Piss-Soaked Cuck in the Neon Nursery: My Diapered Downfall

The nursery smells like baby powder, piss, and sex. The air is thick with it, clinging to my skin like a second layer of shame. I’m on all fours now, the plastic sheet crinkling beneath my knees. My diaper—thick, swollen, ruined—hangs low, sagging between my legs like a badge of failure. I didn’t just wet myself this time. I lost control. Completely.

Claire stands over me, barefoot, robe gone, wearing nothing but a black lace thong and a smile sharp enough to cut glass. Derek lounges on the rocking chair we never use, legs spread, cock still glistening from where it was inside her ten minutes ago. He’s watching me like I’m a nature documentary: The Pathetic Cuckold in His Natural Habitat.

“Tell him,” Claire says, voice velvet and venom. “Tell Daddy Derek what you did.”

My throat is raw from the pacifier gag she ripped out earlier. My voice cracks. “I… I messed myself. While you were fucking.”

Derek snorts. “Louder, diaper boy. And look at me when you say it.”

I lift my head. His eyes are cold, amused. “I shit myself,” I choke out, “while you fucked my wife.”

Claire claps slowly, mockingly. “Such a good little confess-or. Now crawl over here.”

I crawl. The diaper drags, the mess shifting with every movement, warm and heavy against my ass. The cage between my legs bites into my swollen balls—three weeks locked, no release, no mercy. Claire stops me at her feet. She lifts one, presses her toes against my lips.

“Kiss.”

I do. Soft skin, faint sweat. She grinds her heel into my mouth until I gag.

Derek stands, walks behind me. I hear the snap of latex—nitrile gloves. Claire’s idea. “Hygiene,” she’d said, smirking. “We don’t want your filth on us.”

He grabs the back of my diaper, yanks it down just enough to expose my ass. The cool air hits the mess and I flinch. A gloved finger traces the crack, smearing it. “Jesus, Claire. He really let go. Look at this.”

She leans down, inspects. “Mmm. Full load. You must’ve been so excited watching Derek breed me.” She slaps my ass—hard. The impact makes the mess shift again, and I whimper. “Did you cum in your cage, baby? Did you squirt your worthless little load while he filled me up?”

“N-no,” I lie.

She knows. She always knows.

Derek rips the diaper off completely. It lands with a wet splat on the plastic sheet. I’m naked now except for the cage and the onesie bunched around my waist—cartoon dinosaurs, soaked in sweat and piss. He kicks my knees apart.

“Stay.”

Claire walks to the changing table, returns with the wipes, the powder, the new diaper—thicker, printed with baby blocks and rattles. She lays it out like a surgeon prepping for surgery.

“On your back.”

I roll over. The mess smears across my back, my thighs. I don’t care anymore. I’m beyond shame. Derek straddles my chest, pins my arms with his knees. His cock—still half-hard, slick with her—hovers inches from my face.

“Open.”

I do.

He feeds it to me slowly, deliberately. No rush. Just ownership. I taste her on him—musky, sharp, used. My tongue works automatically now, cleaning every inch. He groans, thickens in my mouth.

Claire starts wiping me down—cold, clinical, humiliating. Each swipe is a reminder: You’re not a man. You’re a baby. A toy. A cleanup crew.

She pauses at my cage. “Look at this. Leaking like a faucet.” A bead of pre-cum dangles from the tip. She flicks it—ping—and I jerk. “You did cum. Tiny, ruined spurts while Derek pumped me full. Didn’t you?”

I nod around Derek’s cock.

She slaps the cage. Hard. I scream into Derek’s thigh.

“Say it.”

“I came in my cage while you fucked him!” I sob, spit and tears mixing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

“Shut up,” Derek growls, and shoves deeper. My throat convulses. He holds me there until spots dance in my vision, then pulls out, slaps my face with his wet cock. “You don’t get to be sorry. You get to serve.”

Claire finishes cleaning me—ass, balls, crack, every fold. She powders me generously, the scent cloying, infantilizing. Then she slides the new diaper under me, tapes it tight. Extra tight. The kind that doesn’t come off without scissors.

She stands, admires her work. “Perfect. Now for the fun part.”

Derek hauls me up by the armpits, drags me to the crib—the adult crib, reinforced, with locking bars. He throws me in face-first. Claire follows, climbs in after, straddles my back. I feel her weight, her heat through the diaper.

“Time to clean Mommy,” she whispers.

She scoots forward, plants her pussy—swollen, dripping, used—right on my mouth. No warning. Just taste. Derek’s cum, thick and bitter, floods my tongue. I lap desperately, gagging, swallowing, choking. She grinds down, smearing it across my face.

“That’s itia,” she moans. “Get it all. Every. Last. Drop.”

Derek watches, stroking himself back to full hardness. “You missed a spot,” he says, and spits—a thick glob landing on her clit. I lick it up without being told.

Claire cums suddenly, violently, her thighs clamping my head. She rides my face through it, screaming Derek’s name—never mine. When she’s done, she collapses forward, panting.

Derek’s turn.

He flips me onto my back, rips open the diaper tapes just enough to expose my caged cock and balls. Claire holds my legs up like I’m a real baby. Derek lines up—not with my ass. With the diaper.

He pisses.

Hot, endless stream, soaking the fresh padding, flooding the front, running down my crack. I squirm, but Claire pins me.

“Take it,” she hisses. “This is your purpose now. A human urinal in a diaper.”

When he’s done, he tapes it back up—soaked, heavy, sagging. Then he climbs in, straddles my chest again, and jerks off onto my face. Thick ropes hit my cheeks, my lips, my closed eyes. Claire scoops it up with her fingers, feeds it to me.

“Swallow.”

I do.

They leave me there—crib locked, diaper swollen with piss and cum, face crusted, cage throbbing. Claire blows me a kiss from the doorway.

“Sleep tight, baby. Tomorrow, we do it again. And the day after. And the day after that.”

The light clicks off.

I cry into the dark, the diaper squishing with every sob.

This is my life now.

And God help me—I’ve never been harder.