regressionschool

[regressionschool]

"how did the girls get pregnant to have children?" My idea regarding this question: Julian sat on the soft play mat, surrounded by colorful blocks and plush toys, happily humming a little tune as he stacked the pieces into a wobbly tower. His diaper, decorated with cheerful animal prints, was unmistakably full, sagging between his legs. The faint squishing of the swollen padding was a constant as he shifted his position, completely at ease in his soggy state.

Linda entered the room with a warm smile, her eyes immediately landing on her happy boy. “Julian, darling, it’s time for your special session,” she called, clapping her hands softly to catch his attention.

Julian looked up, his face lighting up with excitement. “Sticky Chair time?” he chirped, his voice brimming with glee. He clapped his hands together, his enthusiasm evident as he scrambled to his feet, his padded bottom crinkling noisily with every move.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Linda cooed, taking his hand. “And my, someone’s been a very busy boy today! That diaper is about ready to burst.” She gave the soggy padding a playful pat, making Julian giggle.

“It’s squishy!” he declared with a grin, wiggling his bottom for good measure.

Linda laughed softly, shaking her head. “Yes, it is. But don’t you worry, we’ll get you all sorted out. Come on, let’s go see your favorite chair.”

Hand in hand, they made their way to the corner of the room, where the Sticky Chair stood waiting. The machine, with its soft, rounded edges and blinking pastel lights, looked like a piece of oversized toddler furniture, complete with cushioned straps and an inviting seat. Its design was deliberate, intended to keep boys like Julian calm and happy during their sessions.

"The Sticky Chair!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with anticipation. His excitement was evident, not only in his joyful expression but also in the way his body responded, the front of his saturated diaper slightly tenting as his giddiness transformed into physical arousal.

Linda smiled indulgently, ruffling his hair. "I can see someone’s very eager to help today. Such a good boy."

Linda chuckled at his enthusiasm. “That’s right, my little wiggle worm. Let’s get you settled in.” She helped him climb onto the cushioned seat, his damp diaper squishing audibly as he sat. He let out a delighted squeal at the sensation, clearly enjoying himself.

As Linda secured the padded straps around his wrists and ankles, Julian babbled excitedly about the chair. “It goes brrrrr and tickles and feels funny!” he exclaimed, his giggles infectious. “I love the Tickle Chair, Mommy!”

Linda smiled warmly, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “I know you do, darling. And it’s always so happy to see you too.”

With a press of a button, the Tickle Chair reclined slightly, positioning Julian comfortably. Linda untaped his soggy diaper, the saturated material peeling away with a soft squelch. Julian squirmed slightly, the cool air making him wiggle, but his grin never wavered.

“You’ve been such a busy boy today,” Linda remarked as she wiped him clean with warm, damp cloths. “Let’s get you nice and fresh before we start.”

Julian’s laughter bubbled up as the warm cloth tickled him. “It’s funny!” he giggled, kicking his legs slightly against the gentle restraints.

Once he was clean, Linda reached for a small bottle of lubricant, applying it with care. Julian’s excitement only grew, his babbling turning into happy little squeaks as she worked. “Ready to make Stickies sweetheart?” Linda asked, her voice full of affection.

“Ready!” Julian replied eagerly, his whole body wiggling with anticipation.

Linda pressed another button on the machine, and a soft, silicone sleeve emerged from its base. Its pastel color and gentle undulating ridges were designed to be soothing, and as it settled over Julian’s excited length, he let out a squeal of delight.

“It’s so tickly!” he exclaimed, his laughter filling the room.

The Tickle Chair began its routine, the sleeve moving with rhythmic precision while emitting soft vibrations. Julian’s giggles turned into breathy sighs, his body relaxing completely under the chair’s ministrations. Linda stayed by his side, stroking his hair gently and whispering words of encouragement.

“You’re such a good boy, Julian,” she murmured. “The Sticky Chair is so happy to help you feel good.”

Julian’s eyes sparkled as he responded between giggles and soft moans. “It’s the best, Mommy Linda! The *best*!”

After a few minutes, Julian’s body tensed as he reached his peak, his moaning giving way to a shuddering release. The Tickle Sticky hummed softly, collecting every drop into a sterile vial hidden in its base. The sleeve continued its gentle motions for a moment longer, ensuring every drop was captured. When the process was complete, the machine powered down with a soothing chime.

“All done, my precious boy,” Linda said, carefully unstrapping him. She held up the vial with a proud smile. “Look at this! You did so well.”

Julian beamed, his pride shining through. “I did good, huh?” he asked, his voice full of wonder.

“The best!” Linda assured him. “Now, let’s get you into a fresh, fluffy diaper.”

She slid a new diaper beneath him, its padding crisp and decorated with cheerful prints. She sprinkled a generous amount of powder, the sweet scent filling the air, and fastened the tapes snugly around his waist. "All done!" she declared, giving his freshly diapered bottom a gentle pat. She handed him his favorite stuffed bunny, which he hugged tightly.

Linda placed the sealed vial in a padded container, ensuring it was ready to be sent off. “Your special gift is going to make someone very, very happy,” she said softly.

Julian grinned. “I’m a good boy!”

“The best boy,” Linda agreed, kissing his forehead. “Now back to playtime, my little star.”

As Julian toddled back to his blocks, his laughter echoing through the room, Linda couldn’t help but smile. She watched him for a moment before carrying the container away, proud of her little boy.

Echoes of a Man's World

Synopsis: The story spans across eight birthdays from 1960 to 2030, reflecting a profound shift in societal norms and personal roles over the decades. Each segment captures a snapshot of a young man's 21st birthday, highlighting evolving dynamics and challenges within their intimate and societal relationships. The story begins in a smoke-filled basement in 1960, showcasing a traditional male-dominated celebration, and gradually transitions through the decades, depicting how societal reforms, shifting gender roles, and changing attitudes towards masculinity impact the lives of these men. By the 2030s, the narrative dramatically shifts to portray a society where traditional gender roles are completely overturned, leaving men in a perpetually infantilized state, nurtured and governed by female figures. Each birthday not only marks a personal milestone but also reflects broader cultural and social transformations. Diapers start appearing in birthday 4.

The First Birthday: 1960

The room buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses as Louis celebrated his 21st birthday with his college buddies. The dim light of the basement, thick with cigarette smoke, cast a hazy glow over the group of young men, each one with a beer in hand. Louis, the birthday boy, lounged in the worn-out armchair that served as the throne for the evening, a wide grin plastered across his face.

"Hey, Betty!" Louis called out, his voice laced with a mix of playful arrogance and expectation. "We're running low over here. How about you bring us another round, sweetheart?"

Betty, Louis’ girlfriend, stood by the door with a forced smile, holding a tray of half-empty bottles. She was the only woman in the room, her presence more of a decoration than a participant. The men’s eyes followed her as she made her way to the center of the group, their gazes lingering a little too long on her as she bent over to collect the empties.

"Careful, boys," Louis said with a chuckle, raising his glass in a mock toast. "Wouldn’t want to scare off the little lady, now would we?"

The guys laughed, the sound deep and hearty, filling the small space. One of them, Jack, leaned over to Louis, his voice just loud enough for the rest to hear. "You’ve got her well-trained, Lou. Bet she’s happy to serve a real man, huh?"

Louis smirked, taking a long swig of his beer. "Damn right she is," he replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "What can I say? She knows her place."

Betty bit her lip, her cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink. She kept her head down, focusing on her task, even as the men’s laughter grew louder. The clink of bottles being set down on the table was almost drowned out by the raucous noise, but she moved quickly, eager to finish her duty.

"How about a smile, Betty?" another voice chimed in, this one from across the room. "It’s a party, after all. Don’t want the birthday boy thinking you’re not enjoying yourself."

Betty forced her lips into a tight, uncomfortable grin, her eyes flicking up to meet Louis’. He gave her a wink, his grin widening as he leaned back further in his chair. "There we go," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. "Now, why don’t you be a good girl and bring out that cake? It’s not a party without a little something sweet."

The men hooted and hollered, their voices rising as they egged Betty on. She nodded, turning quickly to head back to the kitchen, her steps hurried as she escaped the oppressive atmosphere of the room.

As she disappeared behind the door, Louis turned to his friends, raising his glass once more. "To 21," he said, his voice carrying over the din. "And to all the perks that come with it. A man’s world, boys. And don’t we just love it?"

The glasses clinked together, the sound sharp and clear amidst the low hum of conversation and laughter. The men drank deeply, their faces glowing with the confidence and privilege that came with being the kings of their small world.

In the kitchen, Betty stood alone, her hands trembling slightly as she cut into the cake. The knife slid through the layers of frosting and sponge, but her mind was elsewhere, her thoughts a tangled mess of emotions she couldn’t quite untangle. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before picking up the tray and heading back to the party, her smile firmly back in place.

"Here comes the cake!" Louis announced as she entered, the men cheering as the tray was set down in front of him. "You’ve outdone yourself, Betty. Almost as sweet as you."

The room erupted in laughter once more, and Betty stood there, her eyes downcast, feeling every bit the pretty little thing they all expected her to be.

The Second  Birthday: 1970

The living room buzzed with a low hum of conversation as Adam sat in the center of his group of friends, a beer in one hand and a smug grin on his face. The radio played softly in the background, but the chatter of the young men gathered around Adam's birthday cake was far more prominent.

"Twenty-one, huh?" Mike, one of Adam's college buddies, leaned back in his chair, raising his bottle. "How's it feel to finally be a man?"

Adam chuckled, taking a swig of his beer before replying. "Feels pretty damn good, Mike. You know, officially out of the old man’s house, got my own place, and now, I get to start making real decisions."

The group murmured their agreement, each of them eager to follow in Adam’s footsteps.

"But man, can you believe that new law?" Rick chimed in, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "That ‘Equality Act’ or whatever it’s called? Making it illegal to discriminate against women in the workplace? What’s next, they’ll want us to change diapers too?"

The room erupted in laughter, the guys nudging each other and shooting knowing looks. Adam smirked, shaking his head as he leaned forward. "Oh, come on, Rick. You know how it is—Betty Hawthorne and her band of merry women just want a little attention. Let them have their fun. I’m not worried. It’s not like things are really going to change. A man’s still a man, after all."

There were more chuckles around the room, the men clearly feeling secure in their position at the top of the social ladder. Adam leaned back again, a self-satisfied grin playing on his lips as he took another drink.

"Besides," he continued, his voice taking on a teasing tone, "I’m all for equality… as long as they still know their place. I mean, who’s going to pour us our drinks, right?"

Just then, the door to the kitchen creaked open, and Sarah, Adam’s girlfriend, walked in with a tray of fresh beers. She moved quietly, her eyes downcast as she approached the group. Adam’s grin widened as she neared, and he made a show of stretching out his legs, blocking her path.

"Oh, careful, sweetheart," he drawled, looking up at her with feigned concern. "Wouldn’t want you to trip now. This whole equality thing doesn’t mean you should start making a mess."

Sarah hesitated for a moment, then stepped over his legs carefully, setting the tray down on the table with a soft clink of glass. The men watched her, amusement dancing in their eyes as they waited for her to speak. But Sarah remained silent, offering only a small, tight smile before stepping back.

Adam picked up one of the beers and handed it to her, his grin never fading. "Don’t worry, Sarah. We’re just having a bit of fun. Go on, take a break. We’ll call you if we need anything."

She nodded, quickly retreating back to the kitchen. As the door closed behind her, Adam and his friends burst into laughter again, their jokes and banter continuing without missing a beat.

"Here’s to twenty-one," Adam said, raising his bottle in a mock toast. "And here’s to things staying exactly the way they should." The clinking of glass filled the room once more, sealing their sentiment in the smoky, dimly lit space.

The Third  Birthday: 1980

The dimly lit basement was filled with the sounds of clinking glasses and laughter as Liam and his friends huddled around a small, worn-out table. The air was thick with the smell of beer and cigarettes, and the walls were adorned with posters from their high school days, a reminder of simpler times.

Liam leaned back in his chair, a grin plastered on his face as he lifted his beer in a mock toast. “Here’s to turning twenty-one, finally out of school, and ready for whatever comes next!” The boys cheered, though the excitement in their voices felt a bit forced.

As the noise died down, Liam’s friend, Jake, let out a frustrated sigh, slumping in his chair. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t know what that feels like, would I?” he muttered, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass.

Liam glanced over, raising an eyebrow. “What’s eating you, Jake?”

Jake scoffed, shaking his head. “It’s this whole ‘girls are more mature’ nonsense. I applied to three colleges, and guess what? Rejected from all of them. Meanwhile, Cindy—remember her from math class?—got into every single one. They’re saying girls are more responsible, more focused. It’s ridiculous!”

The group fell silent, the weight of Jake’s words hanging in the air. Liam took a sip of his beer, not quite sure what to say.

“I mean,” Jake continued, his voice growing more bitter, “I’m stuck living at home, doing odd jobs, while the girls are off getting degrees. And for what? To prove they can do it better than us? It’s a joke.”

Tom, another friend, nodded slowly, leaning in as if to share a secret. “You think that’s bad? I heard about Steve—remember him? His mom didn’t even let him apply anywhere. Apparently, she’s friends with that Betty Hawthorne woman. Now he’s being treated like a kid again. Can’t work, can’t do anything. She even enrolled him in some ‘finishing school’ for adult boys.”

The others exchanged uneasy glances, trying to wrap their heads around the idea. Liam’s grin faded slightly as he listened, the thought of being treated like a child at their age unsettling.

Tom continued, his voice lowering as if Steve’s mother might be listening. “They say he’s not even allowed to pick out his own clothes anymore. She’s got him dressed up like a little boy, taking him to some school where they ‘teach’ them how to behave properly. It’s messed up.”

Liam chuckled nervously, trying to shake off the unease. “Well, at least that’s not happening to us, right?” But his joke fell flat, the laughter that followed was half-hearted at best.

“Hey, Liam,” Jake said, his tone lightening slightly as he forced a grin. “You better watch out. I’ve seen your mom talking to some of those ladies at the grocery store. Maybe she’s planning to send you there next.”

The group burst into laughter, though the unease lingered just below the surface. Liam tried to join in, but the image of Steve in his “school” flashed in his mind. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of world they were stepping into.

As the night wore on, the boys continued to drink and joke, but the shadow of the conversation loomed over them. The future seemed less certain, and the thought of being forced back into a childhood they were just leaving behind left a bitter taste in Liam’s mouth.

The fourth  Birthday: 1990

The room was filled with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses as John sat at the edge of the table, a nervous smile on his face. He adjusted his tie, feeling the stiff fabric against his neck, as his girlfriend, soon-to-be wife, Amelia, reached over and squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"Cheer up, John," Amelia said with a teasing glint in her eye. "Today’s a big day. Not only are you turning twenty-one, but you’re officially graduating from finishing school. You should be proud."

John nodded, trying to mask his discomfort with a smile. He shifted in his seat, the padding of the pull-up beneath his trousers crinkling softly. He hoped no one noticed, but Amelia’s knowing smirk told him otherwise.

Amelia’s mother, sitting across from them, leaned in with a warm smile. "So, John, now that you’ve completed your training, are you ready to be the perfect little househusband?" Her tone was sweet, but there was a hint of condescension that made John’s cheeks flush.

"Y-Yes, ma’am," John stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He could feel the eyes of Amelia’s friends and family on him, their expressions a mix of amusement and expectation.

Amelia laughed softly, her hand brushing against his cheek. "Don’t be so nervous, sweetheart. It’s not like you’ll have much to worry about. I’ll be the one out there working hard while you keep things tidy at home. And, of course," she added with a playful wink, "I’ll be able to keep a closer eye on your little 'problem.'"

John’s blush deepened as he looked down at his lap, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth. He could still remember the first time he had to wear the pull-ups, something that started shortly after he began attending the finishing school for adult boys. What began as a rare, embarrassing accident had somehow turned into a regular occurrence, much to his shame.

"How are the pull-ups holding up, John?" one of Amelia’s friends, Sarah, asked with a grin. The group chuckled, and John felt his face grow even hotter.

"They’re fine," he mumbled, wishing he could disappear into the floor.

"Don’t worry, darling," Amelia said, her voice dripping with affection. "I’ll make sure to keep you well-stocked. We wouldn’t want any accidents now, would we?"

John’s mind drifted to his high school friends, wondering where they were now. Some of them were lucky—if you could call it that—allowed to attend college by their mothers. But others had it even worse than him. He’d heard stories of a few who were still in diapers, their mothers or wives deeming them too "immature" to handle anything more. He shuddered at the thought, grateful at least that he wasn’t one of them.

"Earth to John!" Amelia’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. She was holding up a slice of cake, a mischievous grin on her face. "Come on, birthday boy, make a wish."

John forced a smile as he blew out the candles, the room erupting into cheers. But even as they celebrated around him, he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that lingered in the back of his mind. This was his life now—a life of soft fabrics, condescending smiles, and constant supervision.

As the night wore on and the party continued, John found himself glancing at the clock more often than not, counting down the minutes until he could escape to the quiet solitude of their bedroom. There, at least, he could remove the mask of forced happiness and allow himself a moment of real, unfiltered thought.

But for now, he would smile, nod, and play the part that had been written for him—a dutiful, obedient househusband with a not-so-dry  pull-up.

The fifth  Birthday: 2000

Noah’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he tore into the brightly colored wrapping paper. The room was filled with the cheerful chatter of his girlfriend, Laura, her family, and their friends. Balloons in primary colors floated around the room, and a large banner that read “Happy 21st Birthday, Noah!” hung above the table, which was covered in a vibrant spread of cake, cookies, and juice boxes.

Laura leaned in close, her soft voice dripping with affection. “What did you get, sweetie?”

Noah beamed, holding up a box with a big picture of a building block set on the front. “It’s the castle one! The one I really wanted!”

Laura giggled, ruffling his hair playfully. “I knew you’d love it. You’ve been talking about it for weeks. It’s perfect for a big boy like you.”

Noah nodded eagerly, already imagining himself spending hours assembling the colorful bricks. The chatter around the room continued, as his friends and Laura’s family watched him with indulgent smiles. Next to him, Sven, one of Noah’s closest friends, was struggling to open a gift wrapped in shiny paper. Sven’s movements were a bit awkward, his fingers clumsy as he finally managed to reveal a plush toy—a large, cuddly bear with a bow around its neck.

“Look, Noah! Teddy!” Sven exclaimed, his voice high with excitement.

Noah grinned. “That’s awesome, Sven! Maybe Teddy can help you sleep better.”

Sven hugged the bear tightly, a slight crinkle of his diaper audible as he shifted in his seat. Laura noticed and raised an eyebrow at Noah’s girlfriend but said nothing, her attention returning to Noah as he reached for another present.

This one was from Laura herself. Noah carefully untied the ribbon and opened the box, revealing a set of colorful, oversized crayons and a thick coloring book filled with simple, cartoonish drawings. He gasped, eyes wide.

“Wow, Laura! These are the best! Can we color together later?”

Laura chuckled, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “Of course, we can. But first, we have to cut the cake and maybe play a game or two, okay?”

Noah nodded eagerly, his excitement palpable. But as he shifted in his seat, a familiar sensation reminded him of something he’d been trying to ignore. His pull-up was damp, the wetness spreading slightly as he moved. He bit his lip, unsure whether to tell Laura or not.

Laura, ever perceptive, noticed his slight hesitation. She tilted her head, her playful smile turning into one of knowing amusement. “Noah, is there something you want to tell me?”

Noah hesitated, glancing around nervously before shaking his head. “N-No, nothing.”

Laura’s eyes narrowed playfully, and she gently patted his bottom, feeling the squishiness of his pull-up. “Oh, Noah. What did we say about telling me when you’re wet?”

Noah blushed deeply, mumbling, “I’m sorry…”

She sighed, shaking her head with mock seriousness. “Maybe you should go back to diapers like Sven here. At least then, you wouldn’t have to worry keeping track whether your pull-up is soggy or not.”

Noah’s blush deepened as he glanced at Sven, who was happily playing with his new teddy bear, seemingly oblivious to the teasing.

“Please, Laura, I don’t want to go back to diapers,” he pleaded, his voice small.

Laura grinned, clearly enjoying the situation. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you stay in your pull-ups for now. But you’re going to run around without pants so I can keep an eye on them, okay?”

Noah nodded, relieved. “Okay…”

Laura gently guided Noah to a corner of the room, where a small, cushioned mat had been laid out for just this purpose. She patted the mat softly, signaling for Noah to lie down. He hesitated for a moment, glancing around the room, but most of the others were too engrossed in their activities to notice. He took a deep breath and laid down, his cheeks still pink with embarrassment.

"Good boy," Laura cooed, her voice soft and reassuring. She reached into the nearby bag and pulled out a fresh pull-up, decorated with bright, childish patterns. The sight of it made Noah squirm a little, but Laura’s warm smile kept him calm.

As Laura began to peel away the sides of his damp pull-up, Noah’s mind raced with self-conscious thoughts. He couldn’t help but feel a little exposed, lying there in just his t-shirt, while Laura carefully tended to him. But then, he glanced around the room again, and something shifted in his perspective.

Sven was still hugging his teddy bear, his diaper peeking out from beneath his shirt as he played. Across the room, another friend, Michael, was clearly in a similar situation, his pull-up waistband visible above his jeans as he bent down to pick up a toy. And then there was Daniel, standing nearby with a slight crinkle coming from his direction every time he moved.

Noah’s nervousness began to fade as he realized that he wasn’t alone in this. Most of the other guys at the party were in the same boat—either wearing pull-ups like him or even full diapers, depending on how their girlfriends or mommys thought they should be dressed.

He wasn’t the odd one out. In fact, this was normal now. The thought brought a small, comforting smile to his face.

Laura noticed his smile and gently tapped his nose with a playful finger. “There’s that smile I love. See? It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetie. Everyone here is in the same boat.”

Noah nodded, his earlier anxiety melting away. He let out a small sigh of relief as Laura finished wiping him clean, sliding the fresh pull-up under his bottom and carefully fastening it in place. The soft, crinkly material felt reassuring against his skin, a reminder that he was safe and taken care of.

“There we go, all snug and dry,” Laura said, pulling him to his feet. She smoothed out his t-shirt and gave his padded bottom a gentle pat. “Now, remember, no pants for the rest of the party. We don’t want any more little surprises, okay?”

Noah nodded, his smile widening. “Okay, Laura.”

“Good boy,” she praised, taking his hand. “Now, let’s go join the others. I think it’s time for cake!”

The sixth  Birthday: 2010

Oliver sat on the floor, surrounded by colorful wrapping paper and brightly decorated boxes. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he eagerly tore open the last of his birthday presents. The room was filled with the cheerful chatter of adults, mostly women, who watched him with fond smiles. His Mommy, Anna, stood beside him, her hand gently resting on his shoulder as she beamed down at him.

"Okay, sweetie," Anna said with a playful grin, holding a small, brightly wrapped package behind her back. "Mommy has one more surprise for you. Are you ready?"

Oliver’s eyes widened with anticipation, his small hands clapping together excitedly. "Yes, Mommy! I wanna see!"

Anna slowly revealed the package, holding it out in front of him. Oliver’s breath hitched as he saw the familiar package of pull-ups. The designs on them were colorful and childish, but to him, they signaled something big—something that made his heart race with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"These," Anna said with a tone of importance, "are your new big boy pull-ups. You’re going to start preschool soon, and these will help you learn how to be a big boy, just like we talked about."

Oliver stared at the pull-ups, his emotions a swirl of confusion and pride. He’d always been in diapers, just like his friends, and this felt like a huge step. He wasn’t sure if he was ready, but the way Anna looked at him—so proud and loving—made him want to try.

Just then, Theo, one of his best friends, waddled over, his thick diaper crinkling loudly with every step. He peeked over Oliver’s shoulder, his eyes growing wide as he saw the pull-ups.

"Wow, Oliver!" Theo exclaimed, his voice a mix of awe and envy. "You’re gonna wear those?"

Oliver nodded slowly, his fingers brushing against the soft material of the pull-ups. "Yeah… Mommy says I’m gonna be a big boy now."

Before Oliver could say anything else, Theo’s mommy, Cleo, joined them, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She ruffled Theo’s hair affectionately before looking at Anna with a smirk.

"Oh, Anna," Cleo teased, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "You’ve really outdone yourself. Pull-ups for Oliver? You’re so brave."

Anna chuckled, her hand still resting on Oliver’s shoulder. "Well, he’s ready for the next step. It’s time for him to start learning more, and this is just part of that."

Cleo raised an eyebrow, glancing down at Theo, who was still staring longingly at the pull-ups. "Don’t even think about it, Theo. You’re staying in diapers, where you belong. No big boy pull-ups for you, not ever."

Theo’s face fell, his lower lip jutting out in a pout. "But, Mommy…"

"No buts," Cleo interrupted, her tone firm but loving. "You’re my baby, and babies wear diapers. End of discussion."

Oliver watched the exchange, a small smile playing on his lips. The nervousness he’d felt earlier was slowly being replaced by a sense of pride. He wasn’t just a baby anymore—he was going to preschool, and he was going to be a big boy, just like Mommy said.

The seventh  Birthday: 2020

Julian stood in the center of the living room, his shortalls snug around his thick diaper, his bright eyes full of curiosity as he watched Linda, his Mommy, prepare for the game. The room was decorated with colorful streamers, balloons, and banners that read, "Happy 21st Birthday, Julian!" in big, bold letters. The atmosphere was cheerful, filled with the sounds of laughter and playful chatter from the women and a few other boys in similar outfits.

"Alright, boys, gather around!" Linda called out, clapping her hands to get their attention. Julian toddled over, his shortalls making a soft crinkling sound with each step, joining the line with the other boys. Their expressions were a mix of excitement and innocence, none of them having the slightest clue of what was about to happen.

"Okay, sweeties, we're going to play a little game," Linda announced, her voice full of warmth. "You’re all going to guess if your diapers are clean, a little bit wet, soggy, or messy. Who wants to go first?"

Julian raised his hand eagerly, bouncing on his toes. “Me, me!” he chirped, his enthusiasm infectious. Linda smiled and beckoned him forward, placing him at the head of the line.

“Alright, Julian,” she said with a playful grin. “What do you think? Is your diaper dry, just a bit wet, soggy, or maybe a little messy?”

Julian furrowed his brow, deep in thought, before breaking into a wide grin. “I think… it’s dry!” he declared confidently.

Linda chuckled softly. “Let’s see if you’re right!” With a swift motion, she unbuttoned the snaps of his shortalls, letting them drop to the floor. The room filled with soft giggles as Julian’s thick, very soggy diaper came into view. The once-white material was now a darkened shade, sagging slightly from the weight.

“Ooops! Looks like someone was a bit off,” Linda teased gently, ruffling his hair. “That’s not just a little wet, honey, that’s definitely soggy.”

Julian giggled, not the least bit embarrassed. To him, it was all part of the fun. He waddled back to his spot, the crinkling of his diaper now even louder without the cover of his shortalls.

One by one, the other boys followed suit, each guessing their diaper’s condition with varying degrees of confidence. Each time, the result was the same—none of the boys got it right. Some thought they were dry when they were a little wet, others guessed soggy when they were still dry, and a few didn’t realize their diapers were messy until the telltale scent gave them away.

The girls watching couldn’t help but giggle and make light-hearted comments. “They’re so adorable, trying so hard!” one of them said, earning nods of agreement.

“None of them got it right,” another added, shaking her head with amusement. “But really, we can’t expect them to know the difference, can we?”

When it was all over, Linda looked over at the group of boys, most of them standing in their wet or soggy diapers, completely unfazed by their incorrect guesses. “Alright, let’s get the messy boys changed first,” she said, guiding the ones with full diapers toward the changing area.

As she changed Julian’s friend, who had guessed dry but was actually quite messy, she remarked casually, “You know, my big brother Oliver got pull-ups for his 21st birthday.” She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Can you believe that? The idea of any of you boys being ready for pull-ups is just silly. Poor Ollie wasn’t ready either… he ended up back in diapers pretty quick and went back to daycare. Honestly, pull-ups for a 21-year-old? What were they thinking?”

Another Mommy, who was nearby, chimed in. “Times have changed, that’s for sure. In fact, did you hear that the preschool is closing at the end of the year? Not enough boys being signed up. But the daycare is expanding to take over the location.”

Linda nodded. “It makes sense. Most boys just aren’t ready for preschool these days. Daycare is a much better fit.”

There were nods of understanding around the room. It wasn’t surprising—after all, boys like Julian and his friends weren’t exactly progressing towards any form of independence. If anything, the world seemed to be moving in the opposite direction, with more care facilities opening to accommodate their needs.

As the game continued, the boys resumed playing, unaware of the changes being discussed. For Julian and the others, today was just another fun day, filled with games, laughter, and the comfort of knowing they were cared for and loved, no matter what.

The eighth  Birthday: 2030

The room was a explosion of pastel balloons, plush toys, and brightly colored decorations. In the center of it all, Steve sat on a soft play mat, giggling as he tried to stack a set of large, foam blocks. His chubby fingers fumbled with the blocks, and he babbled incoherently, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. He was dressed in an adorable onesie, the snap buttons at the crotch slightly strained by the thick diaper underneath.

Nearby, his uncle John watched with a mix of disbelief and resignation. At 60 years old, John had seen the world change in ways he never could have imagined. He took a sip of his drink, shaking his head slightly as he glanced over at Amelia, his wife. She caught his eye and gave him a small, knowing smile.

“It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?” Amelia said softly, moving to stand beside him. Her eyes were on Steve, who had just knocked over the stack of blocks, clapping his hands with glee at the mess he’d made. “To think that boys like Steve are the norm now…”

John nodded, his gaze lingering on his nephew. “Yeah, it’s like they’re babies forever. I remember when boys were expected to grow up, to take on responsibilities. But now…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the scene before them.

Amelia sighed, a wistful smile tugging at her lips. “It wasn’t that long ago when you were the one celebrating your 21st birthday, and I was making sure you were staying out of trouble. But even then, the world was starting to change, wasn’t it?”

John chuckled softly, remembering his own 21st birthday. “I suppose so. Finishing school, learning how to be a good househusband… it all seemed so strange at the time. And now look at us.” He paused, watching as Steve crawled over to a toy train, his diaper crinkling loudly with every movement. “Boys today don’t even get that far.”

Amelia nodded, her eyes softening as she watched Steve. “They don’t. And honestly, they’re happier for it. No stress, no expectations. Just care and comfort.”

As if on cue, one of Steve’s daycare friends, Thomas, toddled over. Unlike Steve, who was still very much a baby in every way, Thomas was more like a toddler. He wobbled on his feet, his pacifier bobbing in his mouth as he approached Steve and offered him a plush bear. Steve’s eyes lit up, and he took the bear, hugging it tightly as he babbled something incomprehensible.

“They’re so sweet together,” Amelia remarked, her voice full of warmth. “They don’t have a care in the world.”

John watched the boys for a moment, then turned back to Amelia. “Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if things hadn’t changed so much?”

Amelia smiled, a touch of nostalgia in her eyes. “Sometimes. But then I look at Steve and Thomas, at how content they are, and I think… maybe this is how it was always meant to be. Boys don’t need to grow up the way they used to. They can just… be.”

John nodded slowly, considering her words. “Maybe you’re right. It’s just… it’s hard to wrap my head around it sometimes.”

Amelia reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “I know. But the world has changed, John. And I think it’s for the better.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden commotion on the play mat. Steve had managed to pull himself up to a sitting position, only to fall back onto his bottom with a loud crinkle. He looked around in surprise, then burst into giggles, clearly enjoying the sound.

Amelia laughed softly, shaking her head. “He’s such a little goofball.”

John couldn’t help but smile as well. “Yeah, he is.”

As the party continued, with the other boys playing happily around them, John found himself slowly coming to terms with the world they now lived in. It wasn’t the same as the one he grew up in, but maybe that was okay. Maybe, just maybe, this new world was exactly what boys like Steve needed.

And as he watched his nephew babble and crawl, surrounded by love and care, he realized that perhaps Amelia was right. This was their world now—a world where boys could stay innocent, carefree, and cherished for as long as they needed.

And that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[regressionschool]

Echoes of a Man's World

Synopsis: The story spans across eight birthdays from 1960 to 2030, reflecting a profound shift in societal norms and personal roles over the decades. Each segment captures a snapshot of a young man's 21st birthday, highlighting evolving dynamics and challenges within their intimate and societal relationships. The story begins in a smoke-filled basement in 1960, showcasing a traditional male-dominated celebration, and gradually transitions through the decades, depicting how societal reforms, shifting gender roles, and changing attitudes towards masculinity impact the lives of these men. By the 2030s, the narrative dramatically shifts to portray a society where traditional gender roles are completely overturned, leaving men in a perpetually infantilized state, nurtured and governed by female figures. Each birthday not only marks a personal milestone but also reflects broader cultural and social transformations. Diapers start appearing in birthday 4.

The First Birthday: 1960

The room buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses as Louis celebrated his 21st birthday with his college buddies. The dim light of the basement, thick with cigarette smoke, cast a hazy glow over the group of young men, each one with a beer in hand. Louis, the birthday boy, lounged in the worn-out armchair that served as the throne for the evening, a wide grin plastered across his face.

"Hey, Betty!" Louis called out, his voice laced with a mix of playful arrogance and expectation. "We're running low over here. How about you bring us another round, sweetheart?"

Betty, Louis’ girlfriend, stood by the door with a forced smile, holding a tray of half-empty bottles. She was the only woman in the room, her presence more of a decoration than a participant. The men’s eyes followed her as she made her way to the center of the group, their gazes lingering a little too long on her as she bent over to collect the empties.

"Careful, boys," Louis said with a chuckle, raising his glass in a mock toast. "Wouldn’t want to scare off the little lady, now would we?"

The guys laughed, the sound deep and hearty, filling the small space. One of them, Jack, leaned over to Louis, his voice just loud enough for the rest to hear. "You’ve got her well-trained, Lou. Bet she’s happy to serve a real man, huh?"

Louis smirked, taking a long swig of his beer. "Damn right she is," he replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "What can I say? She knows her place."

Betty bit her lip, her cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink. She kept her head down, focusing on her task, even as the men’s laughter grew louder. The clink of bottles being set down on the table was almost drowned out by the raucous noise, but she moved quickly, eager to finish her duty.

"How about a smile, Betty?" another voice chimed in, this one from across the room. "It’s a party, after all. Don’t want the birthday boy thinking you’re not enjoying yourself."

Betty forced her lips into a tight, uncomfortable grin, her eyes flicking up to meet Louis’. He gave her a wink, his grin widening as he leaned back further in his chair. "There we go," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. "Now, why don’t you be a good girl and bring out that cake? It’s not a party without a little something sweet."

The men hooted and hollered, their voices rising as they egged Betty on. She nodded, turning quickly to head back to the kitchen, her steps hurried as she escaped the oppressive atmosphere of the room.

As she disappeared behind the door, Louis turned to his friends, raising his glass once more. "To 21," he said, his voice carrying over the din. "And to all the perks that come with it. A man’s world, boys. And don’t we just love it?"

The glasses clinked together, the sound sharp and clear amidst the low hum of conversation and laughter. The men drank deeply, their faces glowing with the confidence and privilege that came with being the kings of their small world.

In the kitchen, Betty stood alone, her hands trembling slightly as she cut into the cake. The knife slid through the layers of frosting and sponge, but her mind was elsewhere, her thoughts a tangled mess of emotions she couldn’t quite untangle. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before picking up the tray and heading back to the party, her smile firmly back in place.

"Here comes the cake!" Louis announced as she entered, the men cheering as the tray was set down in front of him. "You’ve outdone yourself, Betty. Almost as sweet as you."

The room erupted in laughter once more, and Betty stood there, her eyes downcast, feeling every bit the pretty little thing they all expected her to be.

The Second  Birthday: 1970

The living room buzzed with a low hum of conversation as Adam sat in the center of his group of friends, a beer in one hand and a smug grin on his face. The radio played softly in the background, but the chatter of the young men gathered around Adam's birthday cake was far more prominent.

"Twenty-one, huh?" Mike, one of Adam's college buddies, leaned back in his chair, raising his bottle. "How's it feel to finally be a man?"

Adam chuckled, taking a swig of his beer before replying. "Feels pretty damn good, Mike. You know, officially out of the old man’s house, got my own place, and now, I get to start making real decisions."

The group murmured their agreement, each of them eager to follow in Adam’s footsteps.

"But man, can you believe that new law?" Rick chimed in, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "That ‘Equality Act’ or whatever it’s called? Making it illegal to discriminate against women in the workplace? What’s next, they’ll want us to change diapers too?"

The room erupted in laughter, the guys nudging each other and shooting knowing looks. Adam smirked, shaking his head as he leaned forward. "Oh, come on, Rick. You know how it is—Betty Hawthorne and her band of merry women just want a little attention. Let them have their fun. I’m not worried. It’s not like things are really going to change. A man’s still a man, after all."

There were more chuckles around the room, the men clearly feeling secure in their position at the top of the social ladder. Adam leaned back again, a self-satisfied grin playing on his lips as he took another drink.

"Besides," he continued, his voice taking on a teasing tone, "I’m all for equality… as long as they still know their place. I mean, who’s going to pour us our drinks, right?"

Just then, the door to the kitchen creaked open, and Sarah, Adam’s girlfriend, walked in with a tray of fresh beers. She moved quietly, her eyes downcast as she approached the group. Adam’s grin widened as she neared, and he made a show of stretching out his legs, blocking her path.

"Oh, careful, sweetheart," he drawled, looking up at her with feigned concern. "Wouldn’t want you to trip now. This whole equality thing doesn’t mean you should start making a mess."

Sarah hesitated for a moment, then stepped over his legs carefully, setting the tray down on the table with a soft clink of glass. The men watched her, amusement dancing in their eyes as they waited for her to speak. But Sarah remained silent, offering only a small, tight smile before stepping back.

Adam picked up one of the beers and handed it to her, his grin never fading. "Don’t worry, Sarah. We’re just having a bit of fun. Go on, take a break. We’ll call you if we need anything."

She nodded, quickly retreating back to the kitchen. As the door closed behind her, Adam and his friends burst into laughter again, their jokes and banter continuing without missing a beat.

"Here’s to twenty-one," Adam said, raising his bottle in a mock toast. "And here’s to things staying exactly the way they should." The clinking of glass filled the room once more, sealing their sentiment in the smoky, dimly lit space.

The Third  Birthday: 1980

The dimly lit basement was filled with the sounds of clinking glasses and laughter as Liam and his friends huddled around a small, worn-out table. The air was thick with the smell of beer and cigarettes, and the walls were adorned with posters from their high school days, a reminder of simpler times.

Liam leaned back in his chair, a grin plastered on his face as he lifted his beer in a mock toast. “Here’s to turning twenty-one, finally out of school, and ready for whatever comes next!” The boys cheered, though the excitement in their voices felt a bit forced.

As the noise died down, Liam’s friend, Jake, let out a frustrated sigh, slumping in his chair. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t know what that feels like, would I?” he muttered, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass.

Liam glanced over, raising an eyebrow. “What’s eating you, Jake?”

Jake scoffed, shaking his head. “It’s this whole ‘girls are more mature’ nonsense. I applied to three colleges, and guess what? Rejected from all of them. Meanwhile, Cindy—remember her from math class?—got into every single one. They’re saying girls are more responsible, more focused. It’s ridiculous!”

The group fell silent, the weight of Jake’s words hanging in the air. Liam took a sip of his beer, not quite sure what to say.

“I mean,” Jake continued, his voice growing more bitter, “I’m stuck living at home, doing odd jobs, while the girls are off getting degrees. And for what? To prove they can do it better than us? It’s a joke.”

Tom, another friend, nodded slowly, leaning in as if to share a secret. “You think that’s bad? I heard about Steve—remember him? His mom didn’t even let him apply anywhere. Apparently, she’s friends with that Betty Hawthorne woman. Now he’s being treated like a kid again. Can’t work, can’t do anything. She even enrolled him in some ‘finishing school’ for adult boys.”

The others exchanged uneasy glances, trying to wrap their heads around the idea. Liam’s grin faded slightly as he listened, the thought of being treated like a child at their age unsettling.

Tom continued, his voice lowering as if Steve’s mother might be listening. “They say he’s not even allowed to pick out his own clothes anymore. She’s got him dressed up like a little boy, taking him to some school where they ‘teach’ them how to behave properly. It’s messed up.”

Liam chuckled nervously, trying to shake off the unease. “Well, at least that’s not happening to us, right?” But his joke fell flat, the laughter that followed was half-hearted at best.

“Hey, Liam,” Jake said, his tone lightening slightly as he forced a grin. “You better watch out. I’ve seen your mom talking to some of those ladies at the grocery store. Maybe she’s planning to send you there next.”

The group burst into laughter, though the unease lingered just below the surface. Liam tried to join in, but the image of Steve in his “school” flashed in his mind. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of world they were stepping into.

As the night wore on, the boys continued to drink and joke, but the shadow of the conversation loomed over them. The future seemed less certain, and the thought of being forced back into a childhood they were just leaving behind left a bitter taste in Liam’s mouth.

The fourth  Birthday: 1990

The room was filled with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses as John sat at the edge of the table, a nervous smile on his face. He adjusted his tie, feeling the stiff fabric against his neck, as his girlfriend, soon-to-be wife, Amelia, reached over and squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"Cheer up, John," Amelia said with a teasing glint in her eye. "Today’s a big day. Not only are you turning twenty-one, but you’re officially graduating from finishing school. You should be proud."

John nodded, trying to mask his discomfort with a smile. He shifted in his seat, the padding of the pull-up beneath his trousers crinkling softly. He hoped no one noticed, but Amelia’s knowing smirk told him otherwise.

Amelia’s mother, sitting across from them, leaned in with a warm smile. "So, John, now that you’ve completed your training, are you ready to be the perfect little househusband?" Her tone was sweet, but there was a hint of condescension that made John’s cheeks flush.

"Y-Yes, ma’am," John stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He could feel the eyes of Amelia’s friends and family on him, their expressions a mix of amusement and expectation.

Amelia laughed softly, her hand brushing against his cheek. "Don’t be so nervous, sweetheart. It’s not like you’ll have much to worry about. I’ll be the one out there working hard while you keep things tidy at home. And, of course," she added with a playful wink, "I’ll be able to keep a closer eye on your little 'problem.'"

John’s blush deepened as he looked down at his lap, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth. He could still remember the first time he had to wear the pull-ups, something that started shortly after he began attending the finishing school for adult boys. What began as a rare, embarrassing accident had somehow turned into a regular occurrence, much to his shame.

"How are the pull-ups holding up, John?" one of Amelia’s friends, Sarah, asked with a grin. The group chuckled, and John felt his face grow even hotter.

"They’re fine," he mumbled, wishing he could disappear into the floor.

"Don’t worry, darling," Amelia said, her voice dripping with affection. "I’ll make sure to keep you well-stocked. We wouldn’t want any accidents now, would we?"

John’s mind drifted to his high school friends, wondering where they were now. Some of them were lucky—if you could call it that—allowed to attend college by their mothers. But others had it even worse than him. He’d heard stories of a few who were still in diapers, their mothers or wives deeming them too "immature" to handle anything more. He shuddered at the thought, grateful at least that he wasn’t one of them.

"Earth to John!" Amelia’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. She was holding up a slice of cake, a mischievous grin on her face. "Come on, birthday boy, make a wish."

John forced a smile as he blew out the candles, the room erupting into cheers. But even as they celebrated around him, he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that lingered in the back of his mind. This was his life now—a life of soft fabrics, condescending smiles, and constant supervision.

As the night wore on and the party continued, John found himself glancing at the clock more often than not, counting down the minutes until he could escape to the quiet solitude of their bedroom. There, at least, he could remove the mask of forced happiness and allow himself a moment of real, unfiltered thought.

But for now, he would smile, nod, and play the part that had been written for him—a dutiful, obedient househusband with a not-so-dry  pull-up.

The fifth  Birthday: 2000

Noah’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he tore into the brightly colored wrapping paper. The room was filled with the cheerful chatter of his girlfriend, Laura, her family, and their friends. Balloons in primary colors floated around the room, and a large banner that read “Happy 21st Birthday, Noah!” hung above the table, which was covered in a vibrant spread of cake, cookies, and juice boxes.

Laura leaned in close, her soft voice dripping with affection. “What did you get, sweetie?”

Noah beamed, holding up a box with a big picture of a building block set on the front. “It’s the castle one! The one I really wanted!”

Laura giggled, ruffling his hair playfully. “I knew you’d love it. You’ve been talking about it for weeks. It’s perfect for a big boy like you.”

Noah nodded eagerly, already imagining himself spending hours assembling the colorful bricks. The chatter around the room continued, as his friends and Laura’s family watched him with indulgent smiles. Next to him, Sven, one of Noah’s closest friends, was struggling to open a gift wrapped in shiny paper. Sven’s movements were a bit awkward, his fingers clumsy as he finally managed to reveal a plush toy—a large, cuddly bear with a bow around its neck.

“Look, Noah! Teddy!” Sven exclaimed, his voice high with excitement.

Noah grinned. “That’s awesome, Sven! Maybe Teddy can help you sleep better.”

Sven hugged the bear tightly, a slight crinkle of his diaper audible as he shifted in his seat. Laura noticed and raised an eyebrow at Noah’s girlfriend but said nothing, her attention returning to Noah as he reached for another present.

This one was from Laura herself. Noah carefully untied the ribbon and opened the box, revealing a set of colorful, oversized crayons and a thick coloring book filled with simple, cartoonish drawings. He gasped, eyes wide.

“Wow, Laura! These are the best! Can we color together later?”

Laura chuckled, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “Of course, we can. But first, we have to cut the cake and maybe play a game or two, okay?”

Noah nodded eagerly, his excitement palpable. But as he shifted in his seat, a familiar sensation reminded him of something he’d been trying to ignore. His pull-up was damp, the wetness spreading slightly as he moved. He bit his lip, unsure whether to tell Laura or not.

Laura, ever perceptive, noticed his slight hesitation. She tilted her head, her playful smile turning into one of knowing amusement. “Noah, is there something you want to tell me?”

Noah hesitated, glancing around nervously before shaking his head. “N-No, nothing.”

Laura’s eyes narrowed playfully, and she gently patted his bottom, feeling the squishiness of his pull-up. “Oh, Noah. What did we say about telling me when you’re wet?”

Noah blushed deeply, mumbling, “I’m sorry…”

She sighed, shaking her head with mock seriousness. “Maybe you should go back to diapers like Sven here. At least then, you wouldn’t have to worry keeping track whether your pull-up is soggy or not.”

Noah’s blush deepened as he glanced at Sven, who was happily playing with his new teddy bear, seemingly oblivious to the teasing.

“Please, Laura, I don’t want to go back to diapers,” he pleaded, his voice small.

Laura grinned, clearly enjoying the situation. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you stay in your pull-ups for now. But you’re going to run around without pants so I can keep an eye on them, okay?”

Noah nodded, relieved. “Okay…”

Laura gently guided Noah to a corner of the room, where a small, cushioned mat had been laid out for just this purpose. She patted the mat softly, signaling for Noah to lie down. He hesitated for a moment, glancing around the room, but most of the others were too engrossed in their activities to notice. He took a deep breath and laid down, his cheeks still pink with embarrassment.

"Good boy," Laura cooed, her voice soft and reassuring. She reached into the nearby bag and pulled out a fresh pull-up, decorated with bright, childish patterns. The sight of it made Noah squirm a little, but Laura’s warm smile kept him calm.

As Laura began to peel away the sides of his damp pull-up, Noah’s mind raced with self-conscious thoughts. He couldn’t help but feel a little exposed, lying there in just his t-shirt, while Laura carefully tended to him. But then, he glanced around the room again, and something shifted in his perspective.

Sven was still hugging his teddy bear, his diaper peeking out from beneath his shirt as he played. Across the room, another friend, Michael, was clearly in a similar situation, his pull-up waistband visible above his jeans as he bent down to pick up a toy. And then there was Daniel, standing nearby with a slight crinkle coming from his direction every time he moved.

Noah’s nervousness began to fade as he realized that he wasn’t alone in this. Most of the other guys at the party were in the same boat—either wearing pull-ups like him or even full diapers, depending on how their girlfriends or mommys thought they should be dressed.

He wasn’t the odd one out. In fact, this was normal now. The thought brought a small, comforting smile to his face.

Laura noticed his smile and gently tapped his nose with a playful finger. “There’s that smile I love. See? It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetie. Everyone here is in the same boat.”

Noah nodded, his earlier anxiety melting away. He let out a small sigh of relief as Laura finished wiping him clean, sliding the fresh pull-up under his bottom and carefully fastening it in place. The soft, crinkly material felt reassuring against his skin, a reminder that he was safe and taken care of.

“There we go, all snug and dry,” Laura said, pulling him to his feet. She smoothed out his t-shirt and gave his padded bottom a gentle pat. “Now, remember, no pants for the rest of the party. We don’t want any more little surprises, okay?”

Noah nodded, his smile widening. “Okay, Laura.”

“Good boy,” she praised, taking his hand. “Now, let’s go join the others. I think it’s time for cake!”

The sixth  Birthday: 2010

Oliver sat on the floor, surrounded by colorful wrapping paper and brightly decorated boxes. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he eagerly tore open the last of his birthday presents. The room was filled with the cheerful chatter of adults, mostly women, who watched him with fond smiles. His Mommy, Anna, stood beside him, her hand gently resting on his shoulder as she beamed down at him.

"Okay, sweetie," Anna said with a playful grin, holding a small, brightly wrapped package behind her back. "Mommy has one more surprise for you. Are you ready?"

Oliver’s eyes widened with anticipation, his small hands clapping together excitedly. "Yes, Mommy! I wanna see!"

Anna slowly revealed the package, holding it out in front of him. Oliver’s breath hitched as he saw the familiar package of pull-ups. The designs on them were colorful and childish, but to him, they signaled something big—something that made his heart race with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"These," Anna said with a tone of importance, "are your new big boy pull-ups. You’re going to start preschool soon, and these will help you learn how to be a big boy, just like we talked about."

Oliver stared at the pull-ups, his emotions a swirl of confusion and pride. He’d always been in diapers, just like his friends, and this felt like a huge step. He wasn’t sure if he was ready, but the way Anna looked at him—so proud and loving—made him want to try.

Just then, Theo, one of his best friends, waddled over, his thick diaper crinkling loudly with every step. He peeked over Oliver’s shoulder, his eyes growing wide as he saw the pull-ups.

"Wow, Oliver!" Theo exclaimed, his voice a mix of awe and envy. "You’re gonna wear those?"

Oliver nodded slowly, his fingers brushing against the soft material of the pull-ups. "Yeah… Mommy says I’m gonna be a big boy now."

Before Oliver could say anything else, Theo’s mommy, Cleo, joined them, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She ruffled Theo’s hair affectionately before looking at Anna with a smirk.

"Oh, Anna," Cleo teased, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "You’ve really outdone yourself. Pull-ups for Oliver? You’re so brave."

Anna chuckled, her hand still resting on Oliver’s shoulder. "Well, he’s ready for the next step. It’s time for him to start learning more, and this is just part of that."

Cleo raised an eyebrow, glancing down at Theo, who was still staring longingly at the pull-ups. "Don’t even think about it, Theo. You’re staying in diapers, where you belong. No big boy pull-ups for you, not ever."

Theo’s face fell, his lower lip jutting out in a pout. "But, Mommy…"

"No buts," Cleo interrupted, her tone firm but loving. "You’re my baby, and babies wear diapers. End of discussion."

Oliver watched the exchange, a small smile playing on his lips. The nervousness he’d felt earlier was slowly being replaced by a sense of pride. He wasn’t just a baby anymore—he was going to preschool, and he was going to be a big boy, just like Mommy said.

The seventh  Birthday: 2020

Julian stood in the center of the living room, his shortalls snug around his thick diaper, his bright eyes full of curiosity as he watched Linda, his Mommy, prepare for the game. The room was decorated with colorful streamers, balloons, and banners that read, "Happy 21st Birthday, Julian!" in big, bold letters. The atmosphere was cheerful, filled with the sounds of laughter and playful chatter from the women and a few other boys in similar outfits.

"Alright, boys, gather around!" Linda called out, clapping her hands to get their attention. Julian toddled over, his shortalls making a soft crinkling sound with each step, joining the line with the other boys. Their expressions were a mix of excitement and innocence, none of them having the slightest clue of what was about to happen.

"Okay, sweeties, we're going to play a little game," Linda announced, her voice full of warmth. "You’re all going to guess if your diapers are clean, a little bit wet, soggy, or messy. Who wants to go first?"

Julian raised his hand eagerly, bouncing on his toes. “Me, me!” he chirped, his enthusiasm infectious. Linda smiled and beckoned him forward, placing him at the head of the line.

“Alright, Julian,” she said with a playful grin. “What do you think? Is your diaper dry, just a bit wet, soggy, or maybe a little messy?”

Julian furrowed his brow, deep in thought, before breaking into a wide grin. “I think… it’s dry!” he declared confidently.

Linda chuckled softly. “Let’s see if you’re right!” With a swift motion, she unbuttoned the snaps of his shortalls, letting them drop to the floor. The room filled with soft giggles as Julian’s thick, very soggy diaper came into view. The once-white material was now a darkened shade, sagging slightly from the weight.

“Ooops! Looks like someone was a bit off,” Linda teased gently, ruffling his hair. “That’s not just a little wet, honey, that’s definitely soggy.”

Julian giggled, not the least bit embarrassed. To him, it was all part of the fun. He waddled back to his spot, the crinkling of his diaper now even louder without the cover of his shortalls.

One by one, the other boys followed suit, each guessing their diaper’s condition with varying degrees of confidence. Each time, the result was the same—none of the boys got it right. Some thought they were dry when they were a little wet, others guessed soggy when they were still dry, and a few didn’t realize their diapers were messy until the telltale scent gave them away.

The girls watching couldn’t help but giggle and make light-hearted comments. “They’re so adorable, trying so hard!” one of them said, earning nods of agreement.

“None of them got it right,” another added, shaking her head with amusement. “But really, we can’t expect them to know the difference, can we?”

When it was all over, Linda looked over at the group of boys, most of them standing in their wet or soggy diapers, completely unfazed by their incorrect guesses. “Alright, let’s get the messy boys changed first,” she said, guiding the ones with full diapers toward the changing area.

As she changed Julian’s friend, who had guessed dry but was actually quite messy, she remarked casually, “You know, my big brother Oliver got pull-ups for his 21st birthday.” She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Can you believe that? The idea of any of you boys being ready for pull-ups is just silly. Poor Ollie wasn’t ready either… he ended up back in diapers pretty quick and went back to daycare. Honestly, pull-ups for a 21-year-old? What were they thinking?”

Another Mommy, who was nearby, chimed in. “Times have changed, that’s for sure. In fact, did you hear that the preschool is closing at the end of the year? Not enough boys being signed up. But the daycare is expanding to take over the location.”

Linda nodded. “It makes sense. Most boys just aren’t ready for preschool these days. Daycare is a much better fit.”

There were nods of understanding around the room. It wasn’t surprising—after all, boys like Julian and his friends weren’t exactly progressing towards any form of independence. If anything, the world seemed to be moving in the opposite direction, with more care facilities opening to accommodate their needs.

As the game continued, the boys resumed playing, unaware of the changes being discussed. For Julian and the others, today was just another fun day, filled with games, laughter, and the comfort of knowing they were cared for and loved, no matter what.

The eighth  Birthday: 2030

The room was a explosion of pastel balloons, plush toys, and brightly colored decorations. In the center of it all, Steve sat on a soft play mat, giggling as he tried to stack a set of large, foam blocks. His chubby fingers fumbled with the blocks, and he babbled incoherently, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. He was dressed in an adorable onesie, the snap buttons at the crotch slightly strained by the thick diaper underneath.

Nearby, his uncle John watched with a mix of disbelief and resignation. At 60 years old, John had seen the world change in ways he never could have imagined. He took a sip of his drink, shaking his head slightly as he glanced over at Amelia, his wife. She caught his eye and gave him a small, knowing smile.

“It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?” Amelia said softly, moving to stand beside him. Her eyes were on Steve, who had just knocked over the stack of blocks, clapping his hands with glee at the mess he’d made. “To think that boys like Steve are the norm now…”

John nodded, his gaze lingering on his nephew. “Yeah, it’s like they’re babies forever. I remember when boys were expected to grow up, to take on responsibilities. But now…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the scene before them.

Amelia sighed, a wistful smile tugging at her lips. “It wasn’t that long ago when you were the one celebrating your 21st birthday, and I was making sure you were staying out of trouble. But even then, the world was starting to change, wasn’t it?”

John chuckled softly, remembering his own 21st birthday. “I suppose so. Finishing school, learning how to be a good househusband… it all seemed so strange at the time. And now look at us.” He paused, watching as Steve crawled over to a toy train, his diaper crinkling loudly with every movement. “Boys today don’t even get that far.”

Amelia nodded, her eyes softening as she watched Steve. “They don’t. And honestly, they’re happier for it. No stress, no expectations. Just care and comfort.”

As if on cue, one of Steve’s daycare friends, Thomas, toddled over. Unlike Steve, who was still very much a baby in every way, Thomas was more like a toddler. He wobbled on his feet, his pacifier bobbing in his mouth as he approached Steve and offered him a plush bear. Steve’s eyes lit up, and he took the bear, hugging it tightly as he babbled something incomprehensible.

“They’re so sweet together,” Amelia remarked, her voice full of warmth. “They don’t have a care in the world.”

John watched the boys for a moment, then turned back to Amelia. “Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if things hadn’t changed so much?”

Amelia smiled, a touch of nostalgia in her eyes. “Sometimes. But then I look at Steve and Thomas, at how content they are, and I think… maybe this is how it was always meant to be. Boys don’t need to grow up the way they used to. They can just… be.”

John nodded slowly, considering her words. “Maybe you’re right. It’s just… it’s hard to wrap my head around it sometimes.”

Amelia reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “I know. But the world has changed, John. And I think it’s for the better.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden commotion on the play mat. Steve had managed to pull himself up to a sitting position, only to fall back onto his bottom with a loud crinkle. He looked around in surprise, then burst into giggles, clearly enjoying the sound.

Amelia laughed softly, shaking her head. “He’s such a little goofball.”

John couldn’t help but smile as well. “Yeah, he is.”

As the party continued, with the other boys playing happily around them, John found himself slowly coming to terms with the world they now lived in. It wasn’t the same as the one he grew up in, but maybe that was okay. Maybe, just maybe, this new world was exactly what boys like Steve needed.

And as he watched his nephew babble and crawl, surrounded by love and care, he realized that perhaps Amelia was right. This was their world now—a world where boys could stay innocent, carefree, and cherished for as long as they needed.

And that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[regressionschool]

trying to be a big girl again

Odette lay stretched across the chaise lounge, her diaper crinkling softly with every little wiggle of her hips. She was playing the part of what she thought was a sultry vixen, her blonde braid draped over one shoulder as she popped her thumb into her mouth with a deliberate, exaggerated pout. Her blue eyes sparkled mischievously as she tilted her head, clearly hoping to draw you in. But all you could do was smile.

Far from seductive, Odette was absolutely adorable. Her attempts at "grown-up allure" only served to remind you how deeply she embraced her little side. The way her feet wiggled, her toes curling slightly as she tried to arch her back, made her look less like a temptress and more like a playful toddler pretending to be grown-up for the first time. “Are you trying to be a big girl again, my little one?” you asked softly, walking over to her with a warm smile. Your tone was light, teasing, but gentle enough to keep her in her little space.

Odette immediately flushed, a light pink spreading across her cheeks. She sucked harder on her thumb, her eyes flicking away as her act crumbled into a bashful grin. “M-maybe,” she murmured around her thumb, though her voice betrayed her—timid, small, and so utterly precious. You crouched down beside her, brushing a stray wisp of hair from her face. “Oh, sweetheart,” you cooed, your voice dripping with affection. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know. My little baby girl just wants to feel cute and cozy tonight, doesn’t she?” Odette’s cheeks burned brighter as she pulled her thumb from her mouth with a soft pop. “Nuh-uh,” she huffed, trying to cross her arms, but the crinkle of her diaper and the shy giggle that escaped her gave her away. “I was being grown-up!”

Your smile widened as you leaned closer, gently patting the front of her crinkly diaper, making Odette squirm and giggle. “Oh, I see,” you teased playfully. “If you’re such a big girl, then why do you always sleep in your crib, hmm?” You paused with a knowing look. “Besides, your mommy and I have some quiet, grown-up time planned, so it’s only right for my little princess to be snug in her crib where she belongs.”

Odette’s pout deepened instantly, her bottom lip sticking out adorably as she glared up at you. “But that’s not fair!” she whined, kicking her legs in protest, the motion causing the diaper to crinkle noisily. “Why can’t I stay with you and Mommy? I’ll be good, I promise!” Her cheeks were now a furious pink, her little act of rebellion only amplifying her childish charm. But the truth was written all over her face—she didn’t want to miss out, and being sent to her crib while the grown-ups had their fun was almost too much for her to bear.

You gave her a soft but firm look, standing up and pointing toward the nearby corner of the room. “Oh, little one,” you said gently, “I think someone’s getting a bit too fussy for her own good. Maybe a quick timeout in the corner will help you settle down and remember who’s in charge here.” Odette’s eyes widened, her lip trembling as she sat up, her hands clutching the soft fabric of the chaise lounge. “Nooo,” she whimpered, her voice cracking with a mix of indignation and resignation. But when you crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow, she knew she’d lost. With a dramatic huff and an exaggerated waddle, Odette slid off the lounge and shuffled toward the corner, her diaper crinkling all the way, muttering under her breath about how “unfair” it all was.

[regressionschool]

Sitting on the soft, fluffy rug, Emma absentmindedly colored with a bright green crayon, humming around the pacifier in her mouth. She was lost in her little world of scribbles and doodles, her face adorably scrunched in concentration. But as she shifted her weight, something felt... off. Her nose wrinkled, and a faint look of confusion crossed her face as she wiggled her bottom a bit, feeling the unexpected heaviness beneath her.

Emma’s eyes widened, a look of realization dawning. “Daddy!” she whined around her paci, looking over her shoulder at him with an accusatory glare. As if somehow, he was responsible for the sudden mushy feeling in her diaper.

Daddy, who was sitting nearby with a soft smile, raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, stifling a chuckle at her pouty expression. “Well, well, princess,” he said, slowly standing up and walking over. “What’s that face for, hmm?”

Emma just huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, her bottom lip jutting out. “This is your fault!” she declared, kicking one foot out petulantly.

He crouched down to her level, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. “Oh, it’s my fault, is it?” he asked gently, as though entertaining a very serious accusation. “You’re saying Daddy made you go potty in your diaper?”

She wriggled again, clearly uncomfortable yet too stubborn to admit it. “Mhm! You… you did something, Daddy!” Her cheeks turned a bit pink, but she held her ground, shooting him an indignant look.

Daddy chuckled softly, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Oh, sweetheart. Do you remember when Daddy signed you up for that ‘special’ potty training class?” he asked, his voice soothing yet a little playful.

Emma’s pout softened slightly as she thought back, her brow furrowing in confusion. “The… the one where they told me I didn’t have to worry about the potty anymore?” she asked, tilting her head.

He nodded, brushing his fingers through her hair. “That’s the one. They helped you feel comfortable letting go whenever you needed to. No more big girl worries about potty breaks.” He smiled, watching as the realization started to sink in.

Emma’s eyes grew wide again, but this time with a bit of embarrassment. “S-So… that’s why I can’t… hold it?” Her tone shifted, a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

“That’s right, princess. Daddy wanted you to be free to play and have fun without having to worry about grown-up things,” he explained softly. “Now, you don’t have to think about it at all. Just like a real little girl.”

Her cheeks turned even redder, though a small, reluctant smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “So… I’m really little, huh?” she murmured, glancing down shyly.

“Very little,” he agreed with a warm smile, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “And that’s why Daddy’s here to make sure you’re always comfy. Even if that means cleaning up some messy surprises.”

Emma finally cracked a smile, her bratty demeanor melting away as she reached out for a hug. “Thank you, Daddy… even if it’s still kinda your fault,” she added with a mischievous glint in her eye, giggling as he wrapped her up in his arms.

Daddy just chuckled, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Always, princess. Now, let’s get you fresh and clean, alright?”

[regressionschool]

A Quiet Afternoon at Home

The sun streamed through the window of the cozy living room, bathing the space in warm, golden light. Kim sat perched in her highchair, legs swinging idly in the air, her bunny-covered footie pajamas crinkling softly with every move. A large pink bib, embroidered with "Daddy's Little Angel," hung around her neck, slightly smeared with the remnants of mashed bananas from her lunch.

Her expression was one of mild distraction, lips pursed around her thumb, eyes fixed on the colorful cartoons playing on the TV. But the occasional wiggle of her bottom betrayed something else entirely—an unconscious habit born of her complete lack of control. Her diaper, already swollen from the morning, gave a faint squish as she shifted in place, unaware of the telltale signs of what had just happened.

“Kimmy,” called a warm, sing-song voice from the kitchen. It was Sarah, her caretaker, carrying a sippy cup filled with apple juice. She approached with a practiced patience, as if dealing with a little one who had long accepted her place. “Did you make another present for me?”

Kim blinked at her, thumb slipping from her mouth with a soft pop. Her cheeks flushed pink, a mix of embarrassment and resignation crossing her face. She didn’t need to answer; the sagging weight of her diaper said it all. Sarah gave her a knowing smile, setting the sippy cup down on the tray of the highchair.

“Aww, it’s okay, sweetie,” Sarah cooed, reaching over to tousle Kim’s blonde hair, now tied into two childish pigtails. “That’s what your diapers are for, isn’t it? You tried to hold it, didn’t you?”

Kim nodded faintly, her lower lip quivering. “I-I felt it, but…” She trailed off, glancing down at her lap, where her hands nervously fidgeted with the edge of her pajama sleeves. “It just… happened.”

“It always does, baby,” Sarah said softly, crouching down so she was at eye level. “You’re just not big enough to make it to the potty, are you?”

Kim bit her lip, tears threatening to spill. She didn’t protest, didn’t argue, because deep down she knew Sarah was right. She’d been through regression school, where every ounce of her adult independence had been carefully stripped away, replaced with the routines and instincts of a toddler who might think about potty training but could never follow through. The smallest flutter in her tummy was always too late, her body betraying her before she even realized it was happening.

Sarah leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Kim’s forehead. “No tears, sweetheart. Mommy’s here to keep you dry and happy. Well… maybe not dry,” she teased with a light chuckle. “But happy, for sure.”

Kim managed a small smile, the corners of her lips twitching upward despite herself. She clung to the comforting reassurance in Sarah’s voice, even as her soggy diaper grew cold and clammy against her skin. This was her normal now—no responsibility, no expectations beyond simply being the little girl she’d been molded into.

“Now,” Sarah said, lifting Kim from the highchair with ease, her arms cradling her protectively. “Let’s get you cleaned up and into a nice fresh diaper, okay? Then maybe we’ll do some coloring. Or would my little princess like to play tea party instead?”

Kim wrapped her arms around Sarah’s neck, resting her head on her caretaker’s shoulder. She didn’t answer right away, simply snuggling closer as Sarah carried her to the nursery. The familiar scent of baby powder and plush toys greeted them as they entered, the pastel pink walls and crib a constant reminder of just how far Kim had regressed.

As Sarah laid her down on the changing table, Kim let out a small sigh, her thumb creeping back into her mouth. She didn’t fight it, didn’t squirm. There was no point. Her future was as padded and protected as the diapers she’d never leave behind.

For Kim, this was forever. She’d always be the toddler stuck on the cusp of potty training but never quite making it. And, as Sarah lovingly taped up a fresh, crinkly diaper around her waist, Kim couldn’t deny the tiniest spark of comfort in that reality.

[regressionschool]

James lounges on his couch, scrolling through his phone aimlessly. Suddenly, his screen lights up with a new message notification from Star. His heart skips a beat, and he quickly opens it, his mind racing. What could she possibly want to talk about at this hour?

He opens the message and freezes when he sees the attached image.

Star’s Message: “Is this what you’re into? 😉 I saw the kinda accounts you follow on social media...”

James’s mouth goes dry as he stares at the picture. It’s unmistakable: Star, in a soft gray t-shirt, standing with her hip cocked, showing off a very unmistakable, snug diaper around her waist. The casual confidence in her pose combined with the hint of playfulness in her message sends a flurry of emotions through him. First, there’s panic—did she actually go through his social media? Has she figured out his secret?

But as he reads the message again, the nerves fade a little, replaced by a warm, growing curiosity and excitement. He starts typing back, hesitates, erases it, and finally settles on something simple.

James: “Um… haha, uh, yeah, I didn’t think you’d notice that…”

He hits send and immediately cringes. Way to play it cool, James.

But to his surprise, Star replies almost instantly.

Star: “Oh, I noticed. 😏 And I wanted to see if you were really into it, or if it’s just a curiosity.”

James swallows, his heart pounding. He’s thought about scenarios like this before, but never did he imagine that Star—his actual crush—would be the one bringing it up. He gathers his nerves and responds, trying to keep it cool.

James: “I mean, yeah… it’s definitely something I’m into. I didn’t expect you to be, though…”

There’s a pause, and he can practically feel his heart in his throat as he watches the “typing” indicator blink. Then her message pops up.

Star: “Well, I’m not saying it’s an everyday thing for me… but I could be convinced. 😉 Maybe we could… I don’t know, set up a little ‘playdate’ at your place?”

James’s face flushes with excitement. He types back eagerly, almost dropping his phone in the process.

James: "Yeah, absolutely! You can come over anytime. I’d… love that.”

Star’s reply is instant, almost as if she’d been waiting for that answer.

Star: "Tomorrow night, then? I’ll bring a few surprises. 😉"

James stares at his phone, hardly believing what just happened. He replies quickly, setting the time, then drops the phone onto his chest, staring at the ceiling with a grin. Tomorrow night was going to be a night he’d never forget.

Is this what you’re into? I saw the kinda accounts you follow on social media.

[regressionschool]

Panties

Sofia sat on the bed; arms crossed as she gave Noah her best pleading look. She’d been trying for the past ten minutes to convince him to let her out of her diaper, just for tonight. There was a party she really wanted to go to, and the thought of being the only one padded there made her cheeks flush. “Come on, Noah,” she said, her voice bordering on a whine. “It’s just one night. I’ll be good, I promise! Just let me wear, you know… normal underwear?”

Noah raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You know the rule, Sofia,” he said, folding his arms in that infuriatingly calm way. “Diapers keep my little girl safe. I’d hate to have any... incidents at the party.” Sofia’s cheeks burned hotter. “There won’t be any incidents! I’ll go to the bathroom, like a normal person,” she huffed. “I don’t need the diaper tonight.”

Noah smiled, almost indulgently, as if he was humoring a toddler’s tantrum. “Well… if you can show me that you’re really a ‘big girl,’ maybe I’d consider it. But there’s one little condition.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What condition?” “You have to mess your diaper right now. Then, maybe… maybe I’ll let you wear panties to the party.” Sofia’s face twisted in disbelief. “Noah! You know I hate… doing that. Can’t you just… I don’t know, trust me?” Noah shrugged, giving her an innocent look. “That’s the deal. Show me you can handle it, and I’ll think about it.”

Sofia pouted, her fingers fidgeting as she thought it over. She really didn’t want to do that in her diaper; it was embarrassing, uncomfortable, and—well, she’d always tried to avoid it. But the thought of walking around the party, crinkling with every step, was even worse. After a few moments of agonizing back-and-forth in her head, she sighed. “Fine,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. She shifted awkwardly, closing her eyes as she tried to focus. It took a bit of effort, but eventually, she felt the warmth spreading as she released, her face turning crimson.

Noah watched her with a smug smile, nodding approvingly. “Good girl,” he said, his voice annoyingly sweet. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She shot him a glare. “There. I did it. Now give me my panties.”

Noah nodded, strolling over to the dresser and pulling out a pair of lacy panties. He walked back over, holding them up for her to see. She reached for them, but he held them just out of reach. “Patience, Sofia,” he said, grinning as he crouched down in front of her. Then, to her absolute horror, he slipped the panties over her messy diaper, gently pulling them up so they fit snugly over the bulky, now-soiled padding. “Noah!” Sofia yelped, feeling the dampness squish slightly as he adjusted the waistband. “This isn’t what we agreed on!”

He chuckled, patting her thigh. “Oh, I never said I’d take the diaper off, sweetie. I just said you could wear panties. And now you are!” He looked far too pleased with himself. Sofia groaned, squirming as the damp bulk pressed against her uncomfortably. “You tricked me,” she pouted, crossing her arms with a sulk. He gave her a playful grin, tapping her on the nose. “Guess my little girl isn’t quite ready for big-girl panties after all.”

[regressionschool]

As Tom sat cross-legged on the cozy living room sofa, he struggled to focus on the knitting needles in his hands. Yarn bunched between his fingers, his brows furrowed in concentration. His “teacher” for the afternoon, Sarah, sat beside him with a warm, patient smile on her face, gently guiding his movements.

“See, it’s simple,” Sarah cooed, placing a soft hand over his to help steer the needles in the right direction. “You just loop the yarn around here… then bring the needle through—oh, no, not like that, Tommy. You’re tangling it all up again.”

Tom clenched his jaw and huffed, his face scrunching with frustration. He’d been trying for what felt like ages, but each time he thought he’d figured it out, his fingers seemed to betray him, twisting the yarn into knots rather than the neat rows Sarah was expecting.

“Oh, for crying out loud, Sarah!” he grumbled, dropping the needles into his lap with a scowl. “This isn’t working. I’m just… I’m just not made for this silly stuff.” His cheeks were flushed, and he couldn’t help but cross his arms like a petulant child.

Sarah chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Patience, Tommy, patience,” she replied, her voice dripping with a patronizing sweetness. “Knitting takes focus, and maybe you’re just getting too worked up. Let’s try again, hmm?”

Tom frowned, feeling his pride sting under her gentle, almost mocking tone. He begrudgingly picked up the needles again, trying once more. He barely noticed as Sarah’s hand drifted to his lap, prodding the thick padding of his diaper. He’d forgotten about it, mostly…until now, that is.

With a distracted sigh, he muttered, “I don’t need you fussing over my—hey, are you even listening?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Sarah cooed, pressing her hand gently over his diaper. “You didn’t even notice, did you?”

“Notice what?” Tom barked, the heat in his cheeks intensifying. But as he glanced down, he froze, realizing his diaper was now visibly swollen, a faint discoloration spreading through the material. He must’ve had an accident…again. Right here, in the middle of trying to concentrate.

A surge of frustration and embarrassment washed over him. “Are you kidding me?” he blurted, practically tearing the needles from his hands in exasperation. “This… this stupid knitting and now this—how am I supposed to concentrate with you hovering over me like…like I’m a child!”

Sarah’s eyes softened, a gentle amusement dancing behind them. She placed her hand on his shoulder, giving him a soothing pat. “Tommy, it’s okay,” she said softly, her tone just shy of condescending. “I think someone’s a little cranky because he needs a change.”

Tom clenched his fists, his face burning red. “I’m not cranky, I just—I don’t need a change, I don’t need—”

“Shh, shh,” Sarah cooed, gently rubbing his back. “You’re all worked up, aren’t you?” She picked up a pacifier from the table and, without waiting for permission, popped it between his lips.

Tom’s protests were muffled instantly as Sarah smiled, brushing a hand through his hair. “See, that’s better, isn’t it?” she murmured, her voice as soft and reassuring as it was patronizing. “Now, let’s get you all comfy and cleaned up. Maybe we’ll try knitting again once you’re feeling more like yourself, hmm?”

Tom’s cheeks were hot, his anger fizzling as Sarah continued to pet his hair soothingly. As much as he wanted to keep pouting, the gentle touch of her hand on his back and the steady rhythm of her words seemed to lull him into a strange calm.

[regressionschool]

The dim light of the bedroom barely illuminated his flushed face as he shifted uncomfortably in his thick, crinkly diaper. He had asked, almost timidly, for a fresh one before bed, but his wife—no, his "Mommy," as she insisted—had other plans.

"Really, sweetheart?" she murmured, her voice playful as she leaned over him, her fingers gently pressing against the soft bulk between his legs. "You think you need a new diaper already?" Her hand squeezed the front, feeling the slight dampness inside. "Hmm, I don't think so."

He squirmed slightly, embarrassed by how much she was in control of this, yet oddly comforted by it, too. "But... I thought..." he stammered, unable to finish the sentence, his cheeks burning as he avoided her gaze.

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a soft, teasing smile. "Oh no, little boys who like to fill their pampers don't get to decide when they get changed." Her tone was sweet, almost patronizing, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

Her fingers pressed into the padding again, testing its limits. "You see, this diaper can take a lot more, darling." She gave the front of it another firm squeeze, making him gasp as the pressure reminded him of how snug and thick it felt against him. "You're not even close to needing a change yet. In fact, I think you might be just trying to get out of bedtime a little longer."

He shifted again, the diaper crinkling loudly in response. "But Mommy, it feels..."

"Shh," she interrupted, placing a finger on his lips with a smirk. "No more arguing. This little pamper of yours still has plenty of room for you to use it. So you can either be a good boy and wait... or maybe I should give you a reason to need a fresh one."

Her teasing words made him bite his lip, knowing full well she wasn't going to let him out of this diaper until it was thoroughly used. "Now," she added, tapping the front of his diaper with a playful pat, "off to bed with you, baby boy. Mommy knows best."

Da geht noch was😇✌️🤩 gute nacht ihr liebe!

[regressionschool]

In the cozy living room filled with soft toys and pastel blankets, Stephanie knelt on the rug, coloring in her new picture book. She wore a light pink top and a thick, crinkly diaper, her pigtails bouncing as she concentrated on her doodles. Across from her, in a soft armchair, her foster mother, Ms. Harper, sat calmly, watching over her with a gentle, unwavering gaze.

"Stephanie," Ms. Harper’s voice was soft but firm, like a warm blanket with weight. "Are you being a good girl today?"

Stephanie paused, glancing up with a pout. “I don’t… I don’t want to be here,” she mumbled, though her voice held a hint of uncertainty. In the past, that kind of defiance might have led to an argument or sulking. But something felt different now, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Ms. Harper just smiled, leaning forward slightly. “Sweetheart, there’s no need to argue. That’s for big kids, and you’re not a big kid anymore, are you?”

Stephanie’s cheeks flushed, her eyes darting down to the crinkling diaper around her waist. She shifted uncomfortably, feeling its thickness—a constant reminder of how much things had changed. A week ago, she might have protested, argued her case, demanded to be treated as an adult. But now, she hesitated, as if the words were slipping further and further away, like sand through her fingers.

“I… I don’t know,” she whispered, fidgeting with her crayons, her voice sounding much smaller than before.

Ms. Harper nodded approvingly. “Good girl. You’re learning,” she said warmly. “All those big worries are behind you now, aren’t they?” She picked up a picture book and began flipping through it, her movements calm and assured. “All you have to focus on now is being my sweet little Stephanie.”

A part of Stephanie wanted to resist, to insist that she didn’t need diapers or playtime or someone making all her decisions for her. But each time she tried to summon the courage, the thoughts just… slipped away, leaving her feeling strangely safe, as if the struggle had been lifted off her shoulders. She looked up at Ms. Harper with wide, uncertain eyes.

Ms. Harper caught the look and smiled. “You’re adjusting so well, darling. A week ago, you would have been over my lap,” she remarked, gently brushing a stray hair from Stephanie’s face. “But now, you’re just my happy, obedient little girl.”

Stephanie opened her mouth to respond, but no protest came out. Instead, she felt a small, reluctant smile tug at her lips, as if her mind was beginning to accept what her heart was still catching up to. Her body relaxed, and she shifted her focus back to her crayons, comforted by the simplicity of her new world.

“Good girl,” Ms. Harper murmured approvingly, watching as Stephanie settled back down, absorbed in her coloring once again. “This is where you belong, sweetheart. No more big girl worries, no more choices. Just you, me, and your new, little life.”

Stephanie

[regressionschool]

little women: amazing adventures

The playground is alive with the sounds of giggles and the joyful shrieks of Littles, their colorful clothes and padded bottoms dotting the landscape like a field of bouncing bubbles. It’s attached to the new Littles daycare, a space designed for their needs—soft, colorful, and filled with all the fun a Little could want. The sight brings a smile to your face as you sit on a nearby bench, watching over Valerie and Anna as they scamper around, climbing, sliding, and chasing each other across the play structures.

Valerie, dressed in her adorable green overalls and a bright yellow T-shirt with a little cartoon pig on it, is perched at the top of a play structure, her legs swinging freely as she pops her pacifier in and out of her mouth. Her diaper, visible beneath the loose fabric of her overalls, crinkles with each movement, the playful prints peeking out every time she shifts. You can't help but notice how carefree she looks, fully immersed in her Little space, unburdened by the concerns of the adult world.

Beside her, Anna is equally playful, though her plain white diaper looks a bit more clinical compared to Valerie’s vibrant one. It stands out against her pink dress, which rides up as she climbs and tumbles through the playground. Her pacifier bounces slightly from the strap clipped to her shirt. As you watch them giggle and slide down together, you notice more Littles scattered around, their pacifiers bobbing in their mouths as they toddle and waddle, their diapers clearly visible beneath shorts, dresses, and rompers. A few of them have even shed their pants entirely, too caught up in their games to bother with modesty.

A few moments later, you see Valerie and Anna hand in hand, toddling toward you. Valerie’s face is determined, while Anna looks shy, her steps smaller, her face hidden behind her paci.  “Hey there, girls,” you greet them, smiling down at their adorably mismatched pair. Valerie looks up at you and tugs Anna closer, her voice soft but teasing. “Anna’s messy,” she whispers, though loud enough for you to hear. Anna’s cheeks flush a deeper pink behind her pacifier, but she stays quiet, clearly embarrassed.

You raise an eyebrow, glancing over at the daycare, wondering why they came to you instead of Anna’s caregiver. But then it hits you—Anna’s eyes keep flicking to Valerie’s colorful diaper, her plain white one now crinkling as she shifts awkwardly from foot to foot. You chuckle softly. “I think I see what’s going on here,” you say with a grin, bending down to their level. “Anna, do you want one of Valerie’s fun diapers?” Anna nods, her cheeks still rosy, but there’s a sparkle of excitement in her eyes. Valerie giggles, clearly pleased with her role in helping her friend get a fresh, cute change.

“Well, alright then,” you say with a playful sigh, pulling out two fresh diapers from the bag, one with bright animals for Valerie and another with cute stars for Anna. “Let’s get you both cleaned up.”

A few minutes later, the girls are both in fresh, colorful diapers, their old ones discarded into the trash nearby. Their pants, however, are now sitting in your lap—both of them had decided, without a word, that they were much more comfortable without them. Valerie gives you a cheeky grin, her pacifier bobbing slightly as she adjusts the waistband of her diaper, clearly proud of her choice.

“Feel better, Anna?” you ask, giving the shy girl a warm smile as she peeks down at her new diaper, the bright prints now decorating her waist. Anna nods enthusiastically, finally letting out a giggle. “Much better,” she murmurs behind her paci. “Good,” you say, patting both of their heads. “Now go on, go play.” The two of them run off, giggling and waddling back to the playground, their bare legs and colorful diapers on full display as they rejoin the fun, leaving you with their little discarded pants and a heart full of warmth. Watching them scamper around, you can’t help but smile at how perfect the moment feels—just Littles being Littles, without a care in the world.

[regressionschool]

The corporate boardroom was all polished chrome, sleek wood, and well-dressed professionals sitting attentively as Maya stood before them, flipping through slides on the screen behind her. Her voice was steady, clear, and authoritative, drawing nods and murmurs of approval from several of the senior board members.

“Now, if you look at the Q3 projections,” Maya continued, gesturing to the chart with a steady hand, “you’ll see our growth potential really peaks in the holiday quarter. I’ve adjusted the strategy to—”

She paused, mid-sentence, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. The smallest trickle had just started to soak into the soft fabric of her pull-up, an increasingly familiar feeling. She’d grown used to it during her busy workdays, where stepping out for a break was often the last thing on her mind. And right now, with all eyes on her, the tiny trickle became a small stream, her pull-up warming, swelling subtly, hidden but noticeable to her. Maya took a controlled breath, keeping her composure as her pull-up grew wet.

“The strategy should help us capitalize on current market trends…” She forced herself to keep going, gesturing to the data behind her, even as she felt the soft garment expand against her. Maya kept her voice steady and didn’t skip a beat, but as she scanned the room, she couldn’t help noticing the slight shifting of a few of her colleagues in their seats. Had she caught the faintest whiff of something…? Her confidence rose, just a bit, as she realized she wasn’t the only one there with a little secret.

As Maya continued her presentation, her mind briefly wandered to the board members sitting around the table, each wearing an expression of focused interest, all eyes on her. But one or two of them, the ones in their seats just behind her, seemed slightly uncomfortable. She thought she saw a little wiggle here and there, like they were maybe trying to hide something… and that faint scent in the air made her wonder. She bit her lip, refocusing on her own slide and pushing away any thought of how wet she was becoming. It was, after all, her job to finish the presentation first.

After another fifteen minutes of speaking, Maya wrapped up her final point, ending her presentation with a confident nod. The board members clapped politely, a few exchanging pleased glances with her, clearly impressed.

“Excellent work, Maya,” Mr. Thompson, the CEO, nodded approvingly. “Really stellar. I think you’ve positioned us perfectly for Q4. Let’s talk further about these adjustments next week.”

Maya gave a polite nod, resisting the urge to shift in place as her wet pull-up felt heavy and slightly squishy. “Thank you, Mr. Thompson,” she said, clasping her hands professionally in front of her. “I look forward to it.”

The meeting adjourned, and Maya made her way back to her office to collect her things. By now, her pull-up had cooled against her, and she felt it sag just a bit as she walked. She gave herself a small, confident smile as she slipped into her coat and gathered her laptop, ready to head home to her husband, Evan.

Later that evening, Maya finally relaxed as she closed the front door behind her. She set her things down and called out, “Evan, I’m home!”

Evan appeared around the corner, smiling warmly. “Hey, love. How was the presentation?”

Maya smiled back, letting out a little sigh. “It went well. The board seemed pleased.”

“Of course they were,” he said, giving her a hug and a gentle squeeze. “They’re lucky to have you.”

As they embraced, Evan’s hand slid down her back, landing softly on her waist. He paused, his hand lingering, then gave her a light pat just below the small of her back. His expression shifted into one of quiet curiosity. “Maya… are you wearing…?”

Maya blushed, her eyes meeting his with a knowing sparkle. “Mmhmm,” she said softly, biting her lip playfully. She took a small step back, unbuttoning her coat and letting it fall to the side. As she shimmied out of her skirt, the unmistakable bulge of her soggy pull-up peeked out.

Evan’s eyes lit up with pride and warmth as he took in the sight. “Look at you,” he murmured, reaching out to gently trace the outline of her swollen pull-up. “You were so focused on work that you didn’t even take a break?”

Maya shrugged, chuckling softly. “I didn’t want to miss my flow, and well… I guess it just… happened.” She looked down at herself, then met his gaze with a twinkle in her eye. “Not that it’s anything I haven’t done before.”

He chuckled, clearly pleased with her dedication. “You’re incredible, you know that? All this hard work, not even thinking about a break. No wonder you’re so successful.”

“I wasn’t the only one. You wouldn’t believe how much half the boardroom smelled like… well, like messy diapers by the end of it.” She laughed, giving him a mischievous smile. “I think a few of them weren’t even in pull-ups like I was. Some of them were probably in full-on diapers, and not very fresh ones.”

Evan’s eyes widened with a chuckle. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely,” she replied with a smile.

He grinned, nodding slowly. “Well, with all that in mind, maybe it’s time you upgrade too?” He leaned forward, his voice low and encouraging. “I mean, if you’re going to keep up with the big dogs, maybe you should be a little more prepared yourself.”

Maya’s blush deepened, but her eyes sparkled with interest. She’d been pushing herself so hard at work, and it was almost freeing, realizing she didn’t have to worry about interruptions just to find the restroom.

“You think I should switch to diapers?” she asked, teasing but clearly interested.

He nodded, his hand sliding to her hip. “Think about it. If you’re wearing a full diaper, you don’t have to think about breaks at all. You could handle the longest meetings without worrying, even if you’re… more than a little wet.” He gave her a gentle, playful pat on her soggy pull-up. “And you’d be a lot more comfortable.

Maya grinned, looking down thoughtfully. “I mean… you’re not wrong,” she said, nodding slowly. “Maybe I should just go for it. If half the boardroom can do it, why shouldn’t I?”

“Exactly,” he said, smiling as he reached out to hold her hand. “If anyone’s earned the convenience, it’s you. “

She chuckled, glancing at him with a sly smile. “And you wouldn’t mind helping me get some? You’d be okay with that?”

Evan’s face lit up, nodding eagerly. “Of course I would. I’d love to see you fully relax like that. You’re already amazing at your job—now you’d have all the freedom you need, no matter how long those days get.”

Maya’s smile softened, and she gave his hand a squeeze, feeling a deep sense of comfort at the idea. “Then… let’s do it. Let’s get me some diapers.”

The decision felt surprisingly easy.

Soggy and not sorry about it

[regressionschool]

Molly was on all fours, nestled comfortably on the plush, white rug in her play corner. The hanging toys above her gently swayed, capturing her attention now and then with their soft clinking sounds. She loved the feel of the rug beneath her hands and knees, the warmth and softness of it making her feel cozy and safe. But she had something more important on her mind than the toys today—she was on a mission to prove she could be Jamie’s very best girl.

Her diaper, already a little damp from earlier, pressed snugly against her, hugging her in a comforting way that she loved. But now, she felt that familiar pressure building inside her. Molly knew she needed to go pushies, but she’d made up her mind to be extra good for Jamie today. And part of being good meant doing exactly what was expected of her: staying put, filling her diaper like a proper little one, and not asking for a change too soon, no matter how squishy things got. She knew Jamie would be so proud if she could do it.

With a determined little wiggle, Molly shifted her position, arching her back slightly as she prepared herself. She took a deep breath, scrunching her face in concentration, and with a soft grunt, she began to push. The warm, mushy feeling spread through her diaper as she filled it, the thickness pressing against her bottom, making her feel even more little. She could feel the diaper sagging just a bit from the extra weight, the crinkles and squishes becoming more noticeable with each small movement she made.

She glanced up, catching Jamie’s eye. Jamie was watching her closely, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of their mouth. Molly’s cheeks turned rosy, but she didn’t say a word. She wasn’t going to ask for a change. Not yet. She was determined to show Jamie just how patient and good she could be.

“Such a good girl, Molly,” Jamie praised softly, crossing the room to kneel beside her, ruffling her hair gently. “Look at you, not even asking for a change.”

Molly beamed, feeling her heart swell with pride. She shifted a little, feeling the warm squish in her diaper, but stayed quiet, just like Jamie wanted. She was being such a good girl. She was being the best girl.

Jamie reached over to the little shelf and picked up her favorite reward—the magic wand that always made her feel all fuzzy and warm inside. Holding it just out of reach, Jamie smiled and asked, “Are you ready for your special treat, my patient little one?”

Molly’s eyes lit up, her face breaking into a wide grin. She nodded eagerly, barely able to contain her excitement, knowing she’d earned it.

I didnt realize how hot these diapers were until I was editing this video. I think I could cum to the sight of this waistband alone hahah

[regressionschool]

Julie lingered in the doorway of her room, hands fidgeting with the hem of her oversized pajama top. Her cheeks were already turning pink as she glanced at Nanny, who was tidying up her bed for the night. The gentle rustle of the sheets made her heart flutter—she knew what she needed to ask, but it was hard to say it out loud.

Finally, Nanny noticed her hesitation. She paused, giving Julie a warm but slightly curious look. “Is there something you need, sweetheart?” she asked, her voice gentle but with that ever-so-familiar hint of knowing.

Julie shuffled a little, her blush deepening. “Um… Nanny, I… well, you know…” She trailed off, pressing her lips together as her cheeks practically glowed.

Nanny raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently but not letting her off the hook that easily. “I’m not sure I do know, darling,” she replied, a playful glimmer in her eye. “But you can tell me.”

Julie’s heart pounded, and she took a small, shaky breath. “It’s just… um… it’s bedtime, and I think… maybe I should… um…” She dropped her gaze to the floor, twisting her fingers together. “Maybe I should… wear a diaper?”

Nanny’s face softened, but a small, teasing smile played on her lips. “Oh? Maybe you should wear a diaper?” She tilted her head, watching Julie squirm a bit more. “I think you and I both know it’s a little more than ‘maybe,’ don’t we?”

Julie gave a little nod, almost hiding her face behind her hands. “It’s just… I know I need it. Because, you know, the bedwetting and all…” Her voice trailed off again, her cheeks as pink as could be.

With a chuckle, Nanny stepped closer and placed a comforting hand on Julie’s shoulder. “That’s right, honey. We wouldn’t want any soggy sheets, would we?” Her tone was sweet, but there was a hint of playfulness that made Julie’s cheeks flare even redder.

Julie shook her head quickly, her voice barely a whisper. “No… we wouldn’t.”

Nanny gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Well, I think it’s very responsible of you to come and ask for what you need, Julie. Asking for a diaper before bed isn’t so hard, now, is it?”

Julie could only manage a tiny smile, still blushing furiously. “It’s… just a little embarrassing,” she admitted softly.

Nanny reached over to open the top drawer, pulling out one of the thick, crinkly diapers Julie wore each night. She held it up with a smile. “Maybe so, but look how cozy and snug you’ll be! You’ll sleep so much better knowing you’re protected.” She patted the diaper lightly, her grin turning mischievous. “Besides, it’s not like this is your first night in one, hmm?”

Julie’s face turned even pinker, if that was possible. “I know… but…” she hesitated, glancing shyly at the soft, puffy diaper in Nanny’s hands. “I just… didn’t want to ask.”

Nanny chuckled, unfolding the diaper with care. “Well, you asked perfectly,” she said with a wink. “And now that you’re here, let’s get you all cozy and ready for a nice, dry sleep, shall we?”

Julie gave a small, bashful nod, shuffling over to the bed and lying back, her heart fluttering with both nerves and a strange comfort. Nanny hummed softly as she slid the diaper under her, tucking it carefully and taping it snugly around her waist. With each gentle touch, Julie’s blush gradually faded into a feeling of complete warmth and security.

As Nanny finished up, she gave Julie’s diaper a little pat, smiling down at her. “There we go—one snug, sleepy little one all set for bed. I think you’ll sleep like a dream, don’t you?”

Julie managed a little smile, nodding as she snuggled into her blankets, feeling safe, cozy, and thoroughly looked after. “Thank you, Nanny,” she murmured softly.

Nanny brushed a gentle hand over her hair, her voice warm. “Anytime, sweetheart. Sleep tight.”

[regressionschool]

little women: common change

The park is quiet, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees as you and Valerie take a break from your walk. She's sprawled out on the bench, her pink sundress flaring around her as she covers her face with both hands, trying to hide her embarrassment. "Val, I can see that wet line from here," you tease with a soft chuckle, tapping the side of her thigh lightly. The diaper, peeking out from beneath her dress, is clearly soggy, the little blue indicator line boldly visible against the white padding. The squishy sound of it shifting as she moves only confirms it further. "Someone had a little too much juice, huh?"

She groans from behind her hands, her face flushed. "S-stop it," she whines, her voice muffled. "I didn’t even realize..."

"Well, now we both know," you say playfully. “Looks like it’s time for a change, princess.”

Her blush deepens as she lifts her hands slightly, peeking through her fingers. “Here? On the bench?” she asks, her voice tinged with nervousness.

You shrug casually and pull out the fresh diaper from the bag, setting it down next to her with an exaggerated thump, making sure she knows exactly what’s coming next. “Of course, here. No point in walking all the way back to the car. Besides,” you add with a grin, “it’s not like anyone hasn’t seen a Little getting changed before.”

Valerie lets out another embarrassed groan, but she obediently shifts herself on the bench, lifting her hips just enough to let you slide the changing mat beneath her. She keeps her arms over her face, trying to hide as you carefully untape the wet diaper, the slight squish of the soaked padding making her cringe.

"You're so dramatic," you tease, giving her a gentle poke on her exposed thigh. "It's just a diaper change. You've done this plenty of times now, Val.“ She squirms a little, her embarrassment clear. "I know... it’s just... out here..."

“Hey, it’s the new normal,” you remind her, lifting her legs with one hand as you slide the soggy diaper out and roll it up. “You’re a Little now, and this is what Littles do. No big deal.” You smile as you clean her up, taking your time, partly to tease her and partly because you know it embarrasses her just a little bit more. Valerie's face remains buried in her hands as you secure the fresh diaper around her waist, the tapes crinkling as they fasten snugly. Once done, you pat the front of the diaper with a grin. “All set, squirmy.”

She finally peeks out from behind her hands, the pink still dusting her cheeks, but there's a small, shy smile tugging at her lips. “You’re so mean,” she huffs, sitting up and smoothing down her dress.

“Mean? I think I’m being very helpful,” you say, ruffling her hair playfully as you pack up the supplies. “Besides, you’d be walking funny if I left you in that soggy thing any longer.”

Valerie just giggles, leaning into your side as you both sit on the bench, the embarrassment slowly melting away.

[regressionschool]

Help wanted:

I'm currently writing on a new story, by now it's ~ 30 pages long, I'll post the synopsis below, and I'm unsure how to finish the story. if you are interested in reading the story and then maybe helping me find a way to continue the story please message me :) Synopisis:

Oliver, a high-strung finance professional, stands outside the Playroom Café, anxiously awaiting his friend Emma. The café’s pastel décor and playful atmosphere pique his curiosity, but he feels out of place and uncertain—until Amy, the friendly café host, introduces him to the café’s unique appeal. Here, grown-ups are invited to relax in a childlike space, indulging in nostalgic comforts like coloring books, toys, and themed snacks. But Oliver soon realizes there’s more to this quirky café than meets the eye.

As he becomes immersed in the comforting environment, Oliver notices other patrons who are oddly carefree, their outfits playful, their interactions reminiscent of young children at play. When he’s invited to try on dinosaur-themed shortalls and a cozy pull-up, Oliver finds himself warming to the gentle, judgment-free atmosphere. His curiosity grows as he learns about the café’s different “tiers” of play, marked by color-coded name tags, from newcomers to “full littles”—adults who fully embrace their inner child, right down to wearing and using diapers without hesitation.

Just as Oliver begins to settle into the cozy whimsy of the café, Emma finally arrives. She catches sight of Oliver, dressed in shortalls and playfully clutching a stuffed dinosaur, a shy but content smile on his face. It’s a moment of surprise for them both—and perhaps, an invitation for Oliver to decide just how far he’s willing to let go.

[regressionschool]

You stand by the bedside, watching him quietly, a swell of pride blooming in your chest. The man who once carried himself with such confidence, such maturity, now lay there, softly snoring, curled up with his stuffed animal clutched tightly to his chest. His pacifier gently bobbed in his mouth as he breathed in and out, a picture of pure innocence.

He’s clutching his favorite stuffed animal tightly, his other hand resting against his pacifier, which gently bobs in his mouth as he sleeps. It’s adorable, really, how he refuses to fall asleep without it now. He’s so dependent on his little comforts, so utterly different from the man he used to be. And you made this happen—every soft, babyish detail is because of you.

The very idea that this strong, capable man—someone who once made his own decisions without hesitation—now looks to you for guidance, for comfort, for reassurance in every little thing, fills you with satisfaction. The little crinkle of his dry diaper had turned into a soft squish as he shifted in his sleep, still lost in dreamland, completely unaware of how soggy he had become. Seeing him like this, so helpless and content, filled you with a deep satisfaction—he had used his diaper just like the baby you always knew he was.

You feel a small smile tug at your lips. Every squish of his diaper, every soft suckle on the pacifier, it’s all a reminder of the trust he’s placed in you, of how much he’s let go. He needs you now, in a way he never did before. That knowledge—knowing that you’ve guided him, nurtured him into this sweet, dependent little one—fills you with such deep pride.

He's yours. Completely.

My Boy 🕊