NannyChloe
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Humiliation and Comfort: A Messy Diaper Tale
🕑 Added 2022-04-06 00:00:03 +0000 UTCThe 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 roll over in my crib and stare up at the mobile spinning above my head in horror. Nanny is making me spend another night in the nursery.
And even worse… I reach my hand down and feel the thick, bulky, crinkly, humiliating, extra-puffy padding taped around my waist… I’m wearing an extra-thick, disposable diaper!
The humiliation of it all feels unbearable. I can’t believe how cruel my Nanny is treating me. Treating me just like a baby. Trapping me in an endlessly humiliating infanthood against my will.
Of course, when my Mom dropped me off for my extended stay at Nanny’s a few weeks ago, my Mom mentioned my minor bedwetting problem to my nanny and packed me a case of my Goodnites pull-ups. I was used to wearing them at night for my occasional bed-wetting accidents.
But unfortunately, I think the stress of a new environment caused me to wet even more than usual my first week with Nanny, causing me to go through the pull-ups Mom packed pretty quickly.
Then, as I was getting ready for bed the evening after my pull-ups had run out, Nanny surprised me with the new ‘nighttime protection’ she had bought for me…
They were full-blown disposable tabbed diapers! Like the kind babies wear, but big enough to fit me.
I was mortified and humiliated. After all, the Goodnites were already extremely embarrassing, but if I tried hard enough, I could trick myself into believing they were just extra-thick underwear. But actual diapers felt ten times more babyish.
Even worse, Nanny began requiring me to ‘lay back for my changie’ so she could put the diaper on for me, saying that the tabs would be too difficult for me to do myself.
I was forced to suffer the humiliation of my new ‘nightly routine’—being forced to lay down on a disposable changing pad so Nanny could powder me up and wrap me in my thick diaper for bed.
As well as my new, possibly even more embarrassing, ‘morning routine’—where Nanny would wake me by sticking her fingers in the leg bands of my diaper, cluck her tongue about how wet I was, then lay me back and change my soggy diaper, cleaning and wiping me up like a toddler so I didn’t, as she would say, ‘get a hurtsy-wurtsy diadee rash on my cute little bum-bum’.
I resented suddenly being treated, spoken to, and dressed like a toddler at bedtime with every fiber of my being. But I knew I didn’t have any choice in the matter. I was a bedwetter. And what Nanny said, went. My Mom made that very clear before she dropped me off.
Worst of all, I found the new extra-thick, baby-like diapers I was being forced to wear all night incredibly uncomfortable and humiliating compared to the relatively discrete pull-ups that I was used to. I tossed and turned in my bed night after night, as I tried to fall asleep in the infantile tabbed diapers, constantly hearing the crinkle and feeling the thickness of my padding between my legs, feeling unfairly reduced to a baby for no reason.
After the first several days of non-stop discomfort and compounding humiliation every night as I tried to go to sleep wearing my new baby-diapers, I was beginning to find them nearly unbearable. I felt like I was going to have a breakdown. I didn’t know what to do.
But then… something happened that changed everything.
I made a discovery. A discovery I’m ashamed of. It’s horribly humiliating. It’s painful to admit… even to myself.
What I discovered… is that it felt fantastic to pee in my diapers.
I had never peed in my nighttime pull-ups padding voluntarily before. I had only known the feeling of waking up in a cold, slightly damp pull-up. I would, of course, get up to go pee if I was awake while I felt the urge. I wasn’t some stupid, un-potty-trained baby, after all! I just had a small, involuntary nighttime wetting issue…
But that changed when Nanny happened to send me to bed early one night, as punishment for being disrespectful during dinner.
I wasn’t too upset about the punishment itself. I knew it was probably fair given that I was accidentally disrespectful about the food Nanny had prepared for us. (I called her polenta ‘gross baby food’ in front of all the other kids staying there that night, the irony of my statement only dawning on me much later.)
And as far as punishments went, an early bedtime was hardly one to complain about. I never wanted to suffer one of the spankings I’d heard legends of her dishing out…
But that night, as an unintended consequence of my early bedtime, before I fell asleep, I realized I needed to pee.
I was about to get up to go to the bathroom, like I normally would when wearing a pull-up…
But then I remembered that Nanny had sternly warned me when she changed me into my diaper every night that I was never to undo the diaper’s tapes myself for any reason. If I needed to get up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, I was to go get her so she could take my diaper off while I used the toilet, then properly re-apply it afterward.
It was still early in the evening, so I could hear Nanny and all the other kids still up down the hall. I realized that if I wanted to use the toilet, I would have to walk down the hall in just my diaper (she had already taken my clothes from the room to wash before morning), and ask her in front of everyone else.
Just the idea of all the other kids seeing me wearing nothing but my humiliating nighttime padding was mortifying enough. Let alone that they would hear me asking like a toddler for Nanny to help undo my diapee so I could try to go weewee in the potty like a big boy tonight.
I couldn’t do it. It would be too humiliating.
As I laid in bed, I felt the pressure mounting in my bladder. The discomfort of badly needing to pee only multiplied the discomfort of the awkward, extra bulky, crinkly padding between my legs. I knew I’d never be able to fall asleep without peeing, but I was paralyzed by the humiliation I would suffer if I got up to ask to use the toilet.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of indecision, I knew what I had to do. And I felt a little dumb for taking so long to realize it. I should just pee in my diaper, obviously!
Of course, under normal circumstances, I hated the idea of peeing in a diaper. I was horribly ashamed that I still wet my bed like a baby at night. Even when I was still just wearing my goodnites, I always changed out of them the second I woke up and realized I was wet. The sensation of wet padding pressed against my groin always sent shockwaves of embarrassment and shame through my body.
Normally, I would never pee myself intentionally. I wasn’t an un-potty-trained baby!
But in the moment, as I laid in bed with an aching bladder, unable to face the humiliation of asking for Nanny’s help… what choice did I have? Surely, I should just quietly wet myself and go to sleep, then blame my usual bed-wetting for my embarrassing soggy diaper in the morning.
(And truthfully, wetting myself intentionally wasn’t even really feasible when I was just wearing my pull-ups. The pull-ups were relatively thin, and made for just small accidents. But the full-blown diapers I was wearing now, on the other hand, could certainly hold more than enough for me to pee in them before bed… and again while I slept, should I have my usual accident. The diapers Nanny put me in always seemed to be absurdly thick and absorbent.)
I slowly climbed to my feet. The standing position felt easier to go pee in, as I could pretend I was standing in front of a toilet.
I leaned forward over my bed, closed my eyes and…
Hissss
I felt a powerful flow of urine pour into my thirsty diaper.
I was doing it! I thought to myself in a strange mix of terror and excitement. I was intentionally peeing in my diaper!
I almost moaned from the incredible relief of finally getting to drain my bladder. And simultaneously, I experienced the indescribable sensation of hot warmth expanding around my genitals, flowing into the crinkly padding, turning it warm and soft.
I had known what a cold, wet diaper had felt like to wear for a long time. But to feel a fresh diaper grow heavy and warm with urine in real time against my crotch was… so different.
It was… incredible. Incredible in the naughtiest of ways.
I felt the tremendous relief of my bladder finally reaching empty. I then reached down and grabbed the crotch of my hot, heavy, soggy padding with my hand, inspecting it with bizarre fascination.
I gave a paranoid look over my shoulder, then climbed back into my bed.
As I laid there, funny waves of perverse pleasure tingled up and down my spine, as well as harsh, unexpected waves of shame as I came to terms with what I had just done.
I felt like such a stupid baby. Not only was I wearing a diaper… but I was choosing to wet it like a pathetic two year old instead of going to the potty!
And yet… the sensation of my warm pee filling out the groin of my diaper filled me with indescribable comfort. It was like part of my brain was being transported back in time. Back to when I was a toddler, not just wetting at night, but during the day, and at all hours of the day. A time when the aching of my bladder from holding it didn’t even exist.
The previously uncomfortable, bulky, plastic-y garment had now become warm… and utterly sensual.
I reached my hand down to my diaper and once again squeezed and rubbed my crotch through the padding, soaking in the glorious naughtiness of the freshly wetted, hot and heavy disposable garment.
A massive grin of indescribable relaxation slowly crossed my face.
I closed my eyes and quickly faded into the best slumber I’d had in a long, long time.
* * *
When I woke up the next morning, I felt the typical cool wetness of my nighttime diaper. But it was significantly even more soggy, yellow and wet than usual.
I quickly grew self-conscious as I remembered what I had done the night before, wetting the diaper intentionally.
And as Nanny changed me that morning, I was blushy and quiet, deeply paranoid that she would somehow know what I had done.
She didn’t, of course. How could she? In her view, I had clearly just had an even bigger nighttime accident than usual. And a dirty diaper was a dirty diaper, no matter how precisely heavy, soggy, yellow and wet it was. As long as it didn’t leak, that’s exactly what it was for, right?!
But of course, what I didn’t realize then, was that things had just changed. I just didn’t know it yet.
Because what I discovered the very next night, as I was wrapped in my diaper and put to bed… was that I was eager to wet my diaper again before falling asleep.
And when I did… it was equally as glorious as the first time.
And in the days that followed, I soon realized that I needed to pee in my diaper before falling asleep at night. Falling asleep in a dry diaper now just felt so strangely… wrong.
Soon, night after night I would toss and turn, unable to sleep a wink, until I finally gave in, took a deep breath, and emptied what was in my bladder into my thirsty padding.
And I would immediately fall asleep right afterward, wonderfully entranced in a state of babyish bliss.
I always felt horribly ashamed in the morning, and all throughout the next day, as I thought about what a naughty, diaper-pissing baby I had become at night. No better than a non-potty trained toddler, choosing to pee in my diaper rather than the toilet. A filthy, warm wet padding pervert.
But I couldn’t help myself. I felt practically addicted.
Soon, I was intentionally holding my pee after dinner. Secretly eagerly waiting for Nanny to put me in my diaper for bed, so I could get it nice and warm and wet before falling asleep.
Every morning, the diapers were growing heavier and heavier. After all, now I was draining an intentionally full bladder into them before I wet myself in my sleep!
The whole time I privately wrestled with my shameful little secret habit, I prayed that my Nanny wouldn’t notice. That she couldn’t notice.
And she didn’t. Or at least, she didn’t seem to. She didn’t seem to notice or care at all that I was waking up with wet diapers way heavier than usual, night after night.
That is, until one morning, she finally did notice.
Because I leaked.
“Oh my, my, my, you naughty little one!” She said as she woke me up. “You really did a number on your diapee last night, didn’t you? You soaked it to the brim, then soaked all your blankets… even your mattress! What happened? Too much fluids after dinner? Do I need to make you sit on the potty before bed?” She scolded.
I was mortified and more ashamed than ever. But as I blushed red-hot, I still tried to play it cool, pretending I had no idea why the absurdly thick diapers my Nanny was wrapping me in were no longer enough to contain my bed-wetting.
I thought I had gotten away with it, too. But that evening, I discovered that I didn’t. Because that night, Nanny introduced me to my new bedroom. The one down the hall. The one she usually only used when caring for toddlers and babies…
The nursery.
“Sleeping in the nursery is going to be so much better for you from now on, hon!” Nanny explained in a cheery tone as she gave me a small tour.
“This way I have a nice, comfy table to change you on at night and in the morning. The crib over here has a specially protected mattress for babies who wet their diapers so much they leak. And look, there’s lots and lots of room for all the diaper supplies you need, like stacks of clean diapers, an extra big diaper pail, and a nice dry, permanent, changing pad, so I’m not running through so many disposable pads when I change your peepee filled diaper in the morning!”
I was mortified as she walked me around the nursery by the hand. I was more humiliated and horrified than I’d ever been in my life. Adapting to getting involuntarily diapered every night like a baby was hard enough. But now being forced to sleep in a crib in an actual baby’s nursery was just nightmarishly infantilizing and humiliating.
But instead of arguing with her… I was speechless. I couldn’t bring myself to utter a single word of dissent.
Because deep down inside, I was wracked by incredible waves of shame and guilt about what I had done. And what that meant.
Deep down inside… I knew she was right.
I’m not a young man with an innocent bed-wetting habit. After Nanny puts me in a diaper at night… I become as potty-trained as a filthy, soggy-bottomed toddler, I thought to myself in paralyzed self-loathing and shame.
I do deserve to have to stay in here because I’m just as stupid, stinky, and pathetic as a real, diaper wetting baby!
* * *
And so here I lay, just a few days later, still in my crib for another humiliating night in my nursery.
I feel my plastic-protected mattress beneath me, look out through the bars of my crib at all the humiliating, babyish decorations and supplies, smell the embarrassing scent of my overflowing diaper pail…
And feel the fresh, thick diaper taped around my butt.
I’m so pathetic and naughty. I’m just a worthless, naughty, diaper wetting baby, I agonize to myself, as I do every night as I take in the sight of my utter infantilization.
Memories of my previous adult life flood through my head. Every one of them push me deeper into a pit of existential embarrassment about where I am and what I’m wearing.
I feel my dry diaper with trembling hands. It’s always dry right after Nanny puts me in my crib… but never for long.
I’m wearing a diaper! I’m wearing a thick, puffy, baby-diaper! And I know it’s going to be soaking wet by morning with my filthy, stinky, peepee…
Waves of shame swirl around me, growing more and more intense. I desperately wish I could just roll over and just go to sleep without intentionally wetting myself, first.
But I know I can’t. I know there’s only ever one solution to the ocean of shame, discomfort, and regret I feel myself now slowly drowning in.
I take a deep breath, close my eyes, arch my back a little and…
Hisssssss
It happens slowly at first… then picks up steam.
Hisssssssssssssssss
The warm flood of hot piss pours into my diaper as I clutch my winnie-the-pooh blanket with both hands.
Hissssssssssssssssssssssss
I feel the flood of pee spray into the bottom of my diaper, pooling around my balls and quickly getting absorbed. I reflect on how the first time I intentionally wet myself, I had to stand on my feet to get my bladder to release. But now… I had practically become an expert at fully wetting my diaper while laying down in bed.
I feel my diaper growing heavier and heavier…
And with it, my painful adult anxieties fading and fading.
Finally, with my bladder empty, and my diaper full… I feel the wave of warmth and comfort that I’ve come to expect and rely on every night after I wet myself.
I smile.
The terrible thoughts of dread and adulthood seem to have finally disappeared. The shame and humiliation about my nursery, my crib, my full diaper pail… all of it seems to have blessedly disappeared.
The perverse, but undeniable, comfort of my warm, wet diaper wrapped tight around my crotch seemed to be telling my innermost psyche… Everything is okay. And I feel waves of contentment falling over me like a wonderful cloud of opium.
I close my eyes, expecting to fall asleep.
Except… I can’t.
A few minutes pass. I open my eyes and sit up.
Something seems to be wrong. Usually I fell asleep so easily right after I wet myself.
I look around my nursery. The Elmo drawings on the walls, the tall stacks of diapers and baby wipes on the shelves, the plastic potty chair in the corner… the overpowering smell of sickly sweet baby powder mixed with the acrid scent of stale urine…
Humiliation. Waves of humiliation. I start burning red again.
For some reason… all the terrible thoughts are coming back.
I can’t believe I’m being treated like a baby! And yet… I’m being treated like a baby because I act like a pathetic baby…
I reach down and grip my cooling, wet diaper. I wet my diaper! I’m just a naughty, naughty baby! I should be ashamed!
I can’t figure out why this is happening! I don’t know why all these bad adult feelings didn’t leave for good, like they usually did after I wet myself!
I suddenly feel trapped. The bars of the crib are closing in. The diaper around my waist feels like it’s getting tighter and tighter.
I succumb to a wave of panic. I climb up to my knees, grip the rails of my crib, and just as I’m about to start screaming at the top of my lungs…
FLRTTTT
I let out a huge fart.
And suddenly I feel a hundred times better.
I blush. Was it just gas? Was I really about to start throwing a screaming toddler tantrum over a little gas? Just like… a real baby?
Then… FLRTTTT… I fart again, and feel even better. I even pee a little bit more, and feel even better!
Finally, I know what I have to do.
Of course, the rational part of me would have been horrified. It would have clung to my adulthood and snapped me out of the strange trance coming over me in horror.
But it was too late for that. The psychological relief had somehow become intertwined with deeply embedded physical reflexes.
I was now acting involuntarily. I was now acting… just like a real baby.
I grip the bars of my crib even tighter, take a deep breath, bear down and…
Hnngggggggg
I grunt as I start pooping. A massive warm load starts to dump into the seat of my waiting diaper.
It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. As the load presses down and spreads against my butt cheeks and into my diaper, I gasp with pleasure. The warmth of it smearing against my backside as it runs out of room only spurns me forward to push harder.
I grunt and heave, taking another breath and bearing down again. I squeal as my butthole opens wider and wider for my massive diaper dump. I grunt and squeeze again and again, filling the back of my diaper up to the very brim.
My face becomes red and sweaty, my diaper becomes hot and heavy, my whole body shakes with perverse, unimaginable pleasure.
I feel so incredibly naughty. So infantile. So babyish.
Because I am a baby. I’m a baby who’s pooping his diapers!
Finally, I gasp with unimaginable relief. My colon is finally empty, my naughty, stinky task finished.
I let out the most tremendous sigh and collapse back onto my blankets.
As the load in my diaper smushes beneath my rear, it feels so incredibly warm, naughty… and comforting. I realize my diaper… my diaper has truly never been fuller.
I am a stinky, stinky baby boy, I say to myself as I start sucking my thumb.
A huge smile crosses my face, and once again, I am filled with utter contentment.
I realize that from now on, to be comfortable at night, it’s not enough for me to just wet my diapers before going to sleep. I need to make a stinky in them, too.
And I realize that’s just so wonderful and perfect. Wonderful and perfect, because the truth is, I really am just a helpless, stinky, diaper messing little baby. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I close my eyes, and finally doze off…
Sleeping just like a baby.
THE END.
