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Sent Back and Diapered at Daycare — Part 6
🕑 Added 2021-07-21 00:00:02 +0000 UTC
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.
“Hey there, little guy. It’s good to meet you! I hope you’re finally feeling a little better now, now that you’ve had a little bit of time to yourself to calm down.”
I rolled over and looked up at a kind-faced teacher kneeling down next to me.
I had lost track of time during my crying, screaming tantrum. But after thrashing about like a baby on the daycare room floor, I eventually exhausted myself, and resigned myself to just angrily crying in the corner.
I was now laying on the floor, still wearing my full-body, pink, footy-pajama onesie, and beneath it, a thickly padded diaper, and beneath that… my ‘obedience butt plug’. And standing over me was a smiling daycare staff member I hadn’t met yet.
“That was quite a cry you had there. You must have had a lot of emotions inside that you needed to let out, huh?” The woman said with a kind voice.
“Ummm… yesh, I did,” I murmured through the pacifier in my mouth, still sniffling and wiping away tears.
“I’m sorry you were feeling upset. I know it can be hard adjusting to a new environment and making new friends,” she said.
“Yeah,” I reluctantly nodded, looking around at the daycare toddler room again. In the midst of my tantrum, I had almost forgotten that’s where I now was.
“Where is… Miss Turner?” I asked, seeing the daycare principal who had diapered me nowhere in sight.
“Oh, don’t worry hon,” the kind teacher replied, “Miss Turner just left to go back to her office down the hall. She’s not too far away at all. And even better, I’m now here to help take care of you if you need anything! My name is Mrs. Fitzschofferen, but you can call me Miss Flower. I know that’s much easier for you little ones to remember and say. Especially when you still have a pacifier in your mouth most of the time.”
Miss Flower then pointed down at the apron she was wearing, which had a big picture of a sun flower stitched across it.
I blushed at the subtle reminder of my new place as a baby who isn’t expected to be able to pronounce names like an adult. But the truth was, I had already forgotten what she first said. And Miss Flower would be much easier for me to say with my paci.
I nodded, then asked, “You’re teacher in this room then?”
“That’s right,” She smiled, helping me sit up and rubbing my back. “Welcome to our wonderful preschool room! I promise, you’re gonna have so much fun with us here. As a matter of fact, we were all about to sit down on the carpet over there for a little story time. If you’re feeling a little better now, would you like to come over and join us?”
I looked around, remembering once again that I had apparently been consigned to the daycare room for toddlers… despite being 18 years old!
But I no longer had the energy to fight and scream. And the truth was… Miss Flower’s tone was strangely, profoundly comforting. She was the first staff member I had met there who actually seemed nice. In fact, she was incredibly nice. And for a moment… I forgot all about the things that led me to have my tantrum in the first place.
“Okay,” I finally answered, sniffling and nodding.
“Oh, I’m so glad, sweetheart,” Miss Flower cooed, rubbing my back. “Now, I know you still have trouble with tumbling when you’re in a rush, so feel free to crawl on over to us if you need to, okay?”
“Oh… ah… okay,” I answered, looking down at my pink onesie again and remembering how my feet were cruelly bound together while wearing it.
Miss Flower gave me a cheerful pat on the head, then left to go back across the room to the carpet area she was talking about. I watched as she sat down in a chair in the corner and all the other kids in the room ran over to sit down and join her on the carpet for story time.
Suddenly, despite my temper tantrum of rage and resentment just moments ago, now the only thing I cared about was not being alone in the corner anymore.
I sat up and started crawling across the room to join all the others.
* * *
As I crawled across the daycare room toward story time, the elements that had driven me to my tantrum in the first place made themselves apparent again.
First, there was the crawl-suit onesie itself, which I was now too nervous to even try standing and walking in. Then, the mittens on my hands. Then, the diaper around my waist! And the butt plug in my rear end!
But most of all… I was urgently reminded of my full bladder. With every step forward, it felt like my need to pee grew exponentially.
I suddenly hated myself for not thinking to ask Miss Flower to take me to the bathroom a moment ago, before she left my side. It was clear that she was now the only one in the room who could possibly free me from the pink, fleecy onesie, which would need to happen for me to use the toilet.
I knew I now desperately needed to get her attention again in order to ask her. But by the time I got to the carpet area in the corner of the room that everyone else was sitting on, Miss Flower had already begun reading a story out loud.
“There once was a mouse who lived in a big, big clock…” she said, reading the picture book and showing the illustration to the class sitting on the carpet in front of her.
I quietly sat down in the back of the group, now feeling helpless about what I should do. Part of me wanted to interrupt her that second to ask for the bathroom. I really needed to go!
But I also felt scared to have everyone else’s attention suddenly on me if I did. I now felt extremely embarrassed again about my onesie and diaper. I instinctively wanted to stay as far back and quiet as possible, hoping nobody took particular notice of how absurd I looked for my age.
I was also now worried about seemingly behaving like an obnoxious baby. I could sense everyone in the room already wrapped up in Miss Flower’s soothing story-book voice. She no doubt didn’t want to have to stop for an interruption, and I would suddenly look like the biggest baby of the whole pre-school group if I was the cause! After all, if all the other kids could patiently sit still without interrupting, why couldn’t I?
I decided to cross my legs and quietly hold it. Surely the book she’s reading won’t be that long, right? I thought to myself.
“And the mouse used to love eating big blocks of cheese, that made his belly all nice and round, like this…” Miss Flower continued reading, pointing to a cute illustration that made everyone giggle.
As the book progressed, I began anxiously bouncing on my knees, the need to pee becoming more and more difficult to ignore. It felt like the book was taking forever.
“And so, that’s how the little mouse learned… the best block of cheese is the one that he can share with his friends. The end,” Miss Flower said, turning the last page and concluding the book.
I sighed with relief, nearly wetting myself as I did. I was certain that my chance to ask her to use the bathroom had finally come. But just as I was about to try to speak up… Miss Flower picked up a second book to read!
I took a deep breath, again trying to stay patient as she read through a second book. But then she started a third book! And when she finished that, she started a fourth!
I began restlessly rocking back and forth, desperately searching for some position to sit in that eased my bladder discomfort. Then, as I anxiously shifted back to my knees again… I felt it.
A small squirt of pee sprayed into the crotch of my diaper.
My eyes widened in horror. I realized that the unthinkable was already starting to happen. I was on the verge of actually wetting my diaper like a baby. Just the thought of it sent chills of disgust and horror through me.
I knew it was now or never. My mitten-covered hand shot into the air, like an eager honors student desperate to show off the right answer to a question.
But to my dismay… Miss Flower didn’t so much as glance in my direction. She just continued reading the book.
I broke into a sweat. Was she ignoring me? Did I need to try harder for her to see me?
I started urgently waving my hand back and forth from the back of the room, reaching my hand up as high as it would go.
But still… nothing! She just continued reading and finishing the picture book!
I bit my lip as she finally finished the current book in her hands, hoping this was when she would see me. But instead… she just picked up another book and started reading that one!
I knew I could no longer avoid shouting out.
“Miss Flower!” I blurted through my pacifier from the back of the room, interrupting her mid-sentence, “Can you take me to the bathroom! I have to go!”
Miss Flower stopped reading and looked up. The whole room went quiet. Everyone turned and stared at me.
I burned bright red, immediately embarrassed by their collective gaze.
“What was that you said, dearie?” Miss Flower asked me from the front of the room. “Maybe you can try to speak a little slower and louder this time. It’s a little hard to understand you with your paci from back there.”
I blushed, gulped, and reluctantly got to my knees to try to speak clearer. “I uh… I have to go potty! I have to go real bad! Me have to go peepee!” I loudly, humiliatingly, annunciated.
The whole room of kids burst into giggles. I burned red from head to toe. It was exactly the reaction I had been trying to avoid.
“Settle down, settle down,” Miss Flower calmly urged everyone. “Lucas here is new, so he doesn’t know the rules yet. And unlike all of you, he has no potty-training at all, so that’s probably why he can’t help blurting out about the potty in the middle of story time,” she explained, to my mortified horror.
“He’s not potty-trained at all?” One of the little voices in the group asked.
“You mean… he’s still in diapers? All the time?” Another asked.
“That’s right,” Miss Flower answered them. “He’s still wearing big, puffy baby diapers, because he hasn’t even learned how to at least use pull-ups yet, like all of you.”
A hushed, “Wowwww,” collectively fell over the group as they all turned and stared even harder at me. I was mortified.
“He’s the biggest baby I’ve ever seen!” Someone remarked, sending the group into another round of giggles at my expense.
“But why did he ask to go potty if he’s still wearing big, baby diapers then?” Another voice asked the teacher.
“Good question!” Miss Flower smiled. “Even though Lucas isn’t potty-trained yet, we still want to be supportive of him trying to learn. So even though he’s still wearing diapers, we want to all be extra nice to little Lucas when he says he needs to go. Because there’s still a chance he can make it occasionally to the potty on time to go peepee, instead of going peepee in his diaper, like he usually does.”
“Oooooh,” the group responded.
I was speechless, paralyzed with humiliation. Somehow, the situation had become far more embarrassing than I could have ever imagined!
I knew the picture she was painting of me was absurd. I didn’t need diapers at all! Let alone fully relied on them. I’d never even had an accident before in my adult life! But I couldn’t possibly imagine what I might say to defend myself. It was all probably what Miss Turner had told her about me.
And now, as I sat before her wrapped in a diaper, dressed in a onesie and sucking a paci, why wouldn’t Miss Flower think everything she explained was the case? What could I possibly say to convince her otherwise? All the evidence she needed about me still being in diapers was right in front of her!
And besides all that, regardless of my extreme indignation, my most urgent concern in the moment was still just getting to the bathroom… ASAP! I was really starting to fear I couldn’t hold it for even another second.
Miss Flower began patiently speaking to the class again. “Now, before we continue—“
“Miss Flower!” I blurted out, interrupting her again. “I weally have to go!”
Miss Flower stopped, looked at me again, patiently nodded and smiled. “I understand that, dear. But I need you to let me finish what I was saying, first. It’s not polite to interrupt adults when they’re speaking, okay?”
I blushed and gave an embarrassed nod.
“Now, as I was saying,” Miss Flower said, slowly turning back to the group, “before we continue, would someone else in the class like to tell your newest little classmate here the first two rules about potty-breaks?”
A bunch of eager hands shot up. She called on one of them.
“The first rule is, everyone goes to the potty together, so teacher can help us out. And the second rule is, you’re only allowed to ask the teacher to take the whole class to the potty early, if it’s a real emergency,” a smart-aleck young girl said out loud.
“Very good!” Miss Flower said to her. “Now, Lucas. Do you feel like it’s a real emergency?”
I eagerly nodded my head, doing my best to keep from screaming in frustration about how slow she was going about the whole situation. “Yesh! It’s emergency! I pwomise!” I said through my paci.
“And an emergency means you’ll have an accident in your pants if we don’t stop to take a group potty-break early. Is that right? You’re gonna have a peepee accident in your diaper if we don’t do that?” Miss Flower asked me.
“Yesh! I’m gonna pee my pants!” I blurted again, blushing bright red.
Miss Flower gave another patient nod. “Very good, Lucas. I’m proud of you for speaking up. I’m happy to have the class take an early potty-break for you, okay, sweetie? Now, you just sit back down, and we’ll all be getting up to do that in just a minute, okay?”
“Oh! Uh, okay,” I said, taken off guard. I anxiously sat back down, not knowing what to do otherwise.
And to my dismay… Miss Flower just went right back to reading another picture book!
I was flabbergasted. Didn’t she hear me when I said it was an emergency?
But I now felt strangely helpless to do anything but return to patiently waiting again, still desperately holding it, praying I didn’t have an accident. After all, I told myself, surely it would now just be another minute. One more minute and we would go.
But one minute turned into two minutes. Two minutes turned into three. And before Miss Flower even finished the latest picture book in her hands…
My bladder lost control once again.
Hissssssssssssssssssssss.
My eyes shot open in horror as I sat there, frozen in place, feeling it happen. The hot stream poured into my thirsty diaper for what must have been several long seconds.
I was mortified. I realized it was a lot more than the small amount of pee that had escaped before. I nervously looked around, praying no one else had noticed, then sat up further to adjust myself again…
Hissssssssssssssssssssss.
I cringed in horror. It happened again! There was now a distinct, inescapable feeling of warm wetness pooling around my tiny shaft and balls, quickly turning the crotch of my crinkly diaper warm and soggy.
I squeezed my eyes shut, reeling with fresh waves of shame and humiliation. It had happened. The unthinkable had just happened. It was far too much now to dismiss as just a tiny dribble.
I had wet my diaper. Just thinking the words sent a fresh chill of disgust and shame through me.
And the worst part was, as I slowly opened my eyes back up… I realized Miss Flower still had a lot to go in the story she was reading.
And my bladder was far from empty.
No, the pee that had escaped so far was just a minor release valve. My bladder was still desperately full. I still really needed to go.
I focused my attention on continuing to try and hold it. Praying to maintain as much of my dignity as possible by not using my diaper more than absolutely necessary. But every time I so much as shifted in my spot on the carpet…
Hissssssssssssssssssssss.
I failed again as more hot pee involuntarily released into my diaper. As the minutes passed, with Miss Flower patiently finishing the picture book for the class…
Hissssssssssssssssssssss. Hissssssssssssssssssssss. Hissssssssssssssssssssss.
My bladder released more and more and more, each small accident somehow more humiliating than the last.
Finally, Miss Flower did, indeed, finish the picture book. And at long last, she stood up and announced to the class, “Alright everyone, it’s potty-break time! Let’s all go line up for the bathroom.”
But by then, I was already in tears. My diaper was already soggy, warm and wet. I had already failed to make it. I was crestfallen with shame and embarrassment.
I did, however, still really need to use the bathroom. And I did still wish to empty the rest of my bladder into the toilet, instead of into my diaper. It was the one small dignity left for me in the disgraceful, humiliating situation.
So as all the other kids got up off the carpet and walked over to line up at the door, I pathetically crawled behind them. As I did, I knew I had just crossed a threshold.
I was no longer just wearing a diaper… I had wet my diaper. It seemed that, once again, even now in a room full of preschoolers…
I really was the biggest, most pathetic baby in the room.
