Custom Caption For Emilie

I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have been so anxious, so impatient, so…horny.

Martine from work dropped by to get some notes on the project we’re working on. It was a relatively quick transaction. She’d set her purse down, accepted the glass of water I offered, gathered up the notes and was on her way.

I should have given her more time to get out of the apartment complex. I should have waited until it was dark. I should have locked the fucking door.

I’d gotten changed into my pink Pampers probably before she even made it to the stairwell. I don’t know, maybe it’s because I was always secretly attracted to her and she made me a little horny, but I just couldn’t wait to get into that soft, crinkly padding.

I was in the middle of picking out a dress to wear when I heard a knock at the door.

“André?” she called. “Are you there? I think I left my purse…”

Oh fuck.

I should have said something. “Give me a second” or “Don’t come in” or something. But I just stayed in silent panic.

I should have ripped the diaper off. I should not  have just put sweatpants over it.

She knocked on the door again. “Are you there? I’m sorry, but I really need my purse. Is it okay if I come in?”

Again I didn’t answer, another mistake.

I heard the door creak open as she stepped inside.

I slid out of my secret nursery to greet her.

“Uh…hey.” I said, trying to act normal.

“Hey sorry I just needed to get my…” she sniffed the air. “Do I smell…baby powder?”

I gulped, trying to think of something to say. She looked around suspiciously, eyeing me, my pants, and something around the corner.

Oh fuck.

The door to the nursery didn’t close all the way. The pink, babyish walls could easily be seen from her vantage. She knew I didn’t have kids. She must be thinking…

“Listen, I’m sorry I…” I moved forward, trying to explain, but the diaper crinkled easily over my hesitant silence.

The door clicked again, then the deadbolt slid after Martine slammed it closed. She turned around and had a wicked smile on her face.

“I think I know what’s going on here…” she grinned, switching her tone, “i think somewon has a wittle secwet..”

She moved towards me, like a Tiger stalking its prey. She’d always been dominant at work, but right now she was looking insidious. She put her hands on my sweatpants, biting her bottom lip seductively.

“Is wittle Andwé wearwing a diapurr??” She cooed.

I tried to say something, tried to stop her, but it was too late. She yanked my pants down, exposing my big, fluffy diaper. .

She covered her face with her hand to stifle her burst of laughter.

“Hahaha oh my GOD!! You are!!” She cackled in her normal voice, then contained herself, and switched back to her condescending ‘Mommy’ tone. “Awww! And it’s pink too!! Does somewon wanna be a wittle baby gurl??” She giggled, poking a finger into the front. “Awww!! I think somewon’s a wittle wet in their diapy!!”

I don’t even remember wetting. I must have done it once she walked in and caught me.

“Are you messy too?” She asked, not even waiting for an answer before putting a finger in the back of my waistband and peeking inside. “Hmm…nope! Not yet anyway!”

She patted my padded bum. I didn’t do anything. I couldn’t do anything, just stood there stockstill.

“And what is this?” She asked, her attention shifting to my not-so-secret-anymore nursery. I tried to move in front to stop her, but my pants were still around my ankles, and I tripped to the floor in my haste, falling down on my hands and knees. It seemed like an appropriate position to beg her not to go any further, but she didn’t listen.

“Oh my…” she gasped when she entered, taking in the vast array of sissy baby furniture I'd acquired over the years. She ran her hands over the padded changing table, the huge assortment of diapers beneath it, the railings of the oversized crib, and my closet full of sissy dresses.

“I think…” she said, pulling out her phone and snapping as many photos as possible, “…that somewon needs a Mommy to take care of them.”

“No…please! Martine! I can explain—“

“Mommy.” She corrected, “you will call me Mommy.”

She snapped a picture of me on the verge of tears in my diaper, adding it to her collection of damning evidence.

“I will be moving in.” She said matter-of-factly. “I will diaper you, change you, and make you wear all these pretty little dresses…in public.”

My stomach dropped.

“Your little sissy pissy secret is about to become VERY exposed.” She laughed wickedly.

“Please…no!! Please…I'll do anything…”

“Oh you most certainly will.” She said, switching to video on her phone, “starting with getting down on the floor, and telling me how much you love your pretty pampers while you hump the floor and suck your thumb!”

6 months later, Andre, or ‘Emilie’ as he’s now better known, has settled nicely into his new lifestyle. 

He hardly speaks anymore, just babbles and lisps as much as he can around his thumb and paci. Martine has naturally grown into her Mommy role. It can be exhausting, with Emilie becoming completely dependent on her diapies. But now that everyone of Emilie’s friends and family know what a diaper dumping sissy he is, they have been quite helpful in his new lifestyle. Emilie put up quite the fuss the first time his sister changed his diaper, but he’s become used to it by now.

Emilie loves his new way of life, so much so that he masturbates several times a day, or–he would–if he wasn’t locked in chastity 24/7. But rubbing the front and whimpering in frustration still counts as masturbating…right?