By the time the key turned in the front door, he was beyond humiliated — he was hollow.
Twenty-four hours. That’s how long she’d been gone. No texts. No calls. No instructions. Just gone, leaving him trapped in his thick diaper and unforgiving chastity cage. At first he’d told himself it was an accident, that she’d lost track of time. But as the minutes turned into hours, and the hours into a full day, the truth became impossible to ignore.
She’d forgotten him.
Or worse — she hadn’t.
The tapes of his diaper had gone slack, the padding swollen and heavy between his legs, clinging damp against his skin. Every shift made him aware of the sticky heat, the faint smell that had crept into the room. The cage’s ache had dulled into something deeper, something that pulsed in the background no matter how still he sat.
When she finally walked in, she looked radiant — hair perfect, makeup fresh, perfume lingering in the air. She didn’t look like someone who’d been rushing home to care for him. She looked like someone who’d had a wonderful time elsewhere.
“Well, well,” she said, glancing down at him in the corner. “You stayed.”
Her tone was almost amused, as if he’d been given the choice and chosen correctly. She crouched, fingers pressing into the front of his swollen diaper. “Mmm. You’ve been such a good boy for Mommy.”
He wanted to ask why she’d left him. He wanted to shout. Instead, he just sat there while she smiled, brushing a thumb along his cheek. “You’ve earned a treat.”
A treat. The word hung in the air like a dare.
“One weekend a month, remember?,” she continued, “You’re going to have a special babysitter. A Cuckysitter. I think it’s finally time we give Jennifer a call.” Her smile sharpened, eyes sparkling. “She’s going to keep you company while I’m away. You’ll follow her rules, make her happy. And if she tells me you’ve been a bad baby, this little privilege disappears. Understand?”
He nodded, throat tight.
Two weeks later, the knock came at the door.
🩷 The Padded Secret: The Cuckysitter
Jennifer’s long legs glowed in the soft light, and when she set the pastel diaper bag on the couch, she did it with a casual confidence that told him she’d been looking forward to this.
“Hey, baby boy,” she cooed, eyes sweeping over him. “Mommy told me all about your reward! Such a good diaper boy you’ve been.”
The way she looked at him made his skin prickle — part amusement, part curiosity, and something else entirely. She walked right up, fingertips grazing his arm as she circled him slowly, taking her time. When she came around to the front, she crouched and tugged at the snaps of his onesie until they popped open, the front folding up to expose his diaper.
Her grin was wicked. “Oh, we’re going to have fun.”
From the start, she moved like a cat playing with prey — leaning too close, brushing against him “accidentally,” letting his eyes catch glimpses of smooth skin and soft curves he couldn’t touch. Every time he flinched or looked away, she giggled.
“Don’t be shy,” she teased, her voice honey-sweet. “You’re here to be my good little diaper boy.”
And then she started noticing something else — the faint extra warmth blooming under her palm every time she pressed against him. The way his breathing hitched, his eyes flickered down in shame, and the padding seemed… thicker… not just from wetting.
Her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “Ohhh… is my little baby making stickies for me?” She said it with a purr, patting him more deliberately now. “Mmm. Mommy told me you couldn’t help yourself… but she didn’t say how cuteyou’d be doing it.”
She didn’t shy away from the smell.
If anything, she leaned in — crouching closer, fingers teasing the swollen front, her expression curious and almost hungry. “Most people would be so grossed out right now,” she murmured, her eyes locked on his. “But you know what? I think I like it. I like knowing you can’t stop. That you’re going to keep doing it for me, all weekend long, until these diapers can’t take any more.”
The teasing became a mission. Every “accidental” brush of her hip, every sway of her chest when she bent over, was calculated to make him shudder and fill just a little more. She’d check him often, pulling the waistband out just enough to peek inside, her smirk deepening at what she saw.
At some point, she dragged a pile of blankets and pillows into the living room. “We’re building a fort,” she announced, tossing a fleece throw over two dining chairs. “Diaper boys need a secret hideout.” He helped because she told him to, crawling under the chairs while she draped pastel fabrics overhead.
Inside, it was dim and cozy, smelling faintly of baby powder — and him. She crawled in after, knees bumping his, that knowing look still on her face. “This is our fort,” she whispered, like it was sacred. “No mommies allowed. Just me… and you… and these thick, sticky diapers.”
They played for hours — pillow fights that ended with him flat on his back, her laughing as she straddled him just enough to grind the padding between them, coaxing more warmth and mess into it. Every time she felt that telltale shift under her, she’d giggle and whisper, “That’s it… make it nice and full for me. Don’t stop, baby boy.”
By the time she finally curled up beside him under the blankets, the smell was undeniable — sharp, sweet, and embarrassing. She didn’t move away. She breathed it in, her hand lazily stroking the front of his overstuffed diaper. “Mmm… you’re perfect. I could keep you like this forever.”
And as he lay there in their little fort, the heavy heat of the padding pressing around him, the humiliation twisted into something else — something that made it impossible to think about leaving at all.
Jennifer wasn’t naïve, not at all. When she curled up against him in the fort and let him drift to sleep in the swollen, sticky bulk between his thighs, it was deliberate. She wanted him to get used to it — to forget the shame, to equate her with the sick comfort of sleeping in his own mess. When his eyes fluttered shut, she smiled in the dark, already planning the morning.
At dawn, light spilled through the thin fabric walls of their fort. He stirred, groggy, the smell of his diaper unmistakable, heavy and cloying in the small space. Jennifer crouched beside him, fingers sliding under the waistband as she tugged it carefully down, making sure not to pop a single tape. The padding sagged low, heavy and sticky, the worst of it dried against his skin in humiliating clumps.
She tilted her head, studying him, then grinned. “Look at you,” she whispered. “Most people would throw up at the smell of this. But me? I think it’s hot. I want you like this — filthy, sticky, aching for me.”
From her bag she pulled something small and metallic: his very first chastity cage. She held it up, letting the light glint off the lock. His heart lurched, but she didn’t hesitate — she slid it into place while he squirmed, closing it around him with a final, decisive click.
“There,” she purred, patting the swollen diaper before tugging it back up and sealing him inside again. “Now you’re mine. No touching. No accidents outside these thick baby pants. From now on, every sticky, stinky mess you make belongs to me.”
The rest of the day was torment. She teased him relentlessly, using her body like a weapon — brushing her breasts across his face as she leaned over him, grinding her hips into his lap during their pillow fights, crawling ahead of him on all fours just to make him stare at the sway of her shorts. Every movement made the diaper shift, made the cage throb, made the smell cling to the air around them.
Whenever he whimpered, she’d smirk. “Mmm, you love it. Don’t pretend. You’re going to start craving this — craving me — every time your diapers are full. I’m going to be the only thing you think about when you’re sticky and stinky, baby boy.”
By the time the front door opened and his girlfriend returned from her trip, he was sprawled in the ruined fort, diaper swollen beyond belief, face flushed, body trembling inside his brand new cage.
Jennifer sat smugly on the couch, legs crossed, looking every inch the satisfied sitter. “He was perfect,” she told the girlfriend. “Did everything I wanted. Slept in it, woke in it, begged for more.”
The girlfriend crouched, her hand pressing into the front of his diaper, confirming the truth. Then she leaned close, voice low and commanding. “That was your first Cuckysitter weekend, baby. From now on, once a month, Jennifer will keep you in line while I’m gone. And the rest of the time… you’re mine.”
He shuddered, shame and need twisting inside him. His diaper reeked, his cage was locked, and all he could think — humiliatingly, helplessly — was how badly he wanted next month to come.
🩷 The Padded Secret: Mommy’s New Daddy
Fresh tapes stretched tight and smooth across his hips as she sealed him into a brand-new diaper, soft pink and covered in girlish hearts and little princess prints. She gave the front a firm pat, her smirk satisfied.
“There we go. My good little Diaper Cucky,” she cooed, tilting his chin so he couldn’t look away. “You did so well for Jennifer this weekend while Mommy was having her own fun… I think you’ve earned your next reward.”
A knock sounded at the door, sharp and deliberate. His stomach flipped, but her grin only widened. He hadn’t even had a moment to process what his reward could possibly be, Jennifer had just been over.
“Go on, honey,” she said, her voice syrupy sweet with a wicked edge. “Open it.”
He waddled nervously, the crinkle of the fresh pink padding loud under his oversized shirt. When he pulled the door open, the man standing there nearly made him stagger back. Bobby was enormous — tall, broad, muscles straining his shirt, his smile drop-dead handsome and confident.
Before he could even process it, she darted past him with a squeal, flinging herself into Bobby’s arms. “Daddy!” she cried, kissing him deep, pressing herself against him like she’d been starving for this moment.
Bobby kissed her back hard, then looked past her at the boy frozen in his doorway. His grin turned cruel. With one massive hand, he reached out and delivered a sharp spank to the back of the pink diaper, so hard it made him stumble forward, padding squishing and crinkling.
“Good boy,” Bobby said firmly. “Already dressed just how you should be.”
Her laugh was pure delight, clinging tighter to Bobby’s chest. “See? My perfect little Diaper Cucky. Jennifer had him wrapped around her finger all weekend while I was playing with you… and now he gets to meet the man who’s really in charge.”
The humiliation was complete. His girlfriend moaned in Bobby’s arms, kissing him deeply, while he stood in a ridiculous pink diaper with princesses and hearts, still cloudy from Jennifer’s torment, and realized the truth: he was no longer her boyfriend at all.
He was the house Diaper Cuck.
And as Bobby’s hand smacked his diaper again, pushing him back a step, his cage throbbed and he knew he’d never escape.
Bobby’s laugh was low, deep, filling the room like it belonged here. His girlfriend melted into his arms, kissing him again, giggling breathlessly when his huge hands gripped her hips and pulled her against his body like she was weightless.
“See?” she purred between kisses, turning her head just enough to glance at the cuck squirming in the corner. “Isn’t he perfect? Taped into his little princess diapers, making puddles just from your touch.”
Bobby smirked, eyes locked on her as he gave the boy another sharp swat, the wet padding squishing audibly. “Perfect diaper cuck,” he agreed. “And lucky, too — most boys don’t get to watch their girl finally get treated right.”
Her cheeks flushed hot at his words, and she moaned softly against his mouth, grinding herself into his thigh with shameless hunger. She didn’t even glance back at the cuck as she whispered, “Show me, Daddy. Show me how it’s supposed to feel.”
Bobby didn’t hesitate. He lifted her easily, tossing her onto the couch like she weighed nothing, stripping her robe away to reveal smooth skin. She gasped and laughed, spreading her legs for him instinctively, her eyes glassy with anticipation.
“Corner,” Bobby barked, snapping his fingers without looking. The cuck shuffled closer on command, the soaked princess prints blurring under the heat in his diaper, his cage aching from the way his girlfriend moaned Bobby’s name.
She was already clutching at Bobby’s shoulders, biting her lip, body trembling with need. “God, you’re so much bigger than him,” she gasped, kissing him again, her voice breaking into needy whimpers. “So much stronger. So much more… everything.”
Bobby grinned, sliding a hand between her thighs, making her cry out. “And you’ve got your little cuck right here to see it. He’s gonna watch while his Mommy gets ruined.”
Her moan broke into laughter, her head falling back against Bobby’s shoulder before she twisted to glare at the boy in the corner.
“You hear that, baby?” she panted, voice trembling with pleasure but still sharp with command. “You’re gonna watch your Mommy get ruined. And you’re going to love it.”
Her lips curled into a cruel smile. “In fact… go get your magic wand. Now.”
His eyes widened, but one sharp snap of her fingers had him waddling off, diaper crinkling loudly. When he returned clutching the wand, she giggled breathlessly, nuzzling into Bobby’s neck.
“Mmm, good boy,” she cooed mockingly. “Now here are the rules. You can press it against your princess diaper. You can make stickies — as many times as your weak little body can manage.” Her hand fisted Bobby’s shirt as his fingers slid deeper between her thighs, making her cry out. “But the cage stays on. The diaper stays taped. And your eyes…” she moaned as Bobby’s lips found her throat, “…never leave me. Not once.”
Bobby smirked, giving the cuck a long, slow look. “Yeah. Make a mess, boy. Every time you do, it’s just proof you belong in those diapers.”
The wand buzzed to life, and he whimpered as he pressed it to the swollen pink padding, the vibration making the hearts and princess prints tremble against his skin. His cage throbbed, his hips jerked, and the humiliation consumed him — all while Mommy gasped and moaned under Bobby’s touch.
“Look at me,” she commanded again, her voice breaking as Bobby’s hand worked her harder. “Every sticky you make, you make watching me. While Daddy takes me. While I scream his name.”
Every sound carved into the cuck like a knife. Her cries, her gasps, her laughter when Bobby teased her, her shameless begging for more. The couch shook with their rhythm, her nails clawed into his back, her voice raw as she screamed his name again and again.
“Look at me, baby,” she panted, her eyes finding her cuck’s across the room even as Bobby’s body claimed hers completely. “Look at your Mommy. This is what a real man feels like. This is what I deserve. And you’re never, ever going to touch me again.”
The words broke him. His cage throbbed unbearably, his princess diaper grew warmer and wetter under the vibrations, and his face burned as he trembled on the edge of another shameful accident. Spurt after spurt.
By the time Bobby finally pulled her against his chest, kissing her like she was the only woman alive, she was glowing — radiant, messy, and deliriously happy. She curled into him, eyes half-lidded, body limp with satisfaction.
And in the corner, the cuck shuddered, his cage locking him in aching denial, his princess diaper sticky and swollen, the smell of his humiliation thick in the air. He’d been forced to watch his girlfriend fall in love right in front of him — with a man who spanked his diaper like it was a joke.
And worst of all… as his body betrayed him again, another sticky mess blooming between his legs, it wasn’t just her face he saw in his mind.
It was Jennifer’s smirk.
Her whisper.
Sleep in it for me, baby.
And he knew in that moment that he was addicted — to her, to Bobby, to all of it.
He was the house Diaper Cuck. Forever.