I wrote this for a friend, but thought I’d share it here as well
I slipped my shoes on and grabbed my jacket. To be honest, I probably didn’t need it, summer had hit full force, and I was already sweating in just my t-shirt, but I liked to have it with me, just in case the weather took an unexpected turn.
Just as I was about to head out the door, Sir grabbed my arm, spinning me around to look into his eyes. Before I knew what was happening, he had undone my belt, and pulled my pants and boxers down a few inches, and cupped his hand around the front of my diaper. Not entirely satisfied with the squeeze test, he tugged my pants down a little further, and slipped his finger into the leg hole.
He discovered exactly what I would have told him had he simply asked - I was bone dry. Of course, this was only part one. In one fluid movement, he spun me back around, and pulled back the top of my diaper.
“I could have sworn I smelled something” he said.
“Not from me”, I offered, “Clean and dry”.
“We’ll I’ll change you into a thick one when we get to the theatre anyway, so if you need to go in the car, don’t hold it”.
I nodded. The instruction to not hold it was part of our little game, but it was based on something very real. While not exactly incontinent, I had begun having a few issues with with my ability to hold on for very long. If I felt the urge, I’d need to reach the bathroom pretty swiftly, or I’d be soggy. Or worse. Under the circumstances, padding was just a sensible precaution.
Given that diapers were already part of our play, and that trying to stay clean and dry was usually an exercise in painful futility, Sir quickly decided to work a rule against holding into the mix.
With the diaper check complete, and my pants back around my waist, I grabbed my change bag and headed to Sir’s truck.
The ride to the movie theatre was pretty swift, and with the hot weather I really didn’t need to pee at all, but as we pulled into the parking lot I knew Sir would expect me to have used the diaper a little, so I bore down on my bladder and forced out enough pee to avoid a punishment later.
Apart from a handful of staff on duty,.the foyer of the theatre was almost completely empty. That was a mixed blessing. Although there weren’t loads of people there to witness sir lead me into the disabled bathroom, the few people who were there definitely saw. I was a little concerned they would think we were going in there for some sort of lewd purpose. Evidently so was sir. His solution to this was to add a stuffer to the already thick diaper he’d planned for me to wear, so that it was abundantly clear we’d gone in the bathroom to change me.
As I came out the bulge was pretty apparent, but even more of a giveaway was the used diaper Sir had me carry to the trash can. To make up for my improptu and unintended humiliation, Sir offered to pay for snacks. Which is how I ended up with a hotdog, nachos, ice cream and a big ass drink. Given how thick it was, I was certain the diaper could take it. It actually took me two trips to carry my haul in. Fortunately we had the screen to ourselves, so there was no one to witness my gluttony. Particularly fortunate as I’d polished off the hot dog and half the ice cream before the end of the trailers.
The film was OK, but halfway through , I started to feel all that food, as well as the big breakfast I’d had before I left, take its toll. I squirmed in my seat, squishing against the already damp padding around my butt. This caught Sir’s attention and he started rubbing my back.
“Do you need to potty?”
I shook my head, “I’m fine. Just a little numb-bum from the seat”
Sir didn’t believe me “Just use your diaper, that’s what it’s there for”
I shook my head again, slightly more vigorously than I had intended as my fight to hold onto my bowels continued.
Sir took my hand in his, and started rubbing it, “If you keep holding, it’ll start to hurt”
I grimmaced, “I really don’t want to have an accident now.”
“It’s fine, we’re the only people in here” he reassured me,
I don’t know if it was him calming me down, or just the sheer pressure, but at that point I lost my battle, and Iet out an awkward fart as my poop splorched out into my diaper.I’d barely had a chance to lift myself off the seat, so the load found itself channeled throughout the padding, up my back and right to the edges of the thighs. Throughout all this, sir kept watching me, and rubbing my hand…
I nodded, staying stiff for fear of a blow out.
Sir noticed this too. He stayed seated, while he lifted my hand and ushered me up. With my butt right at the height of his face, he took a quick sniff. There was no mistaking what I’d just done for a fart, I stank.
“Undo your belt please”
I did as I was told, and Sir pulled my pants down slightly. He stood, tugged back the waistband, and inspected the damage. Satisfied the back was survivable, he tugged my pants down further, and inspected the butt area, as well as the leg bands.
While he’d been doing this, I’d stayed focused on the movie. Partly because it was good, but mostly to avoid acknowledging that I was in a public movie theatre - albeit a deserted one - having my messy diaper checked like a toddler. Whether Sir realised what my reasoning for watching the movie was I didn’t know, but after he pulled my pants back up he lowered me back into my seat,
“I’ll probably have to wash your jeans, but don’t worry, you won’t have to miss any of the movie”.
He was definitely right about washing the jeans. As my butt came to rest on the seat cushion, I felt the leg bands of the diaper give way, and spent the remaining 30 minutes of the movie feeling the poop squelch all over my butt.
I still had to poop a little more and although the urge was minimal, it kept making me fart. Every time that happened, the air would ripple through the semi-solid poop that filled my diaper, like I was sitting in a volcanic mud pool.
Eventually, the film came to an end, and Sir lead me out of the screen. He had originally intended to change me in the same disabled bathroom we used when we came in, but as we emerged into the foyer, it had gone from empty to packed. Seeing the look of panic on my face, Sir had led me through the crowd, into the parking lot, and straight to his truck, Where once again I had to sit down, and once again, the mess did it’s very best to escape my padding.
I should have felt humiliated walking through all those people, and certainly as the smell began to fill up the cab of Sir’s truck, but sir kept hold of my hand, and kept telling me that he was proud of me for doing as he’d told me without any hesitation. Somehow, in spite of my state, his constant reinforcement really did make me feel a little hint of pride.
We pulled onto the driveway, and stopped in front of the garage door. It took a moment before the remote worked, and in that time my heart sank as I imagined Sir was going to make me get out of the truck, into the street where we lived, with a full diaper. To say that I was relieved when the door began to slide up and the truck pulled inside would be a serious understatement.
It was, I suspect, that final rush of adrenalin that sent me over the edge. Up until now I’d been fully aware of events, but as we pulled into the garage, I started to disappear into a world of my own. So much so that it wasn’t until Sir opened my door and helped me out that I realised the car had stopped.
As he raised me out of the seat, I looked down. There were two half-moon-shaped damp patches on the seat. Fortunately it was wipe clean leather, but there was no mistaking how the back of my jeans would look. I wasn’t that bad in the theatre. I had obviously peed myself in the car without realising.
Clearly this realisation was playing on my face, as Sir asked, “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Sir. I just think I peed myself.”
Sir looked down at my butt, a degree of incredulity in his eyes.”Not just peed yourself”.
“No, I mean without realising”.
Sir shrugged. “Well, that’s what you’re wearing padding for” he began leading me out of the garage and into the hallway, “now come on, young man, your messy butt is starting to stink up the house”.
I didn’t move.
I snapped my hand away from his, “What’s wrong is that I just peed myself, and all you can do is shrug.”
Sir stood his ground, as I began to lose my temper at him.
“For fuck’s sake, I shit myself in a movie theatre, and you’re perfectly cool with it. What’s wrong with you?”
Sir smiled and gently shook his head, “Nothing is wrong with me. I just honestly don’t care what underwear you’re wearing, or what state it’s in.”
Almost instantly, his calm manner calmed me down too.
“To be honest, son, I find you particularly cute when you’re like this.”
I hung my head, suddenly ashamed at my outburst. Sir held out his arms and I came in for a hug.
“Now, I was going to change you, but after that little show, I think you need to be reminded of how this works.” Sir said, once again taking my hand in his.
He walked briskly, and I had trouble keeping up with him because I was waddling so badly. That, and I knew where he was leading me, and didn’t really want to go. Unfortunately, the house isn’t that big, so within moments Sir opened the door to the punishment room, and led me inside.
Surveying the implements, my eyes went wide. It wasn’t that I was unfamiliar with the room, far from it, but it was rare I was in here in quite this state. I seemed to have caught Sir’s eye, as he smiled at me, “don’t worry, we won’t be doing anything too strenuous”, he reassured me.
He draped me over a spanking bench, and secured my hands in place. Then he went into the bathroom and grabbed a brought out a bar of soap. Even the sight of it made me retch as my sense filled with the memory of the last time I’d been made to suck on it. I began to shake my head, “No, no no….”
Once again, Sir smiled. He placed the soap down just in front of my face.
“Now you remember why you shouldn’t say naughty words then?”
“OK, well I won’t make you put it in your mouth. It can stay there as a reminder”.
For at least the third time today, an enormous sense of relief came over me.
That lasted for all of a few seconds, as Sir began to rain blows down against my butt. It wasn’t painful. Not exactly, anyway; the padding and the mess formed a pretty good barrier against the sharp force of the spanking, but the sense of humiliation I felt as each blow landed, sending a dull thudding sensation into my butt cheeks and forward, toward my genitals, was wonderful. It was fortunate Sir hadn’t asked me to count the blows, I’d have had no chance. I began to drift off somewhere between agony, humiliation and ecstasy.
By the time Sir unstrapped me from the bench, I was a wreck.
“You took your punishment very well. I think I should reward you”,
At some point, between the spanking and the release, Sir had laid a changing mat down on the floor. He lowered me down onto it, and instinctively I spread my legs, ready for my change.
Sir knelt down infront of me, but rather than undoing the tapes of my diaper, he began to rub the front. I smiled in gratitude,
“You did well, young man”, he said, as he produced the magic wand and started vibrating the front of my diaper. I was in heaven.
He moved the wand down towards my anus, the vibrations sent shivers up my spine.
“Please sir, may I cum?”
I let the orgasm overtake me, and shuddered as I released yet another fluid into my already wrecked diaper.
As I lay on my back in post orgasmic reverie, Sir set to work on the unenviable task of changing my diaper. I kept my eyes closed, and enjoyed the sensations as he cleaned me up. By the time Sir took my hand and helped me stand back up, I was clean, dry, and comfortable, and very pleased that I’d followed Sir’s advice and had an accident on our trip out.