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vaderlingo

Dehydrated Member
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  • My pronouns are..
    she/her

My Kinks

  • I'm into..
    Ageplay
    Bedwetting
    Diapers
    Cuddling
    Humiliation
    Spanking

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  1. Author's note: This is fanfiction for the TV series Supernatural, but if you haven't seen the show, the only thing you really need to know to understand this story is that Castiel used to be an angel, but at the time this story is set was recently turned into a human being, and so is new to dealing with things like human bodily functions. He and Dean and Dean's brother Sam roadtrip across the country hunting supernatural creatures. Content notes: This story contains Dean/Castiel (so male/male) content, but is not sexually explicit. There is one brief reference to hypothetical messing, but no messing is actually described or depicted. Summary: After Castiel has an accident during a long drive to a case, Dean insists on him wearing diapers in the hopes that the humiliation will incentivize him to work on learning to hold it for longer - a strategy which backfires when it turns out that Castiel has no shame whatsoever on the subject of diapers, and thinks they're a perfectly practical solution to his bladder control issues. --- “My car!” Slamming the door behind him, Dean rounded the front of the Impala. “You pissed on the seat of my car!” “If you’d pulled over when I asked, I wouldn’t have pissed on anything,” Cas fired back. “This is your fault, Dean.” “My fault!” Dean yelped. “How is it my fault that you couldn’t hold it thirty fucking minutes so we could get to a town and stop for dinner?” Cas folded his arms across his chest. “I informed you of my need to urinate,” he said coolly. “I informed you that I was uncertain of my ability to ‘hold it’ for the necessary period of time. What you chose to do with that information was your own decision.” Dean threw up his hands. “Well, excuse me for assuming you had more bladder control than a freaking kindergartener. I thought you could wait!” For the first time since they had both jumped out of the car, Dean caught a hint of embarrassment on Cas’s face. “I told you—” “I thought you were psyching yourself out!” Dean ran a hand through his hair. “You took a leak at that rest stop two hours ago, and in that field two hours before that, and after we got lunch two hours before that. I figured, you know, you’re new to all this, you don’t know your body’s limits, maybe you didn’t realize it wasn’t a huge emergency every time you had to go.” Cas arched an eyebrow. “So you assumed you knew my body’s limits better than I did.” His expression was pretty contemptuous for a guy whose pants were distractingly pee-stained at the crotch. Dean had to hand it to him; if Dean had been the one to wet himself like a little kid in the back seat of someone’s car, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have been able to muster up that kind of righteous indignation. “You were wrong.” “Obviously,” Dean muttered. “Look, I’m sorry I assumed I could treat you like a freaking adult. I won’t make that mistake again. Next time, I’ll keep your walnut-sized bladder in mind. You happy?” Cas frowned at him. “Your discomfort with my human limitations is your own problem. You don’t need to be mean.” “Ugh, whatever.” Dean rubbed his eyes. On the other side of the Impala, a semi-truck flew past them down the highway, leaving the stench of exhaust in its wake. Through the window on the passenger door, he could see Sam staring avidly at his phone as if totally transfixed by the screen, even though Dean knew that he had to be able to hear every word of their argument, especially with the back door hanging open from where Cas had flung himself out of it the moment Dean had pulled onto the shoulder. “Let’s just get back on the road. First gas station we come to, you can clean yourself up. All right?” Cas nodded. “I am sorry about the seat,” he said, gaze falling to the ground. “I know your car is important to you. I’ll clean it when we stop.” The last of Dean’s anger seeped away. “S’not that big a deal,” he admitted. “Vinyl’s easy to clean, and God knows Sam and I have bled and puked in there enough over the years. Trust me, it’s seen worse.” Cas nodded again, and turned to duck back into the car. From behind, Dean could see the dark patch covering the seat of his jeans. The stain wasn’t actually that big, not even all the way down his thighs. If that was as much as Cas could hold, the dude really did have a walnut bladder. No wonder he’d been wetting the bed so much. Sam glanced up from his phone as Dean swung himself into the driver’s seat. “We good to go?” Conjuring up his best shit-eating grin, Dean started the engine. “Oh yeah,” he said. “I was just telling Cas about all the bodily fluids that backseat has seen.” The expression he got in response was a solid seven out of ten on the bitchface scale, and Dean grinned for real as he pulled back onto the road. His amusement dissipated over the next several minutes with every glance at the back of the car in the rearview mirror. For all Cas’s insistence that the accident had been Dean’s fault, he sure was wearing a pathetically hangdog expression, and a tendril of guilt began to worm its way into Dean’s stomach. Hopefully they could find a gas station with the bathroom on the outside, so Cas wouldn’t need to do the walk of shame through the store. Bad enough that he and Sam knew what had happened without the general public getting an eyeful of Cas’s accident. No. Fuck. He and Sam and Ezekiel knew what had happened, even if Cas had no idea that one of his formerly-fellow angel buddies had been there to see him embarrass himself. A second tendril of guilt joined the first one, and Dean resolved to clean the backseat himself while Cas got changed. --- They drove a few hours after dinner before finally stopping for the night, and this time Dean didn’t hesitate when Cas asked for a bathroom break, even knowing that he and Sam wouldn’t have bothered if they’d been on their own. Cas took off for his own room as soon as they found a motel, rather than hanging around in Sam and Dean’s until they were all ready to go to sleep as he usually did. He probably wanted to shower, Dean realized—wiping yourself off with paper towels in a grimy gas station bathroom couldn’t be the most hygienic way to deal with having pissed your pants. “You could cut him some slack, you know,” Sam said, when they were finally alone. “He’s still getting used to all this.” “Dude,” Dean responded. “He’s been human for three months. How long does it take to learn to hold it like an adult?” “Maybe Jimmy just had a small bladder,” Sam suggested. Dean gave him a look, and he relented. “Fine. Maybe not. But we did kinda keep him in the bunker while he was getting trained up for the first couple months, so it’s not like he was ever far from a bathroom. He hasn’t really needed to, uh, hold it. Maybe now that he’s getting out more, he’ll have more incentive.” “So you agree!” Dean pointed at him. “You think he could learn to hold it better, if he wanted to. He just needs incentive.” Sam snorted. “What, like a sticker chart? Dean, Cas is a grown man. I’m sure he can figure it out for himself.” “Yeah, maybe,” Dean said, flopping down on his bed. “But aren’t we supposed to be helping him figure stuff out? I mean, that’s like, our responsibility, isn’t it?” Sam eyed him warily. “Dude. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s a bad idea.” “I’m not thinking anything,” Dean told him. --- Dean pondered the problem as they finished driving to the small town in Nevada which had seen six unexplained deaths over the past four weeks. He pondered it every time a sign for a rest stop appeared and he pulled in without even waiting for Cas to ask. He pondered it when the three of them were camped out in a motel room, doing research—he hadn’t paid much attention, during the last few cases they’d worked since Cas became human, to the way Cas disappeared into the bathroom every couple of hours like clockwork, but he was paying attention now. He pondered it when they were interviewing a dead dude’s sister and Cas had to interrupt in the middle of the conversation to ask if he could use her facilities. He pondered it when Cas had to duck out during the commercials of the Dr. Sexy marathon that Dean just so happened to stumble across while flipping channels on the motel TV, nearly missing the revelation that the head nurse’s baby was actually her love-child with her husband’s twin brother. And he pondered it while laying flat on his ass in a graveyard, panting for breath as he recovered from getting flung around by what had turned out to be two spirits working together. Cas had pulled his weight on the take-down, participating in the grunt work of grave-digging without complaint, and then wielding his shotgun full of rocksalt to help Dean hold off the second spirit while Sam burned the bones. But as soon as it was over? Like, the moment the spirit went up in flames? Cas had stumbled away from the grave while scrambling at his clothes with a desperation that had alarmed Dean into worrying that he had an injury under there somewhere—until he realized that no, Cas was just whipping it out so he could piss against a tree with a sigh of relief that Dean could hear from twenty feet away. Clearly, something had to be done. And Dean wasn’t going to shy away from being the guy to do it. --- “I’m going out for a drink,” he told Sam two days later—they’d stayed a couple extra days to make sure there wasn’t a third spirit running around, but with no more deaths, it was about time for them to hit the road. And that meant it was time for Dean to put his plan in motion. Dean did down a glass of whiskey at the bar down the road from the hotel, because he was pretty sure this whole venture would be easier with alcohol, before sliding off the stool and driving to the drugstore they’d passed on their way into town. As it turned out, there were a bunch of different types of adult diapers. Who’d have thought? When he’d been buying baby crap for Lisa’s niece, he’d been given a brand and size to buy and strict instructions not to deviate. No thinking necessary. He found himself wondering if Cas needed diapers or pull-ups, or maybe just those pee-pads, and if it was worth it to pay for the expensive brand. Did Cas need “extra absorbency”? Actually, probably not, he realized—the whole problem was that the guy could barely hold enough to water a few flowers. Whatever. The point of this wasn’t for Cas to use the diapers, just for him to be embarrassed enough at being forced to wear ‘em that he’d work hard to get out of it. Dean grabbed a pack—proper diapers, but not the super spendy ones. Thanking himself for the forethought to do this hundreds of miles from Lebanon where no one could possibly recognize him and think he was buying the things for himself, he paid and left. --- Dean occupied himself on the drive back to the hotel picturing how Cas might react to his ultimatum. I don’t have to wear anything just because you want me to, he imagined Cas saying, and easily came up with his own reply: You do if you want to ride in my car. They’re embarrassing and uncomfortable, argued the Cas in his mind. So teach yourself to hold it, and you won’t have to wear them next time, Dean would tell him. I’m not a child, Dean. Yeah, there were about a million ways Dean could respond to that. Of course, there was always the possibility that Cas would just flat-out refuse to wear them. In that case, Dean decided, he would threaten to refuse to pull the car over unless he or Sam needed it. Cas had been embarrassed enough by his earlier accident that Dean was pretty sure that would work, but if Cas was stubborn enough that it didn’t, Dean had no problem following through on his threat and letting Cas piss himself again. Wet vinyl really wasn’t hard to clean, and stewing in his own juices for a couple hours would probably teach Cas even more of a lesson than wearing a diaper would—now there was an “incentive” for some self-potty-training. Really, the biggest problem would be Sam’s response once he figured out what Dean was doing. Pulling into the motel parking lot, Dean grabbed the plastic bag from the passenger seat and knocked on Cas’s door. “Cas, it’s me. Open up!” The door swung open only a few seconds later. “Hello, Dean.” Cas stood back. “Did you want to watch TV?” Dean did that, sometimes, wander over to the other room when Sam was on his laptop and didn’t want to be bothered by the noise. “Maybe later,” Dean said, though he suspected Cas was about to change his mind about wanting Dean in his room. “Look, uh. I got you something.” “You brought me a gift?” And Cas sounded so surprised—so pleased at the idea—that guilt wormed its way into Dean’s stomach again; he’d managed to get Cas’s hopes up and was about to shatter them by intentionally humiliating the guy. Humiliating him for his own good, though. So he’d learn to fit into human society. And it wasn’t like Dean could back out now and magic some other, nicer present out of the air, so he pressed forward. He cleared his throat. “Uh, well, I was thinking about the issues you had on the drive over here.” Some of the light dropped out of Cas’s eyes as his expression went neutral. “And I was thinking, until you get that stuff under control, maybe you oughtta wear these for the long car rides.” He held out the bag. Taking it, Cas peered inside. “Diapers,” he commented, then looked back up. “That is a practical solution. Thank you, Dean.” Turning around, he carried the bag into the room and set it down next to his duffel bag. “Uh,” said Dean, still standing awkwardly in the doorway. He forced his mind to switch tracks from all the counterarguments he’d been mentally preparing. “You’re...welcome?” Cas glanced over his shoulder. “Are you going to come in? We can watch TV now.” Dean didn’t quite manage to respond. “Or...not?” A note of uncertainty crept into Cas’s voice. “We could also just talk. I always enjoy our conversations.” “TV is fine, Cas,” Dean assured him hastily. “Just, uh. You sure you’re cool with wearing the diapers?” “Of course,” Cas said, lines of puzzlement appearing on his forehead as he drew his eyebrows together. “I didn’t like inconveniencing you by forcing you to stop more frequently than if you’d been travelling without me. I don’t want to be a burden.” Fuck. Well, now Dean felt like an asshole. Cas ducked his head. “And,” he continued, “urinating in my clothes is messy. Not to mention embarrassing when other people see. I’m...aware it isn’t typical, for adult humans.” Head still ducked, he looked up at Dean through his eyelashes, looking almost shy. “It’s very thoughtful of you to help me avoid that experience.” “Well,” Dean said weakly. “I’m a thoughtful guy.” A small smile curled at the edge of Cas’s mouth. “You are,” he agreed. “TV?” --- Dean was packing his duffle the next morning when a knock sounded at the door. “Will you help me put my diaper on?” Cas asked without preamble. “The tapes are somewhat confusing and I don’t want to do it incorrectly.” Dean spared a moment to thank every deity in existence that Sam had already left on a breakfast run. “Uh, sure.” He followed Cas back to the other room, wondering how this had become his life—except he didn’t have to actually wonder, because it had been his own freaking idea. The door had barely closed behind him before Cas was pushing a diaper into his hands, and then shimmying out of his pants, and then his boxers, and then...yep, that was his dick, all right. Dean tried not to look, but come on. It was right there! “Dean?” Cas asked, looking at him earnestly, apparently completely unselfconscious at being naked from the waist down. Dean cleared his throat. “Uh, just lie down on the bed,” he instructed. Cas did so, settling himself down on his back with his legs parted and dangling over the side of the mattress.. Taking a deep breath, Dean approached the bed. Okay, he told himself. He could do this. Examining the diaper, it looked pretty much exactly like the ones Lisa’s niece had worn. Just...bigger. Theoretically, putting it on Cas should be just like changing a baby had been: the same configuration of tapes and padding and leg-holes. Except that, oh yeah, Cas wasn’t a baby, he was a grown man with a dick. A dick which was right there! Soft, and nestled in a bed of dark curls, and practically staring Dean in the face. Flustered, Dean slipped a hand under Cas’s butt to lift his hips, and only realized seconds later that Cas was an adult who could have been guided with verbal instructions rather than manhandling. Get a grip, Winchester. He slid the back end of the diaper under Cas’s waist, then cleared his throat again. “Watch what I’m doing,” he told Cas. “Then you can do it on your own if you have to.” There, Dean thought as he started doing up the tapes, narrating the process as he did so. Cas, propping himself up on his elbows, watched with avid fascination. This was fine. Normal. Educational, even. He was just teaching Cas the valuable human life skill of putting on a diaper. Nothing weird about that, no sir. “There you go,” Dean said when he was finished, awkwardly patting Cas’s thigh and then quickly withdrawing his hand. Cas sat up, looking down at himself curiously and slipping a finger in between the diaper and his hips to test the snugness. He looked up, apparently satisfied. “Thank you, Dean.” Somehow, seeing Cas with his dick and balls hanging out had been less weird than seeing him with his junk covered up by a diaper. Dean couldn’t keep himself from staring at the way his bare legs poked out from the padded garment. He was suddenly reminded of paintings he’d seen of angels, cherubs looking like chubby toddlers with fluffy wings and cloth diapers around their hips, and bit back an inappropriate snicker. They aren’t incontinent, Cas had once said, when Dean had asked him about actual cherubs. Sometimes, the universe had a weird-ass sense of humor. “You’re welcome,” he managed. “Come by in a few for breakfast?” At Cas’s nod, he turned and fled from the room. --- Not long after Sam had returned with their food, Cas let himself into their room, now fully-dressed. The fact that he was wearing pants should have been a balm to Dean’s sanity, but he found himself staring at Cas’s lower half as he ate his breakfast burrito, looking for the bulky outline of a diaper under the other man’s jeans. There wasn’t one, at least not that he could see. Which made sense, now that Dean thought about it: the packaging had promised discretion, and he’d gone for medium-absorbency, so it probably wasn’t as thick as it might have been. But it was there. Dean knew it was there. Even if it was invisible to the rest of the world, Cas was wearing a fucking diaper under his clothes. Just because Dean had asked him to. --- Two hours into the drive, Dean started glancing at the back seat in the rearview mirror. Cas was staring out the window, sitting still. Usually he would have been squirming by this point. Did he not have to go? Or was he trying to be more stoic about it? Or—Dean forced himself to look at the road, throat suddenly dry—had he already gone? Fifteen minutes later, they passed a sign for a rest area. This time, Dean didn’t turn on his blinker. He caught Sam looking over at him, then over his shoulder to the backseat. “Want a break, Cas?” Sam asked. “It’ll probably be another hour or two before we stop for lunch.” “There’s no need,” Cas replied. Which meant—fuck. There was no way he’d suddenly developed that much bladder control. Either he was planning to piss himself, or he’d already done it. Hands gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles started turning white, Dean drove past the rest area without stopping. --- They stopped for lunch at a diner in Utah. As Dean got out of the car, he heard Cas unzipping the bag he’d kept next to him in the back seat, and as they crossed the parking lot, he looked over to see a sliver of white peeking out from the bulging pocket of Cas’s hoodie. A diaper to change into, Dean realized. And he wasn’t even trying to hide it, not really—Sam, at least, didn’t seem to have noticed, but it wasn’t exactly unobtrusive, sticking out of Cas’s pocket like that. Dean swallowed at the confirmation that Cas had, in fact, pissed himself at some point in the last three hours. Just emptied his bladder, fully clothed and sitting in the back seat of Dean’s car, but this time, he’d meant to do it. Inside the diner, Dean watched as Cas made a beeline for the bathroom, and wondered. Had he wet himself pre-emptively once he’d felt the urge, knowing that he wasn’t planning on making it to a toilet? Or waited to let go until he was desperate? Or had it been a genuine accident, if a planned-for one, waiting as long as he could until his bladder simply gave out on him, losing control in the backseat so quietly and unobtrusively that Dean hadn’t been able to tell the difference? The pocket of Cas’s hoodie was empty when he returned and slid into the booth next to Dean. It occurred to Dean, too late, to wonder if his earlier demonstration had been enough for Cas to figure out the tapes on his own. Dean could have followed him into the bathroom, could have offered to help again, could have… ...could have, what, followed him into a stall? Shaking his head at his own stupid imagination, Dean stared down at the six different variations of hamburger listed on the menu and tried to force his mind away from Cas and his diapers. --- “Are you sure you don’t need to stop and use the bathroom, Cas?” Sam asked for the third time, five hours out from lunch as they crossed the border into Colorado. “It’s no big deal if you do.” Watching the road, Dean prayed for Sam to drop it. God, maybe he should make a stop, just so that— “I urinated half-an-hour ago,” Cas said in a matter-of-fact monotone. “I don’t need to go at the moment.” —Just so Cas didn’t do that. “You what?” Sam twisted around in his seat. “Dean, pull over! Cas, why didn’t you say something earlier?” “You misunderstand me. I didn’t wet my pants,” Cas explained calmly. “I mean that I urinated into one of the diapers Dean bought for me.” And now Sam was twisting the other direction, whipping around to stare at Dean. Even keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead, Dean could feel the heat of his gaze. “Diapers,” Sam said flatly. “Dean bought you diapers?” Dean carefully did not look at either of them. “Yes,” Cas said. “So we don’t need to stop as frequently as before. Although...” he trailed off. “Although what, Cas?” Sam’s voice was dangerously quiet. “I don’t want to be an inconvenience,” Cas started. “But I did urinate for the first time several hours ago, and the wetness has become somewhat uncomfortable. I’m also concerned that this diaper will leak if I continue to use it, as I’ve already urinated in it twice.” “Dean.” “Okay, okay,” Dean said hastily. “Stopping at the next gas station, I promise. Gotta fill the tank anyway.” He hoped Sam couldn’t tell how flushed his cheeks had become at the thought of Cas peeing in an already-wet diaper. How many times would he have used it, if Sam hadn’t said anything? Would he have just sat there silently, pissing himself again and again until the diaper was soaked and leaking? Though...Dean really should have considered the diaper rash issue. That one was on him. He pulled into a Gas N Sip. Cas immediately headed inside, carrying a clean diaper in his hand—in his hand, where anyone could see it. “Seriously, Dean?” Sam hissed as soon as Cas was out of earshot. “Seriously? You made him wear diapers just so you wouldn’t have to pull your car over a couple extra times? It’s not like we’re in a fucking hurry! This is low, even for you.” Dean attached the gas nozzle to Baby’s tank. “It’s not like that,” he defended himself. Sam crossed his arms, leaning against the hood. “Oh yeah, then what’s it like? Because it looks like you’re forcing Cas to wear diapers and wet himself. And I’m not sure if it’s worse if you’re doing it to be cruel, or if you really are throwing him under the bus just to save yourself the tiniest bit of inconvenience.” “I’m not throwing him under the bus!” Dean snapped. “Look, remember what we talked about before? About us needing to help him adjust and act normal?” “I remember,” Sam shot back. “Do you? Because taking frequent bathroom breaks is way more normal adult human behavior than pissing in a diaper, Dean.” “I know that!” Dean rubbed his face. “Look, he wasn’t supposed to actually use them, all right? I just bought them to, you know, embarrass him. Give him a reason to practice holding it.” He could see the realization dawning in Sam’s eyes. “Only he’s not embarrassed,” Sam said slowly. “And he is using them.” Dean nodded. “So if he asked for a break, you’d pull over?” Sam asked. “Course,” Dean said, shoving down the memory of the fantasies he’d idly imagined to the contrary. Because now that he could recognize the arousal that he’d been fighting down all morning, he had to admit that was what they had been—fantasy material, something for him put in one of the weirder files of his mental spank bank, but not something he should force on a friend. Of course, if Cas didn’t ask for a break...well, Dean wasn’t forcing anything, was he? “He seems to think they’re convenient, though,” he told Sam. “The, uh, the diapers.” Sam rubbed his face with both hands. “You know what?” he said. “This is fucked up. You guys figure it out. Just...make sure Cas knows he can ask for a break if he wants one, okay?” “Fine,” Dean told him, and headed into the Gas N Sip to pay. Walking over to the counter, he passed a shelf of toiletries, and paused. Grabbing a packet of baby wipes, he dithered over a container of baby powder. On the one hand, it was kinda his fault if Cas had a rash; on the other, Sam was probably about to put the kibosh on this whole thing anyway. Did adults who wore adult diapers even use powder? Dean had no idea. He paid for the wipes, and the gas, then knocked on the door to the one-person bathroom. “Cas? It’s me.” The door unlocked, and Dean slipped inside. “Got you something,” he said, waving the packet of wipes. “To help clean yourself with.” Cas was standing by the sink, his pants pulled down and bunched around his knees, and wet paper towels gripped in his hand. Dean couldn’t help but notice that his skin did seem a little redder down there than it had that morning. “Thank you,” Cas said, the relief obvious in his voice as he took the wipes and pulled the packet open. “Make sure you dry yourself off properly. Should help with the rash,” Dean told him, careful to keep his eyes up at Cas’s face as Cas reached down towards his crotch with one of the wipes, apparently undaunted by Dean’s presence. “Uh, Cas, listen. I’m—I don’t want to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. So if we’re on the road and you need to go, you can tell me and I’ll stop, okay?” Cas paused in his wiping. “Are you saying that because Sam is uncomfortable with me using diapers?” Dean winced. “Uh, I’m sure he’d rather you use them than have an accident. But he thinks I should just pull over for you when you need it.” Cas cocked his head. “And what do you think?” Dean swallowed. “Up to you,” he said, doing his best to sound casual. “If you want me to stop so you can piss in a toilet, I will. If you don’t...that’s cool too. Cas eyed him intently. “But what do you want?” “I want you to decide,” Dean lied. Cas narrowed his eyes, squinting intently at Dean like he could still see into his soul. “If I continue to wear diapers,” he said slowly. “Will you allow me to change them more frequently?” The guilt made a reappearance in Dean’s stomach. “Yeah, man, of course.” It occurred to Dean as he said it that if he was going to pull over so Cas could change, there was really no reason for him not to pull over so Cas could use the bathroom in the first place. But Cas had to know that, didn’t he? And he was still suggesting it. Cas nodded decisively. “Then that’s what I want to do.” --- The rest of the trip back to the bunker was one of the most awkward car rides in Dean’s life, and that was including every drive when Sam was a teenager, sniping back and forth with their Dad about something or other while Dean tried to melt into the passenger seat. In true Winchester fashion, none of them spoke about the diaper issue again. Dean made a few unnecessary stops at gas stations without being asked, picking up pie or a soda while Cas darted to the bathroom, sometimes with a clean diaper visibly sticking out of his pocket. Sticking in a Metallica tape and cranking up the volume to cover the awkward silence, Dean pretended not to notice the unimpressed looks Sam shot in his direction. Once they reached the bunker, Dean peeled off to the dungeon to make sure Crowley hadn’t slipped his chains, leaving Sam and Cas to hear updates on the angel tablet from an exhausted-looking Kevin. By the time they all regrouped for dinner, the tension from the car seemed to have dissipated—thankfully, because Dean did not want to explain the awkwardness to Kevin. The case was over. The driving was done with. And until the next time they took a case more than a couple of hours away, that, Dean assumed, would be that. --- “Hey, Cas.” Dean slipped through the door into Sam’s bedroom, where, after several minutes of searching, he’d finally found Cas watching what looked like a nature documentary. “I’m gonna make a run to the grocery store. Need anything?” Keeping the bunker stocked with enough food to feed four people was turning out to be more complicated than Dean would have guessed, but Dean had found that it was better to volunteer to be the one to go to the store than to let Sam do it and stock their fridge full of rabbit food. Sitting cross-legged on Sam’s bed, Cas tore his eyes away from the octopus propelling its way across the screen and turned to look at him. “We’re getting low on peanut butter,” he said, in that gravelly voice which still seemed to Dean more suited for biblical proclamations of apocalyptic importance than for a grocery list. “Also, I need more diapers.” Dean stared at him. “What?” “Peanut butter,” Cas repeated calmly. “And diapers.” Dean kept staring. ”You ran out of diapers,” he said blankly. It had been nearly three weeks since the case in Nevada, and they’d been busy enough keeping tabs on Abbadon and the fallen angels, not to mention supervising Kevin’s translation of the angel tablet, that they hadn’t taken any new hunts since. As far as Dean knew, the only place Cas had gone in a car was into Lebanon, nowhere near long enough of a drive for him to need the freaking diapers. The implication hit him. “You’ve...you’ve been wearing them?” “Yes, at night,” Cas responded. “I grew tired of washing my sheets every morning, or needing to replace my bedding after waking up in the middle of the night. The diapers are a cleaner and more convenient solution.” “Every morning,” Dean repeated. He’d known Cas was having issues with wetting the bed after he first fell, to the point where Dean had gone out to buy a rubber sheet for his mattress, but he’d sort of assumed Cas would start to grow out of it as he adjusted to his human body. And it had been weeks since Cas had mentioned wetting the bed… But maybe the only thing Cas had adjusted to was doing his own laundry and changing his own sheets without asking for help. “Right,” Dean said. “Of course.” On the TV, the octopus reached out with a predatory tentacle, yanking an unfortunate passing fish into its mouth. “Well, uh, glad they’re helping. Need anything else?” Cas shook his head. “Do you want me to come with you to the store?” “Sure.” Grocery trips with Cas were always kind of a blast; even after months as a human, Cas was still full of endless questions about why humans wanted or needed certain things, and he hung on Dean’s answers like Dean was the world expert in Why There Are Eighteen Different Types Of Toothpaste. Still, Dean found his mind drifting back to their conversation as Cas followed him to the bunker’s garage. If Cas’s bladder control was so weak that he was still pissing the bed every single night, almost four months since he’d become human...for the first time, Dean wondered if he’d been wrong about him just needing incentive to learn to hold it. Cas’s bladder couldn’t be that small, could it? Even most little kids stopped wetting the bed past kindergarten or so, right? But maybe it was some kind of medical thing, his body fucked-up by holding an angel inside for years on end. Or maybe he’d been right the first time about it being psychological, and he’d just chosen the wrong damn method of convincing Cas to work past his inexperience. --- It didn’t end there. Dean could deal with Cas wearing diapers in the car. As time and cases passed, he grew used to flighting down flashes of arousal when Cas asked for a stop so he could change, or walked into a gas station with a diaper in hand. Sometimes it was harder than others—like when Cas was wearing his jeans low around his hips and Dean could actually see the sliver of white peeking out above his waistband, but whatever. He could handle it. He could deal with Cas wearing diapers to bed, most of the time. Cas slept in his own room anyway, so it wasn’t like Dean would have known the difference if Cas hadn’t just straight-up told him about it. There was one time, though—the three of them crashed for the night at a motel with only one room available. Dean was exhausted enough that he didn’t think through what that meant until Cas emerged from the bathroom, clad in his pajamas, the outline of a diaper clearly visible under the loose cotton. Unlike when Cas was in jeans, the soft fabric clung to the bulky outline of the garment, and Dean’s mouth went dry: first with arousal, then with the realization that Cas was going to be lying next to him, wearing that, all freaking night. For a moment, he considered bailing to share the other bed with Sam instead. But they’d already decided the sleeping arrangements—Sam was freakishly tall, the motel beds weren’t exactly king-sized—and there was no way he could explain backing out now. When Cas climbed into the bed, Dean could actually hear a quiet crinkling sound as he lay down. Dean’s dick twitched in his boxers. Squeezing his eyes shut, Dean forced himself to recite the mental list of maintenance he’d been meaning to do on the Impala until he had himself under control. But Dean was only human, and when he awoke suddenly a few hours later in the pitch-black of the pre-dawn hours of the morning to find that Cas had rolled over against Dean’s side in his sleep, his arm flung over Dean’s stomach and one of his knees resting warmly on Dean’s upper leg, he didn’t quite manage to resist the sudden wave of curiosity that overcame him as remembered what Cas was wearing. Giving in to temptation, Dean slipped his hand over Cas’s shoulder and down to the small of his back, and then a little farther, until— The firm press of fabric over skin gave way under his fingertips to the cushioned padding of the diaper. It was soft under the fabric of Cas’s pajama pants as Dean pressed down with his fingers, thick and squishy and— —wet. Nothing had leaked through to the outside, but if it was that squishy, it had to be wet. Cas had already pissed himself, lost control of his bladder in his sleep, maybe even after he’d draped himself all over Dean. Dean jerked his hand away, suddenly aware that he was practically groping his sleeping friend. His sleeping ex-angel friend, who barely seemed to even know what his dick was for. Clenching his fingers into a fist, Dean brought his hand back to his side. But he was conscious, now, of the fact that Cas’s crotch was pressed against his thigh, the thick padding warm against Dean’s skin. Dean swallowed. It was going to be a long night. Dean carefully looked away the next morning as Cas climbed out of bed, forcing his eyes not to linger on the way the outline of his diaper was even more visible under his pajamas now that he had wet it, puffy and sagging down between his legs. Since neither Cas nor Sam accused him of being a creep who got off on his best friend’s embarrassing medical problem, he assumed he’d managed to keep his reaction under control—at least until he made it into the shower for a hasty jerk-off session. So, okay, maybe he wasn’t handling his new fixation with grace and dignity. But he was handling it. And then a ghoul threw Cas through a window. --- Cas hissed as Dean carefully poked a needle through his skin, threading a string of dental floss in neat stitches along the cut to the side of his stomach. “Last one,” Dean promised him. Tying off the floss, he sat back on his heels, examining Cas from top to bottom in search of any injuries he might have missed. A few small cuts and scratches decorated his face, and Dean couldn’t stop his mouth from twitching into a smile at the way Cas’s hair was sticking outward in all directions, as mussed as Dean had seen it in years. His blue eyes were watching Dean implacably from where he was seated on the edge of the motel bathtub. Cas’s torso had taken the worst of the hit from the glass: three cuts across his chest and stomach that had needed stitches, plus several more that Dean had taped bandages over. Luckily, Cas’s jeans seemed to have protected the lower half of his body—Dean couldn’t see any bloodstains, or rips in the fabric, or— Dean dropped the floss. What he could see, now that he was looking real closely, was that those were not boxers that Cas had on under his pants. “You’re wearing a diaper?” Cas looked down at him, squinting as if Dean’s shocked tone was more odd than his own decision to wear Depends into battle. “Yes.” Dean could feel his cheeks flushing with warmth. “But we weren’t driving today.” “No,” Cas admitted. “But since we weren't at the bunker and I knew we would be away from the motel for an extended period of time, I was concerned about finding myself in a situation where stopping to use a toilet would be inconvenient to you or Sam.” When Dean didn’t respond, Cas continued, sounding more hesitant: “Did I do something wrong?” “No!” Dean hastened to assure him. He closed his eyes, guilt creeping in—he’d let this get too far, and he was way past the point of pretending it was for entirely unselfish reasons. Opening his eyes, he looked back up at Cas. “Look, you don’t need to try so hard to make things convenient for Sammy and me, okay? You shouldn’t—you shouldn’t do anything you don’t want to do, just to make our lives earlier. And a few extra bathroom breaks really ain’t that big a deal.” “Who says I’m doing anything I don’t want to do?” Cas asked. And then, his ears reddening in maybe the first sign of actual embarrassment Dean had seen from him since this whole thing began, “It came in useful today. I...voided my bladder when I was thrown through the window.” Dean closed his eyes again. I will not get a boner because my friend lost control of his bodily functions getting attacked by a monster that could’ve seriously hurt him, he told himself. I will not… In an attempt to distract himself, he started packing up the first aid kit. Keeping his tone as casual as he could, he asked, “So it’s not just ‘cause I told you to? You like wearing them?” “They’re practical,” Cas said. “And...I like that you like them.” Dean froze. “You do like them,” Cas continued. A statement, not a question. “You like it when I wear them.” Cas had a tendency to vacillate between total obliviousness and acutely penetrating insight when it came to reading other people. For once, Dean found himself wishing that Cas had stayed on the oblivious side of the spectrum. “I—” he stammered. “I. Uh. You don’t have to...I mean, just because I—you don’t—” “Dean,” Cas interrupted. “Do you want me to stop wearing them?” His voice was calm, his eyes keen as he waited for Dean’s response. “No,” Dean said. “I…” Cas tilted his head to the side. “You what?” He sounded genuinely curious, and Dean replayed his earlier words in his head. I like that you like them. Fuck it. “I want you to wear them all the time,” Dean said in a rush. Cas’s eyes widened, but he didn’t look like he was about to kick Dean’s ass, so Dean continued. “At night, during the day, inside the bunker, outside the bunker. All the time.” “Okay,” Cas said. And Cas still wasn’t backing away or calling Dean a freaky pervert, so...What the hell, Dean figured. In for a penny. “And I want you to use them,” he continued. “Even if...even if you don’t ‘need’ to. You use the bathroom for changing, nothing else.” Cas looked at him steadily. “Does that mean you’d like me to defecate in them? Or are you speaking strictly of urination?” Jesus Christ. “Um,” Dean said. “The, uh, the other thing can get messy. So. You can crap in the toilet.” Something compelled him to add: “Unless we’re alone—like, not in public, and Sam’s not there—and there’s time to clean you up. Then maybe. We could try it.” Cas nodded like that was a remotely reasonable thing for Dean to suggest. “Dean,” he said. “My diaper is currently wet. Would you like to help me change it?” And. Well. That wasn’t exactly how Dean had pictured Cas asking him for help getting naked. But when had anything with Cas ever gone the way Dean expected? “What the hell,” he said. “Why not?”
  2. Nice story! I liked the epistolary format and the old-timey language - it added some fun flavor to the desperation/wetting aspects of the scenario.
  3. This is a great story! Really well-written.
  4. You can call me vaderlingo. Pronouns are she/her. I've always had a bit of an interest in omorashi fiction, and over the last year or so I finally started writing some. Since I started becoming a bit more active in the omo communities on other sites, I decided to finally make an account here! I'll probably start editing some of the omo fic I've written elsewhere and post it here when I get the chance.
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