Daily Free-Write April 4, 2020: Fixed

Note: This piece is a collaboration between myself and World of Wetcraft. This came out of a chat on Friday in  the Champ's Patreon Daycare telegram channel. This is the kind of nonsense we get up to, folks! Enjoy!

“Come to my office for a free consultation. I make people’s dreams come true.”

That is what the website said. After months of searching for a kink aware doctor, you found exactly what you were hoping for. You answered the questionnaire, spoke to the doctor, paid the fee – and it wasn’t cheap, but the results spoke for themselves. Clients of his had never been happier with the results. He made people’s dreams come true.

Unfortunately for you, there was something you failed to notice. Something you missed as you were secured to the exam table, naked, your moderately sized manhood standing at attention. You were too focused on the end goal to see the whole picture. You were too eager to wake up to the monster cock you always wanted. You closed your eyes and laid back, knowing that when you woke up, your equipment would be perfect.

But now that your eyes are open and you’re looking down at that penis between your legs, you see that it’s no larger than before. Nothing has changed. Disappointed, you try to sit up and grab it with your hand, but you’re still strapped down, unable to move. A single bead of precum appears at the tip of your modest erection, then rolls down as more issues forth. You watch with growing concern as your penis begins to drip pre – and pee – all over itself and the table. You gasp as you find that no matter what you do, you can’t stop it.

“He’s perfect,” comes a deep voice from beside you. You look over to see the doctor and a man beaming down at you. That’s when you realize your mistake. The good Doctor said he made peoples’ dreams come true. But he never said whose dreams. In fact, thinking back on the words of former clients, they all spoke of patients, not as patients.

Your new Daddy is very happy, practically gushing over you. In his words, "A boy with a leaky faucet, just what I've always dreamed of..." The doctor has made that dream a reality. Daddy is asked to give a testimonial and he gives a glowing review. The doctor came highly recommended to Daddy and he was worth every penny.

Daddy leads you out of the doctor’s office by the balls, a little silver chain coming out the fly of your jeans; a black leather strap wrapped around Daddy’s hand.  You are forced to follow, feeling your leashed cock leak urine and pre into your pants with each step. drip drip.

How many days of spotting your pants can you endure before you beg Daddy to help you? How much of a fight do you put up when you see the pull-ups waiting on your bed? Hardly any, it turns out. After all, you can’t leave the house with wet pants.

Grudgingly, you step into the pull-ups as he holds them open for you. The smiling faces of your favorite kid’s show characters smile back at you. At least it’s your favorite show according to Daddy. Your face burns as you feel the thicker padding nestle your little leaky faucet, but it’s all worth it. Now you can finally step outside, maybe even gain a degree of independence again.

In a short time, you realize that pull-ups are not the solution. Within an hour or two the wetness begins to drip from the leg holes. Rivulets of urine and globs of precum slick your thighs and soak into the fabric of your pants. You reek of it.

You know what Daddy is waiting for you to ask, but… but it’s too humiliating. Even more humiliating than being asked by the cashier once again if you need to visit the incontinence aisle. You shake your head, and they stare at your dampened pants with concern. Then, they pick up the intercom and call for someone to bring you a pack anyway. The whole store finds out that someone on register five needs a pack of absorbent undergarments STAT.

You know you need thicker protection. You know he’s going to make you ask for it. The fact that you have to ask makes it all the more humiliating. And you know what he'll pick out when you do. You didn't know they made pull-ups with cartoon characters in your size; you can only imagine what the d-... the di-... what those things will have on them. Unfortunately, you’re about to find out because you can’t hold it in anymore. You screw your eyes shut as you feel another spurt of something dampen your pants.

“Daddy, please put me back in d…di… d-diapers.”

The moment the words leave your lips, Daddy brings out the biggest baby diapers you’ve ever seen, with even more infantile designs than the pull-ups you’ve been wearing. You realize that he’s had them at the ready for the moment that you broke down! That realization burns on your face as he lays you down, strips the wet pants from your body, and tapes you into your new plastic prison.

Daddy's said he's not taking you back to the doctor until your next check-up in three months. You pray that the doctor can "fix" whatever he's done, if three months of constantly dripping hasn't rendered that impossible.

After three months stuck in diapers with Daddy’s constant reinforcement, you feel yourself becoming attached to them. And that’s what scares you; you don’t want to love them, but you do love them. More and more each day. After three months you go back to the doctor for a second procedure. He promises to fix you so you can both be happy... however...

When you wake up you find out just how he fixed you. You now find yourself leaking heavily from both ends, the occasional gush of urine flooding your diapers without the slightest warning. Daddy is happy, and you will be too - happy that you have your diapers, because now you can’t go without them. And if they see what you have under the hood, no one will mistake you for an adult ever again.