NannyChloe
patreon
Sent Back and Diapered at Daycare — Part 5
🕑 Added 2021-07-14 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.
As I laid on the diaper changing table, I realized Miss Turner seemed to be gathering more supplies from the various cabinets and shelves.
While she was busy, I reached down with my hands to feel the extra-large pink diaper now taped tightly around my waist. I was both unnerved and awed by how incredibly puffy and crinkly it felt.
I stared down at my crotch in disbelief.
A diaper. I was wearing a diaper.
It was even more fluffy and babyish feeling than I could have imagined. As I wiggled my butt on the table, I had to admit, the super-soft, thick padding under my recently-spanked bum felt strangely warm and comforting.
But the sight of the thing was just mortifying! It was just so babyish! It had pink, dancing teddy-bear cartoons on the front, extra-large tapes, and enough extra absorbent padding to make it fit for someone truly not yet potty trained.
I started blushing at just the thought of someone else seeing me wearing such a thing.
I sat up on the changing table, and as I did, the extra pressure on my bum put pressure on the butt plug, causing me to squirm and involuntarily whimper. For a second, I had almost forgotten about the cruel plug still penetrating my hole.
Partially to ease the discomfort of the plug, I scooted forward off the changing table and stood up, again awed by the thickness of the diaper between my thighs. It practically made me bow legged.
I caught my reflection in a mirror across the changing room and blushed bright red. There I was, standing there naked in nothing but a huge, pink, cartoon-printed diaper! I was mortified! I looked even more babyish than I thought!
The thick diaper I was taped in, the butt plug invading my bottom, the smell of dirty diapers and baby powder—it was all too much. I couldn’t take it anymore.
In a panic, I thrust my hand down to try and rip one of the tapes of my diaper off—
Smack!
“Naughty boy!” Miss Turner scolded as she appeared out of nowhere to slap my hand away. “You never, ever touch your diapee! That’s only for teacher to touch when changing you, after you make peepees and poopoos!”
“Please!” I squealed. “Please take it off! I’m not a baby! I don’t need to wear a diaper!”
I reflexively tried to reach down again, but Miss Turner only grabbed my wrist, spun me around, and bent me over the changing table again, pinning my twisted arm behind my back.
“Hush now!” She scolded, ignoring my pleas. “Yes, you do need to wear a diaper. And I’m glad you also just confirmed that you also need to wear these.”
While squealing and subdued over the changing table, I felt her slide some sort of thick mitten over the hand behind my back.
When she let go, before I even had a chance to swing my hand around to look at what she had done, she had already grabbed and attached another mitten to my other hand, as well.
“What the…?” I said, staring down at the strange new mittens on my hands.
They were bright pink, fuzzy, and super thick and padded. They had a locking mechanism on each wrist. And as I fruitlessly tried to use one hand to remove the locking mechanism on the other wrist… I realized immediately what the mittens were designed for. My fingers were trapped in a massive wad of padding! My hands were now totally useless!
“What are these?! Take them off!” I squealed.
“Shush, little boy. They will not be coming off anytime soon. They are there for the safety of you, your classmates and our staff. Now that we know you’re a chronic masturbator and confirmed diaper fiddler, they make sure those naughty hands of yours stay away from where they don’t belong,” she explained.
“What?! Chronic mast… No I’m not!” I squealed, blushing bright red.
Miss Turner just laughed. “Tell that to the sticky mess I found in your diaper just seconds after putting it on you. That’s only a problem boys your age have when guilty of chronic masturbation.”
“But, but, but!” I sputtered in disbelief at how incredibly unfair and humiliating the accusation was.
“My gosh, so fussy already, even though you just got put into a fresh diaper. Well I guess it’s clear we also need this, huh?” She said.
Miss Turner suddenly pulled a massive, adult-sized rubber pacifier out of her apron pocket, and before I even had a chance to protest, she jammed it right into my mouth!
Shocked, I reflexively tried to spit it out… only for her to quickly secure the pacifier with two straps around my head!
“Wha da heck!?” I babbled like a baby through the big rubber teat.
Mortified, I desperately tried to rip the pacifier off with my useless, mitten—covered hands or spit it out with my tongue. But all I succeeded in doing was drooling on myself and babbling, making me look even more like an infant!
“Take it ow! Take it ow! Please!” I babbled like a baby.
“Shush now, fussy babies get paci’s,” she said, ignoring me and guiding me back to sit up on the changing table again.
Tears of frustration started falling down my cheeks. “Bu… bu… I not a baby!”
“Well, you sure look like one!” Miss Turner laughed.
I looked back at the mirror across the room again, and staring back at me was a boy wearing a big pink diaper, sucking on an extra-large pacifier, and crying as he sat on a diaper changing table.
She was right. I looked like the biggest baby in the world.
I burst into sobs.
“Aw, there there, it’s okay, little stinker, your diapee change is almost over. Teacher just needs to get you dressed now and then you can go back to playing with all your new friends,” She cooed.
Her words and tone were both simultaneously humiliating and strangely disarming. She was speaking to me just like a real one-year-old… and embarrassingly, it sort of worked to calm me down.
As I tried to control my helpless, pathetic sobs, uselessly pawing at my paci with my mitten-hands, Miss Turner suddenly started guiding my legs to step into what looked like a footed sleeper. It was pink and fuzzy and extremely babyish.
“Whass dat?!” I said. “Is dat… footy-jamas??”
“This is all we have on hand that’s your size. Don’t worry, they’ll keep you nice and cozy,” she said.
“But! But! But! I don’t wanna wear doze!” I said, suddenly kicking my feet in protest.
“It doesn’t matter, Lucas! Babies don’t get to decide what they wear!” Miss Turner scolded, clearly losing her temper as she continued dressing me in the sleeper like she was dressing a fussy toddler for bed.
“Stopppp! I don’t wanna wear footy-jammies!! Those are for babies! I not a baby!”” I whined and kicked harder.
Smack! Smack! Smack! Miss Turner delivered three sharp slaps to my exposed thigh, making me freeze.
“Knock it off!” She scolded. “You ruined your big-boy clothes when you went peepee in them this morning like a baby, remember? So now this is what you’re wearing instead! Baby clothes! Because this is what we have for you that’s dry.
“The other option is that you instead spend the rest of your day running around dressed in nothing but your diaper. Is that what you want? Because I know you feel silly and babyish now, but you’re gonna feel about ten times as silly when everyone in the school sees you running around nakey in just your big, pink diaper. A big, pink diapee, that everyone will get to watch turn yellow and droopy and soggy when you need a change. Is that what you want instead?” She asked.
I blushed and went quiet, feeling just like a scolded toddler.
“Well?” She repeated.
“No…” I grumbled through my paci.
“That’s what I thought,” she said. “Now come on, get up on your feet so I can finish dressing you. And start sucking that paci so you stop being so fussy.”
I stood up and bowed my head in embarrassment.
Smack! “I wasn’t joking. I want you to start sucking on that paci right now,” she scolded, delivering another slap to my thigh.
I frantically started suckling on the pacifier as ordered, feeling even more embarrassed as she finished pulling the pajama onesie up my legs and around my arms.
As she zipped the PJs up to my neck, it occurred to me the zipper was on the back! With my mitten covered hands, it would have been very hard to undo the zipper in the front. But in the back… it would be impossible! I was suddenly trapped in my stupid new outfit!
“Awww, now look at that,” Miss Turner said, pointing me to look at myself in the mirror across the room. “Aren’t you just the most adorable baby boy in the world in your new, pretty pink jammies? Huh? How can you be so fussy looking so cute.”
My eyes nearly popped out of my head. I looked just like an extra big two year old! It felt like all remnants of my previous adult identity had just been erased! The previous, adult me… now seemed unrecognizable. Instead, all that remained was a big, diapered baby.
“Alright, peepee pants, now that you’re finally changed back into a nice, clean, fresh, dry diaper, let’s get you back to playing with all your new friends. I’m sure they can’t wait to meet you,” Miss Turner smiled, opening the door of the changing room.
* * *
I squinted as the light of the daycare toddler room poured into the changing room from Miss Turner opening the door.
I shuffled forward a few steps, but then stopped and winced in discomfort. I suddenly remembered that I still had a massive butt plug inside of me, filling me to the brim, invading me deeper with every step.
“Way, Miss Furner!” I babbled through my thick rubber pacifier. “Wha abou’… I frought you say… If I goo…”
“What’s that dear? Were you trying to ask me a question?” Miss Turner said, turning back around to listen.
“I awking about… The fing you put in my borrom… the hard rubber thing you enfwated…” I said, struggling to articulate myself with the pacifier and feeling self-conscious now that the changing room door was open.
“Dear, I’m sorry, but it’s hard to understand you when you’re trying to use all those big boy words! Why don’t you try just using small, easy words. You know, words appropriate for the cute little diapered baby that you are,” she teased.
I blushed, frustrated and humiliated by the fact that she was the one who made me suck the paci, yet was teasing me for the fact that it made me sound even more babyish.
“I… the… the… well…” I babbled. Flustered, I finally spun around an urgently pointed at my butt. “Butt-butt ouchie! You say you take pluggie out if I good!”
Miss Turner laughed. “Ooooooh. You want your little pluggy friend taken out. Is that right, sweetie?”
I frantically nodded my head.
“Why, what’s the matter? Do you gotta go poopoo?” She asked.
I blushed profusely at the question and shook my head. “Noooooo.”
“Then how come you want it out, hun?” She asked.
“It hurty! It big!” I pleaded.
She just laughed. “Well, I’m sorry, baby boy, but the reason your little pluggy is there is because you were a bad baby this morning, remember? And the reason it’s so big is because you were being naughty while I was trying to change your diapee, remember? So I think your little pluggy still has to stay in for a little while, just to help make sure you really learn your lesson for next time, okay?”
Then, to add insult to injury, she gave my diapered butt a little pat, causing me to whimper.
“But! But! But!” I pleaded, tears coming to my eyes again. “Is not fair!! I don’t want pwuggy! Pwease!”
“Aw, there, there, little baby,” she cooed, rubbing my back, “I’ll tell you what, if you’re extra good, maybe I’ll take it out after lunch, okay? Now come on, baby boy, diaper change time is over. Time to get you to class.”
I was devastated, but helpless, as she ignored my further pleas and grabbed my hand and pulled me forward out of the changing room. I realized that was the best I was gonna get.
I shuffled forward a few steps and paused again. Facing the crowded room of toddlers, I suddenly felt very scared to be seen in my humiliating new outfit.
“Aw, come on, don’t be shy, I’ll make sure to let your new teacher know to be extra nice to you. You’re gonna love it with all the other toddlers here in your new playroom!”
“New pwayroom? Here?” I asked, confused. “You mean, you’re not taking me back to…”
Miss Turner laughed. “Back to the elementary-grade room? Of course not, dear. Elementary schoolers don’t wear diapers. Only babies and toddlers do. We can’t have diaper-wearing-babies running around in the big kid room, making them smell your stinky and soggy diapers. You have to stay here, with the other stinky diaper-pooping babies.”
I blushed, the revelation taking me by surprise and driving my new, humiliating status home.
I didn’t know why it mattered to me at this point. Did I really want to go back to the original room I was in… wearing a diaper, a onesie, and sucking a paci? The elementary school kids were already mean enough to me.
But as I took in the nauseating swirl of primary colors, baby toys, and toddlers running and screaming and crying around me… I felt ten times more humiliated.
I realized that Miss Turner really did just see me as one of them now. A stinky, diaper pooping baby.
I blushed, and suddenly felt really shy and embarrassed. I didn’t want anyone to see me anymore. In a strange way, I wanted to just run back into the changing room, where I at least knew no one else would see me in my embarrassing state.
But before I even had a chance to run and hide, Miss Turner grabbed my hand and tugged me forward again.
I took several frantic steps forward to keep up with her—
Then I suddenly tripped and fell flat on my face!
Fortunately, I landed on the extra thick safety carpet under me. But I had no idea what just happened.
“Oopsies!” Miss Turner said. “Did my little baby just have a fall?”
Flustered and embarrassed, I immediately tried to get up again…
Only to instantly stumble forward and fall again! Fortunately, I realized there was knee-pad like padding in the knees of the onesie, which also helped pad my fall.
“Oh no! Looks like our new little diapered toddler here hasn’t even learned to walk yet,” Miss Turner teased, kneeling down to tussle my hair.
Baffled and embarrassed, I turned around to look at my feet, trying to understand what I was tripping over. And to my shock… I realized there was a thick, cotton strap running between my feet, sewn into the footy pajamas!
“What the heck?” I mumbled through my paci as I looked down at the strange apparatus. The strap looked to be about one foot long and extremely sturdy.
No wonder I tripped and fell! It was like trying to walk with my shoe laces tied together! “Miss Turner! What the… why… what is…”
Miss Turner started giggling again. “I’m just kidding little baby, I know exactly why you fell and made a boom boom. The footy pajamas I put you in are called ‘Special Crawlers’! They help keep naughty babies from running away, when we know they have a history of serious misbehavior and getaway attempts.
“They wouldn’t have been my first choice for you to wear, as I’m not certain it’s necessary for you. At least not yet. But like I said, that was the only clothes we had for you to wear in your size! And truth be told, given your fussiness and attitude, I suppose they don’t hurt to help make sure you stay safe where we can keep a good eye on you.”
My eyes went wide in disbelief and horror. I started frantically kicking my legs again and pulling on the stupid strap, but it wouldn’t budge. I started loudly whimpering and moaning.
“Pwease! Take it off!” I whimpered and cried.
“Aww, don’t worry little baby,” she cooed. “Most big-boys in those jammies can still learn to walk just fine, they just have to take careful little steps. But then again, I suppose you’re not much of a big boy, are you? But still, no worries! Your new playroom here is perfect for little ones who still have to do a lot of crawling because they don’t know how to walk yet!”
Embarrassed and humiliated by her challenge, I concentrated hard on proving I could still walk. I slowly stood back up, now trying with all my might not to fall back down.
As I got to my feet, the plug made its presence known again, making me squirm, seemingly penetrating me deeper every time I moved.
It was all suddenly driving me crazy.
The plug in my bottom was invading me deeper every second.
The massive diaper around my waist was crinkling loudly, feeling more itchy and poofy and embarrassing than ever.
The pacifier in my mouth was making me drool, slobber, and babble like a baby.
And the absurd fleecy onesie was making me hot and sweaty, and now making me trip, fall, and crawl on the floor like an infant!
And as I tried to take a deep breath to calm myself, I realized, that on top of everything else…
I now badly needed to pee.
It suddenly occurred to me that the butt plug was putting an enormous pressure on my bladder. I had only just realized how badly I now needed to go. And what was worse, was that every time I fell… I realized that my bladder was near losing control.
I was suddenly terrified to take another step, lest I fall again and suffer what would be an unthinkably humiliating fate, on top of everything else.
Miss Turner grabbed my hand again, but I frantically pulled it away.
“Wait!” I blurted through my paci. “Miss Turner… I haf to go to ra bashroom!”
“What’s that?” She asked.
I sighed, hating the stupid pacifier in my mouth more every second.
“I have to go to potty!” I annunciated loudly. “Can you take me to the potty, pwease?”
Miss Turner patiently smiled and nodded. “Aw, I wish I could, dear. But here in the preschool room, everyone goes to the potty together so the teacher can help everyone while they go. But I’ll let your new teacher know you have to go potty, and maybe she’ll schedule a trip sooner rather than later.”
My jaw dropped. I was floored.
“Now come on, baby boy, your new teacher is waiting for you across the room. You don’t wanna miss story time, do you?” Miss Turner said, grabbing my hand again.
But again, I ripped my hand away.
“No!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “No! No! No! No! No!”
The butt plug, the diaper, the preschool room, the fleecy onesie, the crawling, the falling… and now being denied the ability to even use the bathroom. It was all too much. I had finally lost it.
“No! No! No! No! No!” I screamed, reflexively turning to run away.
But of course, I immediately tripped and fell face first again, landing on the carpet with a thud.
“No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No!” I continued screaming and crying and kicking and flailing and wailing.
Tears poured down my cheeks. I pounded my fists on the floor and sobbed at the top of my lungs. I rolled around and banged my hands and feet and screeched and cried.
“I’m not a baby! I not a baby! I not a baby! I don’t need diapers! I don’t need a pluggy! I don’t need a stupid onesie! Cause I not a baby!” I screamed and screamed.
The room around me blurred. The rest of the world disappeared. I was a tornado of pure emotions, pure anger and sadness and frustration and self-pity and neediness.
I was rolling around the floor, screaming and crying in my onesie and diaper, throwing the biggest fit the daycare had probably seen in some time.
I was screaming, crying, and throwing an out of control, over-the-top, genuine, toddler-style tantrum.
And the whole preschool room gathered around to watch in fascination as I behaved…
Just like a real baby. Diaper, pacifier, tears and all.
