Odette Aurelia Clayton-Johnson
by Cassidy Grady
Written by Cassidy Grady, read on 11/12/23.
I remember taking the AP Calc test my sophomore year of high school–I’m really smart–and… I had to piss really bad. Like, really bad. I’ve never had to piss so bad in my life. I tried crossing my legs, and it didn’t help, so I crossed them tighter. I still had to piss. I uncrossed my legs, and grabbed my crotch to hold it in, and wiggled around helplessly, accidentally arousing myself. At one point I thought to myself… if only I was wearing a diaper. I think that’s when it started–or maybe not started, no, that’s not where it started, but that’s the moment it surfaced in my subconscious. I couldn’t focus on the rest of the test. I got a 4. I should have gotten a 5–I’m really smart. But all I could think about the entire time was wearing a diaper… though I had forgotten I had to pee.
Instead I imagined my boyfriend, well, he was my boyfriend back then. Zack Peck, 5’11”, captain of the football team, yes, I imagined Zacky peeling each of the sticky, plushy straps off of my hips, and when he opened the diaper and said “did somebody go poo poo in their dipey?” I fluttered my big little eyes up to meet his, blinked twice, and said… “oopsies.”
That’s when he shoves the binky into my mouth, bends me over his knee, wipes me down with a cottonelle wipe, then spanks me saying, “bad girl!” “No,no,” I respond, and I cry, but not in a tears welling in my eyes kind of way, I cry in a waaahhh waaahhh waaahhh kind of way. I wail and I scream and he spanks me again and I’m crying and crying and that’s when the test moderator said “5 more minutes.” I was not even close to being done. Good thing I’m really smart.
I never told Zack about this. I was scared he’d think I’m weird. I lost my virginity to him at sixteen, and we experienced passionate love and sexual bliss ever since. We were that couple. He loved it when I sucked on his thumb. I did that a lot. It kind of became our thing. But then came graduation. I went to Yale for comparative literature, because I’m really smart. They accepted the 4 I got on my AP calc test for college credit, which was a huge relief. He went to Penn State on a football scholarship. I knew long distance wouldn’t work out. When we broke up, I started wearing diapers.
I never told Marcus about these fantasies either. I met Marcus in my second semester of sophomore year through the Yale Club. 6’2”, law student, wears glasses but in a hot way. We dated through college, and I gripped my plushies while he fucked me on my dorm room twin bed, and I sucked on the ball gag like a nursing infant. Once–no, twice–we had a threesome with my roommate and I sucked on her nipple the entire time. I kept wearing diapers, but I told Marcus I had a, like, really intense bladder problem, and would spontaneously pee without realizing it, and that it’s been happening since I was a little girl. My delivery was incredible. I surprised myself. I even started crying. Real tears. I said I was always really embarrassed about it and he embraced me. I think my vulnerability made him fall in love with me even more. Sometimes when he peeled my diaper off of me I would cum without physical stimulation. When it came off clean, he called me a good girl, and I giggled. I did feel a little bit guilty about the lie. I felt really guilty about it when he proposed to me on graduation day, but it was simply too late.
After that, though, I fixed myself–the only way out is through. I threw away all of my binkeys I would suck on in private that I kept hidden in my panty drawer. I gradually stopped wearing diapers, too. I told Marcus I found a good doctor that prescribed me good medication. I googled ‘bladder issue medicine’ and I used photoshop to make fake pill bottle labels for a while. They were just vitamins, but he believed that the issue went away for good. I was kind of shocked he bought it, but I’m really smart. After a couple years, I didn’t really think about it at all anymore. This was finally a part of my past that wasn’t coming back. There were no longer any secrets between Marcus and me. I no longer fantasized about being a baby. Then I got pregnant.
For the most part, I did okay, though I must admit that on some level making the baby shower registry felt a little bit like making an erotic pinterest board. Whenever I went to Babies R Us, I made sure Marcus came with me for the moral support he didn’t even know he was providing. Whenever I felt aroused, I had a system in place. I would chant to myself, dead puppy, dead rabbit, smell of a raccoon. Little baby things no longer make me swoon. I only slipped up once. The store was empty, Marcus was in the bathroom for a really long time, and I sucked on a binky that was on a shelf. It was purple. I only sucked a little bit, and then I slipped the binky into my pocket. I stole it. I was too ashamed to buy it, but I couldn’t leave it there for some other baby to suck on. But I threw it away as soon as I got home.
In the middle of the night, though, I went into the kitchen and fished it out of the garbage can. It was covered in coffee grounds and banana peel residue, so I rinsed it off. But just before it touched my lips I repeated over and over: dead puppy, dead rabbit, smell of a raccoon. Little baby things no longer make me swoon. Dead puppy, dead rabbit, smell of a raccoon. Little baby things no longer–I threw it down the garbage disposal and flipped the switch. The sound of shredding rubber isn’t at all like the sound of shredding broccoli stems.
I love our daughter Odette Aurelia Clayton-Johnson more than anything. I really do. Her first name comes from Charles Swann’s lover, her middle name comes from Marcus Aurelius, and she was born on the twentieth anniversary of 9/11. But I remember when I held Odette in my arms for the first time, yes I felt the overwhelming joy of being a mother, yes I felt the indescribable feeling of unconditional love a mother feels for the child she carried inside of her for 9 whole months… but all of this was accompanied by something quite dark: the slightest hint of jealousy.
I’m not proud to admit that. I feel horrible. And it gets worse. I always told Marcus that he didn’t have to change Odette’s diaper, that that’s a woman’s job, a mother’s job, a maternal act. He would always say, “I thought you were a feminist,” to which I would reply, “being a mother changes things. I guess my mom was right.” But then my father got diagnosed with colon cancer. I was heartbroken. Me and my father have always been really close. I got too busy to take full care of Odette, and Marcus had to step in. This was my breaking point.
One day I came home to him changing her diaper, and completely broke down. I started sobbing the second I walked in the door, and saw his fingers peeling the sticky, plushy straps off of Odette’s bouncy new flesh. “Oh no,” he said, looking at me with concern. “Bad news from the hospital?”
“What?”
“Your father?”
“Oh, yes,” I replied. “That’s absolutely what’s wrong. He’s just so helpless it um… it depresses me. It kills me. It makes me feel horrible. I don’t think I can visit him anymore…”
“Oh but you must! You can’t abandon him in his time of need!”
“But what about my needs?”
He was shocked by this. “What about my needs, huh? You don’t care about me anymore!”
“Listen, my love. I know this is hard…”
“Stop it! Just stop!”
I ran past him grabbing the pack of Luvs diapers, and disappeared into our bedroom slamming the door behind me. I’m really teeny tiny, so me and Odette are the same diaper size.
I tore off my clothes, and my adult-like sobs turned into waaahhh waaahhh waaahhh and I peeled off my stupid Victoria’s Secret panties and I put on my Luvs and I looked in the mirror, collecting myself. For the first time in a long time, I smiled. This is me. This is who I am.
Then, interrupting my moment of bliss, Marcus stormed in asking, “what the hell is going on with you?” My wails increased in volume.
“Are you more attracted to her than you are to me?”
“What? Who are you talking about? I’ve been nothing but loyal to you, my love.”
“Odette. Odette! You’re more attracted to her than you are to me, aren’t you?!”
His expression went blank.
“Answer me.”
He helped me find a therapist that night. Things are improving.
I love our daughter Odette Aurelia Clayton-Johnson more than anything. I really do.
by Cassidy Grady, 11/12/23
Confession: I want everyone to come clean about their fetishes. When I was a teenager… I wanted to be a baby… and maybe I still want that now???
amazing stuff