Page 20 of Asher's Answer
In the back of my mind, I know this is another step forward for us. The toileting thing is not something either of us have discussed beyond my original questions. But after hearing Emma ask for help today, something’s clicked and my curiosity’s piqued. Worst case, this will feel too weird and I won’t ask again. But none of that’s really at the forefront of my thoughts right now. Not with the running water going and the sudden desperate urge to pee.
“You sure?” Daddy asks, because he’s obviously more cautious than I am. “Traffic light?”
“Green.” A little frustration bleeds into my voice. I’m wriggling now, trying to stave off an accident. “I need to go potty.” The running bath water is all I can hear. “I need to gobad.”
His hands quickly undo the button and zip and tug down my constrictive training pants. The respite is instantaneous, but I’m not so little that I need him to help me aim right now. He chuckles and backs away at my sigh of relief as I evacuate my bladder.
That was too close.
A part of me feels far too curious about what might have happened if I had wet myself, but that’s smothered quickly. Pushing that boundary is just a bit too far out of my comfort zone. Too close to my hard limits about humiliation, even while I’m little. But it does kind of remind me of my curiosity about diapers…andusingthem.
After I wash my hands, Daddy helps pull my shoes and socks off, then my pants and underwear, and finally my shirt over my head. Then he guides me into the bath and laughs as I splash about happily. He’s given me my favorite toy boat, and my duckie, and asks me questions about their adventures as they go plowing through the cascade of bubbles.
“Ready for me to wash you?”
The water’s getting tepid, so I nod. I’m used to this now. He dunks a washcloth under the water, squeezes some body wash onto it and glides it over my skin. Some nights this gets me hard, but I’m too little to be distracted by the sensations tonight. Not even when he gets me to lift up so he can wash my dick and my bottom.
We washed my hair last night, so tonight there’s no need to get my hair wet. Instead, after I’m rinsed off and Daddy declares me clean, he pulls the plug and helps me out, drying me thoroughly with the waiting fluffy towel.
When we get to my bedroom, he goes about pulling out my pjs as usual, but instead of my training pants, he grabs a diaper.
My eyes go wide. Even though I’m little, I’m still anxious about this. But, given that I came close to peeing all over the floor barely twenty minutes ago, I can see why this is the next logical step. Hell, my own thoughts drifted that way earlier, too.
“Traffic light?” Daddy says, watching my face very closely.
“Green…and a bit yellow?”
He smiles and pats the bed. “Up.” I comply my eyes drawn to the item still in his hand. “Wanna explain the yellow?”
Licking my lips, I force my big thoughts forward. “It’s…a big step.” I manage to get out. “Like…am I going to feel silly?” But my cock is twitching, giving away my interest. There’s no hiding that. “I…I don’t have to use it, though, right?”
“No, not at all,” Charlie’s staring down at me with a huge smile. “But I’m so proud of you for being brave enough to try wearing it. And, if you hate it, we’ll take it off and add it to the hard limits list.”
Somehow, I don’t think I’m going to hate it, and we both seem to recognize that. But I still nod and settle back into my little headspace. It only takes a few moments. “Okay, Daddy.”
He beams back at me, then gently taps the side of my left thigh. “Bridge.” Planting my feet on the mattress, I lift my hips up and hear the crinkle of the diaper as he gets it positioned under my butt. “Okay, down.”
The padded surface beneath me is…curious. It’s obvious thicker than my training pants, but not entirely unpleasant. Daddy’s hands smooth a barrier cream over me in slow, sensual movements that, even little, I really enjoy. I’m powdered next, and then Daddy brings the front of the diaper up between my legs and smooths it over my semi-hard cock, whichreallyseems to like this new kind of stimulation. His lips quirk upward, but he doesn’t mention it as he brings one Velcro tab across the side and front of the diaper, and then does the same on the other. He runs his fingers along the inseams, checking the fit and making sure the leak guards are secure. Not that I’m planning on testing them.
“How does that feel?” Daddy asks me.
I wriggle a little, testing out the odd weight of it. “Strange, but…soothing? Uh, reassuring, even?” As the assessment leaves my lips, it hits me. In an instant, I know that even though I’m not comfortable using a diaper right now, one day I will be.
That thought frightens me. It makes me feel weird and wrong: no grown ass man should be considering peeing in a diaper, right? Except it’s an accepted part of the age regression lifestyle, so it’s a hang-up I have to get past myself…and, despite the lingering concerns that it’s abnormal, I really, really want to get past it.
“Okay, where’d you go? Those weren’t little thoughts.”
Daddy’s getting way too good at reading me nowadays.
With burning cheeks, I explain my thought process and he reassures me that these feelings are normal, that there’s no rush, but that he’ll be more than happy to change me it when it happens.
When. Notif.
I just add that to my mental list of ‘conversations I never thought I’d have with another man’ and move on.
The pjs he’s selected for me are actually a footie onesie with snaps along the inseams of my legs. I’m more than aware that they’re there to make it easier for changing diapers, and that thought should not make my dick even harder, but it does. When I get up to model the ensemble for Daddy, I can actually feel myself waddling, unused to the shape and bulk of my newest little accessory. It feels kind of ridiculous, but the besotted expression on Daddy’s face is totally worth it.
Well, that and how much I secretly enjoy it, too.
