Jamie felt a little foolish, sitting on a low stool in the middle of Michelle’s living room while she walked a tight circle around him, waving a garland of lavender over his head, mumbling words that sounded like gibberish.

When Michelle had explained her theory–that he’d fallen afoul of a curse–he’d almost thought she was joking. Jamie had never learned much about witchy stuff–he knew about people falling afoul of curses and regression spells, but it hadn’t seemed worthwhile to learn the ins and outs of how they worked. Jamie made sure to always show kindness and respect to antique shop owners and avoided fortune tellers, and that had served him well…until now.

In a stroke of luck, though, Michelle seemed to be an expert. She’d known what to look for, and in only a few minutes, she had prepared a simple test to check him over for traces of magic.

“Bad news first,” Michelle announced, as she completed whatever bit of witchcraft she’d done to check him out. “You’re cursed.”

Throat going dry, Jamie tried not to let his feelings get the better of him, though he felt like a doctor had just given him a terminal prognosis. “I’m going to regress?”

“Not necessarily,” Michelle replied, shaking her head. “It looks like this is a sort of self-fulfilling hex. It draws strength from your behavior–if you act mature, it’ll slowly fade. You’ll only regress if you act in childish ways.”

He frowned, thinking back. “Well…what did I do that was childish at the coffee shop?”

“Peeing your pants is rather juvenile, isn’t it?” Michelle asked, tilting her head. “That’s probably what regressed you to the point of sucking your thumb.”

Her answer felt wrong to him, but anxiety had clouded his thoughts and he couldn’t pinpoint the issue. “Alright.” He nodded a couple times, reassuring himself. “Alright. So…I just have to remain mature, right?”

“Right,” Michelle assured him, patting his shoulder in a comforting way. Her fingers gripped him just a little, almost like she expected him to fall over without her support, but then she relaxed and pulled her hand away. “Just…make sure you don’t wet your pants anymore, and don’t suck your thumb. You should be fine.”

Nodding, he got to his feet. The shortalls felt a bit snug as he moved. He typically preferred baggier clothes, not form-fitting denim that pulled the pull-ups against him, reminding him of the extra padding whenever he moved around, but he could change once he got home. “I…I should get going. Thank you, Michelle, for your help today.”

“Of course,” she said, raising her eyebrows in surprise. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay? We could still put on that show?”

A part of him wanted to agree–in part simply because Michelle seemed sad to see him go, and he really did want to get to know her better–but he needed to take some time to process the news about the curse, and didn’t feel like he’d be able to relax around Michelle. “Rain check? I do want to spend more time with you, this is just a lot to take in.”

Her face flashed for a fraction of a second with disappointment, but she recovered so quickly that Jamie realized he must have misread her emotions. “Of course,” she said, opening her arms and pulling him into a hug. “Good luck, Jamie.”

Hugging her back, he felt her soft body press against his–warm, comforting, reassuring. He wanted to stay, even more, but stuck to his original decision. It seemed too juvenile to stay just because it’d be more fun, the responsible choice would be to head home.

He regretted his decision to leave almost immediately, but not because he wanted Michelle’s company–just moments after getting onto the bus, he felt pressure in his bladder, an unexpected need that struck him with an urgent need.

The bus started to move before he could get off, and though the next stop was only a half dozen blocks away, he didn’t know of the nearest public restroom he could access. Shifting his weight from side to side, he bit his lip, anxiously wondering if he could make it. He wanted to put his thumb into his mouth, but fought the urge, pushing his hand back down every time it tried to rise up to his lips, fighting for maturity.

(Should I be doing a potty dance?) he thought, fretting as he shuffled, leaning on a handrail. The bus was mostly empty, but was he getting strange looks? Did they know he was acting like a child? (Is it that immature? What did Michelle say?)

‘Don’t wet your pants, don’t suck your thumb’. That had been her warning.

He tried to think what to do, but it felt as though his thoughts were steeped in thick fog. Should he go find a bathroom? Would a Little really make all the other people on the bus stop so he could run off to use a toilet?

Could he hold it, if he tried?

(Think,) he told himself, bumping his head against the metal pole to try and shake loose a thought. (Just…do what Michelle told you.)

‘Don’t wet your pants.’

‘Don’t wet your pants.’

(Oh! Right!) The idea struck him like a static shock.

He had on a pull-up. He could use that, and he wouldn’t wet his pants at all. It’s what he had it on for, after all, and rather than stand there hopping from foot to foot like a little kid, he could take the simple, mature choice and use his princess pull-up.

Relaxing, he stood straight, bladder giving in to the need. Like the accident at the coffee shop, he felt warmth spread over himself, but unlike before, it stayed contained, wicked up by the padding. This didn’t feel like a mistake–it felt right, and the comforting, super-absorbent pulp swelling around his parts, warm, soft…

(This was the right decision,) he assured himself, sighing in relief.

He knew what Littles looked like when they had accidents–it was like at Sammy’s Little shower. They threw a tantrum and cried, complaining to their caregivers, pretending that it hadn’t been their fault. He wasn’t like that at all–he’d used his pull-up like a grown up, and it didn’t bother him at all.

Now that he was confident in his maturity, he really wanted to suck his thumb in congratulations, to self-soothe as a reward for his smart decision making, but he knew better than that. To keep his hands busy, so that his thumb wouldn’t find its way into his lips by accident, he stuck them both in the shortall pockets. To his surprise, he found something–a plastic object with a soft, rubber bulb on one side and a ring on the other.

(Oooh. Michelle thought of everything, didn’t she?)

Taking out the pacifier, he turned it over in his hands. She was so smart–he didn’t need to suck his thumb at all! Plopping it in between his lips, he tasted the rubber bulb, eyes crossing in pleasure as he sucked down.

Between the relaxation offered by the bulb, and the warm saturation pressed between his legs, held snug against his skin by the shortalls, he felt a deep sense of desire, lulling him in, coaxing him to suckle harder. He shut his eyes, feeling very nearly high, the rest of the world fading around him, minutes rolling by as he enjoyed the soothing.

This felt good. It felt right. It didn’t matter what some stranger on the bus might think, and he didn’t need to search their face for a clue as to whether he was behaving in a mature way–Jamie knew he had to be making the right choices, because he was starting to have some very grown up thoughts. He couldn’t wait to be home, where he’d have more privacy.

The bus finally came to a stop by his building, and he waddled out, suckling harder in anticipation. He hadn’t known a pacifier could feel so good, but as he rushed to get home, he felt his erection build within his soggy pull-up, growing a little warmer as a fresh trickle of pee soaked into it.

He barely noticed his neighbor as he passed her to get into his apartment, slamming the door behind himself, slumping against the wall and sinking down.

(Yes,) he thought, imagining Michelle’s body close to him, her hands wrapped around him. Sucking harder, he throbbed inside his pull-up, and fantasies played out in his thoughts.

Jamie had done the mature things–he’d used his pull-up, he’d suckled his pacifier, he’d made sure to get home and find privacy before enjoying grown-up fun. He deserved this. Drooling over the pacifier’s tip, heat and need and passion growing inside him, he finally felt the climax build, edging towards orgasm without even needing to touch himself.

He moaned loud and uncaring into the pacifier, and lost control, breaking through another threshold. Pleasure exploded within his pull-up, and he continued to suck passionately, spurting into soggy padding.

It seemed to last forever, harder and more intense than any sex he could remember, buckling his knees, pleasure that overrode everything else. When it ended, he sank down, laying on the floor, sweaty, delirious, and happy he’d been smart enough to use his pull-up.

...

👀 Things are getting spicy for Jamie!

Also! The audiobook kickstarter for The Baby Bet is over halfway!

If you're interested in an AB/DL romcom audiobook, we're getting very close to hitting our funding goal - and it's just 15$ to back the project and reserve your copy, the same cost as an audiobook on most major platforms!

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/peculiarchangeling/the-baby-bet-coming-to-audio