Author's Note

I put a warning of the extreme kinks in this story, if you don’t like this shit and you’re still here then you are deliberately ignoring that warning.

Also to the users that are disliking this make me think that some of y’all have never held a hard copy book in your life let alone read one. Published books don't even have trigger warnings so for many years, it has been your responsibility to put the book down if you don't like it.

Chapter 1

"Mama isn't going to be pleased when she gets home Darling," Mommy said teasingly and Spike could only whine helplessly around his pacifier gag, pleading with muffled words for Mommy to please not tell Mama.

_____

Rarity was such a sweet person, always looking out for Spike, making sure he ate properly, telling him to carry a sweater when it was cold out and calling him disgustingly sweet names until he blushed and stammered.

She was the perfect woman. When she kissed Spike, she kissed gently, like Spike was something delicate and precious, something to be treasured.

Rarity was confident, classy, and generous. She was more successful than she let on, always choosing to humble herself. But whenever Spike saw glimpses of her power and position, he felt as if he might swoon like a damsel.

Eventually, it began to physically pain Spike to hide his responses.

He knew couples fed each other sometimes. Ate dessert off each other's spoons while holding intense fuck-me eye contact. Then they might sip wine and make a flirty comment over the rim of their glass. Spike knew that was normal. But he wasn't normal.

When Rarity held up a spoon of food to his mouth Spike wanted to push it away like a whiny toddler. He wanted to kick and scream and demand dessert.

It wasn't his fault. Rarity was just so Mommy in everything she did. And Spike wanted to be her baby more than anything else. But he wasn't. He was her boyfriend. So he licked at the spoon seductively and told his girlfriend how sexy she looked in her fit.

It wasn't long before Spike cracked. He wasn't the mature brave dominant character that he kept trying to maintain. There was more to him than the guy he was convinced he had to be in order to date someone as gorgeous as Rarity. Rarity was older than him, more experienced in the world and Spike didn't know how long he could match his girlfriend’s polished image.

It was when him and Rarity to moved into an apartment together that Spike realized he would have to say something. He couldn't keep this up for much longer.

Rarity was a lot more Mommy up close in their own home. She was both softer and more intimidating and it made Spike feel way too close to the edge. Watching Rarity dress in designer clothing every morning, curl her fine hair, and apply her everyday makeup in the mirror was both a treat and a cruel test of Spike’s mental strength.

Days went by and Spike grew more anxious when he realized he was struggling to get it up. It was no fault of Rarity’s. She was perfectly hot and fuckable but Spike felt his interest in sex waning without his usual paraphernalia.

He was used to touching himself through a diaper. He was used to coming while he sucked on his paci. Maybe he had become too dependent on them for arousal but he didn't know how to fix that.

Rarity would try kissing him, massaging him, squeezing gently, making all kinds of sexual gestures, using toys, all things that usually got him hard quite quickly. But it wasn't working and Spike pushed her away, embarrassed.

His girlfriend had to know what he needed or they'd have to break up. He couldn't keep hiding. The relationship was under a lot of strain and it was all his fault.

Rarity was always emphasizing the importance of communication, the need for openness in a relationship. It was time for Spike to implement that philosophy and speak up.

So he did.

It went much better than he expected. Of course it did. Rarity was the nicest most understanding lady under the sun.

It was awkward and embarrassing but Rarity eased him through until he managed to put things into words.

With reddened cheeks, fiddly hands and a sweaty brow, Spike told Rarity about his favourite stuffed toys, about his pacifier, about how he liked to eat soft foods and fall asleep with a belly full of warm milk. And somehow, eventually, Spike even managed to breach the subject of diapers.

Rarity had many questions. Did Spike actually need the diapers? Did he wet himself? Did he put them on by himself and change them by himself? And as disturbed as Rarity looked, she even asked about shitting.

Spike was embarrassed down to the depths of his soul but he couldn't lose Rarity and he needed to explain these things if he wanted them to move forward.

So he tried his best to put into word how age play made him feel. And yes, sometimes he couldn't hold it no matter how hard he tried. When he felt like that, his body didn't listen to him at all and he had difficulty with the most basic tasks. So no, he couldn't always get out of a dirty diaper and into a new one on his own. He often waited before he tried to change himself.

Rarity listened attentively, face unreadable.

"So, like a toddler?"

Spike nodded reluctantly, face burning.

"So then I'd be the...Mommy?" Rarity smirked.

Spike could hardly look at his girlfriend when he assured her that he wouldn't need to deal with the diaper changes or any of that. The major issue that he was used to coming in a diaper and he was afraid that he couldn't really come without it. This is the part that Rarity really needed to know if they were going to continue their relationship.

Spike waited with bated breath for his girlfriend’s response.

"That's the cutest kink I've ever heard of," Rarity said and Spike blushed right down to his toes and let out a breath of relief that he felt like he had been holding for months. “So that’s why you get all quiet when I tell you what to do? I was trying to tone it down because I thought it was upsetting you, I even thought you were gay at some point!"

Rarity promised she would try her best to give Spike what he needed, She wasn't sure exactly what to do but she'd learn.