08-15 21:38:45 +0000 UTCDakota and Daddy began meeting up regularly shortly after their first encounter. Their “playdates,” as Daddy liked to call them, at first ranged all over the ABDL spectrum. Because Dakota was still fairly new to the kink, Daddy gave him space to experiment with different modes of diaper play to see which ones he enjoyed the most. Some days, Dakota would show up at Daddy’s house wanting to be regressed. When this happened, Daddy would whisk the boy upstairs to the nursery, get him diapered and dressed in some cute outfit (of Daddy’s choosing, of course), and let Dakota explore his Little side for a few hours. Other days, Dakota would arrive feeling a little more frisky. In these cases, the playdate would usually take a more overtly sexual turn, often ending with Dakota curled up in Daddy’s bed after a night of diapered debauchery reminiscent of those he used to share with the man.
Over time, however, the ageplay sessions gradually began to outnumber the diaper sex sessions. Dakota wasn’t quite sure why he increasingly found himself more in the mood to be babied than fucked. Wearing baby clothes, napping in a crib, eating in a high chair, and playing with toys and stuffed animals initially seemed a little further off the deep end than even a kinkster as adventurous as Dakota imagined he’d be willing to go. But there was just something so deliciously humiliating and subjugating about being made to waddle around Daddy’s nursery, being talked down to, being stripped of all power to make decisions, even for a short time. It was also strangely comforting to be pampered (in both senses of the word) and cared for as if he were two years old again. Dakota noticed that the urge to regress was often stronger during periods of stress. Whether it was work, school, or drama with friends or family, Dakota often found himself pining for Daddy’s nursery when the pressures of adult life began to wear on him.
Dakota couldn’t remember exactly when, but somewhere around six or seven months into his friendship with Daddy, the diaper sex simply stopped. Every meet-up with Daddy in the three or four months leading up to the present day had been ageplay-focused. Daddy didn’t seem to mind this at all. Dakota was an excellent lay, but helping the “boy” get to know his Little side was especially enjoyable for Daddy. He relished seeing Dakota venture deeper and deeper into Littlespace with each playdate and gradually work up the courage to try things he’d at first met with trepidation. His first bottle and high chair feedings, his first spankings, his first time wearing a diaper in public (discreetly, of course) - with Daddy’s gentle encouragement, Dakota had slowly checked off a number of ABDL milestones over the past several months.
One milestone that Daddy had particularly enjoyed helping Dakota reach was wetting his diaper. Dakota had been surprisingly resistant to the idea, even after having done things that Daddy thought would be far more anxiety-inducing for the boy. He’d become comfortable accompanying Daddy on public outings while wearing a diaper under his adult clothes. He’d let Daddy post pictures of him in baby mode online (provided his face was blurred or cropped out). He’d even let Daddy record a few videos of him playing with toys and speaking like a toddler. Yet for some reason, he seemed to shy away each time Daddy brought up the possibility of using his diapers.
“Are you sure you want to use the potty?” Daddy pressed one morning when he found Dakota standing up in his crib, clutching his crotch and motioning toward the stairway to the nursery. There was a bathroom just across the hall from where the stairway came down.
Dakota nodded frantically. “Yef addy,” he babbled through his pacifier.
“Don’t you think you’re a little young for the potty?” Daddy replied. “I mean, you’re wearing a diaper after all….”
Dakota blushed and averted his gaze, continuing to do his potty dance. Daddy could sense that the boy was stressed and unsure how to insist on using the potty without stepping out of Littlespace.
“Well, I suppose that if you’re old enough to know when you need the potty, you’re old enough to use the potty,” Daddy relented.
He hurried over to the crib. swiftly unlatched and lowered the front gate, and helped Dakota down to the floor.
“Okay, let’s get you to the potty before you have an accident, kiddo,” he said, taking Dakota by the hand and leading him out of the nursery and down the stairs. A few seconds later, the pair arrived at the bathroom door.
“Need any help?” Daddy asked, hoping Dakota might at least let him assist with removing his diaper and getting him situated on the toilet as if he were a toddler in potty training.
But Dakota declined. With a brisk shake of his head, he waddled hurriedly into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Daddy pondered the situation for a minute, staring at the door as two quick rips echoed from behind it, signaling that Dakota was removing his diaper. For as intimately as Daddy and Dakota had come to know each other, the boy still did not want Daddy involved in his bathroom business in any capacity. Perhaps Dakota was just one of those people who was particularly shy about that kind of thing. Or perhaps he was not quite as comfortable in Littlespace as he seemed, and using his diapers was simply a bridge too far for him. Whatever the case, Daddy made sure not to push Dakota too far too quickly, remaining hopeful that gentle encouragement would eventually do the trick.
It took some time, but in the end, Daddy’s patience paid off. A couple months after the near accident in the crib, Dakota finally worked up the courage to wet his diaper for the first time since he was an actual toddler. It was a Sunday in mid-March. Dakota was sitting in his high chair, thickly diapered and dressed in a Sesame Street onesie with a baby blue silicone bib around his neck. Daddy was feeding him Kraft macaroni and cheese with a rubber spoon out of a jungle-animals-themed bowl. The urge to pee hit Dakota hard, probably due to all the apple juice daddy had been feeding him out of his bottle between bites of macaroni.
“Is it time to go potty?” Daddy asked as he pulled the empty spoon out of Dakota’s mouth and saw the look of alarm on the boy’s face.
Normally, this would have been the point at which Dakota nodded and had Daddy help him out of the high chair, lead him to the bathroom, remove his diaper, and usher him up onto the toilet (though Dakota was still anxious about using his diapers, he’d begun to let Daddy help him with his potty routine). But this time, Dakota paused. He felt quite comfortable in his high chair, and he was particularly deep in Littlespace this afternoon.
A flicker of excitement shot down Daddy’s spine. Was it finally about to happen?
“Ooor…” Daddy interjected, hoping to capitalize on Dakota’s moment of consideration. “Do you want to use your diaper today.”
Dakota started to blush, as he often did when Daddy brought up the possibility of wetting. With each gentle prod he’d received over the past couple months, Dakota had been giving increasing thought to going through with it. His general attitude when it came to kinks was that one should try anything once as long as nobody got hurt (unwillingly, that is), because you never know what you might like. But for some reason, Dakota recoiled every time he imagined the feeling of actually having a wet diaper. Having to sit in his own fluids, weathering the internal shame of being someone who pees their pants for fun…. Dakota had never been ashamed of his kinkiness, but one of the ways he’d accomplished this was by assuring himself that he wasn’t one of those kinksters.
But here he was: diapered and strapped into a high chair, increasingly desperate to urinate, and, admittedly, not hating the situation. The day’s activities had Dakota feeling more Little than he’d ever felt before. He’d woken up in his crib that morning, comfortably padded and clutching his favorite teddy bear. After drifting in and out of sleep for a little while, Daddy came upstairs, helped Dakota out of the crib, and then led him over to the couch to cuddle while cartoons played softly in the background. When Daddy went outside to do some gardening, he’d left Dakota in the playpen for a few hours before returning to put the boy in his high chair for lunchtime. All this had put Dakota’s mind in the most exquisite kind of fog - pleasantly blank and relaxed, completely free of any adult worries or stresses that might otherwise weigh on his mind. He yearned for more. He yearned to go deeper, to experience true toddlerhood, to let go of one of the most basic responsibilities he had as an adult and revel in the taboo humiliation of doing so.
The pee came out slowly at first, trickling into Dakota’s diaper in dribs and drabs as the boy tried to relax his bladder. It was harder than Dakota expected - forcing his brain to tell his muscles to do something they had been programmed for nearly two decades to never, ever do unless a toilet was close at hand. But eventually the trickle became a small stream, then a gushing torrent. Dakota sighed in relief as the floodgates opened.
It was warm. Dakota hadn’t anticipated that. The heat started as a small dot near the front of his diaper before slowly spreading out and caressing the rest of his nether regions. By the time the boy was finished with his business, the feeling had reached his crotch, almost all the way to his rear. Much to Dakota’s relief, the diaper didn’t become oozy and sloppy as he had thought it would. The garment had done its job, wicking the urine away from Dakota’s skin, absorbing it, and swelling into a thick, balmy, and pleasantly moist cushion around his genitals
It’s like a hot towel for my privates, Dakota thought to himself dreamily as the last few drops of pee made their way into his diaper.
On the other side of the high chair tray, Daddy stifled a grin, working hard to contain his excitement. He was very much aware of all that had just happened. He’d seen Dakota’s look of trepidation transition to concentration, then relaxation as the boy flooded his pampers. He wanted to move on to the next step right then and there, but he gave the boy some time to process things first. He studied Dakota’s face carefully, looking for signs of regret, ready to jump into damage control mode if needed. But Dakota seemed fine. His expression was not one of shame, but one of curiosity. He stared blankly past Daddy off into the distance, his mouth slightly agape as he lifted and scissored his legs slightly, exploring and savoring the new sensations his wet diaper was giving him. After thirty seconds or so, Daddy decided it was time to have some fun.
“Well, well, well,” he cooed. “Did someone finally use his diaper like toddlers are supposed to?”
The teasing snapped Dakota out of his stupor. He looked up at Daddy and then down toward his crotch, blotches of crimson returning to his cheeks.
“I… um…” he stammered, not quite sure what a toddler would say or do in this situation. He hadn’t thought that far ahead.
“We better check,” Daddy interrupted.
He jabbed the spoon he was still holding into Dakota’s half-full bowl of macaroni, then transferred the bowl along with Dakota’s bottle to the nearby countertop. He unlatched the high chair tray and folded it upward, allowing him direct access to Dakota’s crotch. Dakota let out a startled gasp as Daddy reached down and poked a couple fingers beneath the leg gather of his diaper. Hearing this, Daddy’s other hand shot out toward the countertop and grabbed Dakota’s pacifier, which had been sitting next to where his bowl and bottle were now situated. Daddy popped the pacifier into Dakota’s mouth before the boy could make more of a fuss, then began exaggeratedly squeezing the padding around Dakota’s stiffening member.
“Oh yeah, that’s a soggy diaper alright,” Daddy chided playfully.
Dakota’s cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red. He was still strapped to the high chair, unable to do anything but squirm as Daddy forcefully probed the inside and outside of his diaper. His pacifier also made it so he couldn’t whine or protest, and he knew that spitting it out would surely result in a spanking. He was helpless - stuck in his high chair in a soaked diaper, unable to speak, completely at Daddy’s mercy. It was disempowering. It was embarrassing. It was one of the best feelings Dakota had ever experienced.
Click. Click.
Before Dakota knew it, Daddy had undone the buckles on the high chair straps and was motioning for Dakota to climb down. The boy obeyed, taking Daddy’s hand and shimmying clumsily onto the high chair’s lower step and then the floor. Once standing up, Dakota realized how much heavier his diaper was now that it was wet. It drooped and swung about between his legs as he waddled over to the changing table led by Daddy, each step a gratifying physical reminder of what he had just done.
Daddy placed a hand on Dakota’s bottom to stabilize him as he clambered up onto the changing table, making sure to give the rear of his diaper a few firm squeezes and pats to further add to the humiliation the boy was so obviously enjoying. Once Dakota was lying on his back, Daddy fastened the changing strap around the boy’s abdomen and then made a beeline for the playpen to fetch Dakota’s teddy bear. As Daddy always said, every baby needs a changing table buddy.
Dakota slipped deeper into little space as he waited for Daddy to return. He was quickly discovering how much he loved being in a compromising position. Similar to when Daddy had checked his diaper in the high chair a couple minutes earlier, Dakota felt utterly helpless as he lay there strapped tightly to the table waiting for Daddy to come change him. He had been in this position any number of times before, but it hit different with a wet diaper. Dakota wiggled and kicked his legs gently, thinking back to his childhood and mimicking the motions he remembered seeing his youngest brother make during diaper changes. The heft and dampness of his waterlogged diaper was palpable with each movement, sending Dakota spiraling ever deeper into Littlespace.
I’m a baby, he thought to himself as he squirmed, almost in a trance. I’m a baby who still goes peepee in his pempers.
After what seemed like a full minute but was in reality only ten seconds, Daddy returned to the changing table and handed Dakota his teddy bear. Dakota grabbed it eagerly and held it above his face, arms straight, legs still kicking aimlessly as his diaper crinkled. Daddy pushed Dakota’s legs apart and began working on the snaps of his onesie.
Pop. Pop. Pop. Rip. Rip.
The sound of the snaps followed by his diaper tapes being undone were almost rhythmic. A wave of adrenaline washed over Dakota as Daddy tugged his onesie up to his chest to get it out of the way and folded the wet diaper open, leaving the boy naked from the upper torso down. The cool air of the nursery kissed Dakota’s lightly moistened nether regions as Daddy opened a package of baby wipes. The sensation was almost euphoric. Dakota did not know it was possible to feel so incredibly exposed and vulnerable yet also relaxed at the same time. His body as well as what he had done to his diaper were on full display, yet he knew that Daddy would take care of him and soon have him swaddled in fresh, clean padding.
The sweet, nostalgic scent of baby wipes perfumed the nursery as Daddy began gently wiping down Dakota’s diaper area, beginning with the boy’s bottom, then moving to his groin, then his balls. Dakota inhaled sharply when Daddy reached his shaft, the coolness of the wipe against his hot and throbbing member making him shudder. The boy began to buck his hips as Daddy cleaned, desperate to satisfy the urges that had been building over the several minutes since he wet his diaper. But before Dakota could reach a climax, Daddy withdrew his hand. Dakota tilted his head upward and looked at Daddy quizzically, wondering why he had stopped. Daddy met his gaze with a devilish grin.
“All clean,” he sang with cheerful self-satisfaction, tossing the wipe into the diaper pale.
Dakota continued to look confused.
“Come on now, kiddo,” he cooed condescendingly, giving Dakota’s belly a playful rub. “You’re far too Little for that sort of thing.”
Dakota flushed fiery red as Daddy reached under the table, pulled out a new diaper and stuffer, and began unfolding them.
“Let’s get you diapered up again before you have another accident,” Daddy teased. “Maybe if you’re good, Daddy will give you some big-boy time later tonight before you go home. But don’t try anything naughty before then, or it’s spanking for you, mister.”
Dakota was flummoxed. He wanted so badly to satisfy himself immediately, and the idea of Daddy having control over his pleasure was getting him even more excited. He wanted to wait, but he couldn’t at the same time. Not that it mattered. It was no longer up to him.
Daddy lifted Dakota’s legs, placed the diaper under his bottom, and then began applying a light dusting of baby powder. No lotion this time around. That might be too much for the randy boy.
Soon, Dakota was once again thickly padded with his onesie cinched up snugly between his legs. He suckled furiously on his pacifier as Daddy undid the changing strap, wishing desperately to thrust his still-erect member against his new diaper until the pressure in his loins was relieved. But knowing the consequences such an endeavor would bring, Dakota resisted. Daddy had him wrapped around his finger, and there was nothing he could do but deal with it. It was going to be a long day.
