Messy Diaper Stories Novels & Stories

Rose picked up Maddie and went to change her diaper. “Can you change Jarren?” She asked. I looked at my little boy and realized he made a stinky. I scrunched my nose and carried him to the changing table. When I removed his diaper I realized that fatherhood was not going to be as simple as I thought. Maximus’s POV

Now though, I wouldn’t change it for the world. I try to distract myself and stop myself from charging outside and tearing each of these pods apart by replaying the happiest moments of my life. Those first few days with Harper, with all of us trying to navigate being new parents, and then watching Theo trying to change that first dirty nappy. He had tied a towel around his face in an attempt to mask the smell, and we had all laughed as he had gagged his way through it with his eyes watering.

The only thing was that his buttocks still had poop stuck to them. Sherry was overwhelmed by the bad smell as she approached them. She pinched her nose as she took wet baby wipes and a diaper out of the bag. John took the wet wipes and wiped Flint’s buttocks clean without changing the expression on his face at all. Upon finishing the job, he threw the wet wipes and the used diaper together and glanced at Sherry. “Throw these into the trash can.” Sherry’s lips puckered up in distaste but she took the items and threw them into a nearby trash can.

I don’t mind the poop diapers, but Knox, my goddess, complains about them. ‘Because they’re horrible!’ Knox shouted. They’re not. I mean, I’ve smelled worse. A lot worse. Rogues for one. And just, I mean, garbage smells a lot worse. Then there's, - 'I don't need a whole list. Baby diapers stink. I have a senstive nose!' Knox whined. We’re still getting used to being working parents, but thankfully, with our beta couple, our council, and our friends, we can manage to divide the work in a way that gives me plenty of time to spend with the kids and my mate.

Before Natasha could put down her handbag, her son had wrapped his little arms around her legs in excitement and almost made her lose her balance. “Oh my God you are soaking wet Sean!” She said, bending down to lift him up into her arms. “What were you doing?” “I was setting up the laundry in the basement when your mother called me for something upstairs….”Bernard appeared from where Sean had come from. “When I went back, I found this little man here had put his hands where they didn’t belong.” “That’s because grandpa doesn’t want to teach me how to use the machine so I can do my own laundry,” Sean complained.

Aelfred I never imagined all the fun we had. We played a game they called charades. Then, they made us compete against each other when changing diapers. They messed the diapers with different goey things. I am sure the brown stuff was hazelnut cream with oatmeal because the whole point was to make it revolting.

She endured it all alone for months. My blood shot eyes flew to the stain on her uniform. It looked like she had tried to wash it clean, but the stubborn grease had refused to come off. The stain dragged from one side of her uniform collar down her body, leaving a stain on the front and back. What on earth did the brat spill on her. “Sara, for the last time, who did that?” “Lucas please, it's nothing. We were just playing around and…” “Sara!!!”

I picked each of them up and turned them in my hand. All of them. Same hole. Same place. “No. No, no, no. This isn’t right.” I moved to the nightstand, grabbed the box, and upended it onto the bed. Empty wrappers spilled out, a few unopened ones still in the corner. I tore one free and held it to the light. Another hole. Every single condom we’d used had a hole punched clean through the foil. Wesley’s voice broke through, unsteady now. “Grace. What?”

One month after Sophie’s wedding, Ava Harper’s apartment looked like a shared crime scene. Finn’s sneakers (nine pairs, she’d counted) were scattered like the house was a nursery house. His hoodie hung permanently on the couch. His “World’s Okayest Actor” mug sat on the counter, half-full of cold coffee he swore he’d finish “later” (he never did). The spice rack, once an alphabetized perfection, was now in “Finn’s flavor order”: hot sauce first, cinnamon last.

Spent on the closet floor. The trip ended. But the watching continued at home. Closet in bedroom. Strangers or friends. Always me watching.