The Baby Shower

“Did you remember to get the diapers?” she asked.

“I did.” I said, “I didn’t realize how damn expensive they are!”

“Well that’s the cost of having a bABy!” she laughed. “And you better keep that in mind if you don’t want to be buying some for us one day!”

I gulped at the horror of the thought.

“Why do I have to go to this thing anyway? I thought…’Showers’...were more of a girl thing?”

She scoffed. “Maybe back in the 2020’s...but nowadays things are a little different. Plus...I want you to get a good idea of what you might be in for one day...”

Again, I shifted uncomfortably as I glanced down at the invitation again:

The sound of my newlywed wife, Sandra, flicking on the blinker to exit the freeway snapped me out of my daze.

When we pulled up to the house, there was one of those over-sized yard signs that read “Welcome Baby McEntyre!” in alternating pink and blue colors, with balloons attached to match.

“Come on!” Sandra said, tapping the unisexly wrapped box in my lap as she climbed out of the car. I must have been daydreaming again.

“Ohhh Hiiii!” said a woman coming down the walkway to greet us, mimosa splashing as her heels clanked down the cobblestones. “I’m Agnes!” she said cheerily, hinting that it wasn’t her first mimosa of the day.

“Hi! I’m Sandra, and this is my husband Tom” she said, introducing us. “Sorry we’re a bit late, it’s hard getting him out the door sometimes!” 

“Oh I understand, BELIEVE me! I swear I feel like I'm having to crack the whip too often with my own husband sometimes!” Agnes said, and they both laughed exaggeratedly as if it were a joke I didn’t seem to get. “Well come on in! Everyone is outside in the back!”

Inside the 3-story home were the sounds and smells I’d come to expect of a women’s gathering. Laughter, flowery/powdery smells, and finger foods that probably were keto, paleo, or something-or-another-o. Talking about whatever it is women talk about.

“I’m telling you: when my little one is stopped up, I put a little prune juice into his bottle, and he’ll be pooping three or four times that day!” one said.

“Yea but I dunno if I wanna be changing three or four dirty diapers a day!!” said another, and they all laughed.

Another woman came down the stairs as we crossed the living room.

“Finally got him down for a nap!” she announced to the room with a sigh, “I swear he gets so fussy every time we go out in public like this!” And all the women nodded in agreement.

One lady pulled a bottle out of the microwave, the milk inside seemed to be a bit clearer and mistier than breast or formula. “Where do you get all that from?” Someone asked. The lady laughed as she checked the temperature of the pearly liquid on her arm. “Well...let’s just say my new husband is quite the producer! He keeps my little man quite full! In more ways than one!”

They all cackled hysterically. It was all so much for me to handle. Or, at least, I thought it was. But that was until we stepped outside…

******

Outside, everything was dialed up to 11. It immediately felt like we were at a kid’s birthday party. With a bunch of women all busy and bustling around with their 2-year-olds.

Except, instead of 2-year-olds, it was a bunch of grown men dressed like 2-year olds.

“Oh hi Sandra! How are you?” A woman called over her shoulder. She was busy shoveling green mush onto a baby spoon and shoving it into the mouth of the grown man sitting in front of her. He had a blue and teal onesie, a bonnett on his head, mittens on his hands, and the grumpiest of looks on his green-stained face.

“I’m doing well, Patricia!” my wife replied in her cheery voice as if nothing were amiss, “and you must be Randy!” She cooed at the man twice her size. He glared at her but said nothing, just opened his mouth so Patricia could fill it with more peas. The spoon skimmed the side of his mouth, as if purposely done to make a mess around Randy’s beard. Patricia used the giant bib around his neck that read “Stand By...Diaper Loading” to wipe it up. But it just seemed to smear and make more of a mess. Patricia didn’t seem to care and just carried on talking “you know i got him this beautiful little...” but their chatter seemed to fade as I tried to take in my surroundings.

A man crawled by me on his hands and knees in nothing but a t-shirt and a very large diaper that probably used to be white but was now a shade of yellow with a large blue stripe down the middle. There was also a very large lump in the back that was making it sag significantly. He knelt in front of two women sitting at a picnic table and held his arms wide open. Like a toddler in need of something and unable to express it. He said something that made both the girls laugh. Until one of them squeezed the front of his diaper and patted his padded bottom “Awww! Not yet sweetie, but maybe later after Mommy has another glass of wine!” The man literally burst into tears right there. Sobbing like an actual baby. The woman seemed unphased, just reached into the bag next to her and pulled out a large pacifier. Except when she turned it around, instead of a nipple, there was at least a 5 inch rubber penis attached to it. She slid the penis pacifier into his blubbering mouth. Muffling his cries. Until of course he spit it out and started crying harder. Her face immediately went from laughing to that of a scorned mother. Without hesitation, she scooped up the dildo dummy off the ground and smacked him across the cheek with it. Pointing a stern finger directly in his face before jamming the cock down his throat with force. Holding the back of his head while he choked and squirmed until she could tie the attached ribbon around it tightly. Keeping it securely in place. His sobbing stopped. But there were still plenty of tears.

A hand on my back startled me. “Come along, Dear” Sandra whispered in my ear, taking me by the hand and leading me through the bizarre crowd.

It seemed there were “babies” everywhere. All of them were men, but not all of them dressed in the “manly” colors of blues and greens.

One man was sitting on a blanket wearing an oversized (yet somehow still undersized) pink tutu. The frilly skirt did nothing to hide his diaper underneath. A stranger stood over him, cooing at him and pinching his cheeks. “Awwww!! I wuv your wittle piggy-tails!!” She teased while he sucked his thumb and tried to ignore her. His face turned as pink as his outfit while his mascara ran from tears forming in his eyes.

Not all the bABies seemed to be ashamed though. As Sandra and I walked past the playpen we heard a lot of crinkling coming from inside. Two of the men—one dressed like Tinkerbell and the other like a tiny Sailor—had their hands in each others diapers. Moaning and groaning furiously as they rubbed each other with their mittened hands. Another bABy in a pink princess outfit sat next to them, unfazed. (S)he was rocking back and forth cross-legged, smacking blocks up and down repeatedly. Her mouth was open and drool was hanging out. She seemed to be in some kind of haze. Whatever was playing through the headphones strapped to her head seemed to be having a profound effect on her.

A woman with an incredible ass sauntered by the pen, and a fourth bABy that was pretending to play with dolls immediately tossed them aside, turned on his tummy, and started humping the ground furiously in his diaper while staring at her.

“Gus Gus!” another woman called, storming over “Stop that right now!!” She yelled. Smacking the humping bABy on the back of the head and jerking him up by the wrist, yanking him out and over to her seat with the crowd of women she had been sitting with. “We do NOT go goo goo in our diapy!” She scolded in front of everyone. Pulling him over her lap and spanking his thighs while he cried like a baby.

“See, that’s why I keep mine locked up...” said the woman sitting next to her. “Watch this!” She said, turning her gaze elsewhere, raising her hand, and snapping her fingers twice.

A man in normal clothes conversing in another group immediately turned his attention to her. She crooked a finger and beckoned him over. His face instantly turned from casual to concern as his shoulders dropped and he sauntered over to her and the group of women.

He stood there awkwardly as she snapped again. This time pointing down. “Drop ‘em!” She barked. And his quivering hands immediately fumbled with his belt and zipper, and his pants were at his ankles. A large fluffy diaper underneath.

She placed a finger into the front of his diaper and pulled it forward. Peeking inside. “Go on girls! Have a looksy!” She announced, and all the girls immediately took her up on the offer and leaned in to peer into the front of his diaper. They all collectively gasped.

“Wowww!!”

“It’s so intricate!”

“And so tiny!!!”

“I love the little padlock!!”

“Are those spikes?!”

“It’s adorable!!”

The man stared at the sky, visibly sweating and shifting back and forth.

“Oh that’s not even the best part!” His wife announced. And with that, she started pulling one side of her dress off of her shoulder.

The man immediately started shaking his head. “No, Mommy! Please!!” He begged. His voice suddenly high and squeaky. 

The woman pulled aside her bra with ease, exposing her voluptuous bosom for all to see.

The man was trembling. As if  the bare boob were some kind of monster. His knees pressed together as he gripped the front of his diaper. 

She patted her leg softly. “Come here, little one.” She said to her 6’3’’ husband. He sniffled as he delicately laid across her lap, into her arms that cradled his head. His snivelling intensified as he came face to face with her gorgeous breast. She gently cupped her tit and placed the nipple to his mouth, ‘shhhing’ and coddling him as if he were an actual baby in need of nourishment.

His eyes squinted as he began sucking the nipple, his hips convulsing a bit as he did so. Clenching his legs tightly and whimpering as if in some sort of pain. I had no idea what was going on, but all the mothers around him apparently did, and thought it was hilarious.

“Awwww! I think somewon’s getting exciiited!!”

“Poor wittle thing!”

“Serves him right. He should learn to control himself!”

They all nodded in agreement as the woman rocked the nursing bABy back and forth.

There was the slight clinking of a bell behind me. I turned to see where it was coming from, but didn’t see anything in the distance. I adjusted my view downward and saw a woman leading a dog by a leash. But when she stopped moving and the dog came out from behind her, it wasn’t a dog at all. It was a sissy in a pink puppy outfit. Her hair was in long, curly pigtails and written across her face in lipstick were the letters W-H-O-R-E. Her lips taking the place of the “O” in the word.

“Would you like a blowjob?” the woman holding the leash asked, as if she were a vendor selling something as simple as hotdogs, “only $5 bucks!”

She jerked the leash a bit so that the bell around the pet’s collar jingled. Immediately the puppy rose to a “begging” position with her paws outfront and her tongue hanging out the “O” of her mouth.

“So…” the woman continued, “shall the two of you find a bathroom or a shed somewhere to...do your business?”

My mouth must have been making an “O” as well from my dropped jaw. I didn’t know what to say. Glancing back and forth. I looked to my wife for help. But she just shrugged and smirked as if to say “Hey that’s up to you...if that’s what you want…”

“Uhh..hmm..ahem” I stammered. Trying to find my voice for the first time since arriving at this whirlwind of a party. “N-no...no thank you.” I said.

The woman with the leash shrugged, “Your loss. She’s getting pretty good...gonna have to start charging more soon!” and with that she yanked the leash and the two jingled away. 

“There he is!!” 

“It’s him!”

“The new bABy!!”

There was a raucous from everyone in the crowd as they all turned back to the house. A lady in a black dress with scarlet red hair was standing arms crossed as what  looked to be a large, wooden high-chair was wheeled out by two large black men. It was decorated in alternating blue and pink ribbons and streamers. When they turned it around, I got a full view of the occupant in the chair. It was my best friend, Michael.

His wrists were cuffed to each end of the table top, his ankles cuffed to the bottom.. His hands were encased in mittens: one pink, one blue. He didn’t have on any pants, white briefs (Which I mistook for a diaper, at first. Can you blame me??) and a white T-shirt with a giant question mark across the front.

“Thank you all so much for coming!” the woman with scarlet hair, Moira, announced as the crowd hushed. She had a distinct air of confidence about her that drew everyone’s attention. She cleared her throat and spoke elegantly. “Michael and I first met several years ago back in 2031. It was love at first sight, and I eventually knew I wanted to have a baby with Michael. But when the Population Reformation Act passed a few years later, I found myself reevaluating my decision. Though we, as women, are no longer allowed to choose when we can have a baby, there is no denying we will always have those maternal instincts so heavily ingrained within us.”

All the women around me proceeded to nod their heads in agreement. Muttering ‘amen’ in unison. 

“That’s why when the Hubbies in Huggies Act was passed, I knew there was no denying this was always the plan for wittle Mikey all along!”

Michael seemed to sink in his chair as the women all clapped and hooted in accord. It seemed like just yesterday he and I were golfing together when he muttered that he had something to tell me. 

“So, please, come say your final goodbyes to the ‘man’ I married. Grab some punch. Grab some snacks. And let’s all reveal the Gender of wittle Mikey in 30 minutes time!”

They all clapped once more and were about to scatter when Agnes drunkenly called for attention. “And for our bABy shower game today to celebrate wittle Mikey, if everyone will please grab a diaper and write a cute or humiliating little note across the front so that Michael and Moira can remember you every single time he gets a change!” she turned to look at me “Tom, I assume those are the diapers?”

Suddenly all eyes were on me. I had been so enamored by all the chaos going on around me throughout this nightmare of a party that I’d forgotten I'd been holding the box of diapers the whole time.

I gulped, and nodded. Stealing a glance at Michael, who was glaring at me as if I somehow betrayed him. I placed the box down and barely got it open before all the women hounded in to grab a diaper and a sharpie. Others went to coo at Michael. Pinching his cheeks and telling him how excited he should be. But still he kept his gaze on me. I could do nothing but avoid it and walk away.

*****

“So what should we write?” Sandra asked, pressing the sharpie to the front of the very large diaper that had B-A-B-Y printed across it on little baby blocks already. 

“I dunno.” I grunted, wishing to get this all over with. “How about: ‘I’m sorry, Man’”

Sandra shook her head, “Not cute or clever enough. Plus we don’t know if he’ll even be referred to as a ‘man’ any more after this...Oooh! I know”

And she scribbled across it. Holding it up to show me.

“Wittle Clitty inside!” she giggled.

“How does that work? He doesn’t have a clit, and you don’t even know if he’s gonna be a ‘gurl’ either!” I argued.

“Oh trust me. Moira told me how small his thingy is. It might as well be called a ‘clitty’ no matter how the rest of this shakes out! Now go put it on the pile! The reveal is going to be any minute!”

I begrudgingly took the giant diaper over to the table with all the others. Examining what was written across them.

First of many!!

Poop! There it is.

All ‘Ga ga’ and no ‘Goo Goo’ from now on!

Caution: Tiny Objects inside! (Don’t worry, definitely NOT a choking hazard!)

Only THOUSANDS more to go!!

Open at your own risk!!

Roses are red, violets are blue, will this one have pee, or will it have poo?

It was all so ridiculous and humiliating. And I wasn’t even the one the diapers were intended for. What was the world coming to that all of this had become so normalized?

There were gasps from the crowd. 

“It’s time!”

“It’s TIME!”

The women gathered round. Their bABies gathered with them. Though, in their own unique way. 

Moira came out carrying a cake with white icing that had large sparklers and candles crackling on the top. The women all cheered and sang a song to the tune of Happy Birthday, but all the words were something different. I felt like I was in the middle of some strange occult ritual. They all cheered as the song ended.

“Blow them out, Mikey!” they called.

“Make a wish!” someone else said, “Though I doubt it’ll come true!”

Michael sat there frowning as they sang. Grumbling as they beckoned him to blow out the candles and wish like an infant on their first birthday. But he must have known it was no use protesting with all these people around, including the two giant black men.

He gasped and blew with all his might. Extinguishing the candles. Everyone cheered. Everyone but me.

“And now!” Moira called opening up a large knife, ceremonial style “The time has come to find out if we’re going to have a little boi, or a little gurl! A little Mikey, or baby Michelle!”

The crowd clamored. Placing their last minute bets. 

“I think it’s a boi!”

“It’s gonna be a gurl!”

“I know The Drawing is supposed to be 50/50 but I swear it leans more towards bois.” one said, “Like Congress doesn’t want to shock too many of them by making them gurls”

Moira placed the knife on the cake and made one long cut down its center, then another at a slightly wider angle. She made one last look at the crowd as they collectively held their breath and then gave a wicked evil grin at Michael. Pulling the slice of cake up with the knife, revealing its hot pink center for all to see.

The crowd erupted. 

“It’s a gurl!”

“A gurl!”

“I knew it!!!”

“Told you!!”

Everyone cheered. Well, everyone but the bABies. Everyone but me. Everyone but Michael.

Michael’s face dropped as he saw the news on the tray right in front of him. His head hung low as he began to sob. But then the crying crescendoed until he was wailing in his seat. He would have hid his face in his hands if they weren’t cuffed to each side of the high chair, so instead he just started flailing against his restraints. Smashing his face into the cake. Screaming at everyone in the crowd. Basically throwing a temper tantrum like a toddler.

The two black men made to move in, but Moira waved them off.

“I see someone is taking the news well…” she laughed awkwardly, and the rest of the onlookers followed suit.

We waited for Michael to basically tire himself out. Huffing and puffing with icing all over his face and hair. Moira grabbed a towel and cleaned him up.

“Now...I think it’s time for the baby’s first diaper...don’t you?” 

******

I painfully watched as my best friend was uncuffed from the chair. With renewed vigor he started flailing and squealing again, but the black men held him firm. As if he were nothing more than a harmless, wriggling puppy about to get his shots.

A mat was laid out on the ground in front of the high chair, and Michael was laid upon it. Each black man pinning down an arm and leg. The crowd circled around as if this was the next expected piece of the ceremony. 

One woman brought forth a pink bag and handed it to Moira, who knelt between Michael’s legs. She sifted through the items until she found what she was looking for: a small pair of scissors. She used them to cut the tighty whitey’s around his waist. Exposing his cock for everyone to see. Some women let out giggles at its size.

“Wow! It is tiny!”

“I didn’t know they could be that small!”

“It really is a clitty!”

“Looks like diapers are the perfect choice!”

Moira smiled as Michael’s face flushed. 

“Watta you think girls, does the new wittle baby gurl need the cage?” she asked the crowd.

Everyone seemed to nod in unison. Their cries of agreement eventually turned into a chant. 

“Lock him up! Lock him up! Lock him up!”

But eventually someone corrected their use of pronouns, and it became “Lock her up! Lock her up! Lock her up!”

Moira held up the chastity cage she’d pulled from the bag like a gladiator raising their sword to the roar of the crowd. 

Michael wriggled helplessly as Moira worked his tiny member through the ring of the tiny cage, eventually adding the ridiculously small front casing to the cage and locking it shut. Much to Michael’s chagrin and to the crowd’s amusement.

She held up the tiny key to even more applause and cheers, slipping a small chain through the hole and clasping it around her neck. 

“Pampers! Pampers! Pampers!” the crowd started shouting. Driving the show.

Moira smiled and reached into the bag, not having to look long at all to pull out a huge, pink, fluffy diaper with princesses all over it.

Michael started whimpering, shaking back and forth, making his cage clank. Not realizing that it only made it more fitting that he get a diaper while he was blubbering like a baby.

Moira grinned wickedly as she unfurled the diaper, letting the black men force Michael’s hips in the air so she could slide it underneath.

One of the bABies in the crowd started crying. Holding his crotch.

“Awww! Wook’s wike somewon’s getting too excited from watching!!” his ‘Mommy’ said, dragging him away so she could go take care of him.

“Watta ya think, Ladies?” Moira said, addressing the crowd, “Should we help the wittle baby make his first boom boom in his diapurr?”

She held up some sort of tiny pill looking thing. Apparently the other women knew what it was, as they all jeered and cheered affirmatively.

Moira spread Michael’s butt cheeks with two fingers and used her other hand to shove the tiny pill into his writhing butthole.

“More! Give him more!!” some women yelled.

To which Moira obliged, taking three more and working them in one at a time.

After the mysterious pills were inserted, Moira proceeded to apply copious amounts of powder, then pulled the front of the diaper up and over, the tapes making a shriek as they were pulled and placed. Locking the diaper in place.

Moira patted her husband’s diapered crotch affectionately to the cheers of the onlookers, making a cloud of powder form out the sides. 

The ladies then spent several minutes deciding what outfit to put Michael in. Everything from various onesies, to dresses, to lingerie and camisoles. All different types of fabric from satin to lace to even latex. 

The men and bABies all side-eyed each other as the discussion went on. As if we were all collectively at the mall waiting for our wives to pick something out, but had no input or thought to the matter.

After much debate, Moira finally decided to try the white satin dress with a pink ruffly skirt that poofed out entirely too far to be practical.

Michael put up quite the fight as the black men steadily worked his arms and head through the dress, screaming and crying “no” as they did so. The women carried on conversation as if it were just another newborn crying in the corner.

After the dress was administered, Moira insisted on putting him in white stockings and some little Mary Jane shoes. “They were my grandfather’s when he was turned into a baby girl!” she explained to the ooh’s and aww’s of the crowd.

Finally, the most audacious pink bonnet went over Michael’s head. He sat there on the ground, defeated. Looking every bit as ridiculous as he must have felt. He was squirming, which was weird, because the outfitting was now over.

“Uh oh!!” someone said, “Wook’s wike somewon needs to make their boom boom!!”

The black men immediately snapped into action, holding Michael down as he writhed and cried and whimpered. It looked as if an exorcism was taking place.

“Nooo!! Please!! NOOOOOOOOO!!” he cried, but it was too late. Loud, flatulent noises echoed from inside his diaper, and everyone knew what was taking place.

“Babies first poo poo!!” The women laughed, taking out their phones to capture the moment.

After what seemed like several minutes of Michael wriggling and convulsing, he finally relaxed. Well…’relaxed’ as much as wearing a diaper full of warm muck would allow.

“I don’t think I can watch any more of this…” I finally said to my wife. Not wanting to see my best friend get his dirty diaper changed. But Sandra grabbed me by the arm before I could walk away, muttering through clenched teeth “You will stay, and you will watch.” She growled with a fierceness I didn’t know she had.

I sighed, and turned back to the show. But instead of seeing Michael’s bits splayed out again like I expected, another device was being brought out.

It looked like a harness I wore a couple years ago when I went skydiving. But it had a long rope attached to it.

Michael was easily lifted into the harness. Visibly cringing as it pressed the contents of his diaper further up his crack as it was tightened.

One of the men who also seemed to be getting scolded by his wife jumped in to help. Taking the rope and tossing it over the branch of a tree. The man and the two black men hoisted Michael up off the ground so that he was hanging in the air like a toddler in a jumper. Then they secured the other end of the rope to a hefty table.

Michael dangled there pathetically in the middle of the crowd. His outfit and dirty diaper on display with his head hung low.

The women took turns coming up to him to pinch his cheeks and tell him how adorable he was and what a “good wittle gurl!” he’d been for pooping in his diaper.

“Now what Baby Shower would be complete without a party game?!” Agnes asked. Laughing and sipping her wine. “This game will work much like pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey. Except this time, it’s pin the sticker on the icky brown spot of Michael--I mean--Michelle’s dirty diaper! So if you’ll just form a line over here...”

The women all cheered and ran over to get in line. None of the men moved. The bABies were mostly left unattended. Which you’re not supposed to do to a 2-year-old. So it was a good thing most of them were upwards of 32 or 42.

The first woman stepped up and put on the blindfold, got handed the silly fake tail (which I realized was actually a flat, cut-out penis), spun around 10 times, and made her way to Michael like he was a dangling pinata. 

“Ohhh I smell something stinky over here!” she said laughing. Using the putrid scent of Michael’s diaper to guide her to the right area. She bent over and sniffed where his backside was, ruffled her nose, nodded, and then placed the tail directly in the right spot. Giving it a more than necessary force that caused Michael’s filth to further squish around with a squelch. Michael wriggled uncomfortably as everyone laughed, and soon he started crying. Moira had apparently had enough of his bellyaching, and decided to pull out one of those penis pacifiers and shove it in his mouth.

“You should have put the paci in while blindfolded!” one of the women jested, and the women cackled.

Each one of them took turns putting on the blindfold, spinning around, and easily finding where Michael’s unpleasant surprise was. He had so many penis papers dangling from his diaper that they looked like tassels. They decided to make it a little harder by swinging Michael back and forth so that it was a tougher target to acquire. By the end of it, Michael was practically covered head to toe in the little cutout penises.

The party died down after that. Everyone saying their goodbyes and making their way out.

Once the coast was mostly clear, I made my way up to Michael, who was still swaying around in the harness.

I didn’t know what to say, just nervously cleared my throat. “Listen man I--”

“Don’t” he said, cutting me off. I thought he was saying it to tell me not to apologize or something. But there was more to it: “Don’t. Ever. Piss her off.” he said around the pacifier. Bringing his eyes off the ground to stare directly into mine. Then looking over at my wife Sandra so I knew who he was referring to.

“I...uh...what?”

“If she ever has anything to hold over your head,” Michael continued, “Anything that makes her annoyed or frustrated or furious at you, you better fix it right now.”

“I..I don’t think I...we...well…we’re pretty happy right now.” I finally said.

“Good.” he said. “Keep it that way. Unless you want to end up like me…”

I wanted to say more. To say sorry. To ask what it was that got him into this mess...literally. But Sandra came over and said, “Ready?”

“Yes ma’am” I said. Probably a little too nicely, but after my conversation with Michael I didn’t want to take any chances.

“H-honey?” I asked when we got in the car.

“Yes baby?” she replied.

“You...you’re not thinking about doing anything like that to me are you?” I asked, trying to keep the horror out of my voice.

“Of course not!” she laughed, and I did too apprehensively. But after a while she spoke again and said “Not yet anyway....”

The End