Elena's apartment was the polar opposite of Arthur's penthouse. It was warm, filled with the scent of jasmine and the soft glow of amber lamps. For Arthur, however, the cozy atmosphere felt like a pressure cooker.
He sat on her velvet sofa, his movements stiff. Every time he shifted, he was acutely aware of the heavy, crinkling bulk beneath his trousers. He felt like an imposter—a man dressed in a titan's suit, hiding a secret that felt both shameful and essential.
The First Touch
Elena returned from the kitchen with two glasses of wine, kicking off her heels. She sat closer than necessary, her knee brushing his thigh. "You look like you're waiting for a doctor's appointment, Arthur. Relax."
"I'm relaxed," Arthur squeaked, then cleared his throat to lower his pitch. "I just... I don't do this often."
"Do what? Drink wine?" She smiled, reaching out to unclip his hard-won tie. "Or be with someone?"
As the tie fell away, her fingers lingered at his collar. She began to unbutton his dress shirt, her movements slow and deliberate. Arthur's heart was drumming against his ribs so hard he feared she could see it. When the shirt parted, the delicate white lace of his camisole was revealed.
Elena paused, her breath catching. She didn't pull away; instead, she traced the lace with a curious finger. "This is... beautiful, Arthur. Is this what you hide under those power suits?"
"I... I like the way it feels," he whispered, his face burning. "I'm sorry. I should go."
"Don't you dare," she murmured, pulling him back. She moved her hand down to the waistband of his trousers, her eyes searching his. She could feel his entire body trembling. "You're a virgin, aren't you?"
Arthur nodded dumbly, his eyes brimming with tears of sheer nerves.
The Misunderstanding
Elena's expression softened into something incredibly tender. "That's actually... really sweet. You've been waiting. I like that."
She moved to help him out of his trousers, her hands working the belt. As the heavy fabric slid down his legs, Arthur tried to turn away, his hands instinctively reaching to cover himself.
Elena caught a glimpse of white, thick material gathered at his hips. Through the lens of her inexperience with him, she saw the high, white waistband and the bulk, and her mind went to the most traditional thing she knew.
"Oh! Are those... tightie whities?" she asked, a genuine, surprised giggle escaping her. "I didn't think anyone actually wore those anymore. My dad used to, but everyone I know wears boxers."
Arthur froze, his breath hitching. He was standing there in a thick, premium diaper, and she thought it was just old-fashioned underwear.
"They're... they're just what I'm comfortable in," he managed to choke out.
Elena leaned back, her eyes dancing with a mix of affection and newfound curiosity. "You are just full of surprises, aren't you? The big, tough CEO wears lace and old-school briefs." She reached out, patting his hip playfully, the plastic crinkling loudly under her touch, though she seemed to mistake it for the starch of new fabric. "Actually, I think it's kind of cute. Can I see them? Like, properly? I want to see you in them."
Arthur felt the world tilt. She wanted him to stand there, exposed, in the one thing that proved he wasn't the man she thought he was.
Arthur stood trembling, the heavy weight of the diaper now fully exposed without the camouflage of his trousers. The silence in the room was punctuated only by the loud, rhythmic crinkle of plastic every time his knees shook.
Elena leaned forward, her eyes widening as she took in the sight. She didn't look away in disgust. Instead, her gaze softened into something intense, almost predatory in its affection. She reached out, her palm landing flat against the thick, crinkly surface of his padding.
The Great Reveal
"Arthur," she breathed, her voice dropping an octave, losing its playful edge and replacing it with a calm, maternal authority. "These aren't 'tightie whities.' This is... you're wearing a diaper."
Arthur let out a choked sob, covering his face with his hands. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Elena. I'm a freak. I'll go—"
"Stay," she commanded. It wasn't a request. She stood up, moving into his space until he was forced to look at her. She ran a hand over the lace camisole he wore, then down to the taped sides of the diaper. "You have no idea how long I've waited to find someone like you."
Arthur blinked through his tears. "What?"
"I've always had this... urge," Elena confessed, a small, knowing smile on her lips. "To take someone successful, someone powerful, and give them the one thing they can't buy: the right to be small. To be cared for. To be my baby."
The Nursery Doors Open
She took his hand and led him toward her guest bedroom—a room Arthur had assumed was just for storage. When she pushed the door open, his breath hitched. It wasn't a guest room. The walls were a soft, muted pastel, and in the corner sat a heavy-duty changing table and a wardrobe that looked suspiciously full.
"I'm an architect, Arthur. I design spaces for people to live their truths," she whispered, guiding him toward the padded table. "And your truth is that you're tired of being the boss. You're a virgin, you're pure, and you're mine now."
Full Regression
The transition was seamless. Elena's entire demeanor shifted. The romantic tension evaporated, replaced by the efficient, loving care of a mother.
The First Change: She laid him back on the table. The sound of the tapes being peeled back—the sharp rip-crinkle—was the loudest thing in the room. She didn't judge the lace camisole; she complimented how "pretty" her boy looked in it.
The Wardrobe: She pulled out a pair of oversized, ruffled pink bloomers and a soft, patterned onesie. "If you're going to dress up for me, Arthur, we're going to do it right. No more hiding under suits."
The Treatment: She spoke to him in a soft, melodic coo, praising him for being so "good" and "brave" while she powdered him and fastened a fresh, even thicker diaper around his waist.
Arthur felt a wave of relief so profound it was dizzying. The pressure of the corporate world, the fear of his secret, the anxiety of his virginity—it all dissolved under Elena's touch. He wasn't the CEO of Sterling Enterprises anymore. He was just a boy in lace and padding, finally being looked after.
"There we go," Elena cooed, kissing his forehead as she snapped the onesie shut over his bulk. "No more business meetings. No more stress. Just bottles, naps, and me taking care of my sweet, shy baby."
She picked up a pacifier from the nightstand—a shimmering, custom piece—and pressed it to his lips. Arthur didn't hesitate. He took it, the soft silicone grounding him in his new reality.