I met him online through one of those late-night forums where guys like us trade clips and confessions. His name was Marcus, thirty-eight, built like a linebacker with a thick beard and a voice that could make a grown man whimper. I was twenty-nine, lean, and already hooked on the idea of being his boy. We skipped the small talk. He told me to show up at his place wearing nothing but a plain white diaper under my jeans. I did.
The door clicked shut behind me and Marcus didn’t waste time. “Strip to the diaper,” he ordered. I peeled off my shirt and jeans, standing there in the thick, crinkly padding that already felt too warm. He circled me once, big hand palming the front of the diaper, squeezing until I gasped. “Good boy. Already thick for Daddy.”
He led me to the living room where a changing mat was already laid out. I lay back on it, legs spread, the diaper rustling loudly. Marcus knelt between my thighs and tore the tapes open slowly, the sound obscene in the quiet room. My cock sprang free, half-hard, and he chuckled. “Look at that little thing trying to get big in its diaper.” He wiped me down with cool wipes, paying special attention to my balls, then powdered me heavy so the scent filled the air. When he taped a fresh, even thicker diaper on me, he pressed the front down firmly over my erection.
“Wet it for me,” he said. I tried to hold back at first, embarrassed, but the pressure and his steady gaze broke me.
A slow trickle started, warm and spreading, soaking the padding against my skin. Marcus watched the front swell and darken, then rubbed the sodden diaper against my cock until I moaned. “That’s it. Soak it like the filthy little boy you are.”
He didn’t let me come yet. Instead he pulled me onto his lap on the couch, my wet diaper squishing against his jeans. His hand slipped inside the waistband from behind, fingers finding my hole and teasing it while he made me watch gay ABDL porn on his big screen. Clip after clip of guys in sagging diapers getting fucked or milked, their padding bulging and leaking. Every time I squirmed he spanked the back of the diaper, the wet smack loud and humiliating.
By the time the third video started I was leaking steadily again, the diaper heavy and warm between my legs. Marcus stood me up, turned me around, and bent me over the arm of the couch. He ripped the tapes open just enough to expose my hole, keeping the front of the diaper pressed tight against my cock. I heard the snap of lube, then the blunt head of his thick cock pushing in. He fucked me slow and deep while the wet diaper rubbed my dick with every thrust, the porn still playing, the moans from the screen mixing with mine.
“Tell me what you are,” he growled, pounding harder.
“Your diaper boy,” I gasped. “Your wet little faggot in diapers.”
He reached around and squeezed the soaked front hard, making me yelp and spurt inside it. Cum mixed with piss, the diaper a hot, sticky mess. Marcus didn’t stop. He kept using me until he filled me, then taped the diaper shut again over the mess, sealing everything in.
We stayed like that for a while, me in his lap, the heavy diaper sagging between my thighs, his cum leaking out of me into the padding. He stroked my hair and whispered how good I was, how many more times he was going to make me wet and mess and come before the night was over. I already knew I’d be staying the weekend. The porn kept looping in the background, but the real story was happening right here on his couch, my diaper thick and used, my body completely his.
