**Title: The Perfect Son’s Dirty Little Secret**

I never thought I’d end up here—diapered like a baby, tucked into a crib, sucking on a pacifier—but here I was. And the worst part? I *liked* it.

Steve and Bucky—my dads—had been patient with me, more than I deserved. The bedwetting started almost immediately after they adopted me. At first, it was just a few accidents at night, nothing major. Then it started happening during the day. The humiliation burned worse than pissing myself, especially in front of two super-soldiers who never seemed to lose control of *anything*.

One night, Bucky found me kneeling by my soaked sheets, trembling with shame. He didn’t yell. He just sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and said, “Kid, we gotta do something about this.”

That’s how I ended up in a thick, crinkling diaper, pinned between Steve’s strong hands as he taped it snug around my hips. “This is just until you get better,” he said, but the way his fingers lingered on my thighs made my cock twitch.

I pretended to hate it. I *should* have hated it. But the second they left my room, I was grinding into the padding, biting my lip to keep from moaning. The humiliation was *delicious*.

—

Things escalated fast.

First, it was the crib. “You keep kicking off the sheets,” Bucky said, like that explained why they were bolting me into a fucking baby bed. But the bars made me feel small, helpless—*owned*—and I came untouched the first night I slept in it, humping my diaper like an animal.

Then came the highchair. Steve spoon-fed me mashed bananas like I was a toddler, his big hands cradling my chin when I tried to protest. “Open up, Vanya,” he murmured, and I melted, sucking the spoon clean like a good boy.

The pacifier was the breaking point. Bucky found me one night, curled in the crib, fingers shoved in my mouth as I rocked against the wet diaper. He didn’t say a word—just pushed a pink, silicone nipple between my lips and tucked the stuffed bunny I’d been sneaking into bed closer to my chest.

“Daddy’s got you,” he whispered, and I nearly sobbed from how hard I came.

—

Tonight was different.

Steve carried me to the changing table after dinner, humming as he unsnapped my onesie. My cock was already leaking, pressed against the soaked padding. He tutted, running a thumb over the bulge. “Someone’s excited.”

I squirmed, face burning. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh.” He peeled the diaper back, his breath hitching at the mess I’d made. Precum streaked my stomach, my cock flushed and twitching. “You’re such a naughty boy, Vanya.”

His fingers wrapped around me, stroking slow. I whined around the pacifier, my hips jerking. “Daddy, please—!”

Bucky appeared behind me, chuckling as he pressed a bottle to my lips. “Drink up, baby. Daddy’s gonna take care of you.”

I sucked helplessly, milk spilling down my chin as Steve’s grip tightened. The pleasure was too much—the humiliation, the *ownership*—and when Bucky leaned down to bite my nipple, I screamed into the pacifier, cumming in thick spurts all over Steve’s hand.

They cleaned me up like it was nothing, diapering me fresh before tucking me back into the crib. Bucky kissed my forehead. “Good boy.”

And as I drifted off, knuckles pressed between my thighs, I knew I’d never want to be anything else.