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shittingmyself34 · 1 month

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Taylor’s New Role, Pt. 1

Taylor thought her senior year of college was going to be the best year of her life. It was her last year to soak in the college experience, and she intended to do just that.

She never expected it to end up like this.

Taylor always wondered how her boyfriend, Sean, managed to stay so relaxed under pressure. It was the quality she admired most about him. No matter what was happening he was always calm, cool, and collected.

Unlike Taylor. Whether it was midterms, essays, or even making it to the 8 AM class she had to take, she incessantly stressed over it. Not even Sean's steady presence and assurances could soothe her frayed nerves.

The situation only got worse as she started Spring semester. With graduation approaching like a runaway freight train, Taylor knew she'd be thrust into the adult world in only a few months. She'd need a job, an apartment, all of it. Taylor couldn't have been more overwhelmed.

Unfortunately for Taylor, her nerves came with significant side effects. Side effects that would change the trajectory of her life and relationship with Sean.

You see, there was a direct correlation between Taylor's nerves and her overactive bladder. The more nervous she became, the more you'd find Taylor sprinting to the bathroom, fighting an overwhelming urge to pee.

For years, it had merely been an annoyance, not a problem. Sure, she'd need to rush to the bathroom, but she'd always make it. Nothing to worry about, just something to deal with.

So Taylor pushed it aside. She had more pressing concerns, anyway.

“What do you want to do for spring break, babe? Sean asked as they ate dinner at his apartment. Taylor loved his apartment—it was her safe space, her haven. Unlike Taylor, Sean lived alone. Though Taylor spent so much time there she might as well have been on the lease.

Taylor thought about it. She wouldn’t settle for somewhere basic and cliché—it was her last Spring Break, after all. No, this trip had to be special—their last hurrah before they became boring adults.

Taylor didn’t know it yet, but she would never become the adult she imagined.

“What about Mexico?” Taylor responds, “maybe Cabo or Cancun?”

For the rest of the night, they mulled over increasingly exotic destinations. For a few hours, Taylor forgot all about her worries and concerns. At least until she tried to sleep. Before long, Taylor went from imagining partying on some foreign beach with Sean to her future after it, never noticing her growing need to pee as she fitfully drifted off to sleep.

“Taylor…Taylor. Wake up.”

Taylor heard Sean’s voice trickle into her dream. For as anxious as she was falling asleep, she had remarkably good dreams. She was dancing with Sean, taking shots on bars, and…something else. She remembered sprinting to the bathroom, feeling the intense relief of making it on time.

“Taylor,” she heard Sean say again, shocking her awake. She felt cold and…wet. “You wet the bed last night.”

Sean expertly handled the situation. Taylor was obviously mortified, but both of them chalked it up to a one-off event. She wasn’t a bedwetter, Sean assured her. It happens every so often.

Except Taylor woke up in a puddle every morning for five days. The more it happened, the more worried Taylor became. The more she worried, the more likely she was to wake up wet. It was a vicious cycle. A cycle that Taylor would never escape.

As always, Sean never showed any signs of panic or concern. Every morning when he inevitably woke up in a wet bed, he calmly woke Taylor up and washed the sheets, assuring Taylor everything was okay.

That night, Taylor went to Sean’s apartment as usual. It had been a long week for Taylor between the bedwetting and a tedious, difficult courseload. She needed a quiet Friday night with Sean.

Taylor noticed something different about Sean, though. There were subtle, almost imperceptible changes in his behavior. Sean was always helpful, respectful, and generous, yet tonight he seemed even more so. Taylor couldn’t put her finger on it.

Something about the way Sean acted made him feel…was powerful the right word? Maybe authoritative? Taylor tried to decide. He wasn’t bossy or mean—no, it felt too loving to be either. He just seemed more…in control. Protective.

Whatever it was, Taylor didn’t mind. She felt surprisingly safe and comfortable, even when he insisted he handle dinner while Taylor relaxed. Or when he cleaned the dishes himself. Or when he unilaterally decided they should watch Finding Nemo, saying it was “perfect” for her. Even when he rebuffed Taylor’s request for a glass of wine. Taylor contented herself with cuddling with Sean under the blankets on the couch, watching the movie.

Once the movie ended, Sean decided it was time for bed. As they got up to head to his bedroom, Taylor heard him say something that flushed her cheeks with embarrassment: “Taylor, can you try to go potty before bed?”

Taylor froze. She’d never heard Sean call it a “potty” before. Despite her overwhelming embarrassment hearing his suggestion, Taylor meekly agreed. “O-okay,” she said, barely more than a whisper. Taylor didn’t use the “potty,” though, unwilling to give in to Sean’s infantile demands.

But Taylor’s embarrassment was only beginning. As she walked into his bedroom after humiliating time on the “potty,” she found another, even more humiliating item waiting for her on his bed: a package of pull-ups. Sean sat next to them, waiting expectantly for Taylor.

“Wh-what are those?” Taylor stuttered.

“It’s time you wore some protection to bed, Taylor,” Sean said sternly, yet with a surprising undercurrent of love, “your accidents aren’t stopping. So you need to wear these until you get it under control.”

Taylor understood this wasn’t a negotiation. Sean expected her to wear the infantile garments next to him. She watched as he calmly opened the package, taking out the pull-up she would soon be wearing. Seeing it made her stomach drop, the yellow and blue stripes a poor imitation of the underwear it would soon replace.

“Come here, Taylor,” he said, the authority unmistakable in his voice. Taylor did, wordlessly walking towards the inevitable humiliation. Without another word, he pulled down Taylor’s pants, then underwear. He fluffed the pull-up, separating the leg holes.

“Up,” he demanded, tapping her left leg. When she did, Sean slipped the pull-up over her leg, up to her calf. The process repeated with the other leg. Soon, the pull-up was lifted into place.

“There,” Sean said, satisfied, “how does it feel, Taylor?”

A dawning realization grew in Taylor’s mind. Sean’s behavior all night made sense. He treated Taylor exactly how you’d expect to treat someone who still wears pull-ups—all part of the power dynamic that inherently comes with diapers.

“No, no, no, this can’t be happening!” Taylor thought in a panic, “I don’t need pull-ups!”

Sean never took his eyes off Taylor. He patiently waited for her to answer.

To Taylor’s horror, her body answered for her. Her frayed nerves were pushed past their breaking point, throwing her bladder into overdrive. Without warning, Taylor felt her bladder violently spasm. Before she could even react, she felt a growing warmth in her pull-up. She looked down in terror, unable—unwilling—to comprehend what was happening.

For a nanosecond, Sean’s eyes grew wide when he realized what was happening before regaining his composure. He saw a darkness spread in Taylor’s pull-up, expanding as it did. Neither spoke until Taylor finished.

Calm as always, Sean looked up at Taylor’s face, her cheeks red with shame. “Well, I’m glad you were wearing your pull-up!”

“I-I-I don’t u-understand!” Taylor sobs, humiliation getting the best of her.

“I do,” Sean replied, getting up and hugging Taylor, “you had an accident. Like the ones you’ve been having all week. But it’s nothing to be ashamed of, Taylor. I’m here.”

Their embrace was interrupted by the sound of dripping. Sean stepped back, looking down at Taylor’s now leaking pull-up.

He sighed. “Taylor, honey, I don’t think these pull-ups will cut it, especially if you’re going to keep having accidents when you’re awake. Tomorrow, we’ll get you something more suited to your needs.”

Even though it was left unsaid, Taylor knew exactly what he meant: diapers. And even worse, he thought she was having daytime accidents. Well, she was having daytime accidents.

Panic and frustration welled inside Taylor. “I don’t need diapers! I’m not a baby!” Taylor shrieked, her tone very much as infantile as the baby she denied being.

“Look at me,” Sean commanded, “I understand you’re embarrassed. But you just leaked through your pull-up. You weren’t sleeping when you wet it. You obviously need diapers if you don’t want to leak every time you have an accident. And you’ll need them whenever you’re at risk of having an accident, which now appears to be when you’re asleep and awake.”

The next morning, Taylor followed Sean into his car. Every step reminded her of the pull-up that he insisted she wear. Not that Taylor could deny its necessity anymore as she passed the garbage can that now contained two wet pull-ups.

Taylor meekly held Sean’s hand as he perused the diaper aisle of the medical supply store. Grabbing diapers from the shelf, slowly, methodically inspecting them to determine if they will meet Taylor’s needs. He never asked or accepted Taylor’s input or opinion.

Finally, he settled on a case of Northshore Megamax diapers over Taylor’s whining that those diapers were too thick. She didn’t pee that much, she insisted, and besides, how would she go to the bathroom? Sean brushed her concerns away.

Once they got home, Sean led Taylor straight to their bedroom, grabbing a Megamax from the package. “Lay down,” he ordered.

For the first time she could remember, Taylor was about to be put into a diaper. Despite her fear and hesitation, she laid down. Sean—not her—was in control. She watched as he gently ripped the sides of her pull-up and removed it from her body. She expertly fluffed the diaper that would soon be wrapped around Taylor.

Without warning, Sean lifted Taylor’s legs with his left hand, sliding the diaper under her with his right. Taylor felt his strength as he did. Despite her embarrassment, she almost enjoyed his newfound authority over her.

He generously applied baby powder, its babyish scent filling the room, a subtle reminder of Taylor’s position. Taylor felt her diaper pulled up to her stomach before hearing the tabs opening, trapping her in her first diaper.

“There,” Sean beamed, checking his handiwork and fretting with the leak guards, “perfect fit!”

Taylor stood up, the bulk between her legs unmistakable. “These are so bulky, Sean! I don’t need them this thick!”

Sean just laughed. “You don’t need to worry about that, okay? Besides, we need to go over the new rules for your diapers first.”

“R-rules?” Taylor stammers.

“Yes, silly,” Sean responded, “what did you expect?”

“I expected not to be in a diaper!” Taylor retorted.

“Well, I’m not the one who wet the bed all week. Or leaked through a pull-up when I was wide awake. Hard to expect not to be in a diaper when that happens, babe.”

Taylor glared at him, no clever responses forming in her head.

“Anyway. Rule number one: you are absolutely, unequivocally not in charge of your diapers, understand? I am. You are not to touch, remove, or change your diaper under any circumstances. I will check and change your diaper when I see fit.”

Taylor opened her mouth to argue. “Don’t interrupt, sweetie. I need you to hear these rules, okay?”

“Good, thank you, Taylor. Rule number two,” Sean continued, “you can tell me whenever you need to go to the bathroom and I will help remove your diaper. If you go two weeks without having an accident during the day, I won’t keep you in them. Same for night. But if you do have an accident, the 2-week period resets. If you are not out of diapers by Spring Break in three months, I will keep you in them permanently. If that happens, you will use them for everything. No exceptions.”

“Rule number three, you are not to wear anything over your diaper when we are home. I want to see if you’ve had an accident. And, hopefully, it will inspire you to act like a big girl and not wet your diapers.”

“Rule number four: you will listen to what I say at all times. Anyone in diapers cannot be in charge. It’s absurd to think they could. So, until you’re out of diapers, I am in charge. I will order for you at restaurants, decide what you wear for class, and when you go to bed.”

“Rule number five: you will not touch yourself or orgasm without my permission. Diaper girls do not get such luxuries.”

“And, finally, rule number six: if you break any of these rules, you will lose a “big girl” privilege. They will not come back until you are out of diapers. So, for example, if you do something like talk back to me, I’ll expect you to use a pacifier until you learn to think before you speak. Got it?”

Taylor couldn’t believe what she heard. Sean expected her to follow these rules? She’s an adult, not some petulant little girl. But even as she wanted to yell at him, to tell him what she thought of his BS “rules,” she realized she was…turned on.

How could she be, though? It didn’t make sense. Why did this bulky, humiliating diaper between her legs feel so good?

As she stared into Sean's eyes, she knew she would follow his rules. She was a diaper girl, wasn’t she? And if she was, Sean should be in charge. He’s always been so calm, so collected while she was never either of those.

Taylor didn’t understand it, but she knew she wanted this. She needed this. A devious smile flashed across Taylor’s face. “Got it, daddy.”

Sean returned the smile. Whatever this was, it was going to be fun.

Go to Part Two.

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shittingmyself34 · 2 months

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Couples Therapy - Part 2

Angela spent most of the afternoon watching cartoons. She’d been insulted when Eric had sat her in front of the television and put on a little kids’ channel for her, but she’d barely managed to start complaining before the bright colours of the show drew her in. Even if it was a silly plot about a little baby bear leaning to be good for her Daddy, it was actually quite fun to watch.

Later, she made a bit of a mess at dinner, and Eric needed to wipe her mouth clean for her and send her off to change her top. He’d even joked about getting her a bib. Angela had giggled, but really she’d been a bit scared. She didn’t want to wear a bib like a baby, and she didn’t know why she’d had such a hard time getting her food in her mouth like a big girl.

But it wasn’t until she was getting ready for bed that evening that Angela really started to get upset, when she walked into their bedroom and saw the large disposable diaper waiting for her on the bed. She froze immediately at the sight of it. Even though she knew she wore them every night (didn’t she?), there was something about seeing it this time that was different. “I can’t… I don’t want to… I’m not wearing that.”

“Sweetheart,” said Eric, like he was explaining something very simple to someone stupid. “You have to wear your nappy otherwise you’ll make a big mess. You’ll go pee-pee all over the sheets, darling, just like you do every night, and I don’t want to have to wake up in wet sheets.”

Angela blushed. She felt utterly pathetic.

“But it’s okay, baby,” Eric cooed, and Angela felt butterflies fluttering in her tummy at the gentle tone of his voice. “I still think you’re adorable, even with a yucky wet diaper on. I don’t care that you’re not fully potty trained at night, sweetie.”

Angela’s face went even redder, but at the same time a pleasant tingle ran down her spine. Lucky girl. She was a lucky girl to have Eric. She held out her arms hopefully, and he responded by pulling her in for a big cuddle. His hand reached down to cup her bottom possessively.

Angela felt dizzy, she felt drunk, and she didn’t even resist as Eric stripped off all of her clothes and laid her gently down on the bed, with her bare bottom planted right on the seat of the bulky adult nappy. ‘Good girl,” he crooned as he sprinkled her nether regions with baby powder and patted it into her skin. “That’s a good girl.” He taped her diaper tightly around her waist, and pulled her back to her feet. She stood there awkwardly, her legs spread apart by the thickness of her nappy, shifting from foot to foot. Eric started to undress as well, down to his boxer shorts. But he didn’t have any babyish underwear to change into because he was a grown-up.

Angela was about to get into bed when she realised she hadn’t put a top on. Did she usually go to bed topless? She looked down at her large bare breasts and felt a bizarre urge to start jiggling them, to start bouncing them up and down. She giggled. She was such a silly girl!

“What are you giggling at, sweetie?” her husband asked, smiling.

“Nufing!” Angela blushed and shook her head. “I mean, nothing.” She was just being dumb. She was being a silly girl. She couldn’t tell him she’d been thinking about bouncing her boobies – that would be so embarrassing! It definitely wasn’t something that a big girl would do. But then it wasn’t something a little girl would do either, was it? Because they didn’t even have boobies! Angela screwed up her face in concentration.

Eric laughed. “Silly girl! Are you trying to do thinkies? It’s bedtime, sweetie. Time to turn that sweet little brain off.”

Angela scowled. Eric knew she hated being talked down to. She stuck out her bottom lip and stomped her foot to show him how angry she was. “Don’t patwonise me!” she whined.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, but there was something about his eyes that made Angela feel like he was still laughing at her. She got into bed grumpily, her tits jiggling and her diaper crinkling loudly. Eric got into bed next to her and immediately pressed himself right up against her body, reaching round to grab one of her boobs so tightly that she winced. She almost moved away instinctively. Weren’t they fighting about something? Weren’t they angry with each other for some reason? But then she remembered that good girls didn’t do that. Good girls didn’t say no with their mouths or their bodies.

Angela frowned. That didn’t sound right. She wasn’t her husband’s property… was she? But she felt herself getting wet at the thought. It had been a while since they’d have sex, although she wasn’t sure why. She was so horny. She imagined him taking her now, ripping her nappy off and ramming his cock inside her, using her any way he liked. Then she pulled a face, sickened with herself. Where were these thoughts coming from?! She wasn’t a whore! Even so, she didn’t push her husband away. Eric didn’t fuck her that night, but Angela drifted off to sleep with her his hard cock pressed firmly against her padded bottom.

When she woke up the next morning, her diaper was soaked with pee-pee. Even though she knew it was something that happened to her every morning (although her actual memories were a little foggy), it still felt strange and embarrassing. It was so yucky! The sodden nappy was cold and clammy, and it reeked of piss. Their whole bedroom smelled like urine now. She’d probably smell like pee herself for the rest of the day. Her new perfume… She untangled herself from Eric’s arms and slipped out of bed, nearly gagging when her diaper sagged as she stood up. It was so heavy!

She heard Eric moving behind her, and turned around. Her husband was propping himself up in bed, looking at her with a smile that was a too much like a smirk. “Do you need changing, sweetie?” he asked.

She looked at him dumbly.

“Do you need me to help?” he tried again, nodding at her waist.

She followed his gaze to the sopping wet Pampers sagging between her thighs, and felt herself going red. No! She didn’t need help changing! She wasn’t a baby! A mental image of herself laying on her back with her legs in the air flashed in her mind, and she shook her head vigorously. “No fank you,” she mumbled. “I mean, no thank you.” What was wrong with her voice? She sounded silly. Silly like that secretary at the therapist’s office. A lisping porn parody. She ran her fingers through her hair and over her bare chest. No pigtails. No stripper tits. She was a big girl. A respectable woman.

“Okay sweetheart,” her husband said, smiling patiently. “Go change your nappy then.”

Angela broke out of her thoughts, realising she’d been standing there stupidly, like she was waiting for his permission to go. She turned around and toddled to the bathroom as quickly as she could, her droopy diaper swinging about between her legs as she went. She imagined she could feel his eyes on her backside and her face burned with shame. She must look so stupid!

She nearly cried when she saw herself in the bathroom mirror. She was a sexy grown woman with great tits and a tight body, right up until you got to her waist, where instead of seeing her cleanly shaved pussy and toned ass, there was a bulky disposable diaper hanging heavily between her legs, clearly full to the brim with wee-wee. When she undid the tapes, it fell to the floor with a wet smack. She got to work cleaning herself up with wet wipes, making sure to get every bit of pee around her nether regions. She couldn’t stand being so dirty. Even as a child, she’d always hated any activities that got her messy. When she was done, she shoved her used nappy in the tiny bathroom bin and wandered back into the bedroom naked.

Eric had arranged her clothes out on the bed for her, and for a moment, Angela could only stare at them in disbelief – a pastel-pink, little-girlish frock with frilly white ankle socks, trainers, and a pair of baby-blue panties with Disney princesses on the crotch. The outfit looked exactly like something a four-year-old would wear. Angela was about to shout, when all of a sudden a strange fuzziness filled her mind. She thought of the lovely swirling colours she’d seen at the therapist’s office, and looked at the clothes again. They were kind of cute. They weren’t baby clothes after all. They just looked a bit silly, and she was a silly girl.

Angela smiled vacantly at Eric when he started to dress her, sliding her underwear up her legs and pulling her frock over her head (“Arms up! That’s a good girl!”), even pulling on her socks and tying her shoelaces for her. She felt looked after. She felt pretty and cute. She felt like a good girl.

Once they were downstairs, she hopped from foot to foot impatiently while Eric put his own shoes on at the door. “Come onnn!” she whined, fidgeting with the hem of her dress, lifting it up absent-mindedly and flashing her adorable little-girl undies.

“Looking forward to seeing the therapist, sweetie?” he asked, chuckling at her immature antics as he finished putting his shoes on and picked up a large sports bag.

Angela nodded her head eagerly. She wanted to see the pretty lights again.

“Good girl,” said Eric, taking her hand. A pleasant tingle ran down Angela’s spine and into her pussy. “Let’s get going, baby.”

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shittingmyself34 · 2 months

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Couples Therapy - Part 1

After Angela cheats on her husband, she agrees to go to couples therapy with him, but each session with the therapist leaves her feeling less and less like a grown-up.

***

Angela tapped her foot impatiently while her husband spoke with the therapist privately, probably whining about how angry and betrayed he felt. They were both supposed to go in together in a moment, but for now she was stuck waiting in reception.

Really, she couldn’t understand why Eric was being so dramatic. It was only sex! It wasn’t as though she didn’t love him anymore. She just needed to have a little fun sometimes, that was all. They weren’t even thirty yet! He was twenty-eight and she was twenty-seven. Did he really expect her to settle down and stick to a single sexual partner when she was still so young?

But he’d insisted on seeing a marriage counsellor and she’d eventually agreed, albeit reluctantly. Their therapist was a man. How was he supposed to understand what it was like for a woman in her situation? And her first impressions of the office hadn’t been great either. The receptionist was a total bimbo!

Angela glanced over at her. She was dressed up like some bizarre fetish fantasy. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a pair of high pigtails, and her stripper-sized tits were crammed into a sparkly Disney princess top. Didn’t this place have a uniform? She looked like an overgrown six-year-old for goodness sake! And she’d been acting like one too when she’d tried to match their names to their booking. Her husband had been very patient with her stupid lisping voice and barely passable ability to read, but Angela had wanted to turn around and leave straight away. What kind of serious therapist’s office employed a woman like that?

At last the door opened, and the therapist stood in the doorway. He smiled kindly and gestured her to come inside.

“He’s weady for you now!” the bimbo receptionist chirped happily, looking up from what looked like a fashion magazine for tweens.

Angela rolled her eyes. “Thanks.”

She went into the office and the therapist closed the door behind her. Eric was lounged on a sofa facing a hard-backed wooden chair, looking perfectly relaxed. Angela sat down next to her husband, leaving a few inches of space in between them.

The therapist didn’t take a seat in the wooden chair, however. He took a tablet from his desk in the corner and stood in front of Angela.

“Here,” he said, handing it to her. She looked down at the screen in her lap in confusion. What was this for? Some sort of presentation?

“I find that girls always get a bit nervous in my office,” he said, talking to her in a light, overly friendly tone, as if he was talking to a nursery-schooler. “This will help you relax, okay sweetie?”

Angela scowled. She was about to launch into a furious tirade. She couldn’t stand being talked down to! Who the hell did this man think he was? If he assumed most women were like his ditzy receptionist then he had another thing coming. But before she could say a word, the tablet in her lap came to life. Brilliant pastel colours swirled and spiralled on the screen, sinking into a single spot in the centre, and her complaints died in her throat. She couldn’t take her eyes off it. It was just so pretty…

“There we go,” said the therapist in that same sweet tone. “That always takes care of fussy little girls.”

“Is there anything I have to do?” Eric asked.

Angela felt strange. She was vaguely aware of the men’s words, but it was as though they were coming to her from the end of a very long tunnel. Her attention was focused on the dazzling lights on the screen.

“Not a thing. Let me do all the talking. Did you hear that, Angela? We’re going to have a little talk, okay sweetie? Nothing to be nervous about. I’m a trained professional, after all. We need to have a little talk about how you betrayed your husband. About how he found out you were cheating on him. Because that wasn’t very clever of you, was it Angela? Getting caught.”

Angela shook her head, not taking her eyes off the screen. “Not clever,” she echoed. It was true. She shouldn’t have been caught. She should have been more careful not to let him find out. Because even though there was nothing wrong with what she’d done, even though she was completely in the right, Eric wouldn’t understand.

“That’s right, Angela,” said the therapist. “You’ve been a very dumb bitch, haven’t you?”

Angela frowned. That didn’t sound right. Dumb bitch. Was it okay for the therapist to call her that?

“Look at the pretty sparkles, sweetie,” he encouraged, and Angela sank back into the swirling lights. “That’s right. You’re just a dumb bitch, Angela. All women are, but you especially. That’s okay though. You don’t know any better – you’re just girls.”

Angela knew vaguely that there was something she didn’t like about what the man was saying, but she was too engrossed in the swirling colours to care. His words were like background noise. She could understand them if she concentrated, but it was so hard to focus with the wonderful patterns in front of her.

“Yes, you’re just a girl, Angela. Just a silly little girl. A big child. It doesn’t matter if you do something wrong, because you can’t be held accountable for your actions, can you? You’re sweet and innocent.”

Angela nodded eagerly, a dim smile spreading across her face. She hadn’t done anything wrong. If she wasn’t so distracted by her tablet, she’d have smirked at Eric. His stupid attempt to guilt-trip her with marriage counselling was backfiring on him. The therapist was on her side.

“Besides,” the therapist continued. “You didn’t cheat on your husband anyway, did you Angela?”

Angela was confused. She had cheated on Eric. Was the therapist going to help her cover it up? But Eric already knew, didn’t he? Surely that wouldn’t work! The lights on the screen grew brighter. They were so, so pretty…

“You didn’t,” the therapist said again. “In fact, it’s completely impossible for you to have cheated on your husband. You know why, I’m sure. It’s because of your embarrassing bedwetting habit.”

Angela wrinkled her nose and started trying to shake her head in disgust. She didn’t wet the bed! The therapist must be confused. He must be mixing her up with some little girl. Maybe one of his other clients was some silly little bedwetter who needed to be reassured that everyone had accidents now and again, but that certainly wasn’t her.

“Don’t… I don’t wet the bed…” she mumbled. Her words felt heavy in her mouth. It was hard to think. She just wanted to watch the pretty swirling lights.

“Look at the colours, sweetie,” the therapist told her. “That’s a good girl. You are a bedwetter, Angela. You wet the bed every night. You have done for quite a few weeks now. And what man would want to sleep with a woman who still pisses herself in her sleep like a dumb toddler? You’re very lucky your husband puts up with your babyish behaviour, young lady.”

Angela’s face slackened as the spirals spun faster and faster. Lucky. She was a lucky girl. She was lucky to have a husband who put up with her bedwetting. Another man might leave his wife if she started peeing herself every night. Especially if she’d cheated on him too. But Eric didn’t know about that. Did he? It was strange. For a while Angela had been sure he did. And the therapist didn’t seem to know either. In fact, he thought it was impossible for a bedwetter like her to cheat on her husband! She blushed even more brightly. How had she done it? Angela frowned slightly. She didn’t know. She couldn’t remember clearly. But the therapist was right – who’d want to have sex with some stupid, bedwetting baby-woman? Why would anyone sleep with her when it meant waking up in piss-soaked sheets, or next to someone in a sopping wet diaper. Her special protection. Her baby pants. Was the therapist still talking? She tried to pay attention.

“…because your husband puts up with you in other ways too, doesn’t he?” he was saying. “It’s not just the bedwetting. You actually have quite a few silly, childish behaviours that no adult woman should reasonably be expected to have. You…”

Angela tuned out again. She could feel his words entering her ears, but her attention was focused entirely on the lights in her lap. So pretty. Such pretty lights…

When she came to, the tablet was gone, Eric was standing up and putting his coat on, and the therapist was looking at her with a satisfied expression on his face. Had she fallen asleep?

“Ready to go home?” Eric asked her brightly.

Angela smiled back, a little hesitantly. She’d thought she was in trouble, but maybe she’d just been confused. She was such a silly girl sometimes. Such a dumb bitch.

Eric held out his hand, and she took it. It felt nice to be holding onto him. It felt reassuring. He held her hand all the way back to their house, and while he walked, she couldn’t help herself from skipping along beside him.

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shittingmyself34 · 2 months

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BarbeCUTIE

This caption was inspired by @crinklecutie I hope you enjoy it!

Today was the day. You were finally going to meet Daddy’s family, a big step in any relationship. But especially for yours.

You weren’t meeting Daddy's family as his girlfriend—you were meeting them as his little. They aren’t expecting a mature adult to walk in with him. No, they are expecting you to waddle behind him as the immature little you are.

His Granny was hosting one of her famous barbeques, and this one on Easter Sunday was always her favorite. Daddy's entire family would be there. You wouldn’t just be meeting Daddy’s parents, you’d be meeting his whole family. And you’d do it as you did everything else—thickly diapered.

Daddy dressed you in your cutest white sundress. Well, at least he thought it was. You weren’t all too excited about how easy it was to see your diaper through the dress. But Daddy told you should never worry about such things—they all know you’re wearing diapers anyway.

Your backpack, which made you blush every time you wore it thanks to the “Baby Girl” written on it, was packed full of activities and games for you to play to keep you occupied while Daddy spent time with the adults.

Daddy had packed your diaper bag with more than your diapers, you noted anxiously. You saw him pack extra clothes and stuff he grabbed when coming from the kitchen. You didn’t know what they were, but you knew it couldn’t be anything good.

“You look so cute, princess!” Daddy coos, “my family is just gonna love you!”

You fidget nervously, wondering how you could possibly impress his family dressed like you are. But you’re determined to at least try. “Thank you, Daddy!” you say, trying to sound more excited than nervous.

As you pull up to the house, you’re immediately hit by the delicious smells wafting from the barbeque, hearing the family chatting happily in the backyard. But instead of getting you hungry, it fills you with nerves. You feel your diaper grow warm as Daddy helps you out of your seat.

Despite your nerves, you were determined to show his family you were a big girl. You would be a mature, respectful woman, even if you were in diapers. You braced yourself as Daddy opened the back gate, beckoning you in.

You hesitated as you realized everyone at the barbeque was looking at you, faces full of amusement at how cute you were. You tried to smile at them, to act confident. It was much harder as who you assumed were his mom, Granny, and aunts squealed in delight running over to you.

“She’s even more precious than you described, Zack!” Granny said, “she’s so beautiful!” Granny looked every bit like a grandmother. Her smile was warm and welcoming, her demeanor made you feel right at home.

“She really is Zack,” one of the women says before turning to you. “Hi, you must be Emmy! It’s so nice to finally meet you! I’m Zack’s mother, Heather! You look so cute in that dress, Emmy!”

You give Heather your best smile, reaching out your hand to shake it, “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Miller!” you say sweetly.

Daddy looks at you funny, but you ignore it. You’re too focused on making a positive first impression.

“Well, aren’t you a well-behaved little one!” Granny comments, impressed by your behavior, “You look beautiful in that dress, Emmy! You did great, Zack!”

Daddy chuckles, “Thanks, Granny! I had to put her in her Sunday finest to meet you!”

Before you know it, Granny grabs your hand, pulling you away from Daddy to introduce you to everyone at the party. There was Brianna, Daddy’s aunt, who looked like she already had a few cocktails, and her husband, Steve.

You met Daddy’s other aunt, Kat, who looked much younger than both Daddy’s mother and aunt, probably in her very early 30’s. She wasn’t married but gushed at how cute you looked and asked Daddy too many questions about how often you fill your diapers. You silently blushed the entire time as they discussed your diaper usage right in front of you like you were just a toddler.

When Granny introduced you to Charles, Daddy’s father, you did your best to look him in the eye and give him a firm handshake, just as your Grandpa taught you. He smiled as you did. He was a kind-looking man, giving off an exceptional amount of “dad” energy. You just knew you’d hear dad jokes all day from him.

Daddy’s Grandpa looked quiet and reserved but smiled sincerely as Granny introduced you. “It’s so nice to have another little running around here, sweetpea,” he says to you, “it’s been so long since these I’ve seen little ones running around!”

After you met everyone, you were feeling pretty good about yourself. You handled meeting everyone like a mature big girl; surely they respected you as one!

At least, you did until you felt Daddy lifting up your dress and checking your diaper in front of the whole family.

“Does she need a change, dear?” Daddy’s aunt, Kat asks.

“She’s just a little wet, she can go a bit longer. I put her in her special diapers so she can make extra tinkles and not need a change! But they sag so adorably!”

“That must be why she waddles so cute!” Granny says.

You see Zack’s mom, Heather, walking up towards you with a sippy cup full of something purple. “Emmy, sweetie, I got you some grape juice, Zack says it’s your favorite!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Miller!” you say, reaching out for it.

“Sorry, princess,” Daddy says, stopping you from grabbing the juice, “but you can’t be trusted not to ruin your beautiful white dress with that juice! Let’s go get you changed into something a bit more appropriate so I don’t have to worry!”

Before you can say anything, you find yourself pulled inside by Daddy. He leads you to a spare bedroom.

“Did I do good, Daddy?” you ask hopefully as he closes the door.

“Of course, princess! You almost have them fooled you’re a big girl!”

You don’t know what to make of Daddy’s comment. But you felt a sense of foreboding lingering after his remarks.

“Let me get this dress off you, princess!” he says as you reflexively lift your hands up so Daddy can get your dress off you. You stand there, naked except for your diaper and shoes, as Daddy rummages through the diaper bag.

“Here we go!” Daddy says excitedly!

As he pulls out the shirt, you feel your heart sink. You know exactly what it says before you see it: “Daddy’s Little Stinker!”

“Bu—Daddy, do I need to wear that shirt?”

“Hush, Princess,” he says sternly, “arms up.”

The tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine. You’ve been with Daddy long enough to know when you can and can’t push your case—and this was one of the times you knew it would be unwise to try. You lift your arms as Daddy puts your shirt on.

“There, all ready for juice, pumpkin,” he says happily, “ready to go back out?”

You look down, acutely aware that you aren’t wearing anything over your diaper—and realize your shirt barely reaches the top of your slightly yellowed diaper.

“B-but D-daddy, w-what about my d-diaper?” you stutter nervously.

“Awww, you don’t need to worry about that, princess!” he says, with a tone you knew meant the conversation was over.

You want desperately to argue your case. Surely, Daddy wouldn’t force you to go out like this, diaper on full display in front of his family. Before you open your mouth, Daddy shoves a matching blue paci in your mouth.

“I don’t want to hear any complaints. Princess. This way its easier for everyone to see if you need a change, especially if I’m busy. I don’t want my princess to be uncomfy in a leaking diapee!”

You don’t respond, knowing the humiliation you’re about to walk into.

Daddy’s phone vibrates with a text. He reads it, smiling. “Time to go out, princess! Grandpa has a surprise for you!”

You meekly follow Daddy back out, hiding behind him like a shy toddler. Every crinkle of your diaper seems three times louder, and you are fully aware of your increasingly soggy, increasingly yellowing diaper. You suck on your paci nervously.

You find everyone waiting for your return, smiling expectantly. Their eyes light up when they see you toddling behind Daddy, your rosy red cheeks burning in humiliation.

“Oh my gosh, she’s such an angel!” Daddy’s aunt, Brianna coos.

Granny walks over to you, beaming. She grabs your hand. “Emmy, darling, you look so beautiful! Grandpa and Granny have a surprise for you!”

You see Grandpa smiling, too, eyes glistening with excitement. “Granny and I had a family tradition for so many years, Emmy. And I’ve missed it now that all my kids and grandkids are grown up. But now I can finally bring it back for you!”

You smile back at him, not daring to express your embarrassment when he’s so excited. “W-wat iv it, fir?” you ask, lisping through your paci.

“Oh, sweetpea!” Grandpa smiles, “you don’t need to call me sir! Call me Grandpa, okay?”

“Okay, gwandpa!” you respond meekly.

“Thank you, sweetpea!” he says happily, “now, are you ready to have some fun?”

Grandpa’s excitement is palpable, even you are having a hard time not feeling it, despite the humiliating situation. You almost forget that Daddy’s family is looking at you as you lisp through your paci in nothing but a t-shirt and diaper.

“Yeth, gwandpa!” you say, genuinely excited.

“Okay, Granny and I hid Easter eggs all over the backyard! There are 15 eggs for you to find! And one special golden egg that has five dollars in it! Do you think you can find them, sweetpea?”

Your cheeks burn an even deeper shade of red, knowing you’re about to do an Easter egg hunt in front of the whole family. You turn to Daddy anxiously.

Daddy reaches out, pulling you into a hug. You feel safe and secure, wrapped in Daddy’s embrace. He looks you in the eyes, “Princess, there’s no need to be shy, everyone here has done it!”

“Yeah, but they were actual toddlers,” you think to yourself, “not an adult in a diaper!”

“Oh, I almost forgot, sweetpea!” Grandpa adds, “if you find all of them in an hour I’ll give you an extra five dollars! You think you can do it?”

You squirmed in humiliation. Grandpa probably didn’t even change the time from when he did it with actual babies.

“Yeth, I can gwandpa!” you say, trying to play along to keep your composure.

“I know you can, sweetpea!” Grandpa says proudly, “Are you ready?”

“Okay!” you answer, genuine excitement building inside you. You’re torn between feeling so authentically little—and overwhelming humiliation. You’ve never felt this little in your entire life.

You feel Granny’s hand reach into yours, she looks down at you, smiling. She leans down tells you in barely more than a whisper: “I’ll help you look, sweetie! We can find them together!”

“Okay!” Grandpa booms, “on your mark, get set…go!”

You waddle off as fast as possible, determined to find all the eggs and get the extra five dollars. As you do, you notice some eggs are obvious. You head to those first. You open the first one and find a candy necklace.

“Great job, sweetie!” Granny coos, “let me help you put it on!”

You start heading to the next one as soon as it's on your neck. You see another egg hiding below a bush.

The rest of the family watches the infantile display unfolding before them. A grown woman, clad in nothing but a soggy diaper and paci, enthusiastically hunting for Easter eggs. Daddy can’t help but smile, watching his Princess look for eggs lost in little space, his Granny following behind.

In no time, you find three more eggs. You feel increasingly proud of yourself, knowing you’ll get Grandpa’s gift for finishing before the hour. He’ll be so proud of you!

You spot another egg across the backyard. You quickly waddle over, oblivious to how cute you look as your diaper sways back and forth—though it's not lost on your captive audience. Daddy’s aunt can’t help but comment on what a sweet princess Daddy has.

You reach the egg, opening it up to find five Easter stickers! You look around, trying to decide where to put them. As you do, one of them floats to the ground. You squat down to pick it up, realizing too late what’s about to happen.

A loud toot escapes from your bottom, foretelling the mess that will eventually reach your diaper. You try to keep moving, knowing you must find that golden egg. You look around for it, hoping nobody heard you.

“I think someone’s about to have a poopy diaper, Zack,” Daddy’s mom prods him, “I’m glad it’s not me on diaper duty!”

You don’t hear any of that, though. You just want to find the eggs. Not even the growing pressure in your tummy can slow you down.

A minute later, you feel another cramp. You push on your tummy, begging it to calm down so you can keep looking. Another loud toot echoes through the backyard as you walk.

You don’t dare look to see if the adults heard, you knew what would happen if they knew.

Granny watches you, loving how carefree her new “granddaughter” was as she searches for eggs. And even happier that she wouldn’t have to change the stinky diaper she knows is rapidly approaching. She did raise three children, after all!

You see an egg! It’s sitting right on top of the bird feeder! You head over to it. You reach up, standing on your tippy toes to grab it. You can just feel it with your fingers. You try again, almost jumping, knocking the egg down. You turn your back to everyone to pick it up.

As you squat down this time, your body immediately reacts. A series of toots announces to the party what’s about to happen. You continue squatting, body pushing your mess into your diaper. You grunt, desperately fighting your body.

You can’t mess up now! Daddy will make you change and you’ll run out of time! But your body overwhelms you. You feel the mush spread into your diaper as you grunt.

Granny looks over at Daddy, standing up, preparing to get his now messy princess. But Granny waives him off, knowing you want to keep looking. Besides, she knows you can go a few more minutes before worrying about a rash!

You keep grunting, hoping nobody notices what’s happening in your diaper. Maybe you got away with it! Daddy usually comes right away but he hasn’t yet! As you finish pushing, you feel more and more optimistic you got away with it.

A hand rubs your shoulder. Your heart sinks. You see Granny giving a knowing smile. “It’s okay, sweetie! It will be our little secret! Let’s find the rest of those eggs!”

You smile through your paci, thankful Granny is your new partner in crime. Daddy doesn’t know! You’re forced to waddle even more than usual as your messy diaper forces your legs apart, sagging deeply.

Daddy’s aunties are practically crying in happiness, watching you continue hunting Easter eggs in your now full diaper.

Ten minutes later, you found three more eggs; all that remains is the golden egg.

“Ten minutes left,” you hear Grandpa yell, “you can do it sweetpea!”

You can do this! You frantically look around, searching for that golden egg. You can’t find it! You look and look. Nothing. Where is it?

“Awww, times up, sweetpea!”

You stand there, dejected. As you do, you realize how lost in little space you got—and how little you were acting. Your diaper feels cold and heavy. You didn’t want to be this little! You were supposed to prove to everyone you were a big girl!

You can’t believe you let yourself act like this—and everyone has treated you like you were some toddler since you got here. You weren’t going to let it keep happening. You’d prove you were a big girl once and for all.

“It’s okay, sweetpea!” Grandpa says, mistaking your silence for disappointment, “nobody has ever found it in 40 years!”

You feel Granny rubbing your back, “not even Zack found it! And he was our best egg finder ever! So don’t feel bad! Besides, it’s lunchtime!” She nudges you towards the table, filled with all the adults.

You try to put on your most adult face, hiding your shame and embarrassment. You’ll prove you’re a big girl over lunch! They’ll see!

Daddy walks over to you. “Hold on, baby, I need to check your diapee before lunch!”

Everyone at the table giggles. No, no, no. This isn’t right! You feel anger welling inside you. This is unfair. You’re an adult!

“Turn around, princess. That diaper is looking awfully brown!”

It was one comment too far. You feel tears in your eyes as you lose it, spitting out your paci. “I don’t need a diaper change, Daddy! I didn’t make pushies! I’m a big girl!”

Daddy watches on, smiling. His smile drives you crazy, making you feel even more little. But you don’t care. You won’t be checked in front of everyone!

“I won’t, Daddy!” you wail, face red with humiliation, stomping your feet as you say every word, “I’m a big girl, not a dumb baby!”

Your eyes suddenly go wide in terror as you feel your body tense up again. You feel your mind go blank as you squat down again, pushing even more mess into your diaper—the silence now only interrupted by your little grunts.

Granny walks over as you finish, eyes full of concern. “It’s okay, Emmy,” she says softly, “calm down for Granny!”

You realize Granny—and everyone else at the barbeque—now see you as nothing more than an actual toddler. You sob uncontrollably, no longer caring about proving you’re a big girl. It doesn’t matter anymore, you just need Daddy!

You feel Daddy embrace you for another hug, not saying anything, letting you calm down. His embrace soothes you as you slowly calm down, your sobs slowing as you do.

Daddy looks at you, wiping your nose with a tissue. “I got you, princess. You’re safe with me, always. I think it’s time for a nap, Grandpa set up a playpen inside for you. You’ll feel better after, I promise.”

Unable to speak, you nod, offering your hand to Daddy. He grabs it, leading you inside. The playpen is filled with blankets and pillows. It looks so comfy. Daddy leads you in, tucking you under the blankets.

“I’ll be back in an hour, okay, princess?”

As Daddy leaves, you lay there in your messy diaper. You don’t even care about the laughing you hear outside. Your eyes are too heavy as you drift off to sleep.

249 notes · View notes

shittingmyself34 · 2 months

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Emily stared longingly outside. She was no longer allowed to go out alone anymore; that was for big girls. The last few months had seen Emily begin bedwetting out of nowhere. It began slow, a night here and there, but she thought they were just one-off accidents. She had no idea just how wrong she was.

Soon her nighttime control was very inconsistent. Her mother had insisted she wear goodnites (glorified diapers for bedwetters) to bed. Emily protested but her mother put her foot down. Emily refused but her small stature didn't exactly lend itself to resistance. Her mother picked her up easily, and though she struggled Emily could not escape. She was laid down on the bed and held down by one of her mothers arms while the other arm pulled down Emily's Pj shorts and panties.

Emily was so tired from struggling at this point that try though she might, she couldn't stop her mother from pulling the goodnite up between her legs. Tears streamed down Emily's face as she felt the foreign garment between her legs. It was soft and crinkled softly when she moved. Her mother pulled Emily's pj shorts back up and said "if I catch you with these off, you will get a spanking so hard you'd wish you'd never taken them off."

Emily sulked, knowing that her mother wasn't kidding. After a few minutes of silent crying, Emily, who was exhausted from struggling fell asleep. That day was the beginning of the end for Emily's adulthood. Fast forward to the present. Emily had not woken up dry since she was put in goodnights 6 months ago, and she'd even started to have daytime accidents with increasing frequency about a month prior to today. Her mother insisted that she wear her goodnites in the day too now, and Emily was embarrassed to say it was hard to argue.

Her goodnites weren't really cutting it these days, and it seemed like the daytime accidents were scattered at first like the bedwetting, but also like the bedwetting it quickly worsened and Emily was soon wetting her goodnites every day, sometimes multiple times. As she reflected at the window she felt her goodnite growing warm and heavy, a tear rolling down her cheek in silent frustration. She never knew when she had lost the ability to even feel when she needed to pee, but it was depressing..

As she continued to pee, it began to leak out of the goodnite and onto the couch. As if she could sense it, Emily's mother entered the room and locked eyes on the couch where the wet spot was clearly visible. A patient anger came over her expression and she wordlessly took Emily's hand. Emily wondered fearfully if she was going to be spanked, but instead she was sat down on a plastic mat on the bed. "A.. changing mat?" she thought. That's when she saw what was beside it and put 2 and 2 together.

A thick white diaper decorated with pink and lavender hearts was beside the changing table, and before she knew it she was being laid down and cleaned up just like a baby. She was so shocked at how far she's fallen that she couldn't even struggle. "You'll be wearing these for the foreseeable future little girl. Since you can't seem to act your age, you will be kept in diapers 24/7; no more goodnites." Emily was mortified "in the day too?? bu-"

"no buts young lady" she finished taping the diaper and made sure it was snug and fit well. Emily felt the thick padding press against her skin as her mother felt the diaper. Each movement she made was accompanied by an audible crinkle. "Everyone is going to find out..." Emily said, dejected. "I'm sorry Emily" her mother said gently "but you clearly need diapers now, and if people find out that's just something we'll have to deal with"

And so began her new life. The only girl at university who still needed diapers.

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shittingmyself34 · 2 months

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Taylor's New Role, Pt. 3

Part two here.

Taylor couldn’t believe she was officially registered as incontinent with the school. It wasn’t that anything drastically changed because of it. There was almost nothing the school could do other than inform her professors and arrange extra time during exams so Taylor could change her diaper if necessary.

No, what made Taylor so apprehensive was how her diapers were becoming such a massive part of her life. Her relationship with Sean was now defined by her diapers. Her classmates saw her wet her diaper in the middle of class. Who knows how far that story has spread? Did her friends now? And now she was officially registered as incontinent with the school.

Thoughts raced through Taylor’s mind as she lay in bed. At least Sean was asleep, she thought. She didn’t want him to know she had another accident when she was awake, lying in bed. He’ll just assume she wet it in her sleep tomorrow morning. And she figured she’d inevitably wet her diaper tonight any like she did every night for the last week.

She wondered if Sean meant what he said tonight before bed. Would he really buy her onesies if she dressed herself again? All she wanted to do was change into her pajamas. She didn’t even think about the rules. When Sean asked what she was doing, she didn’t know what he was talking about. And Sean did not like it when Taylor said it wasn’t big deal, she’d wear what she wanted.

But onesies? Surely, they didn’t make onesies in adult sizes. They’re made for babies! Sean was probably just bluffing Taylor thought as she drifted off to sleep.

Taylor unsurprisingly woke up to a drenched diaper. She’d given up on hoping she’d stop bedwetting. All she cared about was getting out of diapers during the day—and somehow hiding her diapered status from everyone she knew for the next two weeks.

She felt a hand reach down and squeeze her diaper. “Wow, you soaked this one, Tay! You must really be enjoying your diapers since you use them so much. You know, we don’t have to wait until Spring Break to put you permanently in diapers!”

Taylor glared back at Sean. “Oh ha, ha,” she answered sarcastically, “I hate to break your heart, but I won't be in diapers in two weeks, and you’ll have to find a new power trip.”

Sean’s eyebrows rose so high in disbelief that Taylor wondered if they’d reach his hairline. “If you say so, babe! I don’t think you can go two hours without wetting your diaper, let alone two weeks.”

“Doubt me all you want, but I’ll be sipping margaritas on the beach in a bikini in Mexico for spring break! And I’ll remember your lack of faith when you try to get under my bikini!”

“I really, really admire your confidence, babe. You’re so confident for someone with what may be the wettest diaper I’ve ever seen between their legs waiting for a diaper change!”

“Whatever, just change my diaper so I can get breakfast.”

“I didn’t know I had such a demanding baby, I think someone might need her pacifier before she runs her mouth and gets into trouble!”

Taylor throws her head back in frustration, waiting for her new diaper.

As Sean got to work, Taylor wondered if she’d ever get used to having her boyfriend change her diaper.

Much to Taylor’s relief, nobody in her classes ever mentioned her accident or diapers. It was like it never happened. In fact, nobody noticed her diapers at all for the next few weeks.

It was a bittersweet realization for Taylor. She was pleasantly surprised she’d been wearing for as long as she had, and nobody ever noticed the thick, shameful padding between her legs. Even when she went out with friends. Diapers were her best-kept secret—and she intended to keep it that way.

Even her relationship with Sean had blossomed. Sure, Taylor still had to follow Sean’s rules, but he never strictly enforced them, letting Taylor get away with small things here and there. They were more like kinky regulations than rules—a roadmap for their fun.

But that’s where the good news ended for Taylor. It had been this long and she hadn’t even gone a single day without wetting her diaper. If anything, the accidents were becoming more frequent. Especially as the two-week period before spring break approached. The closer it got, the more nervous Taylor became—fueling even more accidents.

Taylor shuttered. In the last two weeks, she could use one hand to count how many times she made it to the bathroom. Her bladder had all but given up, preferring to fill her diaper rather than wait a few minutes for Taylor to reach the toilet.

“You know what today means, don’t you, princess?” Sean taunts.

Taylor feels a legion of butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She knew exactly what today meant. Today was two weeks before Spring Break. The importance of the next two weeks was not lost on Taylor. Any accident from now until Spring Break and it was all over. Taylor would lose all toilet privileges—and who knows what else.

Sean may have been lenient with the rules before, but Taylor knew it wouldn’t last. Not if her diapers became permanent. Kinky or not, one more accident as she’d become Sean’s permanently diapered plaything.

The thought filled Taylor with dread.

“Y-yes,” Taylor stutters.

“Tell me what it means, Taylor.”

Taylor hesitates, shaking with nerves. “It-it means if I have one more accident…”

Sean smiles. “What happens then, princess?”

“I-I lose all my big girl privileges,” Taylor whimpers.

“Wow, such a smart little girl! What are those privileges, baby?”

“I-I’ll have to w-wear diapers at all times, and u-use them f-for everything.”

“And what else?”

Taylor shivers. “And…and…I’ll be your permanent babygirl,” Taylor squeaks.

“Yes, you will!” Sean responds triumphantly, “and don’t look all embarrassed, sweetie. You must want this because you’ve made no effort in the last few months to make it to the toilet. Clearly you crave diapers and a Daddy to care for you!”

“No, I don’t! I couldn’t help it! It’s not fair, you know I’m having problems!”

“Your urologist didn’t find anything to explain why you keep making so many tinkles in your diaper, remember? So, it must mean you want to wear your diapers.”

“Humphf,” Taylor responds, knowing Sean was twisting her urologist's words. The urologist simply said he didn’t see anything obvious to cause it.

“It doesn’t really matter, though. One more accident and Spring Break will be very different for you.”

Sean hands Taylor a cup of coffee. “Drink.”

“No, thank you,” Taylor responds.

“We have a big day today ahead of us,” Sean replies, “you’ll need it.”

“I’ll be fine,” Taylor responds, unsure why Sean said that. It was just a lazy Saturday, anyway.

“If you insist, baby. But you can’t dehydrate yourself for two weeks,” Sean answers, “now, let’s get you ready to go!”

“Go where?”

“The zoo, silly!” Sean says enthusiastically.

“But I—can’t we just hang out here today?”

“No, we can’t. And I don’t want to hear anymore whining out of you, princess.”

Taylor allows Sean to dress her, not wanting to put Sean in a bad mood. He was in charge, anyway.

After dressing Taylor, Sean grabs something out of the closet. Taylor noticed a few extra boxes that weren’t there a few days ago.

“Is…is that a diaper bag?” Taylor asks nervously.

“Yes, yes it is! You are in diapers, Taylor. What if you need a changie when we’re out?”

“I won’t, Sean! And that’s so babyish. I haven’t even had an accident yet!” Taylor adds desperately, noticing that the diaper bag was already ready to go, full of who knows what.

“We’ll see, babygirl.”

Taylor can’t help but notice Sean is treating her more like a little girl than ever before as they drive to the zoo. She hates the diaper between her legs, promising herself she would not have an accident today—or the next two weeks.

Sean buys the tickets. “What animals do you want to see first, princess?”

“I don’t care,” Taylor answers.

“Awww, I thought you’d be excited to see all the animals, baby!”

Taylor knew what Sean was doing. She also knew that one accident and this would be her new life. “You’re not funny, Sean.”

“I’m not being funny, Tay,” Sean insists, “I’m just trying to have a nice day with you.”

“You’re treating me like a child.”

“Is that what this is about? You wanting to be an adult? Well, then you’ll have to prove it, sweetie, because all I see is a girl in a diaper. Hardly an adult.”

“I am an adult, Sean. I won’t have an accident.”

“Okay, if you’re an adult, let’s get something to drink. We’ll be doing a lot of walking and it’s already hot out. Adults know they need to drink a bunch of water in those cases.”

“Fine,” Taylor snarls.

Sean buys two large water bottles. “Drink,” he says flatly.

Taylor drinks half of it, knowing any more would be dangerous.

“Thank you, Taylor. Now, let's see some elephants! They’re right over there.”

Taylor pretends to be interested in the elephants. It’s not hard, at least. She’s always loved elephants.

A twinge in her bladder throws Taylor into high alert. She needs to get to the bathroom immediately.

“S-Sean,” Taylor whimpers, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Okay, let’s go to the potty!”

Taylor ignores Sean’s teasing as she rushes off, desperate to reach the toilet.

“Slow down, Taylor!” Sean commands, “don’t run over any kids!”

The bathroom is 50 yards ahead. “I can make it,” Taylor assures herself. As the bathroom gets closer, Taylor becomes more optimistic. She could hold it for another minute if she had to.

Suddenly, the ground slips out from under her, sending Taylor falling backward, terror filling her mind as she does. She lands hard on her diapered butt, pain engulfing her.

“Are you okay?” Taylor hears Sean catching up to her.

“I-I think so,” Taylor whimpers.

“Can you stand up?” Sean asks.

Taylor gets up gingerly, though she doesn’t feel hurt. Just a little shell-shocked.

“Do you need to get to the bathroom?”

Taylor forgot for a split second why she was running. She didn’t feel the urge to pee anymore. To her horror, she realized what that meant.

Sean notices the fresh panic on her face, understanding what it means. He finally got his babygirl.

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shittingmyself34 · 2 months

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Victoria Volunteers, Part Five

Be sure to check out Parts One, Two, Three, and Four!

No thinking. Good girls don't think. Good girls let go. Good girls relax. And you… are a good girl. A very good little girl…

The chorus of whispers – some in sultry feminine tones, others in now masculine rumbles – seeped out through the headphones and into the hapless woman's brain. How long she had been here in this medical facility, she no longer knew. She no longer knew much of anything, in fact – not even how many times she'd fallen into unconsciousness and then blinked back to confused reality. Besides, how could anyone think straight with all these voices echoing nonstop in their ears?

Little. Yes, a little girl. You're forgetting everything else… except that you're a good, obedient little girl. You've always been a little girl… so very good and little and obedient…

Was that the truth? Victoria's external struggles had ceased long before – the straitjacket and bonds had seen to that – but now a small, tired burst of resistance flared within her drowsy brain. No… adult. She was… adult. Young adult. And good girl…? Well, Daddy had called her that in years past. Mandy also liked to joke about her "little" sister. And so she… well, she kinda was? The voice… it might be right after all…

Little girls like you… they forget. They don't have to think… or remember… or do anything. They get to relax. Yes… relax. Let everything go. Everything. Their thoughts… their memories… their bodies…

Victoria twitched silently, her mind and body still struggling feebly against the regression programming. But she… she didn't want to forget… did she? Somewhere far off – in the faint corners of her mind – there seemed to be something about urgency. Something between her legs, deep in her belly. Something she had to do…

Good little girls… they always want to become good little babies. Yes, they do. So sweet, so cute, so adorable… You're a good little girl… and we know. We know how you long to be an even better baby… Because babies don't even know how to think. They can't. They just play… and sleep… and drink. They crawl and cry and coo… Their bodies don't obey them… They have no control, because they don't even know what control is…

Control. What… was this control about? Victoria was having trouble remembering amid the wash of sound. Whatever it was, it sounded hard. She was so tired after all this fighting. She just wanted it all to stop. To relax. To let everything fade away…

And you don't know either… do you? Of course you don't. You don't even understand the question anymore – and that's because you've become a little baby now. Oh, yes. You already have. No control… no thoughts… just relaxing every… single… muscle… Letting everything go…

Something slowly unclenched deep within her now. Victoria's bound body twitched involuntarily… but it was a primal reflex and nothing more. Her mind was drifting now: only vaguely aware in the dreamiest of ways of the trickling sensation between her legs… and practically oblivious to the warm, silently swelling bulk of the diaper as it drank in her first infantile accident.

–––

Above her, and unseen by Victoria's glazed eyes, a blue light winked. A moment later, it winked again. And then again… the only indication of the high-resolution camera mounted there, and which was effortlessly documenting this patient's first and most momentous foray into regression therapy.

Not that Victoria was aware of it, of course. Let alone that her image – as a bound, gagged, and diapered prisoner – was at that very moment flashing up on a monitor some three hundred miles away in her elder step-sister Mandy's office.

An image, it must be confessed, that brought a slow, satisfied smirk to Mandy's handsome face.

(The end – for now!)

Image Credit: ABDreams.com

Be sure to check out my Patreon or my Ream Stories if you want to read more of my naughty fiction!

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shittingmyself34 · 2 months

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Easter Bunnies - Part 3

Melony woke up from her nap feeling strange. Her first thought was of chocolate. Daddy had said she could have some of her Easter eggs after her nap, and she could feel a rumbling in her tummy. But her second thought was about why she was taking a nap in the middle of the afternoon. She wasn’t a baby, after all. Only dumb babies needed naps. She lifted her head off her pillow and looked around blearily. She was sharing a crib with Jackie. Her friend was still fast asleep, sucking her thumb peacefully, and she was giving off a strong smell of urine. But then, Melony thought, as she lifted the covers and looked down at the sodden adult diaper around her own waist, that could just as easily be her…

She blinked. Her head felt funny. Or had it been feeling funny before? She put a hand to the top of her head, but there was nothing there. No bunny ears. Where had they gone? A slight frown creased her brow. Why did she want them so badly anyway? They were just a pair of stupid bunny ears. They were for little girls. Or were they for big girls too? Her frown became more pronounced. She was pretty sure she’d seen grown-ups wearing bunny ears. Girls in sexy outfits. So they couldn’t be that immature.

Melony got up on her knees, and her mouth twisted into a grimace as her nappy sagged heavily. It was so full of wee-wee that it almost touched the plastic sheet of Jackie’s crib. Her outfit definitely wasn’t mature. Adults didn’t wear yucky wet diapers. She put her hands to her chest, and her felt her breasts through the fabric of the yellow t-shirt Daddy had dressed her in for her nap. But little girls didn’t have these.

Then it all came flooding back to her in a rush, all her memories, all her awareness. “Oh my God…” she whispered. She started shaking Jackie awake. “Jackie,” she hissed urgently, panic rising inside her. Their boyfriends were trying to turn them into overgrown toddler freaks! “Jackie, wake up!”

Jackie’s eyes fluttered open and she pulled her thumb out of her mouth with a pop. “Dada?” she murmured sleepily.

“No, Jackie, it’s me! It’s Melony! Wake up! You’ve got to remember who you are!”

Jackie rubbed her eyes with her fists and blinked up at her. “Mewwie?” She clambered awkwardly up onto her knees too, then she grinned. “Mewwie!” she squealed, and wrapped Melony in a tight hug. “I wuv you!”

Melony cringed. She could feel her friend’s braless breasts squishing against her. “I love you too, Jackie,” she said, keeping her voice low, “but right now we need to get out of here.” She extracted herself from the cuddle. “You’re not a baby, Jackie. You’re a grown woman, remember? You’re twenty-four years old. You’re training to be a doctor!”

Jackie cocked her head, still grinning. She let out a gurgling giggle that suggested to Melony she hadn’t understood a word of what she’d just said, or perhaps she just thought they were playing.

Hazel stirred beneath the sheets of her mattress on the floor. She yawned and stretched and got to her feet; as the Hello Kitty covers fell from her body, she was revealed wearing nothing but a soaking wet pair of training pants. It was no wonder the room smelled like pee – all three women had wet themselves in their sleep.

“Hazel!” Melony said urgently, turning her attention to her other friend.

Hazel blushed and covered her padded crotch with her hands. “Acc-see-dents doesn’t count when it’s naptime,” she mumbled shamefully. “Daddy says.”

“Hazel please! You’re not a toddler! You’re an adult!”

Hazel beamed. “I a big girl!” she declared proudly, putting her hands on her hips and standing with her legs wide, making the droop of her pull-ups obvious. “Not a baby wike you and Jackie!”

“No!” Melony pleaded. “Hazel, we’re all adults! Our boyfriends have done something to us! You’ve got to wake up!”

Hazel shook her head in a superior way. “Am awake, Mewwie,” she said. “Siwwy baby!”

At that moment, the door to the bedroom opened and Peter came in.

“You!” Melony snarled, getting to her feet and gripping the side of the crib, glaring at her boyfriend. “What the hell have you done to us?!”

Peter raised his eyebrow. “That’s no way to talk to your Daddy, little one,” he said, sternly. “Keep that up and I’ll have no choice but to put you over my knee.”

“You’re not my Daddy!” Melony shouted furiously. “And you can’t talk to me that way! I don’t know if you drugged us or hypnotized us or what, but when I get out of here you’re going straight into a fucking prison cell!”

His expression quite calm, Peter walked up to the crib and lowered the bars. Then he took Jackie by the hand and helped her down onto the carpet. “Hazel,” he said, turning to the nearly nude young woman, “be a good girl, take Jackie and go and find your Daddies, okay? I think they’ll give you some of your Easter chocolate! But Mellie’s being a naughty little girl, so I’m going to have to give her a spanking before she can come downstairs.”

Jackie’s eyes widened and Hazel giggled. “Yes, Mewwie’s Daddy!” she chirped, and she took Jackie by the hand and skipped out of the room in nothing but her pissy pull-up, dragging her infantilized friend along beside her.

Once they were gone, Peter turned back to her. He pointed his finger at the floor. “Come here, Mellie. Out of the crib. You’ve earned yourself a sore, red bottom, young lady.”

“You’re crazy!” Melony shouted. “I’m not gonna let you spank me, you monster!”

“In a minute or two, you’re not going to have the will to resist, darling. Not when Daddy gives you a stern look. Your mind will be regressing back to babyhood any moment now.”

“W-what do you mean?” Melony stammered, as a chill ran through her body at his words.

“There we no drugs, sweetie,” said Peter. “No hypnosis. Just your special bunny ears. They made all those wonderful changes inside your head, just like they did with your two little friends, and the effects are totally permanent, baby girl. This is just a little bounce-back, that’s all. Jackie had hers yesterday, and Hazel had hers just before we arrived today. One final little burst of adulthood before it’s back to diapers forever.”

“No…” Melony whispered. But she could already feel it happening in her mind. Her head was getting fuzzy again. Soft and fuzzy. Like it was full of cotton candy. She shook her head fiercely. “No!” she shouted. Her face was burning with humiliation at the thought of being stuck as an adult-sized toddler for the rest of her life, being gawped at and cooed over by strangers, by her friends and family, but her lunatic of a boyfriend. “I’m not gonna be wike… like that forever!”

“I’m afraid there’s no going back now, baby,” Peter said gently. “If you had any last things you wanted to say as a grown-up, now’s the time, because in a few moments you’ll have the behaviours and intellectual level of a three-year-old.” He grinned. “But I’m going to treat you like you’re two.” He looked her over thoughtfully. “Oliver wanted a happy toddler girl who’s proud as a peach to sit on an oversized child’s potty and pee in it in front of a crowd,” he said. “Hazel was always so shy before, but now she’s quite the little exhibitionist, as I’m sure you’ve noticed! George just wanted to see Jackie transformed into a dim-witted baby, barely out of infancy, without a thought in her pretty little head. She was so smart before; I think George finds it funny that she’s now too dumb to even tell when she’s pooped her pants.”

Melony could only stare at her boyfriend in horror. It was getting harder and harder to hold her thoughts together, and there was another problem too – the rumbling in her tummy from earlier had changed into a different feeling, a fullness in her bottom. She clenched her rear tightly.

“But I wanted something a little different from both of them,” Daddy went on. Peter. His name was Peter, not Daddy. “I wanted the sweet spot; a girl who’s just mature enough to want to be out of diapers, but who has to wear them anyway. I think that would be perfect for you, Mellie.”

Mellie shook her head again, her lips forming a pout. “No!” she whined. Her head felt so empty. So light and fluffy. Fluffy like a bunny. “Don’t wanna… Don’t wike…” The pressure in her bottom was building, becoming impossible to control almost as quickly as it had first appeared.

“Go on, baby,” her boyfriend cooed. “Any last thoughts before it’s back to baby-land for good for big girl Melony?”

Mellie looked up into his eyes. A mixture of fear and anger and confusion burned in hers. “Gotta go poopy!” she blurted, and then bent her knees, screwed up her face, and started to poop her pants.

Above her, Daddy laughed. “That’s my little Mellie,” he cooed, patting her on the head. She let out a loud grunt and pushed a load into her nappy, quickly followed by a long gush of pee-pee. “That’s Daddy’s little stinker! Melony the big girl is all gone now, isn’t she? It’s just silly baby Mellie left, ready to spend the rest of Easter toddling around in a dirty diaper. Ready for a lifetime of loving cuddles and strict discipline from her Daddy. Finish up making your whoopsie, baby, then move that messy bum of yours out of the crib. Your big girl brains might have leaked out into your nappy, but Daddy hasn’t forgotten that you need a spanking!”

The End

***

If you want to read more evil stories about women being transformed into overgrown babies, I also post on SubscribeStar.

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shittingmyself34 · 2 months

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Little Space, Big Mess

This caption is for, and features, the awesome @crinklecutie who let me use her picture! Give her a follow!

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched her browse the endless amount of stuffies. She was so lost in little space, not even noticing or caring about the diaper peeking out under her dress.

“Daddy look at this one! Is a penguin!!” she squeals in utter delight.

“It is, princess! I bet it waddles just like you too!” you tease her.

“Nooo! But daddyyyy I dun waddle! I walk like a princess!”

“Is that so, princess? What about when you make your oopsie daisies in your diapees?”

You watch as she squirms, red-faced and blushy. “No, I’m a big girl daddy! I don’t make ickies! You bein a meanie!”

You laugh as she wanders off to keep looking for a stuffie. It’s a big choice for her, you only let her get one stuffie today, much to her dismay.

She pauses for a few seconds, body growing tight, legs squeezing together. You know what’s about to happen. But a few seconds later, she’s back to grabbing stuffies, testing them for cuddliness.

You smile, trying to keep out of sight, not wanting to break the spell. She’s never cuter than when she makes her pushies in little space—especially when it happens in public.

Her diaper isn’t her concern. She knows that’s for Daddy to worry about. All she cares about is finding the perfect stuffie.

She freezes again, this time her legs bucking slightly. Unfazed, she keeps looking for stuffies, not caring she’s frozen in place.

You’re almost as lost in the moment as she is. Consumed by the overwhelming display of cuteness unfolding before you. Caring for her has been better than you ever imagined after she blubbered her way through confessing her dd/lg kink.

You watch as her squat gets deeper and deeper. She’s still happily playing with her stuffie, completely oblivious of her diaper now peeking below her dress.

She grunts softly. You fight to stay quiet. You’d never forgive yourself for ruining this moment. Soft crinkles of her diaper reach your ears, barely more than a whisper. You see her diaper expand as she grunts again.

Her diaper continues to expand as she happily grabs another stuffie. Cheeks red with effort—but not embarrassment. You doubted she even knew she was filling her diaper.

She finished and immediately continued to browse, not showing any signs she just messed her diaper.

You knew you’d have to step in soon. She may not care about her smelly diaper—but you do. It’s a daddy’s duty after all. You head over to her.

“Hi Daddy!” she purrs contentedly.

“Do you have something to tell me, Princess?”

“A stuffie?”

“No, not a stuffy, silly.”

She looks at you confused, albeit slightly guilty. “Then what, Daddy?”

“You tell me, pumpkin!”

“I, uh…” she mumbles, taking a few steps back.

“Come here, Princess. I think you’re hiding something!”

“Nuh uh, Daddy! I promise!”

“If you have nothing to hide, then come over here!”

“Dadddddyyyyy! ’m not hiding nothin!”

“Sweetie, I’m going to count to three. If you’re not here by three you’re gonna be in big trouble! Especially if you’re hiding something from Daddy!”

“But, I…Daddy no!”

“One…”

“Daddy I’m not!”

“Two…”

“Stop, Daddy! No!”

You raise your eyebrows, daring her to defy you.

“Hmphfff,” she whines as she waddles over to you.

“Turn around Princess, I think you’re hiding a poopy in your diaper!”

“DADDDYYY!! I didn’t! No no no! I didn’t make any uh ohs!!! I didn’t I didn’t I didn’t!”

“Princess, now,” you say in your best Daddy voice.

Her face is now bright red in embarrassment. It’s too cute to fathom.

You turn her around, pulling her dress up to see her diaper.

“But Daddy! What if people see!”

“Nobody is here, Princess. And I see a lot of messies in your diaper!” you say as you pull back the top of the diaper, looking at her present to you.

“I-I-I….sorry Daddy I didn’t mean ‘ew do it!” she splutters, barely comprehensible.

“It’s okay, Princess! I know you can’t help it! You’re my poopy pamper princess, remember? That’s why I put you in diapers!”

“Daddy! 'm not a poopy pamper princess! ’m not ’m not ’m not!”

“Okay, okay, Princess. But it doesn’t mean you don’t have an icky, messy diaper for me to change! We have to go in the back and change that diaper!”

“Wha-? Daddy, here? I don’ wanna to be changed here! I wan go home!!!” she sobs.

“Sorry, Princess. Poopy pamper princesses don’t get to choose where Daddy changes their diaper!”

“Daddy no! I don' want changies!” she whines, stomping her feet.

“Sweetie, if you keep throwing a tantrum everyone here will know about your poopy diaper! Is that what you want?”

“No, Daddy I don’t care! No changies!”

She’s startled into silence as a store worker, a girl clearly younger than her, walks over. She’s smiling sweetly.

The employee kneels in front of her. “Honey, there’s nothing to be ashamed of! It’s just a messy diapee! It’s happens to every little one! That’s why your Daddy put you in diapers!”

You look at her in awe, knowing full well how humiliated your Princess must be hearing that.

“See Princess,” you say fighting to contain your laughter, “it’s okay! Now can we get you changed?”

She just stares at both of you, face redder than a tomato. She squirms in humiliation as she decides what to do.”

“We have family room in the back,” the worker added, “and the changing table should even be big enough for littles like you, sweetie!”

“That’s great, thank you!” you say to her, reveling in your little Princess’s humiliation, “what do you say to the pretty lady, Princess?”

She looks at you with daggers in her eyes, but is too mortified to keep throwing a fit. “I��thank you!” she whispers.

“No problem, cutie!” the employee answers, “icky diapers are no fun, huh?”

You grab her hand as you lead her to the bathroom. You decide she should get two stuffies today—she’s earned it.

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shittingmyself34 · 2 months

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Before & After - Daddy's Girl

Set in the world of The Magician’s Game.

***

Lucy Thompson was a strident feminist, an activist with a reputation across her college campus both for her good looks and for her habit of biting the head off any man who tried to flirt with her. With her beautiful face and hourglass figure, she naturally drew the eyes of all the men in her classes – but there was nothing Lucy hated more than the male gaze, as she wrote about frequently in her Critical Theory essays. She couldn’t stand the idea that people saw her as a mere sex object, and there was nothing she hated more than men who assumed she must secretly want to be “put in her place” by a big, strong man like them.

Unfortunately for her, to the Magician’s mind, there’s nothing more enjoyable than taking a strong-willed, empowered woman and making her fight for her adulthood, so naturally Miss Thompson made the ideal candidate for one of his twisted games. She played the game well, however, avoiding all but a minor thumbsucking penalty and making it all the way to the final round before finally losing in a nursery rhyme sing-along contest.

Tired of her constant ranting about the evils of the patriarchy, the Magician decided that Lucy needed a little help changing her attitude towards men. With a snap of his fingers, he gave her a hardcore diaper fetish and an overpowering Daddy kink that soon had her squirming on the floor with one hand stuck down the front of her pants, imagining herself being forced into diapers and made to live as a dumb toddler forever. Then the Magician gave her the choice; she could return to her normal life without so much as losing her continence, or he could strip her of all her bladder and bowel control and let her live with him as his full-time adult baby girl…

Lucy’s New Life

Lucy moaned around her thumb and humped her thickly padded crotch desperately against her teddy bear. Her squishy nappy felt delightful against her pussy. It was soaked with pee, just the way she liked it. Her face burned with humiliation at what she was doing, but that just made her pussy even wetter. The old her would have died with shame if she could’ve seen herself now, grinding her sopping wet Pampers on her stuffed animals. But it was the only way a stupid, horny diaper girl like her could get off. She let out another slutty moan.

“Uh-oh,” came a deep male voice from above her. “I think someone’s being a naughty little girl…”

Lucy felt a powerful rush of arousal. She loved the way Daddy talked to her, like she was a particularly dim-witted four-year-old. She hated him too, hated the way he’d turned her into a diaper-wearing freak, the way he’d stolen her future and reduced her to a life of bottle-feeds and early bedtimes, spankings and nappy changes. But another part, just as strong, thought it was the hottest thing ever. She looked up, and her nether regions pulsed with pleasure at the sight of his handsome face, his sadistic smile.

“Does Daddy need to pull off your diaper and spank your naughty bottom, Lulu?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lucy shook her head hurriedly from side to side, but she couldn’t help sucking her thumb lustily at the thought of being turned over Daddy’s lap, having her nappy pulled down, getting her plump bare bottom smacked over and over again until it turned bright pink…

“Are you sure?” he asked, a smirk playing around his lips. “Your Nanny told me she caught you doing something naughty this morning too.”

Lucy’s face went even redder.

“Did you really try to sneak a wet diaper out of the pail and put it on?” he asked, sounding deeply amused.

Lucy thought she might faint with the humiliation. She gave her teddy an extra hard hump and nodded.

“Silly girl,” said the Magician, reaching out and patting her padded rear. “If you want playtime in your icky used nappies then all you have to do is ask. Daddy already knows what a disgusting, depraved little girl you are.”

Lucy groaned and shut her eyes, still grinding on her bear. She was getting so close to orgasm now. But then there was a sudden pressure in her bottom, and she gasped around her thumb. Instinctively she tried to clamp down, to hold it in, but that wasn’t something her body was capable of anymore. Instead, she barely felt it as a big, yucky mess filled her diaper. The Magician started to laugh, and Lucy humped her teddy bear faster and faster, even as she grimaced with revulsion. The mess in the back of her pants felt disgusting. It was so gross and stinky and babyish.

She could have walked away, she told herself. She could have been a normal woman, or at least a woman who could control when she peed and pooped. But now she was just a big, smelly baby who needed nappies on her butt 24/7. A naughty, overgrown toddler who needed a Daddy to keep her in her rightful place… and she always would be. She moaned again. How could she have chosen this?! With one final, desperate thrust of her hips, Lucy had a shuddering orgasm in her soaked and stinky diaper and slumped over her teddy bear, gasping for breath.

As the euphoria began to fade, the familiar shame and self-disgust started to creep over her, and she buried her face in her teddy’s soft fur. But when her Daddy bent down, kissed the top of her head, and whispered, “That’s my girl,” the tingling started in her pussy all over again.

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shittingmyself34 · 2 months

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Baby Time

Clara worked the USB drive between her index finger and thumb, chewing on the bottom corner of her lip as she did. She’d been sitting here, fiddling with the USB or her laptop or her headphones or something else for…an hour? Maybe two? She didn’t really know. All she did know was that she was nervous, more nervous than she’d expected to be. She didn’t think the little file in her hand would actually work, but there was a small part of her that wondered what would happen if it did. It had been a fantasy of hers, but that was it–a fantasy. An online fantasy at that. The kind of thing she kept to chat rooms and late-night masturbation sessions. But the USB drive, with the words *Baby Time* etched onto the side in cheap sharpie, promised to take her fantasies and make them real. To wipe her slate clean, so to speak, and make her into what she’d fantasized about being. The woman who sold it to her promised it wouldn’t take much: just a listen, and it would work. Clara swallowed nervously before grabbing her laptop and putting it in her lap. It was time to try out her purchase and see if it actually worked. As Clara plugged in the USB, she continued to fidget and squirm, more out of nervousness than anything else. Eventually, the USB connected with a jaunty little *boop* and brought up a folder with three files inside. An audio file also named *Baby Time*, an unknown program with an extension Clara hadn’t seen before and didn’t know how to access, and a text file. The text file, named READ ME, contained a jumbled mess of characters and letters that made Clara’s eyes hurt. She closed the file and blinked a few times to clear her vision. Her head felt off, and she was eager to get into the actual file she’d paid for. She popped in her ear buds and got herself comfortable, then started the file. Her stomach fluttered, her earlier nerves returning for a second. She was greeted by…children’s music. A looping, jaunty tune that she couldn’t quiet place, one that sounded very much like the kind of thing she’d expect to hear in a nursery. She chuckled to herself, feeling silly for getting so worked up about something so simple. If this was all Baby Time was, she’d be fine. Reassured, and with a soft, pleasant buzzing in her brain, she settled down into the pillows to listen.

Time passed, though Clara had a hard time guessing how much. She felt her thumb drifting up and pushing at the corner of her mouth, trying to work its way inside. She batted her hand away and did her best to focus on the music.

The music’s pitch shifted up, and there was whispering and murmuring now. She tried to focus on the words, that made her head fuzzy and her v…her v…Clara couldn’t remember what that thing between her legs was supposed to be called. Eventually, the term settled in her brain. Her princess parts got tingly when she listened to the voices. She giggled, a high-pitched laugh that made her tingle more. She rubbed her thighs together and tried to focus back on the words. As she did, she found her thumb floating back up to her mouth, but this time, she didn’t fight it. She welcomed it, nursing on it as she listened. The longer the track went on, the more words Clara could pick out of the whispering and murmuring. *Mommy’s good girl* and *dumb, silly little baby* drifted up through the music, making Clara tingle more and her head buzz warmly. She found it harder and harder to focus on anything, and soon, her eyes wandered down to the keyboard on her laptop. She didn’t really know what the letters meant. She liked some of the pretty symbols though, so she pushed them, cooing as she did. As she pressed the keys, she felt something warm dribble over her princess parts and down her thighs, soaking through her panties and her pants. She’d wet herself, but the moment she did, her whole body got warm and tingly. She clapped and cooed and pawed at her princess parts, knowing she’d done good but not what or how.

Someone knocked on the apartment door, drawing Clara out of her trance. She cooed softly, turning and looking around before stumbling off the bed. She didn’t know how to walk, so instead, she crawled out to the living room, pants soaking, drool running down her chin. The door was too complicated–all she could do was sit in her mess and mewl, hoping a grownup was on the other side who knew what to do. Luckily for Clara, there was–the woman who’d helped her turn her fantasies into reality. Clara couldn’t talk to thank her new Mommy, but her babbling coos and bounces were more than thanks enough.

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shittingmyself34 · 3 months

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Chloe: Making the Grade

It was three weeks ago to the day that Chloe came home from school for her winter break. Three weeks prior, she had walked into the house that she and her husband shared, only to find him sitting at the kitchen table holding her appalling report card. And of course, that same day was when she was made aware that her and her husband's spare bedroom had been horrifyingly converted into an oversized nursery.

She was standing in that very same nursery, only an hour and a half away from her newly enforced bedtime of 8:30 PM. She felt the constricting nature of her yellow peplum outfit top that Daddy dressed her in just earlier this morning. How it felt constricting against her breasts like a training bra. How the indigo "skirt," if you could even call it that, did nothing to hide her diaper. If anything, it framed it more apparently and obviously in her head. Every movement throughout the day made her feel that skirting sway slightly, mere inches from the waistband of her oversized pamper. Then, of course, she felt the dread that was her current reality. She struggled, even after all this time, to come to terms with it. Not only was she wearing a cartoon-printed diaper that was big enough to hug her wide hips, but she was also expected and forced to use it on a daily basis.

She found herself staring intently at the crack between the wall and her oversized crib that she would be strapped into shortly as the persistent and impossible-to-ignore pressure started to build in her lower half. Like always since she got home for her holiday break, she stood there frozen in place with fear and contemplation as the pressure built and built. Actively going through the five stages of grieving that always started with denial. Every day, this pressure continued to build, and she always ventured down the idea that she could somehow hold out and that she would be able to avoid the inevitable. With her bottom still sore from the “backtalking” incident from the night before, she shot a glance at the former guest bedroom’s bathroom door with its almost novelty-sized padlock on it as well as the various signs daddy had taped up to drive the message home.

“Potty Off Limits for Little Chloe”

“If your name is not Chloe Paulus, ask her daddy (Henry) for the bathroom door key.”

“Banned indefinitely – Chloe Paulus”

Fighting back this week could be summed up with one word in her head. Futile. Any pushback that she gave was met with harsh retaliation. Trying to take off her diaper was met with being sent to bed restrained in her new crib at noon that day. Attempting to get into the bathroom, of course, was met with her being sent to the corner for hours. The backtalking from the night before was met with her mouth getting washed out with a bar of Irish Spring. And of course, every single one of these punishments was supplemented with a spanking that turned her large bottom the same shade as a tomato.

Recalling these moments sent a sharp pain that radiated through her bottom and knocked her out of her flashback. This, of course, ushered in the acceptance phase, the giving in, and the losing of the battle in humility. In an almost instinctive act to save herself from any more physical pain, she gripped the crib's rail for a second, stuck her bottom out slightly, and started pushing a large and hot mess into the seat of her diaper like she had done day in and day out for the past three weeks.

As she pushed, she felt that foreign sensation of her mess clearing her bottom, and instead of falling away, it pressed against the seat of her diaper and pushed back against her. The dampening effect that the diaper had on the noises being produced acted as a drop of water in the ocean in the grand scheme of Chloe’s remaining pride. Even when muffled, the crackling, rushing, and gurgling noises that began to emanate from her backside performed a devastating ensemble, with the tactile sensations of her mess spreading further against her bottom with each forceful push. Her face contorted into a wince as she continued to try and push everything out, finding out the hard way over the past couple of weeks that pooping in a diaper requires more effort than using a bathroom. That if she gave the same amount of effort using her diaper as she did on the potty, she wouldn’t get everything out and would be stuck with a terrible, half-finished feeling down there. This was compounded by how especially unnatural it felt to be doing her business in such a completely different position compared to sitting on a potty. The 26 or so years of muscle memory did not die easily.

The constant loop of nursery rhymes that played in her television-less nursery and very aptly scored every moment of her new life, “potty time" included, only furthered the flush in her cheeks to become more apparent. The echoes of “I’m a Little Tea-Pot," with a kid-friendly and encouraging narrator interjecting between the lyrics of the song as well as instructing the dance-along segment, were seemingly talking to her directly in this moment as she let out a final push that caused the flood gates to open in her bladder as well.

“When I get all steamed up…

Hear me shout…”

The rest of the lyrics faded into the background as her attention became focused on the sensation her final push was causing. The hairs on the back of her neck began to stand up as she could feel the skin on her upper thighs erupting into a crawl. That final bit of her mess pressed against what had already settled in her diaper and spread further along her bottom as the narrator hauntingly shouted out at the end of the track.

“WAY TO GO! I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT!”

It wasn’t until the initial shock that accompanied that disgusting feeling wore off that she realized she was putting a period on her potty time, as she felt the front of her diaper begin to swell as her bladder emptied in a steady stream. Daddy’s heavy baby powdering hand as well as the thickness of her diaper helped cut the smell slightly, but anyone in the room would still have an assault slowly placed on their olfactory organs.

With the stream ebbing, she felt Daddy’s presence for a split second before he cleared his throat and began to talk, making her jump in the process as well as causing her cheeks to feel like they were going to erupt.

“Aw, it looks like my little Chloe made quite the present for Daddy, huh?”

She couldn’t help but look away as she felt her eyes begin to water. How long had he been there? Had he seen the whole thing?

“My my my, now that is a smell only a daddy could tolerate… It’s a good thing I’m the only one privy to it…for now.”

Henry bringing attention to the smell that was circulating around the room made Chloe’s stomach drop further down into her gut. She always prided herself on being clean and having a pleasant smell about her. But now, her expensive perfumes were done away with. However, in their place were baby powder, stale urine, and her own poopy diapers. Naturally, Henry never failed to make a comment about it, either. Luckily for her, the devastation that this consistently brought her made her completely tune out the end of Daddy’s sentence.

“I know you’re probably already itching for a change, but I can tell you right now that isn’t happening anytime soon. I’m not wasting diapers when you have your last diaper change in an hour. If you want to voice your complaints about that sweetheart, I’m all ears and definitely ready and willing to revoke your last diaper change for the night.”

He said this with an almost sinister smile. A smile that nonverbally said, “Try me, I dare you." Chloe wanted nothing to do with being sent to bed in her current state, so she fought back a tear and shook her head back and forth quickly out of fear of Daddy misconstruing her response.

Daddy’s smile lightened up slightly, but he still felt uninviting as he continued…

“You know, I know it’s only been a couple of weeks, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention how well you’re handling your new life, sweetie. Sure, I still have to restrain you in your highchair, changing table, and crib. Hell, the other day, I thought you seriously ran the risk of breaking the straps with how much you fought while I was feeding you. Maybe I should get something a little heavier duty, huh? Also, let’s not forget that every single poopy diaper change seems to usher in a cascade of wailing at this point. But don’t worry; you’ll get used to those very intimate moments. Or maybe you won't? Oh well.”

Chloe tried to block out the memories over the past three weeks that he was referring to. This led her to muster up whatever courage she had left in this moment and turn around to face her "daddy." A tear streamed down her cheek as she tried desperately to mouth the word "why,” which was too choked to produce sound. Daddy, however, didn’t miss the word perched on her lips and continued.

“Why am I doing this, you ask?” Now, now, little girl, you know exactly why this is happening. It’s not my fault that you came home with such piss-poor grades and an equally bad attitude. I'm not sure what they’re teaching you at that school, but you’re not the same Chloe that I married all those years ago.”

Her grades were not great, to say the least. But she had a good excuse. Her teachers were totally out to get her because she was an older student in freshman-level classes. One gave her a bad grade because she turned him down. She only skipped class a couple times too—or maybe more than that.

“While you were living it up as a first-time freshman, I was working two jobs to pay for your tuition. While you were partying and not studying, I was struggling to make rent. So, you’re going to pay me back for my trouble. First and foremost, you're going to be “transferring” back close to home. In fact, you could consider this a form of homeschooling.”

Chloe couldn’t help but think how ridiculous these accusations were. She didn’t even get invited to parties, and she was way too shy to try and make friends on her floor. 99% of the time she was in her dorm or the library studying. She truly didn’t mean to “waste” Henry’s money. She thought about interjecting and trying to give him her side of the story again, but the pain on her bottom won out and made her keep her mouth shut. She also didn’t want to test the waters on the threat that Daddy made minutes ago.

“Seeing as you obviously can’t handle the responsibility of college, I think we need to drop you down a couple levels academically. Instead of going to that fancy private school in the city like you did last fall, you’ll be fully enrolled at what I’m calling “Little Girl University." You’re going to remain in diapers full-time until I’ve deemed that you’re ready to graduate out of them. Also, don’t worry about the tuition while enrolled in LGU, sweetie; you have a mandatory full ride.”

She was speechless at the destination where Daddy’s soliloquy ended. What did any of this mean? She knew there wasn’t an end in sight to this torment as is, but what did he mean by “transferring”?

"Now, Mrs. Paulus, we need to figure out how your credits will transfer. Let’s take a look at your transcript, shall we?”

With a quick and almost practiced movement, Daddy produced her transcript from his jean pocket, unfolded it, cleared his throat, and began reading it out loud. Chloe waited on bated breath to see what he was going to say next. Knowing that using her report card as a visual aid didn’t bode well.

"So here we have one Chloe Paulus…"

"…Age 28…"

"…Credit Level: Freshman…"

"…Academic Status: Probation…"

"…GPA: 1.34…"

"Hmm, not boding well so far, it seems.”.

She shifted on her feet, hearing all this presented to her. She maintained that she was treated unfairly in her head, but that didn’t stop Daddy from saying what he was about to say.

“ECON 102: Principles of Microeconomics…”

"…Credits: 3…"

"…Grade: D"

She was never good at math or numbers in general. If anything, she felt this grade was the most deserved because she did recall skipping it quite a bit to focus on her other classes. She snapped out of trying to remember the previous four months at school, with Henry chiming back in to say,

"Hmm, so this one might transfer somewhat. You’ll definitely be dealing with smaller numbers from now on, I suppose. However, in your new life, you’ll be dealing with “microeconomics” on a nearly daily basis. The most appropriate transfer class I can think of would have to be.”

Daddy paused for a second before letting out a light chuckle and saying,

“ABC 123: Baby Blocks and Finger Counting…”

"…Credits: Indefinitely Enrolled"

He sighed slightly and shook his head for dramatic effect before saying,

“It’s so nice to be able to find a similar match," Daddy said condescendingly.

Chloe couldn't help but think about how he had made her play exclusively with baby toys over the past three weeks. Her phone was taken away, and her custom pink Xbox controller was sold off. Even some of the board and card games they used to play were deemed inappropriate for her now. Did this mean that she wouldn't get to play Munchkin again in the future? What about Magic the Gathering? Her face started to burn again at the thought that these were deemed too mature for her.

"Alright, next on the report card.”

"CMN 101: Public Speaking…"

"…Credits: 3…"

"…Grade: B"

"Aw, well, that’s a shame that you did so well in this class. I don’t really have a one-to-one offering of this one, so you’ll have to retake my version of it.”

“PACI 101: Being Seen, Not Heard…”

"…Credits: Indefinitely Enrolled"

Chloe’s face formed into a confused look before Daddy stepped in, saying,

“Maybe you need the course description for this one, huh? As I’m sure you’re already aware, if Daddy puts a paci in your mouth, it stays there until he takes it out. Period. Take out your paci on your own, and I’ll replace it with a bar of soap for 30 minutes, and then put your paci gag on you for the rest of the day without letting you rinse out of your mouth. If, for whatever reason, your paci isn’t in your mouth, whether we’re in public or with friends, for instance, you won’t speak unless an adult speaks to you first. In fact, it’s probably best that we put your paci in for the rest of this ‘meeting.”

Henry wasted no time grabbing a spare paci he kept in his jean pocket now, positioned it up to Chloe's mouth, and shoved it in. Chloe had learned to instinctively open her mouth wide and accept her pacifier as is. However, the “course description” he just read gave her even more reason to behave now.

“There we go. I could tell that my little girl was getting a little fussy; hopefully that helps,” Henry said with a closed lip smile.

Chloe felt her steady stream of tears dripping off her chin at this point as she held the dummy plastic firmly between her teeth. She knew it wasn’t going to help “soothe” her in any capacity, and she knew that Henry knew that as well. It was purely performative. Placing the pacifier in her mouth in this moment was simply a way of Henry nonverbally saying, “This is your reality now, and there is nothing you can do to change it.”

"BIO 220: Human Anatomy and Physiology…"

"…Credits: 4…"

"…Grade: F"

"Ooo again, we don’t really have an appropriate transfer class for this one. Even if we did, you’d have to retake it due to not passing. Sorry, little Chloe, but you’ll have to be enrolled in…”

He had this one cued up already. It took him no time to say it.

“…USE 101: Diaper Use Acceptance…”

"…Credits: Indefinitely Enrolled"

“I’m sure this one speaks for itself, little girl.” He said it with a stern face.

It did. The signs on the bathroom door and the oversized padlock made it just as apparent. He expected her to do what she just did every day from now on. She knew that all too well. The acceptance part hung in her head for a minute. She felt the mess in her diaper even more now as she imagined the reality that would be presented to her in the future. Every single day, she would feel her own mess pressed against her bottom and cunny indiscriminately. Every single day, she would be expected to deal with this feeling until Henry decided to change her. The reality began to sink in more and more as she thought to herself, "Using the potty on the train ride home was the last time that would happen for a while." And of course, the shame began to sink in that she didn’t relish that moment more.

"HST 116: The Puritan Move to American…"

"…Credits: 4…"

"…Grade: C-"

“Hmm, yet another that I have no way to transfer credits to. We’ll just get you enrolled in”…

Yet another that Daddy wasted no time thinking up…

“CHST 999: Diapers as Chastity…”

"…Credits: Indefinitely Enrolled"

This one honestly didn’t surprise her as much as she thought it would. Since being back home from school, those needs have obviously not been met at all. Daddy’s strict rule of not touching the front of her diaper was learned the hard way. She didn’t have time to think about it before Daddy interjected with another “course description”.

"Naturally, sweetie, Daddy has no interest in untaping a diaper to have sex. It just feels gross. In fact, these past few weeks of cleaning your poopy cunny during diaper changes and having to get acquainted with your new “fragrance” have made me realize I don’t really want to go back there anytime soon. So, the good news is that your diaper only ever comes off during changes and bathing! That’ll make that rule so much easier for you to understand, huh. With that said, you will never be allowed to have penetrative sex at all while back in diapers. On top of that, you or anyone else is not allowed to touch you downstairs in any sexual way.

Chloe’s heart sank into her stomach even further. How would she survive not having any sort of release? Her sex drive was so high that she played with herself just about every night if she didn’t get any from Henry. On top of that, these three weeks of getting nothing were driving her nuts and making it impossible to fall asleep some nights. Before she could ruminate on it any further, Daddy spoke up with…

"Aww, but don’t worry, little Chloe; Daddy isn’t completely heartless. He knows that those needs will still build up just by begging for a release. So, Daddy is going to let you make your cummies when you have a poopy diaper from now on. And by let, I mean you have to. You will have to cummie your poopy diaper to get changed. Each and every time, without exception.

Chloe’s naughty bits felt like they almost seized up at the thought. “I have to do what?!” Her facial expression sang…

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetie; I know there’s a little confusion here since I said you couldn’t touch. That’s the best part! You either make your cummies by getting bounced on my knee or by humping your friend, Mr. Bear, over there in the corner.

Her eyes darted to her proposed pretend sex partner. The six-foot, oversized, stuffed teddy bear seemingly mocked her with its dead eyes.

The pieces began to connect more succinctly in Chloe’s head now. Every day, from here on out, until God knows when, at this rate, she will be required to orgasm in her disgusting diaper… The thought made her stomach turn as the mess in her diaper continued to press against her bottom, seemingly saying, “You and I are going to get very well acquainted." Daddy chiming back in in character as the dean of admissions took her mind off the semantics of what she just heard. She hangs on to his every word now.

Aw, I’m sorry to say this, Mrs. Paulus. None of your previous credits transferred from that fancy college, either due to discrepancies or because of poor performance. It looks like you’ll have to start right back at square one. Don’t worry, though, little girl. After your four years are up, we can reevaluate to see if you’re ready to graduate back to big girl pants and the potty or not. But don’t worry if you don’t graduate on time. Some people take a couple extra years to accomplish that goal. And of course, some never do at all. College isn't for everyone, after all.

The words almost didn’t resonate with her. They circled the room. Echoing off the walls until they were finally situated in her auditory cortex. Four years—four years at minimum—four years of this hell he was expecting her to go through. That would be sufficient to pay him back. Four years of her life were completely uprooted and dropped on its head. Four years of never gracing a potty or public restroom. Four years of not having any modesty. Four years of having to rely on Henry to feel clean downstairs. Four years without having a say in the clothes she wears, in the things she eats, anything. And, of course, four years devoid of anything resembling real sex.

The tears continued to cascade down her cheeks and onto the front of her peplum as she began to hyperventilate slightly at the thought. What about her friends? What about work? What about visiting her parents? She’d have to be diapered and follow her rules even then?

Henry didn’t let her ruminate on her rushing thoughts for very long before continuing…

“Now, by my watch, we only have 30 minutes for you to do your poopy diaper cummie before the last diaper change of the night. I suggest we jump on that process because, as I’m sure you’re aware, I don’t change diapers past 8:35 PM because that’s officially 'Daddy Time'. “

She knew it all too well. He never made exceptions for "Daddy Time," as she’d learned the hard way a couple times in the past. That was also a big part of the reason why she so willingly pooped her diaper earlier. Waiting till later in the night to do so was a mistake she wouldn’t make twice.

“Now, since it’s your first of many times making your poopy diaper cummie, Daddy is going to be nice and give you a choice. After tonight, it will be entirely Daddy’s decision in the future, so I suggest you enjoy the option while you have it.

She shifted on her feet, waiting for him to continue. She didn’t want to make this decision in the slightest. Both seemed awful. Both seemed equally humiliating. But she prepared to answer regardless as she began to feel and hear the Baby Minnie Mouse-themed nursery clock ticking away antagonistically. Even if the future held the ruinous reality that she'd be on her back with her poopy and cummie diaper bottom and cunny exposed to the man she once called her husband yet again, she'd prefer that future over one where her diaper wasn't opened at all tonight.

Henry continued, “Do you want Daddy’s knee or Mr. Bear?” He said grinning from ear to ear.

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shittingmyself34 · 3 months

Text

Savannah: Love-Me-Nots

The car faded slowly away in the distance as I stared off into the distant landscape we would be hiking. My eyes naturally became transfixed by the assortment of wild flowers scattered along the trail.

It's exciting to be back out in nature like this. It's been awhile since daddy and I had an outing that had even a remote feeling of "adult" to it. Most of our outings involved taking me to nearby parks to play on the big toys or to go to various G-rated animated movies. This felt real. This felt almost like a date. In fact, the last time we went on a "date" like today was before he put me back in diapers full-time. It had been 5 months to the day since I got all of my big girl privileges taken away. Most noticeably, the big girl potty was off-limits, as were my panties.

But most importantly, I haven't had sex in all that time either—at least nothing that would resemble real sex to the average person. I can't help but feel excited for today's hike, given how normal it seems in comparison to recent months. How it feels like daddy and I might be getting back to original terms soon.

He had mentioned in passing how good I've been recently, and maybe I wouldn't need diapers anymore soon. If I had to guess, today is a test. A test to see if we can go back to the way things were.

It could've been the wild flowers; it could've been daydreaming about life with daddy before all of this. Whichever it was, daddy no doubt noticed that smile crossing my face and stopped me, picking up a purple wild flower before putting it behind my ear and asking.

“Who’s daddy’s little flower child, huh?"

Blushing bright red but excited that he viewed me in such a cute way as well as adoring my new nickname, I eagerly smiled and shifted on my feet as I felt the flower being placed behind my ear. Daddy's cologne blocked out the smell of trees and wild grass as his warmth began to settle on me in his proximity. Through a slight smile, I whispered...

“Me daddy. I’m the flower child."

The next thing I knew, daddy's hand popped the button on my jean shorts and thrust them down below my knees. Thanks to following daddy's rules over the past months and knowing how I was to act during diaper checks, I immediately and subconsciously stopped in place and kept my hands at my sides the moment he came near my midsection, letting him do as he pleased. My instincts and my body in agreement that if his hands go down there for any reason, I am to let them do what they must indiscriminately for fear of punishment.

My upper thighs exploded with goosebumps as I could feel the foreign feeling of the natural and somewhat brisk outside wind being brushed against them while my lower half became completely exposed. As I was made to step out of them, regretting my answer with each step that sealed the fact that my diaper would be exposed to the open air and anyone that might walk by for the duration of our hike now, daddy made a point to say:

"Well, since you're such a flower child, nature must be your home...and as we both know, nothing covers your diaper while at home, huh?"

Had it not been for the spanking I received earlier in the week, I might have put up more of a protest. However, I swallowed hard and contorted my face behind a small whine before continuing to walk on through our trail.

Each step caused my diaper to crinkle in an orchestral accompaniment of the various crickets and cicadas chirping in the woods we passed. All with the background singers of my gurgling tummy and backpack with my spare diaper in it making their voices heard. The former echoed slightly with each step, growing louder in intensity the further into the hike we went. The latter acted as a percussive instrument as it bounced off my back with each step. Seemingly and intrusively shouting, "DIAPER BAG! SPARE DIAPER IN HERE IF NEEDED!" with each step. All of the parts came together and crescendoed into exactly what had slipped my mind earlier and what I was still hoping wasn't the case. All the while, this reality slowly became very real and very apparent as we approached mile marker two of eight.

Daddy planned our hike to coincide with my "schedule."

I tried to take my mind off of the growing pressure in my tummy that always finds itself overstaying its welcome around this time of the day. I partially succeeded in doing so by continuing to eye the pretty wild flowers that were scattered on the ground. One in particular caught my eye so quickly in that moment that I just had to pick it up.

"Ooo, it looks like the little flower child picked a really pretty one, huh?"

Daddy said as I smiled back at him while twirling the white pedaled flower in my fingers. After shooting daddy that bashful smile, I began to turn around in an attempt to continue walking with the flower before daddy caught my attention again.

"You know what that is, right?"

I stopped walking, looked at the flower, and looked back at daddy.

"No daddy. What is it?"

I said, looking confused as daddy closed the gap between us.

"It's an ox-eye...better known as a 'Love Me Not'".

I perked up and smiled slightly at the thought. I remembered these. I would always try that game with crushes I had when I was younger. However, I realized in that moment that I never had the right flower for it back then.

While lost in that distant memory, daddy's thigh slightly and transiently pressed into my exposed diaper crotch as he came in closer, jolting me back to reality as he took me by the hands and held the flower up between us.

"Shall we see what nature decides for our future?"

My heart fluttered slightly at the thought. I didn't know where this was going, but I waited on bated breath. Daddy proceeded to guide my hand towards yanking off the first of the many petals. As it gave way and became detached from the yellow pistil, daddy said...

"She's daddy's sweet little girl."

I felt the butterflies form in my stomach at daddy taking ownership of me with his words. I was his, undoubtedly. Daddy gave me a nod to continue and dropped the petal on the ground. I could feel it tumbling down, brushing my exposed right knee as it rested off of my shoe.

"She's an adult that deserves her panties back."

I felt warm inside at that notion as he uttered these words. A sentence that I had started to lose hope that he'd ever say. It had been so long that I started to forget the soft and silky feeling of the panties I used to wear. Oh, how I longed for that form-fitting sensation again over the bulkiness of a diaper.

"She remains daddy's diaper girl."

As I dropped the petal, I felt all my nerves erupt as daddys pointer finger started to trace the seam of my diaper where my upper thigh and hip met. A tingling sensation rushed throughout my body as his finger continued to trace all the way down towards my bottom, just inside the beginning of my inner thigh, stopping dangerously close to my sensitive kitty that was dripping helplessly into my diaper at this point. He got mere centimeters away from it before retracing the path he had already traveled.

"She gets to use the big girl potty again for the first time in months today."

I relished at this thought. Being allowed to finally sit on the potty in peace. Being able to not have daddy as an audience when nature called. Getting my old life back. Being more than "daddy's little girl". Diaper changes were the only time daddy saw me exposed down there anymore.

"She uses her diaper out here instead."

Back and forth, this went on. Daddy continued to run his fingers over the seam of my diaper throughout as I continued to pluck petal after petal. Half way through de-petaling the flower, daddy closed the gap between us further so that his midsection was pressed up against mine. We hadn't had a moment like this in ages, and I couldn't help but feel gooey and trembly in his embrace. The most intimate we got, if you could even call it that, was when he gave me poopy diaper knee bounces. There was nothing even remotely close to this level of intimacy over the past handful of months.

Our mouths were mere inches away now. In all this time back in diapers, not only did daddy and I stop having sex all together, but we stopped making out as well per my new rules. Daddy said kissing on the lips was way too mature for a diaper girl like me and would be inappropriate. I only got forehead kisses or "paci" kisses instead—the "more appropriate" way of doing it.

I stopped paying attention to the flower all together and looked intently into daddy's eyes instead. Waiting on baited breath. The butterflies were exploding in my tummy at this point at everything daddy was saying. I watched his mouth intently as my breathing became more noticeable and turned into more of a shudder with each exhale. Without looking, I plucked a petal. Daddy smiled, and in that seductive, half-volume tone that he used to speak to me in, he said...

"Daddy grabs his diaper girl by the waist and pulls her in, kissing her deeply and passionately, walking her back to the car, pulling her diaper off of her for the last and final time, and her life goes back to normal... No more diapers. No more rules. Real sex. Just us, how we used to be."

I shuddered again at the thought and remained there in daddy's embrace as his hands positioned themselves on my hips, trying to imagine that scenario. Oh, how good it would feel to use the potty again! How good it would feel to sleep in daddy's bed again and not in an oversize crib! How good it would feel to get to feed myself and not be strapped into a highchair for every meal! And of course, how good it would feel to have daddy inside ME again instead of having to involuntarily listen to the pleasure moans of his tinder dates as they went at it behind a locked door.

I continued to look deep into daddy's eyes as I instinctively grabbed another petal and grabbed nothing but air. I tried again and felt nothing to pull once again as I fumbled to try and grab a tangible object in the halo area of the flower. My heart began to race as the reality of what was happening began to settle in. I perked up and looked at daddy with my mouth agape.

"Does this mean..."

I began to say until daddy pulled the hand that was holding the flower up to my face. In my abruptly altered field of vision, my eyes took some time to focus on the depth of field I was experiencing. My eyes slowly focused on the flower in my hand. One stem, one pistil, and draped off it, one solitary petal.

The adrenaline high I had just experienced when I thought there were no more petals left kept me in a slight state of shock as I kept staring directly at the flower, trying to figure out how that extra petal got on it. The adrenaline abruptly nosedived, simulating the feeling that an old wooden rollercoaster's first big drop gives me in my stomach. As the feeling in my stomach continued to plummet further and further down, given the reality of the situation, daddy spoke up.

"Go ahead, little girl, pick the last petal."

I slowly and defeatedly tore the last ox-eye petal off and let it fall to the ground. As it fell, daddy removed his hands from my waist and put them on my shoulders, slouching slightly forward to do that condescending and purely performative "getting on my eye level" charade that he always did with me nowadays before slowly and deliberately saying.

"Daddy and little girl will continue on their hike as planned. She will continue to be diapered at all times, indefinitely. She not only needs them but also deserves them. Her rules will continue to be fully enforced. That means no panties, no big girl potty, and no sex.

As he said this, I could only muster out little defeated nos, shaking my head slightly at each of his concurrent sentences. My shoulders slouched slightly as the reality of how close I came to escaping my diaper sentence began to set in. Daddy's words hammering that fact home with each new syllable. I'm not going back to my old life anytime soon, and there's nothing I can do about it. Daddy continued on.

"You're daddy's little girl, and remember, daddy loves you always," he said as he gave my forehead a kiss.

The very recent and ruinous letdown aside, I couldn't help but let out a small smile at hearing the way he punctuated what was ultimately a devastating sentence. He ran his fingers through my hair, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up in the best way, before patting my diapered bottom, ushering me to continue walking.

As we left the pile of ox-eye leaves on the ground and headed in the opposite direction I was hoping for given their outcome, I couldn't help but feel conflicted at what just happened as we continued on our walk. I want out of this situation; I want the old us again, but I love when daddy makes me feel like this. All the attention he gives me, even if it's coexisting with something awful.

By the time we got to mile marker three, the pain and the pressure became too much, and I began to slow down, reaching a complete stop that was mirrored by daddy following behind me. There wasn't a restroom until mile marker four, and even if I got there in time, daddy would never allow me to use it. So, like I always did, I stopped what I was doing and began the process of using my diaper as opposed to sitting on a potty. I moved over to the side of the hiking trail before sticking my bottom out slightly and moving my hands to my sides per daddy's rule of needing to have them in eye shot at all times as I prepared for the inevitable.

I stared intently out into the vast array of trees that were spanning the forested area this part of the trail was in as I began to give in and push my big early afternoon mess into the seat of my diaper. The common sound of faint crackling and slight squelching noises accompanied that foreign sensation that was my hot mess pushing against the back of my diaper, having nowhere to go, and ultimately pushing back and spreading out against my bottom. It's a sensation and a feeling I've experienced over and over again in my new life, but no matter how many times I do it, it still feels so wrong.

The newer sounds of the outdoors replaced the sounds I'd grown accustomed to while finding myself in this particular situation. Instead of the constant loop of cartoons playing in the background, birds were chirping aimlessly in the wooded areas. Instead of the prevalent smell of baby powder that occupies our flat nowadays, there was an earthy scent carried by the wind blowing through the pine trees and grass. Instead of the air conditioning blowing directly on my legs from the vent near my blanket island, the sun was pressing on my face, arms, and exposed thighs through the leaf canopy. And instead of a random array of nursery rhymes lightly echoing through the room, there was the sound of running water in the distance. A constant, however, was feeling daddy's presence as I did my business and how I was pantsless even out here. He always seemed to be around when I had to go, and I always felt his eyes glued on me during it. Like always, I came to expect that I'd see that big, closed-mouth smile on his handsome face the moment I finished and turned around to look at him.

All of these things were making it impossible to not imagine how different the situation would be had that flower had one less petal on it. My current predicament would be happening while sitting down on a potty in private instead of standing out in the open on a hiking trail. How I'd be "using the restroom" instead of "pooping in my pampers". Even an adult term like restroom seems foreign to me now.

As I continued to push the mess out in this unnatural stance and location, my face, neck, and scalp started to itch and slightly burn like they always do. Partly from the workout of physically having to make this situation come to a head, but also from knowing I have daddy as an audience. I had never been zealous about using public restrooms or being able to do my business if other people were around. Daddy's training over the past five months made it very much a reality that I would find a way to slightly get over that shyness. It was more like ripping a bandage off than being totally at ease.

With a final push, I got everything inside me all out as it situated in the seat of my diaper, contouring against my bottom, making my diaper feel weighted in the process for a minute before I ultimately got acclimated to it. As always, a torrent of pee soaked the front of my diaper following my last forceful push. Thanks to my full bladder at the time, this of course made a fairly audible hissing sound, signaling to daddy and in general that I was done pooping as it caused the front of my diaper to swell slightly bigger than it already was. Like always, as I turned my head to look at daddy, he was smiling ear to ear and said,

"I guess it's a good thing we packed that extra diaper, huh, kiddo?"

I stood still, expecting the devastating inevitable, as daddy walked up behind me, pushed me forward slightly so my bottom stuck out even more than it already was, and checked in the back of my diaper by pulling the back waistband away from my lower back like he did every time I used it this way.

"Just as I expected, another big early afternoon poopy from daddy's diaper girl. You are like a clock sometimes, you know that little stinker?"

My face burned as I blushed deep red while he continued to inspect the inside of my diaper. I felt his hand let go of my waist band as it snapped back into place against my lower back. His hand patted the bulge on my bottom, which made me perk up slightly as it forced the mess to press against my bottom more than it already was. This was of course followed by him saying, "There really isn't anywhere to change you this short into our hike; we'll have to be on the lookout for a latrine.

I grimaced at the thought but realized he was ultimately right. I didn't necessarily want to get changed in a bed of grass in the middle of the woods and risk getting ticks, among other things. Plus, from what I could remember of this trail, there was a nicely renovated latrine with a family restroom halfway through it in a cleared-out meadow. So, with that thought bringing me some new energy to behave and continue on, my legs continued to move forward with our hike, each step slightly aggravating the mess in the seat of my diaper, reminding me that it was there.

As we walked, daddy wasted no time continuing to tease me about my current state, as he always did.

"Aww, to think this situation could have been so much different had that ox-eye rung true for you." I heard daddy say from behind me as we hiked through the wooded section of the trail.

"You know, I wasn't too against the possibility of us going back to the way things were. Daddy misses it, as I'm sure you do too. But, oh well, I don't want to mess with fate, you know?"

He had a tendency to do this. To seemingly and purposely think out loud in a manner that rubbed in some humiliating experience even further. It was almost as if he tried sewing intrusive thoughts into my head to hold onto. I've gotten to the point where I've tried to take these "passing thoughts" with a grain of salt. He and I both knew that he ultimately held the key to letting things go back to normal if he truly wanted to. But I can't help but have a tiny part of myself believe him slightly. The thought that he would have kept his word if "fate" had said otherwise was hard to shake. Had it come to it, we'd be back home curled up watching TV in our post-orgasm glow, thoroughly back to normal again. Those intrusive thoughts sank further into my head as we continued on, only interrupted by the mess in my diaper thoroughly knocking me back to reality periodically. Funny enough, I appreciated that icky sensation grounding me a little from going down the "what could've been" rabbit hole I find myself in daily.

Funnily enough, it kept me from accidentally missing one of daddy's call and response questions that he liked to ask me so much in situations like this. The questions I hated answering, as I knew exactly what answer daddy wanted. The answer he wanted was always the one that just made me feel more infantile and degraded in the process. I dare not be caught ignoring or answering in a truthful manner out of fear of some sort of repercussion.

"You know, now that I'm walking downwind from another patented Savanny Nany poopy pamper, I can't help but think maybe fate helped me dodge a bullet back there. I mean, I'm seeing that big mess in the back of your diaper that I'm eventually going to have to clean up, no doubt, and I'm really having the hardest time thinking about how things could go back to normal. Do you think it would be appropriate for daddy to have made good on his word with someone who poops in their pants like you?"

I pursed my lips and blinked away, a slight rush of tears forming in my eyes as I muttered softly but distinctly.

"No daddy."

He wasted no time continuing on in a feigned self-discovery tone, as if he'd stumbled upon this new revelation. As if he hadn't said similar things to me in the past.

"Yeah, I don't think so either. I've had to clean your poopy cunny so many times at this point that I don't really think I want to enter it again. Maybe it's for the best that you stay in diapers indefinitely, huh?"

I could feel his smile piercing through the back of my head as I refused to stop walking or look back at him. My face was nearly on fire as I entered an almost Manchurian candidate-like triggering of words exiting my mouth.

"Yes daddy."

Now for the grand finale I've grown so accustomed to. The synopsis. The thesis statement.

"So, just remind me, why is it a good idea for me to just keep you diapered instead of us pretending we could ever go back to normal?"

I've had enough practice at these to know what he really wanted out of my response. I've experienced enough instances of failing to do a sufficient job as well, and I know I don't want to face the wrath that accompanies it. In as relaxed a tone as I could muster without sounding too sad about what was coming out of my mouth, I said.

"Because daddy, you've changed my diapers so many times at this point that you can't help but see me as anything but a diaper-filling toddler as opposed to a woman you could be with it."

A smile no doubt creeped across his face as he said

"Aw, I'm glad you agree, sweetheart."

I luckily didn't have to ruminate on what was yet another terribly humiliating call and response session thanks to mile marker four's sign seemingly and abruptly coming into view. Blame it on being focused on daddy's words, but the way it seemingly appeared out of thin air was most welcome. Upon glancing at the sign, I realized I just have a only a football field's length or so before the wooded area breaks into a meadow. That's where the latrine is and I can hopefully get the ball rolling on getting this diaper changed...I'm not sure how daddy is going to mitigate my diaper change rules out here though, and I'm ultimately too afraid to ask. However, regardless of that next hurdle, I breathe a sigh of relief upon seeing that latrine still standing as we clear the tree line of the wooded area into the meadow.

The lack of cover in the cleared-out meadow began to make my heart race out of fear of being seen. Luckily, as I traversed the forest line, I noticed we were alone and breathed a slight sigh of relief. However, the relief didn't last long, seeing as we didn't get too far out of the wooded area before I felt and heard daddy unzipping my backpack while also feeling the large spare diaper being removed from it. Daddy quickly turned me around and, strangely enough, unfolded the diaper right in front of me, examining it slowly and smirking with that mischievous grin I had grown wary of.

"Aww, it's kind of like a 'Love Me Not Flower' when you come to think about it. It's got four pedals right here, doesn't it, little flower child?"

He said this as he pointed to the four tabs.

My heart started to race. I didn't know what he was going to do next, but I knew it couldn't be good.

"I think it's only right that we let Mother Nature decide on this one. Since you're daddy's little flower child, you should consult her on these tough decisions. Let's pick some of these petals to see what fate has in store for us, huh?"

My heart sank as he held the front of the unfolded diaper out in front of me with the four tabs dangling off of them. The landing strip baring multiple Elmo's dancing on it glistened in the sun thanks to the clear sticker that affixed them to the diaper. I looked at him for a minute as he continued to hold the diaper out in front of me, smiling all the same. Out of fear of upsetting him and making my current situation worse, I grimaced and contorted my face slightly, grabbed one of the diaper tabs, and pulled on it until it ripped clear off the spare diaper.

"She gets a diaper change right now."

Daddy said this out loud as I shifted on my feet and looked around my surroundings. A habit I began having when presented with these tailor-made humiliating daddy/little girl experiences. I also noticed that I was beginning to pick the skin off the thumb of my non-dominant hand. However, seeing as there was no way out, as usual, I grabbed the second of four tabs from the opposite side of the diaper and pulled until it gave way with a loud snap.

"She hikes with a poopy diaper butt."

I felt tears forming in my eyes as the severity of the situation and its obvious outcome began to settle in. I grabbed the penultimate tab and stopped for a moment, not wanting to rip it off, given that there would be no going back after this tab. However, looking at daddy's "egging on" face reminded me of how brutal his punishments could be. Multiple hours of intermittent mouth washings, being sent to bed in my poopy diapers, and severe spankings not too unlike the one I got earlier in the week. Every instance of these things happening to me began to reverberate in my head. Not wanting to piss daddy off and physically relive these situations, I ripped the tab clean off, and it slowly fell to the ground at my feet.

"Daddy changes her, and she gets to do the remainder of our hike in a clean diaper."

The last tab was merely ceremonial at this point. The diaper was ruined. Useless. There would be no change until we got home.

In a slight hiccuping sob, I pulled the last tab clean off, and daddy wasted no time speaking up about the situation.

He made a mocking "oh!" look with his face, as if he were surprised by what had just happened before saying

"She hikes with a poopy diaper butt."

I stood there in shock as the last diaper tab slowly fell to the ground near my sneakers. Daddy held the diaper up, pantomiming its uselessness now that it had zero tabs, pretending to try and close it while it fell open over and over again. That was the only spare diaper, and he absolutely ruined it, or rather, made me ruin it. Even if he wanted to change me, he couldn't now.

"Aw, I guess a diaper change right now just isn't in the cards for the little flower child. I guess the woods have spoken; they want you to finish your hike messy. I guess it's a good thing you're getting so used to that feeling, huh, kiddo?"

The tears kept streaming down my face as he talked down to me. Eventually, he broke his lecture to say.

"Aww, little girl is getting a little fussy. I know just the thing."

With that, and to my horror, he pulled out my pink pacifier and fed it into my mouth. Another one of my learned behaviors kicked in as my body willingly opened my mouth while my brain was screaming against it as my tongue tasted that familiar plasticky taste.

"I think you should finish the remainder of our hike with that in; I think it will do a lot of good to soothe you. These hikes can be quite difficult for a little girl such as yourself."

My stomach dropped at the thought. He never made me use a pacifier in public. I'm never allowed to take it out under any circumstances if he puts it in my mouth, and I know daddy will keep his word on not taking it out for the remainder of the hike. The state of my diaper is bad enough, but now there's no denying who I am with this proverbial cherry on top. I'm daddy's diaper girl, nothing more, nothing less. And I'm not only finishing the remainder of this hike with a poopy diaper, but also with my mouth firmly shut around a pacifier.

"I think you might have taken this flower child thing a little too far, little girl. I know you would rather hike in your poopy diaper than get changed since you've gotten so used to them over the past couple of months. However, I'm not sure if destroying your only diaper was necessary. You could have just told me you didn't want changed, sweetie," he said with a wink.

That's just the thing; I'm not used to them one bit. Each instance feels like the first in terms of how foreign and icky the feeling is. However, I bit my tongue figuratively and bit the dummy plastic of my pacifier literally at his teasing, knowing that even though this situation seemed terrible, daddy could always make it worse. I've learned that the hard way too many times. But four more miles of this? and mostly uphill, no doubt. I can't help but feel that daddy planned all of this out from the beginning to drive home a point. He wanted to emphasize to me exactly and firmly where my place is still.

My body felt completely at odds with how my brain wanted me to proceed as I continued to march onward. I recognized the training I had been receiving over the past months, kicking in as daddy spoke up. What he said sent shivers down my spine.

"Don't worry, sweetie; daddy will change you once we get home. Unless, of course, you give me any reason not to."

Knowing daddy, it doesn't take much to give him a reason. So I marched on. In an attempt to keep on daddy's good side, regardless of how badly I wanted to do the opposite, I walked as if there was nothing wrong, even though a couple tears rolled down my cheeks periodically. From daddy's view, however, I was walking normally, my slight hip shake and all sending my big bottom swinging slightly back and forth like a pendulum. Each of my steps resulted in my mess pressing up against my bottom more and more. Each step was deliberately ignorant of the state of my diaper, moving the mess around until it was covering my freshly shaved cunny. Each step reminded me that there would be no gracing of daddy's bed tonight and that I would be sleeping in a crib like I always do. Each step reminded me over and over again of these truths.

Daddy has no intention of letting me out of diapers ever again.

I am his.

and last but not least.

What daddy says always, always goes.

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shittingmyself34 · 3 months

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A Nation in Transition (Chapter one)

The bustling streets of Tokyo hummed with their usual energy as people hurried to their destinations. It was a crisp spring morning, and cherry blossoms painted the city in delicate shades of pink. The scent of street food wafted through the air, but there was something different today, an undercurrent of tension that lingered beneath the usual vibrancy of the metropolis.

Haruka Nakamura, a young 23 year old journalist, walked briskly along the crowded sidewalk, her eyes fixed on her smartphone. Her thumb tapped away at the screen as she scanned through various news articles and social media updates. There had been whispers, murmurs of a government initiative that seemed almost too absurd to believe.

She paused at a crosswalk, gazing at the towering skyscrapers that surrounded her. Her phone vibrated with a notification, drawing her attention. It was a message from her colleague, Yuki.

Yuki (Message): Hey, have you seen the latest news? Check out the article from "The Tokyo Herald." It's about the government's new policy.

Curiosity piqued, Haruka quickly navigated to the newspaper's website. The headline on the homepage confirmed her suspicions, and her heart sank.

"Government Mandates Diaper-Wearing for Unmarried Women: A Bold Move to Reverse Japan's Demographic Decline."

Her pulse quickened as she began to read the article, absorbing the implications of the shocking policy. The government was implementing a mandatory diaper-wearing initiative, primarily targeting unmarried women, as part of a broader strategy to address Japan's declining birth rates.

As she scrolled through the article, Haruka felt a mix of disbelief, anger, and anxiety wash over her. The comments section was ablaze with debates, while social media platforms buzzed with outrage and confusion. She knew that this news would spark a wave of controversy and unrest in the days to come.

Haruka hurriedly sent a message back to Yuki.

Haruka (Message): This can't be real, can it? We need to investigate this further.

Haruka Nakamura's heart raced as she continued to read the news article detailing the government's mandate for women to wear diapers. The surreal nature of the situation left her feeling stunned and anxious. She needed to understand the reasoning behind this baffling decree, and that's when she stumbled upon a live stream of a speech by Prime Minister Fumio Kishida on her smartphone.

The screen flickered to life, displaying a solemn Prime Minister standing at a podium adorned with the Japanese flag. A hush fell over the room as he began to speak, and Haruka leaned in, her eyes glued to the screen as she took a seat outside a local coffee shop.

Prime Minister Fumio Kishida: "Ladies and gentlemen, fellow citizens of Japan, thank you for joining me today. We find ourselves at a critical juncture in our nation's history, facing challenges that demand bold and innovative solutions. Japan, as we know it, is at risk of losing its identity, its core values, and its future."

The Prime Minister's words held a weight that sent shivers down Haruka's spine. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the screen.

He continued: "For decades, we have witnessed a decline in our population, a demographic crisis that threatens to weaken our nation's foundations. We have also seen an influx of foreigners who, while contributing to our society in many ways, bring with them different cultures and values."

Haruka's brows furrowed as she listened intently, trying to grasp the full scope of what was being proposed.

"Our goal is clear: to rejuvenate Japan, to secure its future, and to preserve the ethnostate that has been the bedrock of our society for centuries. We must ensure that our beautiful traditions, our unique culture, and our heritage are not diluted or overshadowed."

Haruka's mind raced as the Prime Minister's speech unfolded. The notion of an ethnostate, while a contentious topic, was central to the government's reasoning. Kishida went on to elaborate, explaining how Japan's history, values, and societal cohesion could be preserved by increasing the population while maintaining its homogeneity.

"We are not blind to the struggles of our people, especially the women who bear a significant burden in our society. We recognize that this policy may be met with uncertainty and apprehension, but it is a necessary step towards securing our nation's future."

"My fellow citizens, let us address the crucial aspect of this policy—the use of diapers. I understand that this choice may seem unconventional, even radical. However, it is a symbol, a symbolic form of correction, a call for maturity, and a reminder of our collective responsibility."

Haruka watched, her eyes locked on the screen as Kishida continued to explain.

"Diapers, a symbol of infancy and dependence, will be worn by women aged 20 to 35 who have not yet married or had children. We believe that these women, while physically mature, are in a state of arrested development—a prolonged adolescence, if you will."

He paused, his tone measured and unwavering.

"Our reasoning is twofold. First, we aim to encourage marriage and childbirth. By requiring women to wear diapers until they have a child or marry, we hope to create an incentive for them to contribute to our nation's population growth. It is our duty to secure our demographic future."

Kishida's words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of their implications.

"Second, this policy serves as a form of correction for those who have not yet taken on the responsibilities of adulthood. It is a call for self-reflection and growth. By experiencing the symbolic discomfort of diapers, these women are encouraged to mature, embrace family life, and contribute to the stability of our society."

The Prime Minister's vision was clear—using diapers as a form of control, correction, and encouragement for specific segments of the population. Haruka found herself increasingly disturbed by the implications of the government's actions.

"We understand that change is met with resistance, but it is our hope that through this policy, we can foster a sense of unity, shared responsibility, and cultural preservation. Effective on the first day of next month, this policy will be enforced with unwavering commitment."

Banri Kaieda: "Thank you, Prime Minister Kishida, for outlining the government's rationale and goals with utmost clarity. I'm here to address any further questions and provide additional details about the implementation of this policy. First and foremost, we appreciate the engagement of the press and your commitment to delivering accurate information to the public. Please, go ahead with your questions."

A reporter from the Asahi Shimbun raised a hand.

Reporter (Asahi Shimbun): "Thank you, Minister Kaieda. Yuki Nakamura from Asahi Shimbun here. Could you please specify the date when this policy will be put into effect?"

Banri Kaieda: "Certainly, Yuki. The policy will officially take effect on the first day of next month. We believe this timeline allows for sufficient preparation and awareness within our society."

A second reporter, this time from NHK News, followed up.

Reporter (NHK News): "Minister Kaieda, can you clarify the percentage of women who will be affected by this policy in each age group, as you mentioned earlier?"

Banri Kaieda: "Of course. We aim to address demographic concerns comprehensively. In the age group of 20 to 24, we anticipate that approximately 89% of women will be impacted by this policy. For those aged 25 to 30, it will be around 69%, and for women aged 30 to 35, it will affect approximately 47%."

A hushed silence fell over the room, followed by a question from a journalist representing Reuters.

Reporter (Reuters): "Minister Kaieda, can you elaborate on the new dress code for women who fall under this policy, and what are the consequences for non-compliance?"

Banri Kaieda: "Certainly. The dress code is designed to ensure the visibility of the diaper. Women who are required to wear diapers must have at least half of the diaper visible from both the front and back. They may also choose to go bottomless, which satisfies the requirement. Additionally, it's important to note that these women do not legally have the right to change themselves."

Reporter (Kyodo News): "Minister Kaieda, can you provide more details about the penalties for non-compliance? It seems that some of these consequences are quite severe."

Banri Kaieda: "Certainly, I appreciate the opportunity to clarify this matter. The penalties for non-compliance with this policy are indeed stringent. Women who fail to adhere to the dress code, exposing at least half of their diaper or choosing to go bottomless, may face severe consequences. These penalties include bare bottom spanking in public, loss of employment, forms of public humiliations, and prolonged diaper wearing without a change."

As the details were laid bare, a collective unease settled over the room, and Haruka continued to watch, her heart heavy with concern. Kaieda's words emphasized the gravity of the consequences for non-compliance, further highlighting the challenges and hardships that women in this age group would face. The impact of this policy on their lives and dignity was undeniable, sparking a growing wave of public and media scrutiny.

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shittingmyself34 · 3 months

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A Nation in Transition (Chapter 2)

Happy New Year Everyone! 🎉🥳🎈

Haruka Nakamura sat hunched over her desk in the dimly lit newsroom, the relentless buzz of typing keyboards and murmured conversations filling the air around her. The atmosphere was tense, charged with a palpable sense of urgency and unease. Prime Minister Fumio Kishida's speech from just over a week ago played over and over again in her head. As a journalist, Haruka had always thrived in this environment, finding a thrill in the chase of a good story. But today, her spirit wavered, weighed down by the heavy reality of the government's latest policy and the editorial chains that seemed to bind her every word.

The screen of her computer glowed, a blank document staring back at her, mocking her inability to voice her true thoughts. Each attempt to draft an article on the new diaper-wearing mandate for unmarried women was met with a stifling reminder of the boundaries set by her editors. "Too controversial," they said. "Too sensitive for our readers," they argued. With every rejected draft, a piece of Haruka's journalistic integrity chipped away, leaving her feeling increasingly helpless and frustrated.

In a desperate attempt to bring some perspective to the story, Haruka had arranged an interview with a prominent U.S. politician who wished to remain anonymous. The politician, known for his progressive views, had agreed to discuss Japan's new policy. Haruka clung to the hope that his insights would shed light on the absurdity of the situation, perhaps even spark international condemnation that could pressure the Japanese government to reconsider.

The interview was conducted virtually, with Haruka's eyes locked onto the politician's image on her laptop screen. His office was adorned with symbols of American democracy, a stark contrast to the oppressive backdrop of Haruka's current reality. She posed her questions carefully, tiptoeing around the editorial landmines she knew were waiting to explode with each word she spoke.

The politician's response, however, was not what she had hoped for. His words were measured, almost diplomatic, lacking the outrage or strong condemnation Haruka had anticipated. "It's an interesting approach," he mused, "and while it's not something we'd consider in the United States at this moment, I am curious to see how it plays out in Japan."

Haruka's heart sank. There was no shock or disdain in his voice, only a detached curiosity. He even hinted, albeit subtly, that if the policy proved to be socially and economically beneficial in Japan, it might be something worth considering elsewhere. The implication of his words was clear: the policy, as humiliating and oppressive as it was, didn't seem to ring any alarm bells for him.

The interview ended, and Haruka sat there, stunned. She had entered the conversation seeking an ally, someone who could amplify the absurdity and injustice of the policy. Instead, she found a bystander, a powerful figure in global politics who saw the situation as a mere social experiment.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, the words of the interview echoing in her mind. How could she write this article? How could she convey the gravity of the situation when even international leaders seemed indifferent? The realization that this policy might not be met with widespread condemnation but rather with a wait-and-see attitude was a bitter pill to swallow.

Haruka's sense of isolation grew. She felt trapped in a narrative where her voice was being silenced, her stories turned down, and the plight of countless women dismissed as a cultural peculiarity. The world, it seemed, was content to watch from the sidelines, unperturbed by the unfolding human rights crisis.

As she struggled to compose the article, Haruka couldn't shake the feeling of emotional helplessness. The walls of the newsroom felt like they were closing in on her, each rejected draft a reminder of the censorship that choked her journalistic freedom. She wondered about the women out there, just like her, who were being forced into a humiliating and regressive way of life. Their stories needed to be told, their voices heard, but the channels of truth were being systematically blocked.

In that moment, Haruka realized the daunting task ahead of her. She would have to find a way to navigate the treacherous waters of media censorship, to tell the stories that mattered without compromising her integrity or the truth. It was a tall order, but as she stared at the blank document on her screen, a spark of determination ignited within her.

She began to type, her words a quiet act of defiance against the forces that sought to silence her. Haruka Nakamura would not be deterred. She would tell the story, come what may.

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shittingmyself34 · 3 months

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A Nation in Transition (Chapter 3)

Haruka Nakamura's fingers hesitated over the keyboard, the glow of her computer screen casting shadows across her face. She had just finished an article juxtaposing the global reactions to Japan's new diaper policy, a bold piece that could potentially ruffle feathers at her news organization. Determined, she sent it off, hoping it would make it past her editor unnoticed.

Her act of defiance, however, did not go unnoticed. Within a few hours, Haruka received a terse email from her employer, informing her that she was being placed on paid leave effective immediately. The message was clear – her daring approach was not appreciated.

Feeling a mix of frustration and helplessness, Haruka was pondering her next steps. She'd been warned before, so she didn't fight her employer on the decision to place her on leave. Although 2 weeks came across as overly harsh. A few days passed since she attempted to post the article. Haruka was scrolling on her phone in the living room when she heard a knock at her apartment door. Two plumbers, accompanied by a representative from her landlord's office, stood outside, their expressions somber and businesslike.

"We're here to remove your toilet," one of the plumbers announced, holding up a work order.

Haruka's eyes widened in disbelief. "Remove my toilet? On whose authority?"

The representative from the landlord's office stepped forward. "Your landlord has approved this action. He's a strong advocate for the new law. He signed off on the removal of toilets from the apartments of all unmarried women in this building. It's part of a government grant program and promises reduced water bills for the building."

The absurdity of the situation struck Haruka like a physical blow. "This is outrageous! How can you just invade someone's home and remove basic necessities?" she protested, her voice shaking with emotion.

The plumbers, unfazed by her pleas, entered her apartment. "We're just following orders, ma'am. This is the new policy now," one of them said, almost apologetically.

Haruka watched in stunned silence as they dismantled and removed her toilet, leaving a gaping void in its place before it was sealed shut entirely. The action felt like a violation, an intrusion into her personal space that left her feeling exposed and vulnerable.

As the plumbers left, Haruka tried to process what had just happened. Her personal space, her sanctuary, had been invaded under the guise of government policy. It was a stark reminder of the control the state now exerted over her life.

Haruka hardly had time to compose herself after the two men walked out the front door with her toilet before she heard a knock at the door. She drew a deep breath before letting out a long sigh as she swung open the door. It was a government social worker. A woman who appeared to be in her mid 30s. Standing beside her was a young police officer.

"Haruka Nakamura?" the officer inquired in a neutral tone that belied the severity of his presence.

"Yes," Haruka confirmed, her voice barely above a whisper.

She stepped forward, dispensing with any pleasantries. "I'm Ms. Miwa, we're here to enforce compliance with the new policy. Your employer's HR department has raised concerns about your conduct. It seems you are resisting the new law's for the betterment of Japan and it's people."

Haruka paled at the implication. "I understand the law's," she said quietly, hoping to convey cooperation and avoid escalation.

"If you understand, then why are you not in compliance?" Ms. Miwa's voice was sharp, like the edge of a knife. "What do you mean?" Haruka asked confused. This was all happening so fast and she was already overwhelmed. "Why are you wearing pants? Pants are contraband for unmarried women of your age. You should be diapered."

With a heavy heart, Haruka nodded and, understanding the implication, began to unbutton her pants. As they slid to the floor, revealing her simple light pink cotton panties, Ms. Miwa’s eyes narrowed.

"The law is inclusive of all undergarments. Panties as well. Remove them," Ms. Miwa commanded, her voice devoid of warmth.

A sharp intake of breath was Haruka's immediate response. "Please, no," she begged, tears brimming in her eyes. The thought of standing there, stripped of even the smallest dignity, was overwhelming. "Isn’t this enough? I'll comply with everything, but please, let me keep my underwear." The room began to spin and she felt as if her very soul would leave her body.

Ms. Miwa's expression didn't soften. "The law's makes no exceptions for personal comfort. Your dignity is not the concern of the state."

Haruka's eyes, wide with disbelief and shimmering with unshed tears, met Ms. Miwa's unyielding gaze. The cold dismissal of her dignity, uttered with such bureaucratic indifference, struck a deep chord within her.

"But—please," she stammered, the desperation in her voice piercing the heavy air of the room, "can't there be any semblance of respect for... for my autonomy as an adult?" Her plea hung between them, frail and quivering.

Ms. Miwa remained unmoved, her posture rigid as the directive she enforced. "Respect is afforded to those who follow the law's, Ms. Nakamura. Your compliance is non-negotiable."

With no room for negotiation and the law's looming over her like an immovable monolith, Haruka's resistance crumbled under the weight of her reality. Her hands, trembling, complied with the directive, and she removed her panties, surrendering the last shred of her privacy and control. Her hands cupped her hairless private area as tears dripped down onto the hardwood floor. Her gaze downcast as Ms. Miwa smirked.

With Haruka now in compliance, the police officer began his methodical search, confiscating all forms of lower body clothing from Haruka's apartment. Haruka, now crying openly, complied with a crushing sense of humiliation, removing her last piece of privacy and standing vulnerably as her world was torn apart.

Ms. Miwa handed her a pack of brightly colored Goo.N XXL tab diapers. "These will have to do until you can acquire adult ones. Given your size, they will be snug, but you'll make do. Diapers are not to be wasted; you will use this pack fully before you are allowed to purchase more."

Haruka took the pack, the plastic crinkling loudly in the silent room. The sound seemed to mock her, a cruel reminder of her new reality.

"And your living arrangements?" Ms. Miwa continued. "The law's requires another resident to manage your diaper changes. You cannot do this yourself."

Haruka, through her sobs, managed to convey that she lived alone. "I have no one," she admitted, the shame of her situation washing over her in waves.

"Then you will need to find someone. That is your responsibility. You can expect to see me each day until I believe you've become more compliant with the new law's. If I sense even the slightest disobedience you will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Have a great rest of your day...Haruka. " Ms. Miwa stated matter-of-factly, as though she were discussing something as mundane as a change in the weather.

With that, Ms. Miwa and the officer left, and Haruka collapsed onto the floor, her entire body shaking with sobs. The pack of diapers sat firmly on her lap—a symbol of the loss of her autonomy, her adulthood, her very sense of self. She was alone, exposed, and the weight of what was to come pressed down on her with an intensity that was suffocating.

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