Latest Posts by kinkyberen - Page 2
Feels Like The First Time
This caption was saved by this post by @cookie-goodboy whose “baby book” idea resurrected this caption from my draft box graveyard.
She looks down at her soggy diaper in utter disbelief. “B-but I d-don’t even remember going potty, Daddy!”
“Does that excite you, Princess?”
“I…umm, I think so. But does this mean…”
“Yes, silly. It means you’re no longer potty trained. You’re Daddy’s diaper-dependent pamper packer, forever.”
“I just thought the first time I had a real accident would be…I don’t know…”
There it is again: The First Time. She’s focused on the “firsts” of our relationship and her diaper journey from the beginning.
I remember how excited she was the first time I put a diaper on her. The first time she made stinkies in front of me. The first time she went out in public diapered. The first time I changed her in public.
Every first was a cause for celebration.
She’s been so focused on the “firsts” that she never stopped to think about all the “lasts” in her life.
But I did.
And now that she’s unpotty-trained, it’s time to show her the project I’ve been secretly working on these last few years.
Her big book of “lasts.” She’s finally ready to read it. It has it all:
The last time she went out in public undiapered. The last time she used the potty for tinkles. The last time she used the potty for stinkies. The last time she changed her own diaper. The last time she got to ask me to change her diaper.
But there are a few things she probably won’t be expecting.
Like the last time we had sex. The last time she had an orgasm without a diaper. The last time she went to bed without a bedtime. The last time I thought of her as an adult. There’s plenty more to choose from, but you get the idea.
I almost feel bad, but what did she expect? I can’t treat someone who wants to become an unpotty-trained pamper packer as an adult—adults don’t enthusiastically give away every aspect of their adulthood so they can helplessly fill their diapers.
Obviously adult things like sex are out the window. Did she really think I’d want to go down on her knowing she poops herself three times a day?
Gross.
I’ll treat her exactly how she wants to be treated: as an unpotty-trained a toddler. Because that’s what she is to me now.
She’s not my girlfriend. She gave up orgasms and adulthood for a lifetime of diaper changes, early bedtimes, and Disney cartoons.
I’m sure she’ll throw a tantrum tonight when I show her. But what is she going to do? Not wear a diaper? It’s far too late for that. She needs them now—just like she always wanted.
I’ll smile the whole time she’s whining about her “lost” adulthood. The adulthood she willingly gave away for the pleasure of being wrapped in her plastic prison.
Maybe I’ll even start a new scrapbook for her. Her tantrum can be the first entry: Baby’s first tantrum as Daddy’s permanent babygirl.
Beast of Burden
You barely had time to pull up your pants to cover your diaper when she barged in. If she was surprised by your awkward position on the floor, she didn’t show it.
She walked straight to you. Her smile never faltering. She kneeled uncomfortably close, without any regard for the situation or your personal space.
You shivered as she got closer to you. The way she moved—the confidence in every movement—terrified you. It was like watching a tiger stroll through the jungle. She moved like her place atop the food chain was her divine right. Unquestionable.
She had nothing to fear. Unlike you.
It happened before you could react. Before you had any chance to stop her.
She reached down at your diaper, grabbing a handful of your soggy megmax and squeezing it, testing its fullness.
It was so casual. As if she had every right to check your diaper. As if your diaper was as much hers as the contents of her purse.
You were paralyzed by shock. Nobody knew about your incontinence or the diapers you’ve worn for the past 3 months.
“W-who…who are you?” you manage to say with great difficulty.
She just smiled, wordlessly pulling down your pants, exposing your soggy diaper.
“What the fu—!” you start yelling.
“Hush,” she chided, her tone leaving no room for disobedience. Despite every instinct telling you to argue, you stay silent.
“Good boy,” she purred, “you don’t need to be embarrassed. Now lay back and let me take care of this diaper for you.”
Her hand presses against your chest, forcing you down. She’s surprisingly strong. You couldn’t resist even if you wanted to.
She reaches into your bag, grabbing supplies without a trace of uncertainty. She pulls out a spare megamax, wipes, and powder, her gaze never leaving you.
Your first tab is ripped open, sending a wave of terror through you. Then the second. A terrible, horrible countdown to your embarrassing fate.
The third tab rips. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.
A final rip announces itself. You’re powerless to stop her. You close your eyes, hoping it’s a dream.
You feel the soggy diaper pulled away from you, cold air assaulting you. You wince in utter humiliation.
She giggles. A short, playful giggle. Barely audible, yet it hits you like a sonic boom.
A cold wipe is thrust unceremoniously onto your delicate areas. Nothing about her businesslike efficiency giving any hint of flirtation.
The wiping pauses. You hear your next diaper being expertly fluffed while the cold air assaults your exposed privates.
Your legs are suddenly thrust into the air. You squirm ineffectually as she wipes your bum clean. Your face burning violently in embarrassment.
You’re lowered onto a freshly fluffed diaper. Powder snows onto you before she diligently rubs it in, her hand showing no hesitation in rubbing your sensitive areas.
She claps her hands in finality, still smiling down at you, her condescending gaze drilling a deep hole in your ego.
Your diaper is pulled up. She quickly fidgets with the fit. Once satisfied, she gets to work taping you up.
“There. All clean, little one! You did such a great job for me! You weren’t fussy at all!”
All you can do is stare up at her. Somehow, the completely exposed diaper she taped on you is the least of your concern.
Why is she talking to you like that? You’re not some baby!
“Oh stop looking so surprised, cutie! Your soggy diaper was so obvious I couldn’t help myself. We both know you weren’t at this party to get laid. Diaper boys like you don’t get laid—they get diaper changes.”
“W-what?! These are my friends!” you whimper.
“They were! Well, before your diapers! They’re not your equals anymore, honey. They’re your superiors. You’re in diapers.”
“It’s just a medical condition!”
“Then why didn’t you tell anyone? That’s what I thought. Because you know what being in diapers means. You know you’re a diaper boy. And yet you had the audacity to show up and pretend you’re not a whiny diaper boy. That’s not okay with me, baby.”
“I was just waiting for the right time to tell everyone!”
“Well, don’t you worry about that. I’ll take care of telling the party about your diapers. You can either take my hand and follow me to tell everyone. Or, you can run away and I’ll still tell everyone anyway.”
“Or you can not tell everyone..”
“I could! But I won’t. You’re lying to everyone here pretending to be something you’re not—an adult. If you come with me, I’ll take care of you. I’ll make sure your diapers are changed and nobody teases my diaper boy. Maybe I’ll even give you diaper rubs when you’ve been extra good!”
“And if I don’t?” you say with a false bravado that she sees right through.
“You’ll be all alone. Your friends will know what you are: a diaper boy. You’ll stop being invited to parties because they don’t need some diapered baby bringing down the vibe. No girl will ever give you a second glance. You’ll be all alone in soggy diapers.”
You stutter randomly trying to comprehend your fate.
She gets up, heading towards the door. “Up to you, diaper boy.”
“I-okay! I-I’ll do it!” you plead.
“Good boy,” she coos, reaching out her hand, “you’re such a cutie. Mommy will take great care of you, I promise.”
“M-mommy?” you mutter as she pulls you out the door.
She ignores your concerns, squeezing your hand.
“Ready to start your new life, baby?” she whispers in your ear.
She’s already getting everyone’s attention before you can respond.
You stare at her captive audience, waiting for your life to change forever…
This is my first time so please be kind with me :3
Zach’s New Life, Chapter 1: The Proposition
CW: ABDL, MDLB, Threesome dynamic, light cucking
Despite being able to sleep in, my body’s internal clock woke me up at eight. I really did try to sleep in, so that I would have some sort of silver lining to loosing my job. I groaned as I lazily bounced myself off my air mattress. My hardwood apartment floor was mostly barren besides the air mattress, an old TV that I took from my parents, and two envelopes that sat at the feet of my door. One red, one white. The red one was anticipated but still disappointing, but the white one was elusively intriguing. I opened the red envelope and found exactly what I expected to find:
Mr. Zach Slider,
We regret to inform you that your monthly rent payment is now late. This marks the third consecutive month you have missed rent. As per Desperado Apartment management policy, you will be evicted. Please be ready to move out within the next ten business days.
Regards, management
I ripped the letter in two in a fit of frustration. The paper shreds floated to the floor where the white envelope sat. I glanced down towards it and was shocked out of my frustration. The first line of the return address held a familiar name: Claire Elise. The same Claire Elise that used to be my girlfriend. The same Claire Elise that discovered that she was, in fact, gay two years into our relationship. We were friendly, but didn’t exactly do a great job keeping in touch besides a few birthday texts and other miscellaneous minor exchanges. All the more reason why this correspondence was strange.
I tentatively scooped the envelope up, and carefully opened it; there were two paper notes inside. One was a thick blue card with large, machine-printed bubble letters that read, “It’s Birthday Time, and You’re invited! 🥳🎉”
The second piece of paper was a piece of stationary paper swimming with beautiful handwritten cursive, Claire’s beautiful handwritten cursive:
Dear Zach,
I hope you’re doing well, but I’ve heard through the grapevine that you’ve fallen on some hard times. With that in mind, my girlfriend and I have a very special proposition for you that I think you’ll find interesting. I’d love to see you at my birthday party, so that we can catch up and discuss! Between loosing your job and getting kicked out of your parents’ house, I’m sure cash is tight, so we’ll reimburse you for the road trip to our house. I hope to see you soon!
Love, Claire.
That note was strange for a couple of reasons: firstly, I knew her girlfriend. Her name was Lucy, and I was actually the one who introduced them in an ironic twist of fate’s knife. Second, Lucy and Claire must be doing well for themselves if they were offering to pay my way; I knew they made good money from their respective professions and investments, but still. I wasn’t sure if I should be insulted or grateful. Finally, Claire signed the letter “Love”. She hadn’t used that word in regards to me in at least a year and a half. Also, why was Claire being so vague about this proposition? A part of me wanted to ignore the letter, but I knew I couldn’t; I had already opened my phone to text Claire to let her know that I’d be there.
She responded almost immediately: “Awesome! No need to bring a gift btw”
The party was in a day, so I packed my TV and my deflated air mattress into my car, prepared to live out of my car for a few days. The road trip was only three hours, but the gas money was greatly appreciated. With some good music and some even better vibes, I found myself on Claire and Lacy’s doorstep in no time.
I took a deep breath to steady my nerves before I knocked. I knocked timidly. At first, I thought no one heard me, so I was about to knock again. Before I could, I heard Claire’s voice, “coming!”
The door swung open. Claire stood before me, wearing a gorgeous blue sparkling dress that complimented her dark brunette hair. Her crystal blue eyes regarded me with surprise at first. For a split second, I began to sweat with anxiety. Was that note somehow a mistake? Was I not supposed to be here? Before I could continue contemplating, Claire regained some semblance of composure, “Zach!” She pulled me into a hug, “I’m so glad you came! And you’re early.”
I could feel Claire’s full bodied curves, curves that I used to routinely explore in the dead of night. I cautiously returned her embrace, “yea sorry about that, but there wasn’t a time on my invitation.”
“Oh, sorry about that sweetie, I must’ve—“
“Who is it, honey?” Before she could finish, Lucy sauntered down the stairs to interrupt.
Before Claire could respond, Lucy answered her own question: “Oh it’s the little guy who couldn’t cum unless we told him how much of a good boy he was.”
I blushed. Organizing that threesome might’ve been one of the top 11 worst decisions of my life.
“I’m just kidding, Zach,” Lucy and Claire giggled together, “How are you doing, buddy?”
“Good,” I lied on instinct, “…or actually not great. I just got evicted from my place, so I’m hyped to forget about that and party the night away tonight!”
“Oh that sucks,” Lucy replied, casually flicking her fiery red locks out of her freckled face. Her emerald eyes anxiously darted to Claire and then back to me.
“Yea,” Claire agreed, “that actually reminds me of that proposition I mentioned in my note. Do you want to come sit at the kitchen table, so we can talk about it?”
“Sure,” I replied cautiously.
The kitchen was ornate in a homely kind of way; the light wood of the cabinets was polished and the marble countertops shimmered in the natural light that flowed through the windows.
“So,” Claire started, “do you have a plan now that you’ve been evicted and have lost your job?”
I looked to the table. Of course this was the first thing they wanted to talk about. Who were they, my parents?
“Not yet,” I admitted.
Lucy nodded, “then I think our proposition might interest you.”
“Totally,” Claire agreed, “the proposition involves you living with us as a sort of… roommate. And you’d get to live here rent free!”
I blinked. Why would they want me to live here rent free, “what’s the catch?”
Lucy chuckled, “what a clever boy you are.”
“Just keep an open mind,” Claire said, “and we’ll show you to your room and explain.”
I followed the pair of women up the stairs. We stopped at a room near the end of the hallway. Claire removed a key from her pocket and unlocked the door. Nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to see.
The room was a nursery, except it was massive. There was a massive white, wooden crib in the corner, a huge changing table in the opposite corner, and a large circular rug in the middle of the room that was decorated with trains, dinosaurs, and the ABCs. Stacks and stacks of adult diapers with childish prints sat under the changing table.
“Wha—“
“Ah ah,” Claire shushed me, “Let us explain before you say anything.”
I silently nodded.
“Good boy,” Claire continued, “Zach we know you’re kinky, and you know we’re kinky. Think of this like that: a fun little kink for all of us to enjoy. Plus, it’s a free place to stay and everything would be taken care of for you!”
“It’s a steal of a deal,” Lucy agreed.
“But… why?” Is all I could muster.
“Well,” Claire’s eyes sunk to the floor, “Lucy and I have been exploring some different things, and we came to the decision that this is what we want.”
“We want a little to care for and call our own, but neither of us felt quite right slipping into that role,” Lucy shrugged.
“But then we thought of the cutest submissive boy we both already know…”
“...Me?” I raised my eyebrows. It was true I tended to lean more to the submissive side, but this was definitely something new to me.
“We’re your friends,” Lucy added, “we want to help you out while helping ourselves at the same time, you know?”
“You work so hard just to get by,” Claire agreed, “and you’re such a sweet guy. Maybe it would be nice to let someone else take care of you for a change?”
“Maybe,” I muttered, trying my best to keep an open mind. Part of me wanted to take offense but a separate part of me was touched by their display of care and concern, albeit strange in nature.
“So what will it be Zach,” Claire smiled up at me, “will you be our baby?”
———————————————————
This is an old story originally featured on my old blog, Diapy Dragon, but I would like to continue/reboot it, so I’m posting it here.
As always, all a characters depicted are 18+
WETTYORNAH’s Hypno Guide
DISCLAIMER: Hypnosis isn’t for everyone. I understand that the idea of it is hard to believe for many people. The truth is, I’m with those people. However, the magic of hypno is letting yourself try and believe it. It takes effort from a good hypnotist and effort from a good subject. If you’re expecting results off the bat, you’re failing yourself. Give it time, listen again and again, and try to believe. Eventually, you might find yourself in a situation you can’t believe your way out of 🤷🏻♂️
I’ve labeled them based on the type of hypno I like. As I’m DL rather than AB, you won’t find much about regression or baby like behaviors. This list is mostly meant for encouragement to wear diapers, or bladder control. The three categories are bedwetting (self explanatory), lifestyle (stuff like committing to diapers, realizing they’re right for you), and fuck yourself over (dangerous hypno that usually has a condition, like if you give in and wet, you’ll never be able to stop) They are mostly meant for male listeners as far as I can tell.
So let’s get into it
BEDWETTING/LIFESTYLE
Curse Night Diapers - EMG
This one forces you to wear diapers to bed, along with wetting them. This one doesn’t exactly encourage incontinence, but the fact you’re going to bed in diapers which you will wet will fulfill that desire to become a bedwetter.
BEDWETTING
Bed Wetter - Sarnoga
Doesn’t encourage diapers, but does make you enjoy bedwetting. There’s mention that you’re too immature to choose diapers. This file basically sets you up to become a bedwetter and end up having someone make the choice for you that you need to wear diapers to bed. Great to use with the help of someone else.
FUCK YOURSELF OVER/BEDWETTING Bedwetter Fear to Reality - EMG
Makes you anxious about having an accident, you choose to wear diapers or not. Of course, if you do have an accident, that’s it. One leads to another. Dangerous if you don’t want to find yourself trapped
LIFESTYLE
Diaper Dependence 1 - Champtehotter
The first in his series of making you diaper dependent. This file causes you to commit to diapers and explains why you need them. This is a great first step, and then you can move on to the next one once this one has fucked your mind.
LIFESTYLE
Diaper Train 1 - Sarnoga
This hypno also encourages you to commit to diapers. Each lesson will have you wearing diapers more, first at home alone, then around people, then out in public. It does this by making you feel like you can’t use a toilet to get relief. WARNING: this one did mess with me, and in some files encourages bedwetting even when sharing a bed just to prove you really need diapers.
LIFESTYLE
Every Good Boy Wears Diapers - Sarnoga
Explains every reason why you need diapers to avoid making messes. Diapers are the best choice for boys is the main message
LIFESTYLE
The Diaper Does It - Sarnoga
Makes you love your diapers and give them your control. The main twist of this file is that if you don’t wear diapers every so often, you will start having accidents in your pants. Basically makes a timer in your head so you must come back to diapers.
LIFESTYLE/FUCK YOURSELF OVER
Master your Bladder -
Teaches you that your bladder is in control of your life, and the only way to fix it is to take the control away. Causes bladder incontinence.
FUCK YOURSELF OVER
Diaper Drug - Champtehotter
Imagine you’ve been injected with a drug that makes you love your diapers and become bladder incontinent. As long as you don’t cum, it won’t be permanent. I dare you to listen.
FUCK YOURSELF OVER
Pantswetter Incontinence
Makes you have accidents whenever and wherever until you have no choice but to wear diapers.
Thats it for now, I definitely got more but this took longer than I thought. I like every single one of these, and I think you will too. Let me know how it goes or which one you enjoyed most.
Every sales job I’ve worked has that one item. The white whale. The biggest ticket you can sell. The sale you brag about when you’re chatting with other industry people.
When I sold mattresses it was a split king adjustable base. That’s two twin extra long mattresses next to each other to make a king, but each side can move independently. They’re insanely expensive and honestly kind’ve impractical but it was the biggest ticket thing to sell.
When I sold sex toys though our white whale was the 20lb ass. It was a female pelvis, a cut out from the waist to the tops of the thighs. It was hyper realistic material and cost about $500. I definitely had bigger tickets but not in one item typically.
In my time at the sex shop, I sold three. Each time was completely different in terms of how the guy acted about buying it. The first man was a little embarrassed and shy about it. I was professional and supportive as I rang it up. Once I handed him the receipt he looked at the box. Then he looked at me.
If you’ve ever wondered how big a box has to be to fit a 20lb ass let me just tell you: it’s pretty damn big. It’s an uncomfortably large armful of box and every side has a picture of the sex toy inside on it. It’s not subtle.
“Could I get a bag….?”
There was no bag that existed that could possibly contain all that ass. “Hang on,” I told him.
I got scissors and tape and covered the box in cut up black bags. Looking relieved he picked up his purchase and left.
The next man to buy one carried it proudly to the counter; self assured and not embarrassed in the least. When I said I didn’t have a bag, but I could wrap it for him he gave a hearty shrug and hefted it into his arms, marching out the door with the butt on full display.
The last man to get one was just kind’ve an odd guy. Not creepy, but eccentric. We got along great, and as I rang him up I said, “Well one guy wanted his taped over, and one guy carried it out. What would you prefer?”
“There’s no bags?”
“No store bags. I think our jumbo trash bags in the back might fit it….?” It seemed rude to suggest putting a $500 item into a trash bag, but he wasn’t bothered.
He considered this then said, “Bring me the trash bag.”
When I delivered it to him he still managed to surprise me. Instead of shoving the huge box into it he opened the box. He took out his new $500 sex toy, and all the little things it came with, tipping them unceremoniously into the trash bag.
“There! Now I don’t have to deal with the box later!”
I was slightly stunned but agreed that I could easily deal with the trash. Then in a move I still think about with delight he flung the trash bag over his shoulder like a Santa with a sack full of ass and sauntered out the door.
If this or my other escapades made you laugh you could pop a tip into my Ko-fi! For more like this check my tag "ffs foibles".
“So, you’re an ABDL. Ok. That’s why I’m here. You’re telling me you want a mommy and a daddy to take care of you, that whole thing. Fine. I’ll grant you your wish. No, there’s no twisting your words, you won’t be an actual baby, so you will be able to enjoy this. No, your mommy and daddy won’t be your actual parents, yes they’ll be about your age, well maybe a little older and they will be attractive, don’t worry. Yes, I’m aware you want them to be sexy young things themselves, you pervert. They’ll find you cute, obviously. They’ll be thrilled to have you as their baby for as long as you please. You won’t need a job, though you can get one if you want. You’ll be free to be an adult as much or as little as you want. Now, tell me this doesn’t sound like a sweet deal? Yeah, I figured you’d like it.
So here’s the price. Nothing unexpected, nothing crazy, just a simple logical follow through of your wish getting fulfilled. Diapers? Yeah, those are going to be mandatory. You’ll be a bedwetter and you will have accidents during the day, that’s par for the course. And you’ll never change yourself ever again. Those could be good things, bad things… that’s for you to judge. You’ll become desperately addicted to your blankets, stuffies, whatever your comfort item may be. You’ll need it everywhere like a two-year-old, be prepared for that. You will go back to either the bottle or the breast and you will get addicted to that as well. Only a pacifier will be able to soothe you in between. You will also be able to cry like a baby, which means the emotional control of a baby. You’ll need naps and you’ll throw tamper tantrums in spite of your better judgement. Most importantly, and I assume this is the only thing that might actually dissuade you, it will be revealed to the world that you are an ABDL. You won’t be able to hide it. You can try, but your caregivers won’t. You’ll get baby talked and your diaper will be checked. It’s inevitable. Then, again, if you want as an add-on, I can make you a carefree and mentally regressed adult. You’ll still be out to the world, but at least you won’t care.
Do you want to go through with this deal?”
Photo credit: @babybelle1
For more stories by me: https://reamstories.com/babywriter
Incontinent
You are recently were prescribed Incontinence to address your hyper-chronic masturbation and rampant pornography addiction that was seriously affecting your life and livelihood. Your doctor and therapist signed off on it and once you arrived at the clinic and you signed in they would take your information and and brought to your room where you were undressed and dawned a hospital gown before they came to bring you in you did one last fap and made account going in and out until you felt it go . They would arrive and put you on the gurney bring you in and soon put you under . Not long later you would wake in your bed with a weird feeling your crotch it was a tick medical diaper soggy and moist and it surrounded your crotch .  as you lay there thinking about your decision up to this point and your problem you would feel yourself go filling it even more and you couldn’t stop yourself . Soon the nurses would arrive and told you the operation was a total success, and you were incontinent and happily they helped you change your diaper powdering your bottom and applying a new diaper they would tell you that we’re going to keep you overnight to watch you and tomorrow you would be going home . You would lay there Thinkingagain, only to be interrupted by a new spur out urine and then stool and then you fed. This is what your life became. Now home your life would change now having to wear thick diapers and carry around a diaper bag as you couldn’t control yourself now. At first not letting incontinence stop you you would attempt to masturbate taking it off and doing it but before you could go all the way, you would end up ruining your bedsheets with urine doing a number on it . After that, you slowly stopped attempting to do it since diapers weren’t your thing you would ultimately stop doing it with that now you you had to get on with your life being an Incontinent woman all because you couldn’t control your dirty habits .
Oh don't mind me dear I'm just opening up the window to get some a breeze in, you just go back to playing. Yeah baby, just some fresh air. Well it's still a little stinky in here sweety and I want it smelling fresh when my next patient comes.
Oh silly have you forgotten what I told you already? You're going home today, your mommy is coming to pick you up! No silly you're wife! She's just your mommy now, like how I was Dr. Philips when you came here but now I'm Nana.
Right I know it must seem so long ago, I can hardly believe it's only been two weeks myself. More treatment, oh honey it'd be silly do that- you're cured! I can confidently say as a medical professional you no longer have a wetting problem baby.
Shshsh baby no need to get upset, you see diapers are the cure to your wetting problem. When your wife dropped you off here we knew that this was the likely outcome. Yes this is intensive therapy, your wife didn't lie. Sometimes this helps people stop wetting, once in a blue moon. For most of the people I treat though the cure for their incontinence is more involved. You see your bed wetting and your pants wetting were only problems that you noticed. You had others too you know. You were unhappy, you were stressed, angry, very controlling too. Now those problems are gone! I've been sending your wife videos of you and she's said she hasn't seen you this happy since you two were dating!
No, a life of big adult worries isn't for you, so I have prescribed a full regression until further notice. Hey don't look so grumpy, this is good news! This means when you get home you'll have a big comfy crib like you do here. You'll have fun toys for you to play with all day. You'll have even more cozy clothes to roll around in and best of all, you wont ever have to worry about wet or dirty pants ever again thanks to the thick diapies you'll always be wearing. I'll even let you in on a secret, your wife has been taking pills so she can have milky boobies just like Nana!
Still with the grumpy face huh mister? Do I need to take you to the naughty corner? We haven't had to visit there in quite some time I'd hate to have our treatment end there- Oh, ugh silly me! You think I'd know that face by now. Of course it's time for your mid morning poopy. Well go right ahead baby, your wife will be here to pick you up soon and I think greeting her in a stinky, droopy, poopy diaper is the perfect way to start this new chapter. Good thing I opened the window now. Hopefully the stinky smells will leave before the next patient arrives this evening!
“Lay down and let me get you out of that messy diaper. You’re lucky I noticed before any of the other girls.”
You were still trying to figure out what was happening. She wasn’t wrong—you did have a messy diaper. But how did she know that? None of your friends knew about your incontinence. You were fairly confident you didn’t even smell thanks to the magic of Nullo.
“I-I’m not wearing a diaper. What are you talking about?”
“Yes you are,” she says, “and you pooped yourself five minutes ago. I can tell. You don’t have to lie to me.”
You’ve been incontinent long enough to know this isn’t going to end well. It’s gotta be some kind of trap. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really? You’re gonna stand there in a clearly loaded diaper and keep denying it? I don’t care about the diapers. I don’t care about the mess I’m about to wipe off of you. I don’t think you understand what’s going on. I’ve had a crush on you for months. I was absolutely terrified of even talking to you until I saw what was clearly a diaper bulging out of your shorts a month ago. And I saw it again. And again. I knew it was my chance. When I saw you squatting down, I knew it was time. You’re super discreet about it by the way. So, are you gonna let me change your diaper or what?”
“I-wha-really?” You stuttered in utter disbelief.
“Yes, really. Now lay down. I assume you keep your spare diapers in the bag you carry with you everywhere. Good.” She pulls down your pants. “Let’s get these tabs off. One. Two. Three. And four. It’s not how I first imagined seeing you naked in my bed, but who cares. It’s finally happening.”
Somehow, despite having a girl you were crushing on for months ripping open your messy diaper, you were visibly excited.
She was blushing more than you. “Well, if I’m gonna have to be the one cleaning you up from now on, it’s good to know you’re packing down there. Not even sure how you fit this thing in your diaper,” she says as she wipes you down. Once she’s satisfied you’re all clean, she pulls you up off the bed, leading you to her bathroom.
“Where are we going,” you ask.
“To the shower. You’re gonna thank me for the change and then show me what you can do with that.”
Advanced Dungeons & Diapers: Chapter 1
This is the start of a sequel to one of my longest commissions, "Dungeons & Diapers". It's written to work effectively as a standalone novel, but follows directly on the plot of the original work, which you can read here.
Also it's set in the Pathfinder 1e universe, not any DnD plane. Nyeh. You can't tell me what to do. ...
The smell of the Wizard’s destruction carried on the wind far past the edge of Verity, the eastern capital, long before the damage could be seen.
Sandra knew they were walking into trouble and danger of their greatest enemy’s doing. Her whole party knew it. The Wizard had caused them untold humiliations as an afterthought, and prolonged exposure to his magic had taught them the telltale signs. With one sniff of the air, they knew it was him.
The distinctive, sharp smell of baby powder left little room for misidentification.
Turning back in the saddle to look at her party, Sandra swished her tail, trying not to show any uncertainty. “If anyone wants to turn back, I understand. There’s no reason to throw ourselves into danger without cause.”
Quinn didn’t need to answer. The brawny half orc feared little, and even when he had trepidation, he kept it hidden for the others. His protective instinct didn’t break here, and he shook his head.
Tarja trembled on the horse next to Quinn, but not out of fear–rather, the curse that had degraded her fine motor control left her constantly shaking unless she could lie down, get on all fours, or briefly dispel the effects. Mounted on a saddle, she had to cling to the horn and let Quinn lead. She hardly looked like the most lethal Ranger Sandra had ever met, but when she was free of the curse, she could track, hunt, and aim a bow with legendary precision.
Even cursed as she was, she’d never back down from danger. Taking the effort to enunciate clearly, she said, “I’m no’ running.” Her words carried a slight lisp, like a toddler still struggling to make the letters come out right–another side effect of her curse.
Finally, Hadrian. The party’s own wizard, and their most thorough source of information on the Wizard’s magic. Clad in a latex bodysuit that bulged around his hips, and with a pacifier lodged between his lips that he couldn’t remove, he had the most visible curses of them all.
His gaze was on the horizon, hard and furious. He didn’t need to speak to communicate, not when his feelings were this clear.
They were going to Verity, no matter what had happened there, no matter the danger.
Sandra shifted in her seat again, noting a slight squelch beneath her pants. Her diaper was full–and now that she’d noticed, she picked up a slight foul stench mingling with the baby powder odor. The diaper would self clean before they got to the city, so it didn’t concern her much.
Still, it was a reminder of the Wizard’s lightest, least invasive curses–he’d stolen her potty training more than a year prior, and it had stayed stolen. If he led an assault against a city, she shuddered to think what he could have done to the populace.
It wasn’t long before they crested a rise and, finally, came into view of the city. Verity’s walls stood proud and unbreached, and most of the homes, businesses, and buildings seemed to be intact.
From one point, though, billowing clouds of white wafted up. Plumes of baby powder, shooting from a space where the great Temple of Calistria had once stood. Now, the structure seemed to be made of geometric pastels, twisted as a thousand child-safe squares of foam flooring had been frozen in the middle of an explosion.
Pulling up his mount next to Sandra, Hadrian gestured at his pacifier urgently. Reaching to the side, she pulled it free.
“Serendipity,” he said, “She’s–”
“In the temple,” Sandra finished. “I know.”
He didn’t wait for further words or confirmation, but spurred his horse onwards, galloping as fast as the mount would take him.
Sandra couldn’t blame him, even if she doubted there was much they could do. Hadrian had fallen head-over-high-heels with a priestess performer of the temple. He wouldn’t slow for anything while he knew she could be in danger.
The others followed soon after, matching Hadrian’s speed so they didn’t lose him on the road to Verity’s gates. As they grew closer, Sandra got a better look at the damage–she could make out distinct shapes, but the scale was all off. One side of a baby crib, bars painted pastel blue, seemed to be twenty feet long or more and hovered above the debris. An enormous mobile, so large that the plush toys dangling from it were to-scale with the animals those plushies resembled, spun slowly.
Contrasting with the openly juvenile elements, she also saw a large plug, tapered at the base, large enough that it could only be practically used by an elder dragon with a very particular set of kinks.
If Sandra had any doubts, that confirmed it. Only the Wizard of Paraphilia would mix infantile and erotic objects with such a tasteless disregard for dignity.
Hadrian was babbling at the gate–literally, his pacifier had returned in the fifteen minutes it’d taken to ride there–and Sandra had to pull up next to him and address the guards. “We’re working for the guild,” she said, leaning over to free her friend’s lips again. After removing the pacifier, she continued, “We have business with the Calistrians.”
“The temple’s…” one of the guards said, scratching his head as he looked them up and down, first at Hadrian’s pacifier and latex bodysuit, then at Quinn’s ample breasts, to Sandra, an elf with a dragon like tail that twitched to emphasize her impatience. At least they’d managed to clear up a couple of the more awkward things–Sandra could at least pull her clothes down to cover her diaper properly, hiding the perpetual peek she’d been stuck with for a while, and Quinn had managed to find a caster who could permanently revert his size back to normal. It could have been worse.
Shaking off his confusion, the guard explained, “Eh…the temple’s got wrecked like you all. Not sure you’ll be able to do any business there.”
“We can help,” Sandra insisted, sliding the guild seal from her pocket to show him. “Let us pass, quickly.”
Shrugging, the guard nodded and stood back, allowing the four of them to ride through the gates.
To Hadrian’s chagrin, they couldn’t just gallop up main street–Verity was a big enough city that, even with a crisis in plain view, life had to go on. Merchants had to sell their merchandise, beggars had to beg, scoundrels had to scound. Their horses helped them navigate up the streets more quickly, but she could see the frustration build on Hadrian’s face as they got closer and closer, stymied by the thick press of busy people in the streets.
Finally, they came into view of the temple, and Hadrian leapt free of the saddle. Stumbling on his heels for a moment, he ran across the cobblestone street, up to the place where the temple entrance had once stood.
The walls were replaced with the same pastel-painted slightly foam substance. Where there had once been grand doors decorated with symbols of Calistria, the Savored Sting, there was now a large flap, more akin to something an animal would use.
Sandra pulled up behind him, bringing her mount to a nickering stop, and said, “We need to use cauti–”
Hadrian ran in through the flap.
“Damn.” Sandra jumped down from her own horse, taking a moment to tie it off to the hitching post, dealing with Hadrian’s as well.
Quinn began to help Tarja down and deal with their own mounts as well, but Sandra stopped him.
“You stay out here.” Sandra said. “If this place has some effect on the people inside, we can’t all just rush in. If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, start finding a way to get Hadrian and I outside without any collateral damage.”
“Be safe, ‘Andwa,” Tarja lisped, before Sandra slipped under the flap, conjuring an umbral knife in her hands–she’d be ready for anything.
Inside, the grand hall of the temple had once been home to a massive stage, where scantily-dressed clerics would flaunt their goods in exchange for tithe. Calistria was a goddess of lust, after all, it made sense.
Now, where poles and stages had once been, cages and hard points floated in the air, trapping priests and worshipers alike. The sky could be seen above–the roof was floating far too high to fully shield from the elements, and the various bizarre structures Sandra had seen from afar loomed above them.
A foul smell hung in the air, the results of the curses and time that had warped the former holy place. Diapers were everywhere Sandra looked, wrapped around people of all genders and ancestries, most soiled to the point of leaking. Pacifiers, too, were a constant–held in place with leather and magic, so that the victims couldn’t spit them out, mumble, or even speak.
Some priests had their hands tied far above their heads, leaving them standing, desperate, unable to rest or relax. Sandra met their pleading eyes, though their words got distorted into helpless mumbling beneath their pacifiers.
She approached one. “Hold still,” she whispered, “Let me try…”
Reaching up, she touched the clasp holding the pacifier in place. She could plainly detect magic on it, and knew it had to be enchanted, but perhaps–
Her brain fogged for a moment, and she staggered back, falling to the ground. Her brain fuzzed, befuddled by magic. When she blinked and regained full control of her thoughts, she realized she’d begun suckling her thumb, and that her diaper–which had self cleaned not ten minutes prior–was suddenly sagging and full again, not that it could make the room smell any worse.
Shaking her head, Sanda stood, staggering for a moment before regaining her balance.
“I…” she said. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”
The priest’s eyes didn’t show understanding, just desperation to be free. Regretfully, Sandra looked around further, careful not to touch anyone.
Other priests were in their own predicament. Some, trapped in cages or cribs, were cuffed spread eagle. Still others sat on adult-sized rocking horses that never fell still, wrists tied to handles and feet to the base, forced to shift back and forth, squelching their diapers interminably. Going by the slight bzzz sound filling the air, Sandra guessed more than a few had toys inside their diaper, torturing them in other ways that couldn’t be seen as easily.
There were more restraints, too, in patterns and configurations she didn’t know. X-shaped crosses. Spanking benches–though, mercifully, she saw no enchanted paddles going to town. Two particularly unfortunate clerics were tied to each other, wrist-to-ankle, so that their faces were buried in each other’s diapers.
She counted dozens of people in the grand temple room, all bound, all unable to move or flee. Some were faces she recognized. Some were strangers. All were helpless.
“Hadrian?” Sandra called, picking her way through the helpless, whimpering victims.
“Back here!” he called, voice carrying from a rear door.
She followed the sound. In the former backstage, it was less populated, but the cribs and cursed people inside were just as helpless. Hadrian was there, but as she stepped in, he looked from face to face, crib to crib, then turned and ran out the room.
Sandra followed, urgently, chasing after him as he went to the once-and-no-longer rectory. Here, there were no people, only changing supplies and baby food stacked on shelves, piles and piles of each, a trove of necessities for anyone who’d been cursed into diaper dependence.
Hadrian continued to run, and Sandra chased after him. “Wait, Hadrian–”
“I have to find her,” he called back, moving down a back hall, to the priest’s quarters. More cribs, more faces, but not the face he wanted to see. Up, then, to the library–now a play room, with baby books and lewd folios, baby toys and vibrating wands all scattered around as though they belonged together. A few priests, glassy eyed, were going through the motions of stacking blocks or organizing rings onto a post, seemingly without any control over their actions.
More desperate than ever, Hadrian continued his flight. He checked the kitchen, now filled with high chairs, and the restrooms, now filled exclusively with changing tables.
Nothing.
“She’s…” Hadrian panted, leaning against a changing table for support. “She’s not here.”
“Maybe she was out on business,” Sandra suggested. “Gwyndomere relies on her for jobs.”
“Gwyndomere’s gone, too,” Hadrian said. “He took–The Wizard took them.”
Sandra looked back out the changing room door, to the open field of restrained worshippers. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Hadrian said, a growl building in his throat. “But we’re not going to let this sta–”
“Hey!”
A voice called from the grand hall. Someone who could speak, not bound up by the curses and restraints.
Sandra stepped out, looking for the source of the voice. A man in white and gold robes. Sandra recognized the colors, indicating a god or goddess of healing, but couldn’t remember the divinity’s name.
“We’re with the guild,” Sandra said. “I’m–”
“Sandra Cassidy,” the cleric replied, stepping closer. He was older, with a neatly trimmed grey beard and a weary expression. “I know who you are. My name is Barro, I’m a priest of Aesocar. You shouldn’t be in here.”
“These people need help,” Sanda gestured, while mentally snapping a proverbial finger. (Aesocar! That’s the god I was thinking of.)
“We’re finding ways to do that,” Barro said, “But it’s dangerous. The pacifiers provide food and water, keeping them alive, but we haven’t yet found a way to get them down safely. They could be like this for weeks, and unless you know how to dispel it, there’s nothing for you to do but fall into a trap or erase your own mind by mistake.”
“I know how to work around the Wizard’s cruelty,” Sandra said.
“And you know how dangerous he is,” the cleric replied. “But–”
“Wait,” Hadrian said. “How do you know it could be weeks? When was the temple hit?”
The cleric shifted, uncomfortably, looking back at the door. “We should step outside–”
“What happened?” Hadrian demanded, stalking forward. “How long has it been like this?”
“This temple was hit this morning,” Barro said. “Eight members of the clergy are still unaccounted for, but…”
Sandra understood. “This isn’t the only one.”
“Four temples in eight days. The Wizard has been busy. And…it could be much, much worse than this.” He looked down and to the side. “My order was hit. Aesocar’s great hospital–the wizard rendered most of the finest healers in the realm to sadistic torments, turning their healing magic into cruel sources of pain.”
“Let’s go outside,” Sandra finally said.
Careful and reluctant, they stepped around the helpless, moaning victims, out into the fresh air.
“Four temples,” Sandra repeated. “What’s he doing?”
“We think, trying to get something.” Barro hesitated. “He’s taken the high priest of each, and several of their highest ranked assistants.”
“Serendipity,” Hadrian whispered.
“Gwyndomere,” Sandra added, thinking of the high priest’s power. If the Wizard had taken Gwyndomere, rather than coming in and attacking the temple while Gwyndomere was gone, then that implied danger and power beyond what she’d already feared.
“What’s going on?” Quinn asked, seeing them walk out.
“Danger and trouble,” Sandra started. “We’re going to need to be careful and decide our next move cautiously, something big and complicated is coming, and–”
“No,” Hadrian cut in. “It’s not complicated at all. We’re going to find the wizard, and when we do, we’re going to kill him.”
...
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Beta Baby By Kinky Observations
https://www.deviantart.com/kinky-observations/art/Beta-Baby-By-Kinky-Observations-852548744
Peaches
a caption story i found a long time ago. not made by me... enjoy
Veronica's Voyage of Self-Discovery – Patreon Teaser
We've got a four-part series this month featuring a young woman learning more and more about her kinky side!
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"You seriously think that's the only reason I said yes, dude? Hah, in your dreams!"
Veronica's gale of laughter echoed through the pine woods, accompanied a moment later by the lower rumble of David's chuckle. "Well, I didn't say it was the only reason," he corrected, taking another bite of his sandwich and gazing affectionately across the picnic blanket at his girlfriend. "But you have to admit it, right? You were more than a little into it. Anyone could see that…"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Veronica returned, stuffing the last of her own sandwich into her mouth and wiping her sticky fingers on the nearby paper towel. She waggled her bare shoulders in the warm spring sun, then glanced down and tugged her spaghetti strap top a trifle lower. It would be swimsuit season soon, after all – and she wanted her boobs to be as tanned as possible.
"What, so you admit it, huh? You admit you liked being plastered with pies by a big strong man?" David pressed, and now he was scooching closer, his eyes dancing with quiet mirth. "Go on, babe – you can say it! 'Oh, yeah! Please, please smear me good-!"
"Okay, okay!" she cut in with a laugh, leaning in and silencing him with a quick kiss. "Maybe I do, okay? But you know what I like better than that?" She slipped closer, her hands slipping coyly down toward his jean-clad groin. "Making out in the sun after the end of a long semester. You know, doing my part to keep you from getting ideas about any other girls over the summer…"
His arms drew tight around her. His eyes smiled, then slipped closed as her rosy lips approached once more. And then she was kissing him: eagerly. Playfully. Pressing close one moment, then withdrawing a moment later. Her tongue slipping forward… probing hesitantly between his parted lips…
"Mmm, you little tease," he murmured, and amid her muffled laughter they sank backward onto the blanket. It was spring, after all. They were young, and hormones were raging. Here in this secluded corner of the state park no one would be around to watch these two college kids fooling around. And really… so what if anyone did, anyway?
The seconds slipped heedlessly into minutes amid the birdsong and the rustle of leaves and the quiet, muffled moans of the two lovers. His hands groped questioningly for her full breasts. She sighed rapturously… guided his hand deep beneath her top… let out a little gasp of pleasure as his finger and thumb pinched affectionately on one tender nipple. "David, please," she murmured, even as his legs twined around hers and bore her down onto the cotton blanket beneath. "Oh, please, you- Fuck! You're driving me crazy…"
"That's the point," he muttered back into her parted lips – and renewed his tender assault.
"Ooh- oh, but- but no, really-" At the word, he drew back, raising himself on his bare, gym-toned arms to gaze questioningly down at her. "No? Sorry, everything okay, babe?" She blinked up for a moment, then burst into a quiet, sheepish giggle. "Sorry, I- it's so stupid! I just… it's so lame! I didn't pee before we left. And, um, I really gotta go." She sighed and struggled up as he half-rolled away. "Sorry, shitty timing! I- it shouldn't take long-"
"Just go behind a tree or bush or something," he replied, with a brisk glance at the edge of the clearing. His erection was plain beneath his jeans, and as Veronica struggled to her knees she had a perfect view – a visible reminder of his need for her. "No one's out here," he continued. "And I'll let you know if someone does come…"
"Thanks, bae!" As she trotted hastily off toward the nearest cluster of trees, David gazed after her, watching in visible satisfaction as her shapely, short-clad ass waggled its way onward. He reached for the still-uneaten dessert within their picnic basket, his fingers mechanically beginning to unwrap the cupcake as he stared. A meditative expression settled on his face then… a gleam of some new idea dawning in his eye…
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A Halloween Story: Ghost Dick
Content Warning: ghost fucking, cnc, public
It started when I entered the house. My friend's friends rented the place for their halloween party and it looked absolutely awesome. It had everything: it was situated between tall trees, soft lights were scattered all around the place, most of them in carved pumpkins, giving the whole place an eerie glow. Paired with the low and dense fog it looked spooky. They decorated for the occasion as well: plastic skeletons and other fun halloween decorations were cleverly placed all around.
The inside was warm and welcoming, with soft music. There was punch, there were snacks, it was glorious. It was the first time I was really excited for a party like this when I normally tried to avoid too many people at once.
"It's a real haunted house!" my friend promised. Sure, of course it was. The whole thing was more of an old villa that was rented out for parties and such. It had a huge garden and many large rooms, perfect for things like this.
I felt a sudden chill on my nipples, causing them to harden and I was glad for my bra. Weird, though, that the cold would affect them like this. It wasn't particularly cold in the house. I shrugged it off and got myself some punch, mingle with the other guests. I wished that I had plugged my ass up. The weird chill on my nipples would be perfect. My cunt clenched around nothing. A plug up my ass would've made this so much better, but I didn't wanna risk it when there were so many people I didn't know.
There were some seriously awesome costumes all around, making me glad I'd made the effort myself. Spooky snacks and brightly colored drinks made the party perfect. I saw sexy witches and vampires, zombies, skeletons.
Then I felt it again, the sensation at my nipples. It was like something - something -, was touching them. I looked around, one or two women looked a bit funny as well. Was I not the only one? I discreetly swiped a hand down my front, but the sensation didn't stop. I made an excuse and went to one of the bathrooms. To my embarassment I couldn't hold in a moan when my nipples were pinched. My tits have always been sensitive. I stumbled into the bathroom, locked the door. My harsh breathing was loud and I was glad it wasn't a public bathroom where anyone could just walk in. I took a deep breath and slid my top off, then the bra. Yeah, my nipples were hardened and red aching points. They were so stiff and I thought I could see how they were manipulated. As if transparent fingers were there, rolling and pinching them. It certainly felt like it.
I could also feel how my cunt pulsed. I bet it was swollen and puffy, too. Fuck.
"Hey, you ok?" asked someone and knocked. Shit, how long had I stood here, looking at my own tits?
"Yeah, yeah," I said. "Be right out." I slid my bra and top back on. What else was I supposed to do? I unlocked the door to step out just in time for the transparent hands to palm my breasts, weigh them. They rubbed the palms all over my stiff nipples and I felt a gush of my hot wet arousal and squirmed a bit, rubbing my thighs together.
I tried to look normal when I got back to the main area, but soon noticed that I wasn't the only one behaving weird. Not only women, either. A lot of the people around lookd mildly concerned, some downright aroused. I saw cocks tenting pants and people trying to hide movements between their legs.
I wonder what was going on. My arousal peaked when I heard the first loud moan. "Fuck!" a man that was about my age groaned. "Fuck something's sucking my cock, fuck!" He exclaimed and pushed his pants down to reveal a stiff, glossy cock. I was fascinated and I thought, yes, I saw something moving, bobbing up and down his shaft.
The friend that invided me struggled, but something forced her arms up and her top and bra off. "Stop! Stop!" she shrieked but to no avail. Her pants came off too, but her cat ears stayed on as we all got to see her glistening pussy. "Ghosts," she moaned. "Fuckin haunted, house," but she couldn't finish her sentence. I was in the best position to see an invisible cock spreading her lips and sinking deep into her cunt. It was incredible to see her spread around nothing, or, rather, around something invisible.
I felt someone pant against my neck, icy cold. Oh god. The ghosts haunting this house had just waited for this, right? For a group of people to come here voluntarily so that they could fuck them - fuck us. I was pretty sure my ghosts knew that I was enjoying this like the slut I was. A cock was pressed against my ass, slid thorugh my crack and I wriggled my butt against him.
"Come on," I murmured. "Is she goung to be the only once having fun?"
I heard him chuckle. How perfect would it be to have him haunt me daily? To go to work with him there, always being able to touch me like this?
I moaned when I saw my friend sinking to her knees, still shrieking and struggling. She didn't seem to kneel willingly and then I saw why. Another invisible cock speared her asshole. "Get out of my ass! No! Out!" Her body was rocked as the cocks fucked her in tandem.
I looked around to find the other guests in various states of undress. Some were naked, some only lost their pants or their tops. I saw tits shaking with the force of thrusts and cocks being manipulated but the best thing was when the first guy got ghost-cock in his ass. First he struggled like my friend did, but then he really got into it. He begged for more, harder, more more more. I'm sure he came so hard he blacked out for a moment.
And I was denied. The hands still rubbed my tits, pinched my nipples. I barely noticed him undressing me because I was so frustrated. Everyone got cock but not me. When I was naked, I leaned over one of the couches to present my ass and cunt to my ghost. His cock nudged my folds, thick head pressed against my entrance without being pushed in. I tried to wriggle it in, pushed my ass out but he denied me and just started to tease my tits again.
I watched as cunts and asses got fucked. At one point, the ghosts manipulated two guests so they ended up with his cock in her cunt while both were fucked in the ass. Ghostly figures became more and more visible with each orgams.
The ghost teasing me finally gave in. He eased his cock into my cunt slowly and I didn't dare to complain as long as he'd just fuck me. The sensation was incredible. I felt his cold cock in me, spreading me but when I looked behind me, nothing more then a faint outline was there.
My tits jiggled with the steady thrusts. I tried to pinch my own nipples, but an invisible hand batted my hands away and I huffed and moaned, as I felt a mouth at my left tit while the other was being played with by cold fingers. So, a second ghost joined us? I wondered if they were able to stand at the same spot? Once fucking my ass while the other railed my pussy? Could I tempt them?
I reached around and spread my ass cheeks for them. "Slut," the ghost murmured and I felt a finger at the tight ring of muscles. A thumb slid inside.
"Someone better cum on her ass, we need lube," I heard him and wondered if I was the only one. The other gueses didn't seem to communicat with the ghosts at all. I looked for my friend. She was begging and begging for it to stop as she was forced to orgasm agian. When she didn't stop begging, something was shoved down her throat. How many ghosts were here?
I pushed back against the cock fucking me, but the rythm never faltered, torturously precise and slow. My juices were already dripping out of my cunt, down my thighs. I moaned when I felt cold cum on my ass and the tip of a cock between my cheeks.
Oh, god, yes. They could definetly stand on the same spot. The cum was spread around between my cheeks and a thumb slid into my asshole again, deeper this time, to tease me. It was soon replaced by the tip of a stiff, hard cock.
"Please, please, please," I babbled when it forced its way into my ass while I was still pounded from behind. Both cocks pushed deep into me until they were filling me completely. It was wonderful. They pressed me against the couch, forced me to stay still while I was impaled on these gorgeously thick, hard, cold cocks.
"This one's a keeper," one of them said as I struggled to fuck back against them, unable to move, still pressed against the couch.
"Mmm, yeah. You would like that, right, slut?"
The cock in my ass started to move, while the one in my cunt continued to pin me. "We'll choose you. You'll be our slut and toy 'til next year's Halloween." Now both cocks started to move, slid in and out of my holes and I fought to keep my eyes from rolling backwards. "You see how many of you are getting fucked right now? The next 364 days all of them will only fuck you. All day, every day." They started to move faster, harder. I panted, moaned. Yes, fuck. "Get used to two cocks in your slutty holes, make it three. You'll never be empty again as along as you're ours."
They fucked my wildly, forcefully and pushed me over the edge one time, two times, three times. Countless times as each and every ghost in this fucking villa filled me with cold cum.
And as they promised, the whole year at least one cock was up one of my holes no matter the time or the place I was.
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"Oh, um… what was that? You're with who?"
Angela pressed her phone closer to her ear, her attention focused on the staticky masculine voice emanating from the tiny speaker. "Medical research… checking in… survey… if you have time… gift card…"
She sighed. But then, with a resigned glance around the empty bedroom room, nodded to her invisible caller. "Uh, sure. Sure, I guess I can do that." She bounced gently in place, her half-naked body swaying gracefully as she maintained her balance. "What's the first question?"
"Uhh… oh. That? Really?"
Her eyes dropped in a sudden flash of self-consciousness, and her fingers fidgeted at the plastic waistband of her gaily decorated diaper. "Uh, yeah. Completely incontinent." A pause, and then a shake of the head. "No- not really. No medication- Nope, nothing else. Just… yeah. Just the… what you said. 'Protective briefs'."
Her mouth twisted into a wry smile at the phrase, and again she glanced downward – this time in silent amusement at the odd euphemisms folks loved to use for an ordinary diaper. "Umm… three times a day? Sometimes four." Another pause, while her fingers strayed downward and probed unconsciously at the cotton and plastic bunched between her naked thighs. A bit wet. Nothing major. "No, not really. Just a little chafing now and then, but nothing serious." Another pause. "Oh, relationship? Yeah, married."
On and on it went, question after probing question. Her family history. Her hobbies. Whether and how her condition interfered with them. Occupation. And so on, and so forth, as the clock ticked on and her patience grew ever more thin.
But finally came a truly unexpected question: one that brought the already awkward conversation to a full stop. Angela hesitated, eyes flicking downward and back as she considered her response. "Uhh…" Fingers slipped over the sensitive regions between her legs, so amply protected by the thick garment she wore. Then… with a naughty grin and flushing cheeks, she leaned closer and spoke.
"No, actually, my husband loves it. Tell you the truth, we actually both love it."
She grinned to herself, and now her fingers were steadily stroking at her padded crotch. "Sure! Umm, lots of reasons. I don't have to run to the bathroom constantly, for one thing. And, um, I don't have to worry about accidents anymore." She paused, then shrugged as if her polite discretion had entirely evaporated along with her patience. "And, I mean… have you ever worn one, mister? They're freaking comfortable! And listen: when you feel everything just let go and you absolutely soak them full… uuhnnnn…!"
It was nothing short of a full-throated moan of undisguised pleasure. A devious grin spread across her face as she cocked her head, listening to the stuttering fellow on the other end trying to recover his composure. "Everything okay there?" A few seconds paused, and then she grew thoughtful once more. "Oh, okay. What I'd like to see in future products? Hmm, let me think…"
She gave her diaper a quick squeeze, then broke silence once more. "Well, there's two things, actually! First off, these diapers of mine need to be a heck of a lot cheaper – like, half what they are now. And then… I mean, since you're asking…" Here she trailed off, and once again a devilish grin flashed across her face. "Honestly, I think they need to be much thicker, and far less discreet. Because after all, mister… when a naughty girl like me piddles in her pants non-stop, don't you think she deserves to have everyone know about it? Don't you think she ought to be absolutely humiliated for being such a wet, dirty little diaper girl?"
She laughed then – a full-throated, lusty laugh of confidence and derision at her stunned interviewer. "Aww, what's the matter? Done with your questions already? Or did you want me to tell you more about how badly I need my diapers?"
Perhaps it was for the best that the poor fellow on the other end couldn't see Angela once she hung up and tossed her phone onto the bed beside her. Though then again… the way she began shamelessly grinding her padded crotch into her defenseless pillow would at the very least have been…
Educational, perhaps? Or at the very least, informative. Because maybe, just maybe, he'd have learned that dealing with a disability could actually be a hell of a lot of fun.
Image Credit: DiaperGal.com
Be sure to check out my Patreon here if you want to read more of my naughty short stories!
“Hehe, you didn’t know what you were getting…ugh…yourself…ugh…into…prfff…did you?”
Jacklyn was giddy with excitement. She had raised her dress to show you her diaper. You were stunned when you saw the bulge appear and the diaper grow yellow. How could you have thought that this cute girl was a grown and sexy woman? Something evidently not the case. The date had gone extremely well. She did invite you back to her house, didn’t she? That her parents were there was the first sign that something was wrong. The second was when she immediately, and publicly, changed out of her big girl clothes upon arrival into a little girl’s dress. Meanwhile, “Mommy” checked her and decided Jacklyn needed a change. Then, Mommy decided that you needed a change, because:
“Little boys should be in diapers" and that she “didn’t want any accidents.” It didn’t matter that both you and Jacklyn were in your twenties.
So there you were, in just a diaper and a t-shirt, in Jacklyn’s nursery.
“Give it a try.” Jacklyn said. “I like you and if you want, you can stay. You won’t have to work, my parents will take care of everything. We can still go out and do grown-up things whenever we want…or stay in and do grown-up things whenever we want. What do you say? Wanna be a baby?”
The Tantrum (Part 1)
A three-part ABDL romance. All characters are 18+. CW: Diapers, Spanking, Bondage, Messing, Wetting
Katelyn pulled into the driveway, her hands tight on the wheel and stereo loud enough to make it shake.
“Fuck my life,” she sighed to herself, before switching off the engine.
She breathed in deep, held it until the count of three, then breathed out what was supposed to be a controlled exhale but was really an angry huff. She huffed again and grabbed her bag, climbing out of the car and slamming the door behind her, only to be yanked backwards when she tried to storm off.
Katelyn whirled around and saw her coat caught in the door. Glaring, she gave it a vicious yank, which turned into her falling on her butt when the thrifted wool tore with a thunderous riiiip.
“Oh come on!” she whined, slamming her hands on the pavement, which was quickly followed by “Owww.”
After giving the driveway a dirty look, she stormed up to the house, holding back tears threatening to break through the thunderclouds on her face.
It had been another shitty Friday in a long string of shitty Fridays (and Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays...), and as was the case after every shitty day, Katelyn had a lazer focus on the bottle of wine waiting in the fridge.
Drink to forget your day, and any part you might have played in it. A flawless plan.
She took a bit more care closing the front door, but still managed a gunshot slam. With a couple kicks, her heels arced down the hall, and she tossed her bag in the direction of the couch, wincing when the loud thud announced she’d missed her target. That just added to her burning frustration, and she whipped off her torn coat and kicked it in the direction of the closet.
From around the corner she could hear chopping and frying and felt a pang of annoyance at the thought of interacting with another human. Even Ryan. But still, she followed the smell of sizzling onions.
Ryan looked up from the cutting board as she stomped in, his smile falling to something more cautious when he saw her face.
“How was your day, honey?”
Katelyn made no stop on her way to the fridge, hunting for the chilled red she brought home last night.
“Fine. I don’t really want to talk about it.”
She moved to the cupboard to grab the big wine glass, the one Ryan jokingly called her wine bowl, before remembering it was still in sink.
“You know you can talk to me.”
Katelyn sighed as she pulled the wine glass out of the dirty pile and started swishing some soapy water in it.
“I know,” she said a little too quickly, scrubbing at the wine residue.
“Okay.” The chopping got louder.
Once the glass hit ‘good enough,’ Katelyn went for the corkscrew, tugging open the bottle with practiced hands. She gave herself a generous pour (Ryan didn’t drink the stuff anyway) and turned to go nest on the couch when she saw what he was sliding into the skillet.
“You’re using carrots?”
Ryan looked at her surprised, stirring the pan as the sweet fragrance made Katelyn wrinkle her nose.
“Yeah, we both agreed we need more vegetables. It was on the meal plan.”
A moment of guilt cross her mind as she remembered the digital meal planner, the one she still hadn’t opened. But the guilt was quickly overwhelmed as her mind conjured the revolting taste of carrot.
“You know I hate carrots. I’m not eating that.”
Mentally, she was already on UberEats. She’d done burgers three nights ago, maybe tonight she’d go KFC.
Ryan didn't look up from the stove, his voice flat.
“Katie, I’ve been cooking since I got home. We planned one meal tonight, no takeout. Can you at least try it?”
She knew he was right, which was maybe why she felt a helpless rage flare up. Was it too much to ask for some comfort food after the day she’d had? The week? The month? The tears were threatening again and her mind flashed back to the work lunch, the one hadn’t even wanted to go to, but Mr. Henderson had to be wined and dined…
“I’m not eating it!” she said, surprising herself at the volume.
She needed out of there, away from Ryan and his carrots. She whirled around, moving just a little to fast, and felt a cold splash hit her chest.
Katelyn froze at the sight of red wine soaking into her best work blouse.
“Oh Katie.” Ryan had sympathy pain all over his face, but somehow that just made it worse. She couldn’t stop herself from stomping her foot for real this time, sloshing more wine on the floor.
“Don’t mock me!” Ryan was getting blurry as she blinked hard. “None of this would have happened if you just cooked something good!”
There was a hint of danger in Ryan’s voice as he grabbed a dish cloth from the sink.
“I haven’t made you do anything, and I would appreciate it if you started acting like a grown up. Do you want help cleaning up?”
Katelyn snatched the cloth out his hand and started dabbing her ruined shirt, for all the good it would do.
“I’ve had a really hard day and I just want food I can eat,” she mumbled, trying to keep her voice from breaking.
Ryan sighed. “You’ve had a lot of hard days lately, and we’ve had a lot of takeout lately. Can you please just try it?”
Katelyn gave up dabbing and flung the cloth back at him, unintentional aiming for his face, which Ryan narrowly caught.
“Fine!”
She was about to storm out when Ryan grabbed her wrist and spun her back to face him. His eyes locked on hers and she felt a small flicker in her chest from the times when he’d had more fun reasons to give her that look.
“If you keep acting like a toddler having a tantrum, I’m going to treat you like one. Is that what you want?”
Those words …
Even in her frustration and anger, a memory surfaced, that very specific phrase and the gravity of the question. She looked into her fiance’s serious eyes. It had to have been over a year since they’d practiced this exchange, well before her promotion. But faced with the real deal for the first time, she felt her subconscious make the decision for her.
“Fuck off!” she said, and pulled her hand free to slap him.
Ryan caught it with a much less gentle grip. A shiver ran through her as she looked up at him and felt the weight of the pact she’d just signed.
“This has been a long time coming.” Ryan grabbed her other wrist and started pulling her out of the kitchen.
“Stop it! Let me go, asshole!”
Katelyn leaned back and dug her heels in, but it hardly slowed Ryan down. Her fiance dragged her down the hall with ease, her hands trapped in an iron grip and sock feet sliding easily. Her rage was back in full force and she leaned into it, no filter.
“Fuck you! I hate you!”
She tried kicking him, but instead lost her balance and slipped on to her butt, and Ryan just swirled her around and started dragging her backwards as she kicked her feet uselessly. Soon she was sitting at the foot of their bed, and a second later he hoisted her up and over his lap.
Katelyn thrashed as best she could, but Ryan had her pinned, her body pitched forward, keeping her off balance. She felt cold air hit her butt as her pants were tugged down to her ankles and was about to unleash a string of obscenities when the first thunderous WACK! struck her ass.
“Do you know why you’re in trouble?”
The spank shocked her, but Katelyn wasn’t done fighting.
“Because my boyfriend is a stupid carrot-loving dick!”
WACK! WACK! WACK! WACK!
The ferociousness of each spank killed any smart comments she had stored up, drowned in the pain radiating from her backside.
“Is it maybe because you’ve been acting like a selfish baby for months now?”
WACK! WACK!
“You’ve left messes everywhere.”
WACK! WACK!
“You’ve been incredibly rude.”
WACK! WACK!
“And you’re drunk every other night.”
WACK! WACK!
“You’ve” WACK! “Been.” WACK! “A.” WACK! “Very.” WACK! “Bad.” WACK! “Girl!”
There was no stopping the tears now --- every spank drove coherent thought further from her mind, leaving only the pain, anger and fear to finally boil over as Ryan’s hand rained down again and again.
Katelyn sobbed.
(Part 2)
How many stories have you completed?
I had to go back and count. "Completed" being the operative word. I am terrible at finishing or adding chapters to longer stories. I tend to either lose steam or not know where to take the story. But I compiled almost everything I've written that's over 3k words. I tried to post links to the ones that have previews/full-releases on free sites. All of them can be found on Patreon:
The Boss' Baby
Besties - Part 1 , Part 2
Big Daddy
Date Night
Diaper Cuck - Excerpt 1 , Excerpt 2
DREAMS Daycare
Egg Hunt
Feels Like The First Time
Here Comes the Airpwane
Maw
Meet The Parents - Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3
Monitored
Practice Makes Perfect
Princess Pampers
Prudish
Reflections
Rent-A-Bull
Road Trip
Season's Greetings
Severance
Stuffed
Tales From a Mommy Blog
The Baby Shower
The Box
The Check-Up
The Satin Sock
The Wet Nurse
Tinder Love and Care
Under His Thumb
Weekend Services
You Should Smile More
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Ongoing/Abandoned Projects
ABCDegree
Go Ask Alex
Hoetel Bimbo
Joy Ride
New World Order
Sissy School - Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8
Sorority Boys - Chapter 1, Chapter 2
The Hunt
The White Rabbit
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This obviously doesn't include the mini-stories and captions I've written, but I'm not about to go back and count all of those, lol.
I'm going to pin this post if that's okay. I've been meaning to catalogue this for a long time, so thanks for this question to finally make me get off my lazy ass and do it. I will try to update as more gets released.
If you'd like to find my on other sites, here's All My Links
The Sissy Godmother, Pt. 1
DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, magical transformation, humiliation, crossdressing, hypermessing, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!
Commissioned By: Bricks66
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“For the last time, Lane, studying means phones off!”
Looking up from his cracked textbook, it was safe to say Josh was on edge. It was the Friday night before finals week and the 4.0 dean’s list student was cracking the whip hard against the backs of his two far less intelligent buddies. Sighing off his annoyance, he questioned in his brain why he continued to study with Lane considering his stoner ass was at risk of failing half his classes. However, a soft punch on his shoulder quickly reminded him why he put up with Lane’s bullshit.
“Oh, go easy on him, Joshy. He’s been trying harder than usual lately and I know that’s because of you. Plus, it’s nearly midnight,” said Ruby, a tall and sporty girl coasting on an athletic scholarship, as she scooted her chair closer to Josh and threw her arm around him. In the back of her mind, she wanted to strangle her childhood friend for making a fool of himself during their study session again. After nearly flunking out of college the year prior, she had made a point to get Lane the help he needed to earn his degree. Sadly, despite finding him the best possible tutor in Josh, he was still as spacey as ever.
Sliding his phone into his backpack begrudgingly, Lane set his head down on the notebook in front of him, his brain fried as his group surpassed the four-hour mark of their first of three cram study sessions this weekend. “Ugh! We’ve been going at this for hours,” he whined, fed up with reading lines of small text, “Ya know, this would take so much less time if you’d just let me-”
“For the last time, I’m not giving you my notes and that’s final,” scoffed Josh, not wanting to entertain the idea of committing academic dishonesty just to get Lane out of his hair. Frustrated by Lane’s frequent interruptions, he got up from his chair, deciding he needed to clear his head by getting some air, “I’m going to grab an energy drink from the vending machine. Do you guys want anything?”
Earning a pair of no’s from Lane and Ruby, Josh exited the room and buried his face in the crux of his elbow before letting out a muffled scream. “Oh, my Goddess! S-She was so close…” he thought, raising a tender hand to the spot on his shoulder that Ruby had punched. Lane may have been a lot to put up with but it would all be worth it if he could land Ruby by the end of the school year. Shaking off his momentary euphoria, he quickly sped-walked down the dimly lit hallway, securing himself an energy drink before briskly returning to his group's private study room.
*SNOOOOOOOOOORE!*
Upon re-entering the room, Josh’s shoulders slumped as he listened to the pair of besties snoring away as they lay against their unfinished workbooks. Sighing dejectedly, he decided to be merciful for Ruby’s sake, softly resting a blanket across her shoulders before grabbing a seat and digging back into his studies. He may have been tutoring Lane and Ruby but he still had his own grades to worry about.
*DONG! DONG! DONG!*
Off in the distance, Josh listened to the campus clock towers booming chimes, alerting him to the fact that the day was about to roll over. He sat back in his chair and rubbed his tired eyes, determined to get in at least one more good hour to study time. However, as his fist dug into his droopy eyelids, he failed to notice the window beginning to crack open, accompanied by a gentle wind that carried with it a glittery sheen. A sheen that began to swirl in place, creating a vortex in the corner of the study room.
Alerted by the sudden cacophony of noise, Josh jumped to his feet and backed away as the shimmering tornado sent loose papers flying all around. To his surprise, both Ruby and Lane remained in their peaceful slumbers despite the noisy ruckus.
“Hello, my child. I heard the sweet voice of a little girl calling out to me. And so, here I am,” said a very high-pitched, feminine voice, projecting itself from the center of the vortex. As the wind began to subside, the vortex dissipated, revealing a gorgeous, middle-aged woman with bright red hair and a ball gown that occupied nearly a quarter of the room’s standing space, “Fear not, your Fairy Godmother is here to make your grandest dreams come true.”
Shrinking down against the wall until his butt was parked against the study room floor, Josh was at a loss for words as he stared blankly up at the mysterious, mystical woman that stood before him. He slowly pushed himself back up on shaky legs and began inching his way toward the door as if he could move slow enough to go undetected by whoever this magical girl was. While he didn’t exactly want to leave Ruby in the hands of this woman, he was nowhere near brave enough to risk his own neck for a girl he only had a crush on.
Unfortunately, just as Josh was about to grab onto the door handle, his body froze with the Fairy Godmother pointing her wand directly at him. Flicking her wand, she forced Josh to turn and approach her, controlling each of his limbs effortlessly. “Now, where do you think you’re running off to, my child? You don’t want to miss your big debut,” she cooed, believing she knew every desire that laid dormant in Josh’s head.
“Listen, I don’t know who the fuck you are, lady, and I don’t care! If you really want to make my dreams come true or whatever, then you’ll leave right now and never come back!” shouted Josh, his fear and annoyance over being ripped away from his studies yet again causing a brief outburst.
Sadly, when it came to outbursts, the Fairy Godmother had a zero-tolerance policy. “Well, this attitude of yours just won’t do. Don’t worry, your Fairy Godmother is here to help put an end to those pesky, hypermasculine feelings,” she said, snapping her fingers and causing a binky to magically appear in his mouth before he could say another word.
“MMMMMMMH! W-WUH?!” muttered Josh, who practically went cross-eyed trying to see what this magical woman had done to him. Sure enough, there was a white paci guard with bright pink accents hanging from his mouth. He instantly moved to spit it out but was flabbergasted when he found that the rubber bulb managed to evade any attempt to push it out from between his lips. Sadly, his transformation was far from over.
Looking satisfied with herself, the Godmother started to wave her wand in small circles, producing a plethora of fairy dust in the process. That fairy dust wafted throughout the study room, compiling around Josh’s feet. He looked down, terrified, and tried to move for the door in hopes of escaping before the situation developed into something far worse. Tragically, he found himself unable to move his legs due to the strength of the Fairy Godmother’s magic.
“Try to relax, my dear. I promise you’ll feel much less aggression soon enough,” said the Godmother, giggling as she continued to spin a glittery web around Josh’s body. Starting from his feet and gradually rising up his slender legs, the shoes around Josh’s feet began to transform in both color and texture, softening the soles and altering the color until they were pastel pink, “Adorable! I’ll bet those booties are much more comfortable.”
In Josh’s eyes, this was utter madness. It should be impossible to transform a person's clothing with a flick of a wand. And yet, it was hard to deny what he was seeing with his own eyes. Traveling up his legs, he watched in horror as his jeans split along the middle of his thighs. The severed pant legs latched onto his legs, hugging them as the material shifted into thin, stocking material.
Meanwhile, the top half of Josh’s pants, along with his underwear, began to bunch up around his junk. Regrettably, it was a far more pleasurable sensation than he wanted to admit as the softening fabric of his undies and scratchy jeans produced a small tent, much to his dismay.
The Fairy Godmother, on the other hand, was beyond ecstatic to spot this development. “See? I knew you’d start enjoying yourself once the diaper appeared,” she said, humming a merry tune as her sparkling dust continued to encircle her hapless victim.
“D-Diapew?!” shrieked Josh as the color drained from his pants, leaving them as pure white as his tighty-whities. Having already smoothed out the rough jean material, it took little time for them to finish their transformation into the crinkly outer plastic of his new diaper. Underneath, his underwear became much thinner, turning into the diaper’s mesh lining before he could blink. From there, he watched with widening eyes as the diaper slowly expanded outward, forcing his legs apart and rounding out until it had formed the biggest nappy he had ever laid eyes on. To his dismay, this only increased the softness and coziness that surrounded his privates, amplifying his reluctant arousal.
Clapping her hands together, the Fairy Godmother was quite pleased with herself in spite of Josh’s less-than-ecstatic expression. “You’ll love this next part! I consider myself quite the wardrobe specialist,” she said as her magical vortex engulfed Josh’s torso, targeting his button-up shirt. One by one, each of the buttons lining his chest and stomach fell to the floor as the two halves of his shirt merged together before stretching down and wrapping around his padded bottom, forming a form-fitting onesie. As a finishing touch, a pair of lace frills flared out around his hips and bottom as his outfit shifted in color from white to pastel pink, making it match his booties.
At last, Josh’s ensemble was complete. As the swirling tornado of glitter settled to the floor and disappeared, he felt whatever was locking his body in place vanish as well, allowing him to move. While only a minute prior, he would’ve bolted toward the exit with his newfound freedom, now that he had fully undergone his wardrobe transformation, he instead used his regained mobility to stomp up to the Fairy Godmother with red in his eyes. “I…you...GAH!” he screamed, failing to find the exact words to express his anger, especially with the pacifier in the way.
Unfortunately, the Fairy Godmother was more than happy to fill in the blanks of Josh’s stuttered speech. “No need to thank me, child. I know you’re a little overwhelmed right now but trust me when I say you may just be the cutest mortal I’ve come into contact with,” she said, sending him into a frustrated temper tantrum as he furiously tried to remove any article of his infantile ensemble. Sadly, he couldn’t even pry the binky from his mouth, much less remove any of the other sissy paraphernalia.
Witnessing his tantrum, the Godmother could only shake her head. “Still resisting your heart’s inner desires, I see. Don’t worry, I can help with that too,” she said, stepping forward and raising her wand to Josh’s forehead. Before he knew what was happening, she tapped him on the forehead, causing him to freeze in place instantly.
*GUUUUUUUUURRRRRRGGGGLE!!!*
In the blink of an eye, Josh’s mind emptied itself of all the knowledge he had worked so hard to gain from primary school all the way through college. That knowledge snaked his way through his body, passing from his head to his bowels in one fluid motion. There was only one thing left to do.
*BLOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRT!!!*
As the back of Josh’s diaper expanded, so too did the dopey smile on his face. What was he so worried about, again? The only thing he remembered was feeling an impossible tightness in his belly. Thankfully, the easiest way to fix that was to push as hard as he could, which he was more than happy to do. Once his messing finally came to an end, he plopped down onto the floor, merrily smushing the mushy contents of his diaper in the process. With a jolly, unashamed smile, he reached forward and grabbed onto his feet, giggling as he wiggled his fingers between his toes.
“Aww, isn’t that so much better, my child?’ said the Godmother, ruffling Josh’s hair as she made her way back to the window, “Sadly, while I’d love to stay and fawn over you, I must be off to my next assignment. Farewell, my child, and enjoy your new life.” As a finishing touch, she waved her wand over Josh’s head and showered him with glitter, magically making him irresistible to anyone with a caregiver’s heart. With her work now finished, she snapped her fingers and vanished into a ball of light before zooming out the window, leaving behind a trail of sparkles and a brand new sissy for his friends to find when they woke up.
TO BE CONTINUED…
PART 2 (COMING SOON) PART 3 (COMING SOON)
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Edited by AllySmolShork
Pacifying the Party Girl (AB/DL Collaboration)
To celebrate her first year of HRT, Zoey decides to hit the clubs and party it up - and she can’t resist the temptation to do so in diapers. Meanwhile, Dianne is on the lookout for someone to care for - And when they find each other, sparks fly.
This story contains exhibitionism, praise, public diaper use, and chastity.
…
I wrote this story as part of a collaboration with three other wonderful creators - Ko, HofBondage, and FlashyFlesh! Once their respective sections are uploaded, I’ll update this post with links.
Ko created the original story concept and a lot of the outlining, and also wrote the other half of this story, told from the Baby’s perspective.
I wrote the section here - The PoV of the dominant, Dianne!
HofBondage and FlashyFlesh both did illustrations of several points in the story - They’re so freakin’ hot and wonderful, I can’t wait to share them.
…
Dianne didn’t believe in luck.
Everything in her life happened for a reason. The energy she put out into the world? It came right back to her. When life presented opportunities, she always did her best to take them while thanking life for the favor.
This philosophy had treated her well. Though she tried to remain humble, she’d had success in all her affairs, and that success bred confidence–as well as the ability to watch for further opportunity.
And tonight she certainly saw opportunity.
The club, “The Dream Mode”, wasn’t one she frequented often, but it could occasionally be a good spot for opportunity seeking, and she was friends with several people on the staff. The weekend DJ had been in her sorority, she’d seen the bartender at a few dungeon events, and many patrons were in Dianne’s sphere of friends, ranging from close colleagues to besties.
She’d felt the call to the bar that night and, trusting her instincts, sought out the place and ordered herself a little cocktail to enjoy while watching the dancers.
And, as she’d suspected, life had given her an opportunity tonight in the form of a precious young girl with more enthusiasm than sense.
Dianne noticed the girl as soon as she entered the bar, dressed up like a goth princess. Her clothes’ style screamed ‘You can’t tell me what to do’, but the color and her hair suggested a softer, cuter side, and the collar all but announced the antithesis–please tell me what to do.
Even so, Dianne didn’t make a move yet. She watched. There were other candidates that night, other possibilities that life may be pulling her towards.
As the girl began to dance, though, Dianne knew that this goth princess was the one she’d come for. As she jumped and spun and gyrated, the girl’s tripp skirt raised, showing off–to Dianne’s delight–the unmistakable outline of a diaper, and the unmistakable print of a Bunny Hop at that.
The girl was a Little, and that all but demanded Dianne’s intervention before she left the bar without a mistress to care for her.
She began their interaction with a subtle nod. A suggestion, of sorts, ordering the girl a drink. Without a name, Dianne decided to simply think of her as the Baby, until she learned otherwise.
And maybe, even after she learned otherwise, she’d still think of the Baby as such.
After receiving Dianne’s message, the Baby glanced back her way and smiled. She looked pleased and, perhaps, a little shy–but not so shy that she melted away and fled. Instead, she flounced past Dianne on her way back to the floor, wiggling her crinkling bottom as she passed.
It was as though the Baby wanted Dianne to notice, so it was just as well that Dianne had.
And if she was that confident in herself, Dianne really needed to provide for her a strong, guiding hand.
Stalking across the dance floor, Dianne approached the girl, who had begun dancing with reckless abandon, her eyes closed. Choosing a bold first encounter, she stepped in and looped a finger through the loop in the girl’s collar, pulling her a half step forward–not so forcefully that it’d hurt, just enough to jolt her.
Beaming with dominant energy, she sent her parting shot over. “Hello there, little girl. You sure are enjoying yourself tonight.”
“H-hello yourself,” the girl replied. Dianne’s heart leapt, this baby was adorable. Her attempt to sound confident rendered her down to a toddler, claiming she hadn’t gotten into the cookie jar without wiping the crumbs off her face.
Pulling her finger away, Dianne began to dance, reaching out to the baby’s hips and resting her hands on the poor girl’s diaper.
“Dance with me,” she said, not a request, a statement. She could call it, ‘Manifesting the world she wanted to see’, or she could just call it control, but the effect was the same. The baby nodded and obeyed, blushing brightly all the while.
Hands placed firmly over the baby’s diaper, with only a thin skirt between her and the crinkly padding, they danced. It wasn’t the right music for a slow dance with a lot of touching, but Dianne moved their bodies in a rhythm of her choosing, moving her hands up and down the baby, engaging in close contact.
She moved with an almost protective aura. She’d staked her claim on this little girl, and now they danced together, with Dianne warding off anyone who might come close in subtle ways, placing her body so that she was the baby’s whole world, her sole focus and the object of her attention.
When the time was right, in a lull between songs, Dianne moved behind the baby and wrapped her arm around the girl. She ran her hand up the girl’s thigh, finally pressing her palm into the front of the girl’s thick diapers. Leaning in to whisper in the baby’s ear, she stated, “Show me you’re a good little girl. Wet your diaper.” She didn’t say it in a condescending or mean way, but just as a statement–if the baby was good, her diaper would be wet.
The baby glanced back at her, anxious but pliable, biting her lip.
“What’s the matter? Did you not hear me?” Dianne asked, dropping her voice even lower. “Do I need to speak louder, sweetheart, so everyone can hear? Good girls wet their diapers.”
Shutting her eyes, the girl did what was only natural. She proved to Dianne that she was good, and obedient, and more than willing to obey. The warmth spread quickly as the baby followed instructions, flooding the padding thoroughly, urine wicking into the absorbent padding and making the diaper sag ever so slightly.
She’d stopped dancing. It was adorable. The baby was so focused on obeying, on being good, that she’d forgotten everything around her. To remind the girl of where she was, Dianne pressed her hand into the squelching diaper, giving it a squeeze. “Good girl, I knew you could do it,” she purred.
To Dianne’s delight, the girl squeaked in submission. Truly, the universe had given her a precious gift today, even if the baby tried to hide it and tamp down on any other little sounds.
“Tsk,” she warned, reaching down for the girl’s purse.
The girl resisted, but Dianne gave her a light swat to the thigh and she melted back into obedience. Going through the contents of the purse, she made a mental catalog–the baby had really come prepared.
“Enough pretending you’re big,” she stated, listing out what she saw as she came across it. “Miss Dianne wants to see what you have–powder, wipes, lotion, spare diapers. You’re a smart girl, right, you remembered to bring a change, and–ah, there it is.”
Before the baby could ask what she’d found, Dianne produced the baby’s pacifier and plopped it into the girl’s lips. She reached up, to cover the pacifier and remove it, but a firmer swat to her thigh and a dominant glance was enough to demolish the girl’s resistance.
“No no, sweetie, you keep that in. Nurse your paci, little girl, and Miss Dianne will take care of everything else.” To emphasize what ‘everything else’ meant, she gave the baby’s diaper another squeeze. “Don’t worry–nobody will know you’re a baby, they’ll just think you’re on molly.”
The girl nodded meekly. Putty in the hands of a strong woman, Dianne wanted to swaddle her up and protect her from the whims of the universe.
“Tell me your name,” she said.
“Zoey,” the girl mumbled, over her pacifier.
“Little Baby Zoey,” Dianne purred, letting the name float across her tongue. Running her fingers down the back of Zoey’s diaper, she decided to try something. This baby needed to be cared for, and Dianne had just the thing. “You flooded your diapers–we need to step aside to make sure you don’t leak.”
If Zoey even noticed the other dancers anymore, Dianne suspected it was only barely.
Moving her hand from the diaper to Zoey’s hand, Dianne walked off the stage and, as expected, felt no resistance. Baby Zoey followed with complete deference, off to a shady corner of the nightclub where no lights shone. It wouldn’t be private, but it’d be private enough.
Sliding the purse off Zoey’s shoulder, Dianne set it on the table by their side, turning the girl so that she faced the dance floor. “All you need to do is stand there and look pretty,” she promised.
The baby let out a squeak, the universal language version of, ‘I’m a helpless little girl,’ and Dianne proceeded with her plan.
“If you keep using your diaper–which a good little girl will do–you’re going to leak,” she explained, as her hands worked under Zoey’s skirt, feeling up her sodden diaper. With a sharp fingernail, she pierced the plastic shell of Zoey’s diaper, tearing a long slit from the front to the back. Zoey squeaked again, and Dianne whispered, “Shh, just hold still.”
Three more parallel slits into Zoey’s diaper created open channels, enough for fluids to easily drain. Now came the fun part, as she reached into Zoey’s purse–her diaper bag, really–and produced another diaper, unfolding it discreetly behind Zoey’s back.
In the dark corner, most onlookers would assume Dianne was just feeling her up, at least at a glance. Sure, there were some obvious tells that something more was going on, but Dianne was counting on the fact that, in a crowded nightclub, most eyes would be on the gyrating asses and dancing hotties on the floor, not the quietly meeping baby in the corner.
Sliding the diaper up beneath Zoey’s skirts, Dianne worked by sense of touch to wrap it around her waist. Zoey continued making little helpless squeaking sounds over her pacifier, but Dianne’s touch remained gentle as she smoothed out the crinkling plastic shell, pressing the diaper into Zoey, and smoothing out the tapes so that they stuck securely.
While she was doing so, she felt a bulge in the front of Zoey’s diaper. That settled one thing she’d been curious about, though she wouldn’t bring it up until Zoey did.
“Good girl,” she whispered from behind, into Zoey’s ear. “Now you don’t have to worry about leaks at all!”
Baby Zoey nodded meekly. Obediently. Such a good baby.
“You need to drink more water,” Dianne instructed. “Then come back to me. I want to dance again.”
Adorably, Zoe’s doubly-diapered waddle and choice of bottoms worked together to make her diaper poke out as she left, visible with every step beneath her flapping skirt. She was precious, with the sort of innocence that made Dianne’s heart melt.
While she was gone, Dianne steadied herself. She couldn’t get carried away, and wouldn’t push this girl too far. If the girl was that naive to how obvious her diaper was–and it really didn’t seem like she was choosing exhibitionism–then she truly needed a protector to shield that innocence.
Though, at the same time–the girl had chosen to come to a bar wearing a diaper, purely for her own gratification. She wasn’t that kind of innocent, and Dianne felt no compunctions about making Zoey helpless along that vector.
When Zoey returned, Dianne’s heart melted by another degree as she saw Zoey had brought back a sippy cup. Admittedly, it had lewd stickers and the bar logo printed on the side, and it probably came out for the Kandy Kid ravers fairly often, but in Zoey’s hands it just screamed, ‘I’m a little baby.’
“That’s cute,” she said, nodding at the cup with an amused smile. “The bartender could tell you’re still a little baby.”
Zoey responded by making a face, arguing her maturity in the most childish way possible. “Nuh uh, it was a joke an I…ummm…I though’ she knew…”
Dianne’s smile widened, though she wondered if Zoey’s slurring was a toddlerish aspect, or a sign that she’d had more than water in the past moment. “You should have a seat, little Zoey, and drink your water. Take care of your body. Okay?” Nodding to a box to the side, the sort of wide low rectangle that could be dragged out and used as a raised dancing or performing platform, she helped Zoey move to sit on it.
“Thanou… I shoudn…” The girl pulled out her pacifier, holding it in her hand as she confirmed Dianne’s suspicion. “I shouldn’t have gotten more shots…you were right about the water. ”
Heart swelling, Dianne’s instincts kicked in. This girl needed a Mommy, not just a Mommy Dom. “Zoey, that’s not what you were supposed to do. You want to be a good girl, and that’s not what good girls do. How is your head feeling?”
Zoey bit her lip, avoiding eye contact and staring at her lap. “It’s fine, well… a little spinny, but not bad… and I do want I be a good girl, I was just being dumb and not thinking. I’m sorry Miss.”
“You’re not dumb.” This girl… Dianne took a breath, resisting the urge to drag Zoey into a hug. “You just need a grown up to help take care of you. This is your first night out as a little girl, isn’t it?”
A little squeak escaped Zoey’s lips, and for a half second, Dianne worried she’d said something wrong. After catching herself, though, Zoey continued. “Well, I’ve been out padded before, but never to the club. Actually this is my first time at the club in over a year… I’m kind of here to celebrate something.”
A few thoughts all rose to the surface in Dianne’s mind. Rather than speak her theory aloud, though, she put her hands on Zoey’s and let the baby explain for herself in her own time. “Oh? I’m afraid I don’t have a present for you, but I’m sure whatever the occasion is, it’s very special.”
“Honestly, all the fun and attention is far more than I could’ve asked for from anyone… that being said…” Zoey closed her eyes and took a breath, like she was about to jump of a cliff. “… the thing is… I’m a trans woman. I started HRT a year ago.”
(This baby!) Dianne’s hands tightened over Zoey’s. “Oh, you sweet little thing. Thank you for telling me, but that doesn’t change anything to me.” Worried that she might be coming on too strong, too protective, she added a quip. “Then again, that explains why you’re such a baby–you’re only one!”
Zoey’s eyes watered, but she took the branch of humor and kept herself together. “Hmph! I’m four. I’m practically a big girl even.” She stuck out her tongue, and Dianne was almost surprised that she didn’t add in a raspberry.
“Uh-huh.” Playing along, Dianne lifted the sippy cup, prodding the sipper in between Zoey’s lips “Well, birthday girl, I want you to have a nice time, but since you’re a little tipsy, we need to make sure you’re okay first, okay?”
Zoey nodded obediently. “Yes ma'am.” When she spoke, the water she’d been sipping on dribbled down her chin, further reinforcing Dianne’s vision of her as all-but helpless. For some reason, the baby giggled, dribbling even more water, and a furtive glance downward suggested why.
Reaching down, Dianne gave the baby’s diaper another squeeze. “We’re going to sit here for a little while until your head stops spinning.” Zoey opened her mouth, but Dianne shook her head and pushed the sippy cup back between her lips. “Shh, just listen. I need you to listen, so you can be good.”
Zoey nodded.
Good girl. Dianne clasped Zoey’s hands tightly. “If I say you’re going to do something, and you don’t feel safe, you’re going to tell me. If I ask if you’re okay, you’re going to tell me. I can’t protect you if I don’t know how you’re feeling.”
Again, Zoey nodded, suckling intently on her water.
“If I ask, and you’re okay, you can just say, ‘Green’. Just that one word and I’ll know you’re okay.” Dianne waited for a nod before continuing. “If you’re uncertain, and want to talk, you say, ‘Yellow’. Swallow, then say it back to me.”
Zoey obeyed, swallowed her water, and said, “Yellow.”
“And if you say, ‘Red’, we stop immediately and get you safe and comfortable. Say it.”
“Red.” Zoey put her cup back, letting the water trickle into her mouth again.
“We don’t joke about safe words. I’m not going to do anything that’ll get you in trouble, but if you’re unsure, you’ll tell me immediately.” She was moving things too fast, and she knew it–but the universe had given her this precious baby to protect, and she wouldn’t let the moment pass her by.
“Now tell me, little Zoey, what’s your favorite song to dance to?”
The girl hesitated for a moment, and Dianne worried she’d gone too far, but it quickly became clear she’d just taken Zoey by surprise with the change of topics. Of course, Zoey couldn’t know what Dianne was thinking, so that shouldn’t have been a surprise.
After a moment of thought, Zoey said, “Um… Emo Girl? But not MJK’s version…” Smirking, she showed off a bit of the fiery passion and opinionated personality Dianne loved to see. “That isn’t emo to me. Paige Six got it right.”
Dianne grinned. “Okay, now you need someone to check your diaper for me while I go request your song–you’re probably close to needing a change, right?” Glancing around, she spotted another acquaintance, someone she knew was kink friendly and up for anything. Gesturing with her head, she suggested, “What about him?”
Zoey shook her head. “Y-yellow…”
Swallowing, Dianne tried not to berate herself. She’d already gone and pushed Zoey too far, and it had been luck that she’d used her safe words–no, Zoey was a smart girl. It wasn’t luck, she just knew how to assert her boundaries. “Is it a problem with him, or with someone checking your diaper?”
Zoey shook her head, briefly uncommunicative, but her eyes told the story. She glanced to the bartender, Amy, and Dianne knew what she wanted from that look.
“Oh, would you like the nice lady who gave you your sippy cup to do it? It would be very brave of you to go and ask her.” She smiled, reassuringly. Amy was just as reliable, maybe even moreso, and if it was what made Zoey comfortable it was the perfect choice. Zoey smiled, and Dianne helped her up, smirking at the girl’s pronounced waddle from the thick, sodden diapers that her skirt failed to hide. Giving Zoey a pat and a squeeze on her padding, she added, “You should thank her for the sippy cup, as well.”
While Zoey went to get checked, Dianne made her way through the crowd over to the DJ. Throwing up a wave with her thumb and pinkie extended in a waggle, she greeted her. “Hey, Mels! How’ve you been?”
With an earphone pressed against one ear, Mels responded with a thumbs up, bobbing her head and keeping the music going. She’d always been more of a doer than a talker.
“Can you take a request for me, as a favor? Emo Girl by Paige Six!”
Another thumbs up and a nod, and Mels returned to her DJ work. Grinning, Dianne found her way back to Zoey, meeting her by the dancing platform they’d been standing by. Zoey returned a moment later, with a full sippy cup and an adorable blush.
“What did the nice lady say?” Dianne asked.
“That…I could last a little longer,” Zoey replied, raising her cup to take a sip.
“We should fix that,” Dianne suggested. “But first, I want you to show me what a good dancer you are, okay?”
Zoey hesitated, and again, Dianne wondered if she’d gone too fast with her. Before she could retract her suggestion, though, Zoey nodded. “Okay.”
“Where’s your pacifier?” Dianne asked. Zoey retrieved it from her purse, and Dianne plopped it between her lips. Then, she bent slightly, pulling on the handle of the raised dance platform. It wasn’t that heavy, and she could drag it easily towards the center of the dance floor.
She hadn’t, strictly, gotten permission to use it, but confidence was the only ticket she needed. They weren’t forbidden or anything, and everyone was already dancing–what difference would it make if Zoey was dancing a little higher, for everyone to see?
“Just be good for me,” Dianne said. “I want to watch you dance, okay?”
Zoey nodded again, as Dianne got the platform far enough out that people were stepping aside to let her through. Taking Zoey’s hand, she squeezed it reassuringly, helping the tipsy baby up just as a few opening chords started to play.
The music began: “She’s got studded belts–” and Zoey’s face lit up with excitement. Needing no further encouragement, she began to dance.
The girl lit up the room, and not just because a spotlight whirled to point at her. Her smile was infectious, her enthusiasm infinite, and when she danced, twirling so that her skirt spun, it filled Dianne with pure joy.
It didn’t matter that Zoey’s diaper was acutely visible, between her raised platform, her skirt spinning high, and the severe puff and sag of the diaper. Most people in the bar were kink friendly, and even those who weren’t just didn’t care. It was impossible to look at Zoey, dancing her heart out and smiling the biggest, most exuberant smile in the world, and care what was sagging under that skirt.
As the song reached its final chorus, Zoey looked down at Dianne, hesitant, looking for something. Dianne knew what, and she gave her permission.
She mouthed the word: ‘Push.’
Zoey glanced past her, eyeing something. Dianne glanced back, and saw it was a mirror; Zoey was watching herself as she obeyed. The little girl bent her knees slightly, still wiggling her butt in time with the music, but soon even that motion was lost as she turned her attention to being a good girl.
She bit down on her pacifier, held her breath, and Dianne’s heart melted. This girl was simply too precious for this world, too adorable. Even though the mess could only be inferred; Zoey’s diaper was already so thick and sagging that there wasn’t much in the way of a visible bulge, it was clear what she was doing by her face and her pose, and by the subtle crinkle as she bottomed out her diapers.
Gaze darting around for reassurance, Zoey caught Dianne’s eyes, breathing rapidly. The last notes of the song were running out, and Dianne beamed at her, reaching up to help her down.
Even with Dianne’s hand, Zoey still stumbled, falling onto a seated position on the platform. She gasped and turned pink as she fell onto the weight of her packed diaper, and Dianne finally got a whiff of what she’d done. Wrinkling her nose ever so slightly, Dianne pulled her into a hug and helped Zoey away from the center of the dance floor, while someone else climbed up to take their turn as the center of attention.
“Shh,” she whispered into Zoey’s ear. “You’re such a good girl. You were wonderful up there, the most adorable little thing I’ve ever seen, and the best little baby anyone could ask for.” Reaching down, she slipped a hand under Zoey’s skirt, squeezing the seat of her diaper ever so slightly.
Zoey looked down, avoiding Dianne’s gaze, so Dianne touched her chin and moved her head up until they locked eyes again. Zoey’s expression was huge and helpless, little and in dire need of reassurance…and maybe something more.
“Your diaper is ready for a change,” Dianne said. “There’s a bathroom in the corner with a lock. Would you like me to change you?”
Zoey squeaked out a little, “Yes, please,” over her pacifier, though her focus was less on the words and more on Dianne’s face.
Smiling warmly, Dianne said, “There’s my stinky little girl. Let’s go.”
Leading Zoey by the hand, Dianne pulled her to the restroom. A unisex sign on the door indicated it was for general use, though in practice Dianne thought it was used as a private room for sex as often as it was for its intended purpose–certainly, Zoey wouldn’t be using the toilet any time soon.
Pulling her inside, Dianne locked the door. Reaching down, she took Zoey’s skirt, kneeling so she could pull it all the way down off the baby’s body, revealing her sagging, smelly diaper.
Kneeling in front of Zoey, Dianne looked up at her. “You really ruined your diaper, baby,” she commented. “Just like you’re supposed to.”
As Zoey squeaked in response, Dianne stood, took her hands, and gently forced her back towards the toilet. It was a cheap, old thing, with exposed copper pipes that ran halfway up the wall. Definitely a retrofit, and little effort had been made for aesthetics. Dianne pushed Zoey down onto the toilet seat, forcing the baby’s weight into her loaded diaper, then pulled her hands up to the pipes.
Twisting the skirt into a rope, Dianne wrapped it around the pipes and around Zoey’s wrists, tying a secure knot. It was by no means perfect, but it didn’t cut off circulation, and it’d keep her hands there so long as she didn’t try to wriggle free, and good girls wouldn’t try to wriggle free.
Once she was restrained, Dianne reached down, rubbing against the front of Zoey’s diaper. She could feel how hard the girl was, and Zoey wriggled on the toilet seat to truly experience how full her diaper had become.
Hesitating, Dianne took a risk. “Show mommy how much you love your smelly diapers, okay?”
She didn’t want to go too far, but calling herself ‘Mommy’ just felt right. Zoey seemed to agree with the label, because she didn’t object, she simply thrusted into Dianne’s hand, moaning into her pacifier as she tried to get every ounce of sensation through her layers of sodden, decimated diaper.
After a moment, Dianne pulled her hand away. She didn’t want Zoey’s fun to end just yet. Instead, she reached up, unbuttoning her blouse till it hung loose over her chest. Reaching down, she took Zoey’s pacifier out of her lips, moved to sit on Zoey’s lap so that her breasts were at Zoey’s eye level, and pulled herself free of her bra.
She didn’t need to say anything. Zoey’s mouth moved instinctively to Dianne’s nipple, and she began to suckle, still wriggling and grinding as she did so.
It was Dianne’s turn to moan, and to reach down beneath her own pants, slipping fingers to fondle herself while adorable, helpless, smelly little Zoey gasped and suckled her tits. Dianne barely needed to do anything for herself, simply being over Zoey in this situation brought her nearly to the edge, and she showed little restraint as she brought herself to climax.
“Yes,” she moaned, as Zoey sucked hard on her breasts. “Exactly like that, baby, just–yes–”
It was Dianne’s turn to make herself wet, though not as thoroughly as Zoey had. Squirting into her panties, it just barely soaked through to her jeans, not enough to be particularly noticeable unless someone was looking for it. Zoey continued to wriggle in helpless frustration, trying and failing to get enough sensation to achieve her own climax.
Dianne took a breath for a moment, then pulled away. “Zoey, I want you to wait here,” she said. “Don’t spit out your pacifier, and don’t untie your hands. If you do, I’ll know.”
Zoey looked up at her, eyes huge, pleading, as though to ask, ‘Why don’t I get to cum?’, but Dianne only smiled coyly.
“Trust me,” she said. “I’ll only be gone a minute. Safe words?”
Zoey mumbled, “Green,” over her pacifier, and Zoey bent over to kiss her on the forehead. Then she stood up straight, waved, and left the bathroom, flipping over the ‘out of order’ sign on the door to discourage anyone from stepping in.
Of course, there wasn’t anything stopping anyone from opening the door, and that was a bit of the fun. In the few minutes while Dianne was gone, anyone could wander in and find Zoey stuck, right over the toilet, in her filthy diaper.
She was only gone for a minute. There was a sex shop two doors down and open late, and she acquired what she needed with little hassle. She got back, made her way across the bar floor and pushed open the door to the bathroom.
After being gone for several minutes, the shock of the smell hit her hard as she stepped in, partly because it contrasted with the fresh air outside, partly because Zoey had been given time to stew and really stink up the room.
Zoey was wriggling on the toilet seat, smushing into her diaper and whimpering when Dianne walked in. Spotting her, she mumbled through her pacifier, “Mommy?”
“Mhmm,” Dianne said. “Let’s get your diaper changed, little girl.”
“But–” Zoey started, but Dianne shook her head.
“No buts, except yours, in a fresh diaper,” Dianne said, setting down her shopping bag and crossing to begin cleaning up Zoey.
It was a bit tricky, doing it while Zoey stayed seated and tied up, but Dianne made it work. Undoing the tapes, she pinched her nose and made a face, mostly for show. “You really did a number on your diaper,” she commented, producing baby wipes from Zoey’s purse and slowly, methodically, began to clean the girl up.
Zoey continued to squirm, but over time, the cold wipes began to combat her erection, and her princess parts grew smaller and more pliable.
Exactly what Dianne wanted.
Reaching into her purse, she produced her purchase–a stainless steel chastity cage. She made sure Zoey could see it, and waited for a moment to give her a chance to use a safe word. When Zoey didn’t respond, Dianne opened up the cage, and began fitting it around her parts.
“This is my good little girl insurance,” Dianne explained, sliding the cage into place. “I want you to wear your diapers and use them like a good baby all week, and if you do, I’ll unlock you and let you cum. Okay?”
Zoey nodded enthusiastically, eyes huge and excited.
“You’ll get my permission before every change, okay?” Dianne asked, as she slid the locking mechanism into place. Zoey nodded again, and with a little click, she locked the cage on. Reaching for a fresh diaper from Zoey’s purse, she added, “And I don’t want you to even think about using the potty. You’re a baby, you’re supposed to use your diapers. Okay?” She made sure to emphasize that she was asking–some things still required more than a statement of fact.
“O…okay, mommy,” Zoey nodded.
Zoey had brought along powder as well, so Dianne applied a thin layer before wrapping up the fresh diaper and taping it into place. “Good girl.” Reaching down, she wadded up Zoey’s old diaper so that nothing could smush out, then moved it into Zoey’s purse. “I don’t want to make the staff here deal with your stinky accidents, so this goes in your diaper bag.”
That didn’t need an ‘Okay?’ at the end. Zoey would be good on that account.
Zoey nodded again, squirming in her fresh diaper.
Reaching up, Dianne finally untied Zoey’s skirt from around the pipe, freeing her hands. “Let’s take you home, baby girl. Did you have a nice time?”
“Mhmm,” Zoey said. “Thanks, Mommy.”
Dianne’s heart swelled.
Fate had truly given her a gift tonight.
…
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Cupid’s Punk!
1- so it feels real
There is both terror and freedom in restarting your life. Not in a cosmic sense, but in the moving-across-the-country-and-leaving-everyone-you-knew-on-the-opposite-coast sense. That is where Scarlet found herself this morning. Eyes red from her jetlag, hair a mess from the uncomfortable seats, and a puffy-eyed death stare meeting her from the scratched bathroom mirror. Even with her fresh start, the fresh apartment, she was not ready for her first day at a new job in this new, unfamiliar city. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to forget. She wanted to go back to her home with—a pang of heartbreak through her chest interrupted the thought. That home was no longer there, and no one was waiting for her to come home. Instead, Scarlet let out a dejected sigh, opened the cardboard moving box that contained the toiletries that were not in her carry-on, and got in the shower. She was up far earlier than she realistically needed to be, to make sure she could wash her hair, shave her legs, and still have plenty of time for makeup and a relaxed cab ride to work. The pipes whined and hot water splashed her face as the new-ish utilities sprung to life. She focused on getting the sleep out of her eyes.
She resented her own anxious, over-prepare-until-exhausted tendencies. Yet Scarlet knew that on mornings where she didn’t do this, she was late. It was part of why she’d lost her last position as a Library clerk. God, that feels like a lifetime ago. If I started taking those then…what if... Scarlet let the thought drift up with the steam, and focused on the rigorous maintenance that her curly, shoulder-length bob required. The rest of the shower went likewise. She would move on to some other form of self-grooming, only for another intrusive thought to appear, and she would do her best to let it roll off of her. By the time she was done, dripping into a towel and stepping out, she had gotten most of the self loathing scrubbed off. Scarlet turned to face the same mirror. She wiped the fogged glass with one pale hand, and the same dead-eyed look greeted her. Scarlet forced a smile, hollow but just enough to come across as courteous and eager, rather than like a retail worker who was dead inside. She had plenty of practice masking in this way.
Her breakfast was a microwaved cup of coffee and protein bar, the leftovers from her flight. She’d have to go to the grocery after work. She ate just enough to then turn to her prescriptions, the small, resentful white triangles tasting bitter and frustrating, her knowing that it was a 50/50 on whether she would be vomiting before lunch. The three small blue estrogen pills had to melt sublingually, and wouldn’t upset her stomach. They did, however, taste like minty asshole as they dissolved under her tongue while she started her makeup routine. It went quickly, Scarlet’s old “professional” looks still in her head after years of rushed mornings where her mediocre nutrition and makeup routine battled for time. Her hands danced; brushing, patting, dabbing, blending, and setting at a quick but deliberate pace. This wasn’t Scarlet’s first time working places that made her tone down her looks and cover her smattering of artsy tattoos that criss crossed her arms. Her new boss had assured her however, that so long as she wore at least business casual and none of the tattoos visible were profane, no one would care. Simple enough to cover the guillotine on her shoulder blade or the shoddy stick and poke of her highschool bff’s band “The Fart Coffins” on the opposite blade. She only sometimes regretted that one out of any of the designs on her body. She finished with a modest amount of very neutral blush, and got up to dress in the outfit she had laid out the night before. A simple white blouse and black skirt, black tie, black flats. Should show a good first impression for a secretary of a legal office. She couldn’t help but roll the sleeves partially, however, showing hints and edges of her ink.
Scarlet made sure her hair was dry, shook her head as a jolt of the last taste of estrogen left her mouth, and called for her cab. Just before leaving, she packed her purse, and heard an unfamiliar jingling at the bottom. Fishing through the myriad receipts, dust bunnies and half finished chapsticks, she finally found the culprit, and her heart dropped. A simple gold ring, with an inscription inside; Futile – the winds –/ To a Heart in port –The singular band was heavy in her hand, and Scarlet felt the heartbreak all over again. She wanted nothing more than to scream. She wanted to sob until her throat was hoarse, to wail in pain. She wanted to call her. Instead, she tenderly wiped the welling tear in one eye to preserve her mascara, roughly threw open the drawer to toss the precious bomb in with a clatter. The front door slammed and locked behind her. The cab hummed quietly as it rode down the dense city streets, and Scarlet focused on taking in the sites of tree leaves slowly changing color through the cab window. She was headed further downtown from her new apartment, and even still there were beautiful trees she wasn’t familiar with. This is exactly what I thought the East Coast to look like, and yet it’s even more beautiful than I could have imagined, she mused to herself. She was used to her hometown in the Bay, the palms and pines of the San Francisco and Oakland areas all she had made friends with until now. The trees were dotted in front of the tall downtown shops, looking like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. She took a picture every now and again, killing time until her quiet cab driver pulled over to a sidewalk. Scarlet smoothed her skirt, handed the man his fare and a tip, and stepped out in front of a small office building. Her flats echoed against the shiny, reflective tile as she followed signs and elevator directories to Kane Arbitration & Mediation Legal Services. The interior of the elevator shined, polished enough that Scarlet could see her own reflection.
She took a moment as she rode to the fourth floor, using the reflection to adjust her skirt. She was so tall that no matter what she wore, it always eventually turned into a skirt shorter than intended, and that was the last thing she wanted to project on her first day. Once the soft fabric was in place, better resting on her hips and covering much of her long thighs, she noticed she had arrived. Scarlet swallowed, her nerves making it louder than she had wanted, and exited as the doors parted.
Kane Legal was one of the only offices on this floor, and it didn’t take her long to find, but she paused outside the door anyway. She took solace in the fact her new employer wouldn’t be able to see her through the doors frosted glass. Scarlet had a moment to steady the shaking in her hands.
There’s nothing left for you back there. This has to work. You have no other option. The thought was supposed to be comforting.
She opened the door and recalled all the times that thought would light a fire in her—to ignite the contrarian and spiteful nature she had to anyone that doubted her. A year ago, this would have made her unstoppable…but the last year was harder than she could have ever predicted. The reception area of the office was nicely decorated, looking like the kind you’d see on a mid-budget daytime law drama. No one was at the desk that she assumed would be hers, so she tried to peer around a corner leading to what she assumed would be Miss Kane’s proper office. Sure enough, a door at the end of the hall was open and revealed a head of deep black hair peaking just over the top of a large computer monitor. Scarlet took a moment for them to notice her.
In another life, Scarlet would have confidently marched into the office, head held high, with enough swagger to convince anyone that she owned this office. Now the poor girl stood there, shivering as her future awaited. The Scarlet of a year ago would have left this newer Scarlet behind, just like the one she cared about the most. She prayed this wasn’t some kind of test.
“Excuse me?” She called out, causing the head to twitch, “I’m looking for Miss Kane?”
The top of the head rose for a pair of eyes to see just over the top, and then a hand brusquely slid the monitor on a pivoting stand out of the way. Scarlet recognized her now, the telltale hazel, almost golden eyes and a striking streak of platinum blonde to one side having stuck with her since their video interview. “And you have found her.” Her voice merrily sang, reverberating down the tiled hall. She stood. “You must be Ms. Finch. I am so glad to finally get you out here. May I be the first to properly welcome you to Caulfield Valley, I hope your flight was smooth?” Scarlet was immediately put off balance, having to look up at someone for once. Even if Emilia Kane hadn’t been in imposing black heels, she would easily have three inches on the six feet even Scarlet. She effortlessly glided down the hall towards Scarlet, her hand outstretched. Scarlet met her, returning her’s for a handshake. The taller woman’s hands were so soft.
“Ah, t-thank you, Ma’am.” She politely smiled, and decided to rest her hands on the strap of her purse so as to not fidget. “I appreciate that, it was a long flight.” She wanted to divulge how exhausted and sore she was, but held back.
“That is such a shame.” Emilia twisted her mouth into a concerned frown for a moment, a hand grabbing her chin in thought. “If you ever need to fly for me again, I can make sure you have better accommodations. Thankfully, your first day probably will not be too demanding. I am hoping to simply get you familiar with the way I organize best and have you operating at full speed before my next big meeting in…,” She checked the date on her phone, pulling it from the breast pocket of her dark green suit, “-three days. Does all that sound good?” Scarlet sighed in relief. “More than good, Ma’am, I’m sure I can be up to snuff by the end of the day.” She was a tiny bit surprised by how confident she sounded. “Oh please, Ma’am makes me feel old.” She waved a hand as if shooing the notion away, “I know to most it is respectful, but I prefer ‘Miss’ or just Emilia if it is all the same to you.” She rested the same hand now on her hips, which Scarlet noted were surprisingly accented in this type of suit. She nodded in response, and Emilia gestured for her to sit in the chair behind the receptionist desk.
The woman looked like she was off a runway, the two piece suit and platinum jewelry complimenting her intense eyes and the vibrant streak of silver- no, platinum blonde in her hair. The hazel of her eyes became almost amber-gold as the light from the windows caught them. When her new employer wasn’t looking, she shook her head to erase the thoughts. Scarlet couldn’t exactly be thinking about how attractive her boss was if she didn’t want to risk her new living situation.
“—and your last employer said you were familiar with all of these programs, is that right?” The question snapped Scarlet back to reality as Emilia motioned to the open windows of the computer.
“That’s right. All of this is right in my wheelhouse.” Scarlet affirmed, grateful that the job didn’t seem to have any sudden surprises. “And this looks like a pretty standard inter-office set up on the phones as well. Would you prefer a call or a ping on your computer when you have a call or a client?” She hoped the question would help make her seem competent and ‘a go-getter,’ something her father had told her once upon a time about starting a new job. “A call is fine unless I am already with a client. If I do not respond, you may call regardless.” Emilia said, a small smile of approval spreading across her red lips. “On the topic of clients, occasionally you are to sit in for meetings and you will be taking notes. These are legal matters and meet the standard of attorney-client-privilege. So it is vitally important you understand that anything you hear or write down in those meetings are confidential, but could end up under scrutiny if we were ever to be sued or subpoenaed. Are you comfortable with that?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” Scarlet nodded, “To be clear, any notes I take are private between you and I unless that happens right? Like—” she kicked herself for her valleygirl filler word, and tried to recover, “a doctor? For example, I wouldn’t talk about this with anyone except you or the client, even during off hours?” Scarlet couldn’t lie to herself and say that didn’t make her anxious. Her understanding of the legal system told her there were a million and one ways to mess up proceedings if everyone didn’t know them ahead of time. The clarity would help alleviate that anxiety.
“Exactly. We can talk about it informally outside of the office but we must use discretion. God forbid you run into a client at a bar, make sure neither of you are shouting without realizing. However you got the most important part. Good job.” Something inside Scarlet warmed at her new boss’s approval. Emilia’s phone lit up and began ringing in her hand. She rolled her eyes. “I have to take this,” she explained, grabbing a small packet from the top drawer of the desk, “Just answer the phone if any calls come in and start filling this out with your info so I can make payments and records and such. It will only take a moment!” Emilia walked back up the hall, closing the door of her office. Scarlet could hear her talking in a tone that sounded professional and even, but couldn’t make out anything specific.
When Scarlet realized she could not eavesdrop, no matter how hard she tried to focus, she instead grabbed a pen from the desk and focused on the forms. They were typical of starting with any new employer: tax info, new address, signing agreements. Scarlet was sorely missing the over-designed packets she would receive on her first day at each of the oversized chain stores she had grown up working at. The kind that tries to convince the reader that “we’re a family here,” isn’t the same as “your boss will not give a single shit about you if you think for yourself.” They were always a riot to laugh at with her fellow cashiers, clerks, and baristas.
Everything was astonishingly professional, and felt tailored to the tiny law office. The forms were of course up to every standard Scarlet was aware of, but everything appeared handwritten and then copied from a master document. The young woman marveled at the curves and loops that seemed so practiced, so official. Calligraphy as a hobby?
Scarlet’s daydream was broken as the phone rang. Her arm sprung to life, grabbing the phone and bringing it to her ear. “Hello, Legal Offices of Miss Kane, how can I help you?” Her mind auto piloted the greeting, a tactic she’d learned as a young adult to perform before any social anxiety made her hesitate to answer.
There was a silent beat, broken only by soft background hum from the receiver. A deeper voice finally spoke. “Oh, is Miss Kane not in?”
“I’m sorry, she’s stepped away for another call. I’m the new secretary.” The professional mask came back to her like a second skin, despite over a year of disuse. “Can I take a message for you?” Scarlet offered.
“Er,” The voice stammered for a moment, then clarified, “Yeah. Actually, you can tell her that I have to back out of Friday’s meeting, I won’t be rescheduling. She can keep the deposit. Goodbye.” Scarlet busied herself scribbling the note down.
“Wait, I’ll need to tell her your name.” She tried to catch the man before he disconnected.
It was too late, the line went dead. Scarlet took a confused look at the receiver before returning it to the cradle. She tried to imagine what would have someone behaving this way, but even her previous customer support and retail work did not track here. Scarlet merely blinked in confusion and returned to filling her new employment forms. She could hear the muffled speech of her new boss, not able to pick distinct words, only cadence. The forms were dull and simple enough, and before too long Emilia’s office door clicked open.
Scarlet was finishing the bottom lines of the last page, hoping quietly to impress the imposing woman, as childish as that want may be. Emilia’s heels marked her approach down the hall, and Scarlet spun gracefully in her swivel chair to face her. “Did I hear a call come in while I was gone?”
“You did, and I've got a message,” Scarlet tried her best to sound professional yet nonchalant, “your Friday meeting canceled, said to keep his deposit.” She looked up to Emilia to gauge her superior’s reaction. Emilia gave nothing but a solitary eyebrow twitch. “He didn’t leave a name and hung up…is that normal?”
“Whether it’s normal or not, we get to keep the deposit for my time, and that’s what matters to me.” Emilia said, too hurried to be as casual. Scarlet decided to just let that slip.There was something going on here, but she would catch the intricacies of the client relationships soon enough.
Emilia very pointedly avoided her gaze to check the time, and excused herself again. The rest of the day moved slowly, save for asking Scarlet for a coffee run in the afternoon, which turned into buying a cafe scone for Scarlet’s lunch as well.
She busied herself with memorizing the upcoming schedule, the program, and the routine expected of her. She tried not to fidget as the caffeine had its way with her later in the day. The bouncing of her leg coincided with an increase in worry. Would she have another reaction to this medication like her last, and be unable to sleep? Would Emilia be angry that she wasn’t being proactive in some way? How was she supposed to know? She paused, trying to stop ruminating. She lifted her hands away from the keyboard. They were shaking, and she squeezed her eyes closed. When Scarlet opened them, they focused through her fingers, at the sticky note she had written down the message, and the smaller coffee order beneath it. Sighing, she wrote down the coffee order on her phone and on her desktop notepad. If she could do nothing, she would be constructive and prepared for the future.
Her hands kept shaking for the remainder of the shift. Scarlet wasn’t sure if it was the anxiety, the caffeine, or her meds. She’d been so isolated until moving she hadn’t noticed if the shaking started then. Just past five, Emilia’s heels clicked down the hall, a smart designer purse over one shoulder. “Now, is there anything I can clarify before we leave?” Her voice sang again and the hall reverberated in tune with her voice like Brian Eno was behind it. Scarlet shook her head, smiling with her mask back on as she spun to face Emilia again.
“Thank you so much, but I don’t think I’ve got any questions yet.” Scarlet wanted to be sincere in thanking her, drop the facade and business-casual tone. Speaking without rehearsal tended to bite her in the ass lately. She squeezed her hands between her thighs to try and avoid any probing questions. Scarlet could only imagine suspicious and overbearing concern at best if her new boss thought there was something wrong with her medically.
“Is there anything else I can help with? I’ve just been organizing your schedule and getting used to the layout in here all day.” She desperately wanted to get her groceries before it was too dark.
“No thank you, Scarlet. You’ve already helped me enormously, you have no idea.” Emilia ushered Scarlet out the door, and locked it behind her.
* *
If one thing in the world could be counted on, it was chain stores being identical on the inside. Scarlet pushed an identically squeaky cart up identically packed aisles among indistinguishable brands. The only difference really seemed to be the accents. She approached bulk rice bags, hesitated, and drew out her phone with dread. Her meager bank account balance confirmed her fears, and she begrudgingly went for the generic. Other staples like cheap instant ramen and pasta followed suit. The sole splurge was the cheapest, sweetest, garbage brand of red wine she could find.
Her cab ride was identical, save for the setting sun behind her. Purples and oranges and cotton-candy-clouds danced behind her, out of view, as she slowly sank her head against the cool glass of the window. At least the trees are still pretty. She raised her phone again to try and take a picture, but the camera went grainy in the growing dark.
Her new apartment greeted her with the same lonely tone as when she first received the keys. It was cold, it was empty, the furnishings were bland and picked by the property management company. Nothing here was hers yet, save the stacked boxes of cardboard. Her tired arms carried the groceries to their appropriate resting places, and she cracked open the wine before settling on the couch. Out of habit she reached for her remote, only to remember she didn’t have a TV yet. Sold for the moving expenses.
Scarlet was so tired of sighing. She took a swig of wine, an old comfort that was basically a juicebox and rubbing alcohol that reminded her of being broke in college. She opened her phone, wishing for any stimulation. Her friends, (rather former friends) were still posting stories, still sharing their bad takes and inane jokes. She considered getting off the couch to do the same. It was all performative anyway, right? But the energy wouldn’t come when she called out for it. Another sip, and she swapped apps. Scarlet noticed the singular blink of darkness on her phone’s screen.
“Please, you piece of shit. I really can’t afford you to die right now.” Her worries seemed unfounded, as the brilliant screen returned and the malfunction wasn’t replicated for the rest of the night. What was strange, however, were the kinds of new accounts she was being recommended as she scrolled her timeline.
Now, Scarlet was no prude. She enjoyed fucking and her alone time as much as anyone. Estrogen and Progesterone even maybe had her hornier than the average. But her timeline wasn’t full of this much smut. She had friends in the sex work game, but she didn’t exactly like, share, favorite, reblog, or any other influencer verb their content. Another website breaking their algorithm again?
Even if Dani did porn, she didn’t do this kind of porn. Morbid curiosity, and a slight increase in her pulse, beckoned Scarlet onward.
Drawings, videos, and staged photos of women in things she’d only seen in racy HBO content. She didn’t even know what to call the more intricate…props…but felt herself linger on a clip of a woman riding a…pleasure machine plugged into the wall behind her. Scarlet’s face matched her namesake and she scrolled on. A woman sitting at a home office, the quintessential framing of every vlog you’ve ever watched. Finally somebody is fucking sane in this world. She clicked the video without even reading the caption, and the perky eyed labrador retriever of a woman began to speak.
“Hi everybody! This is the Channel of O. SO!” The blonde clapped for emphasis. “You’re trying to learn about BDSM, and you have no idea where to start.” Scarlet’s eyes went wide, she took another sip, and watched the woman jumpcut and explain through terrible jokes. It was a trainwreck, steam engines exploding in her mind. It made her hot in the crotch. Scarlet finished her glass, finished the video, and poured herself another while going deeper to the woman’s personal channel. More videos, more introductory guides. Scarlet polished the second glass, and was too engrossed despite the initial impulse to cringe to even pour another.
Her alarm rang to remind her to take the rest of her medication, pulling her out of her trance.How long had she been zoned out? It was eight thirty. Losing track of time like that wasn’t uncommon for her and this diversion was welcome. She resigned herself and went to go take another dose of bitter antidepressants and her dose of Progesterone. Once the poison was administered, she looked across her kitchen to the counter where she left her phone. It lay there, like a metal megalith, imposing despite being a little plastic rectangle. Scarlet had to gather her nerve just to walk across the room and lift the damn thing. Once it was back in her hand, she used shaking hands to unlock it. The Channel of O was still smiling up at her, and she felt her cheeks getting redder.
Her glass of wine was forgotten as she brought her phone to her bedroom. She unboxed her duvet, and sat on the soft material as the video resumed. Scarlet was enthralled, soaking in every bit of knowledge she could.
“There’s all kinds of different dynamics! You’re probably familiar with a ‘master/slave’ dynamic,” The blonde woman began, “but there’s also pets and owners, and even daddies, mommies,—” Scarlet’s pulse quickened,”—or more generically caregivers and littles! Sometimes that’s called ABDL if it involves diapers.” Scarlet felt her breath catch in her throat. Her fingers flew into a flurry, and a private internet search later, her phone was filled with images that made her heartbeat accelerate.
Videos, drawings, and many, many depictions of adult women, with all their curves and freckles and other parts that excited Scarlet, in thick diapers. They ranged across all body types, and the infantile garb varied from plain white plastic to over the top patterns to evoke baby diapers.
Scarlet continued to scroll, eyes wide in wonder and excitement. She finally stopped, a thumbnail capturing her attention like a punch to the gut and clicked the video. Scarlet’s mouth went wide, and felt herself starting to leak into her panties.
A gorgeous, curvaceous woman was lying on her back, supple lips wrapped around the nipples of another woman, in nothing but a pastel colored diaper and delicate, lacy lingerie top. The tender moment evoked breastfeeding, save for the “mother” holding a massive vibrator against the woman’s…diaper.
The “baby” of the couple was moaning, growing louder, and Scarlet felt a tent growing under her skirt. Eventually, the “baby” was screaming, thrusting her hips into the massive sex toy, in time with cries of “Mommy!”
Mommy’s smile was intoxicating. She was very clearly getting off just as much as her baby, her face painted a combination of maternal nurturing, hedonistic pleasure, ecstatic elation, and sadistic control as she began thrusting the enormous vibrator in time with her partner’s thrusts.
It was obviously acting on the merit of pornography, but Scarlet couldn’t tear herself away. She allowed her hand to snake up to a nipple poking through her top. Scarlet realized her own arousal, and in embarrassment, closed the tab, flinging her phone to the edge of the bed like it was a dangerous spider.
She flung the covers off, racing to the bathroom for a cold shower.
How it all started...
It’s crazy actually sitting down and thinking about this. I’m in a place I never thought I’d be, with someone I’d never thought I’d be with, and in a community I never thought I’d be a part of.
I was a vanilla all my life, up until recently. Never used any type of toys during sex. Never had an orgasm. Never came. When it came to sex, my partner(s) never really tried, and only looked to fulfill their own release. Looking back, honestly it seems pretty pathetic and sad. I never really had someone who fulfilled what I needed not only physically, but emotionally as well.
I had a few relationships, but none of them resulted in anything positive. All were extremely toxic. I was cheated on, controlled, manipulated. My views on love were completely morphed into something I never pictured it to be. It became ugly. And i told myself that ifTHIS truly was what love was, I wanted nothing to do with it.
After feeling my lowest, I managed to escape the clutches of those emotionally abusive relationships; Those toxic relations that did nothing but drag me down and make me feel all types of emotions that true love should not involve. I knew I had to leave, and that I deserved better. I deserved more than that. And thankfully…my little came into the picture just when I was about to give up.
I didn’t know he was into this type of community when I met him. In fact, I had no idea. Not a single clue.
We were friends for a long time before any of this had happened. We always made an effort to come to each other’s aid when we were at our lowest, and we needed it most…and I truly believe that that’s how we found each other.
I trusted him with all of my worries, my fears, and relationship secrets. He did the same with me. That wasn’t really something I was very open about to begin with.
I realized that the more I talked to him and told him, the more I saw how patient, understanding, and caring he was. He spoke with such conviction and his heart showed through his actions. I started to fall for him pretty hard and fast. One day, we admitted we started having feelings for one another. And that is where this whole induction started.
It all started with Halloween, and talking about our ideas about what we wanted to be.
“I’m going to be Jimmy Fallon for Halloween.” “OMG you should go as Sara. You would look so good lmfao.” “Psssh, I’m the type of person that can buy a pack of depends for a baby costume and rock the FUCK out of them.”
I didn’t think he meant anything by that. We laughed and we talked. We became closer and closer by the minute. He began to disclose a lot of secrets. Really personal, raw emotions. And I think that made me fall for him even more. He let himself become completely vulnerable to me. And that’s when he said it…
“I’m an ABDL.”
Someone I knew, or at least I thought I knew had a secret life; A fetish that a lot of people do not understand and discriminate against BECAUSE they don’t understand.
I thought that this would cause me to be up in arms, but it didn’t. I looked at him while he was pouring his heart out to me, and saw the truth and longing in his eyes to be loved and cared for. I felt the most alive I’ve felt in months…I felt like we could help each other.
…and I was right.
The next few days after that, all I could think about was our conversation. I looked up videos. I looked up punishments. I watched documentaries on the psychological reasons one may have this fetish. I actually (as pathetic as it sounds) started a notebook with all important information that would come in handy later (I.E., type of diapers that crinkle the loudest, toys that could be used for punishments, etc). I did everything in my power to understand and accept something so mysterious, and foreign to me. But that is what made me so intrigued.
It was exactly that; foreign. A lot of things would change once I accepted the role of becoming his mommy…and would challenge me as a vanilla, hardly knowing anything about any of this due to lack of experience.
Could I handle it? Would i be good enough? Would I fit into this community?
I remember after talking about it for a little, there was one rainy day where he came over and I was laying on my bed. He opened the door to my room and walked over just to lay right on top of me. I began running my fingers through his hair and kissing his forehead while he snuggled into me. When I reached down to rub his lower to upper back, I remember hearing it for the first time. *crinkle*. It was music to my ears for so many reasons. I looked at him and without hesitation, I instantly smiled and kissed him as hard as I possibly could.
There are so many people who do not understand and judge in today’s world. People criticize others for not fully grasping or understanding differences. There is such a risk in being open and raw and real.
Looking at my little gives me such a huge amount of joy, and makes my heart so full. I see him in his most vulnerable state. I get to hold him in my arms while his eyes get heavy and he can barely stay awake. I get to kiss him and tickle him, and shower him with all of the love I had to offer but held back for so long.
It is so refreshing to have something as real as this. So intense in so many fucking aspects. He aims to please me, he aims for my approval, and he aims to make me happy. He takes the time to make sure I get mine, and we constantly test each other’s limits. It makes everything so extremely passionate, and aggressive, and intense. I have never had this type of love or loved someone the way I do my little.
I am so (beyond) happy that he told me and opened up to me about this…something that he said can easily scare a person off or freak someone out. This didn’t do either for me. If anything, this brought us so much closer. It’s real. It’s something very, very fucking real. And I’m happy I get to share something so intimate with someone so special to me.
I never thought I’d play this role…ever.
But there is something about the innocence in this that amazes me. The way he looks when he has his paci in his mouth and his onesie on. The way he looks when I give him a bubble bath, and how he happily splashes in the bath tub. The way he shakes his cute little butt when I put on a fresh diaper with baby powder.
There is something about standing over him while he shakes from my teasing him, something about the way I make him moan, and something about the way he whimpers and whispers that he wants to fuck me that I will never get tired of. I love this feeling of being control.
I absolutely adore being a mommy…but mostly, I adore being his.
xx
“So you don’t want to join us?”
“You don’t want to be transformed into a girl? One with smooth silky legs and a pair of bouncing breasts that will attract every man that sees you. One who has to bat her eyelids and flirt with any man who may be brave enough to change your diapers?”
“You don’t want to spend your life playing around together with us padded girls? Kissing and fooling around, giggling and teasing each other all day!”
“You don’t want to dress up in the sexiest lingerie? Showing off your body and your padding, displaying the new sexy girl you’ve become…”
“Well it’s too late”
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Hi! I'm waffflecones! I'm a 30-something guy into abdl, ddlg, and sometimes mdlb (when you can get me to admit it). My pronouns are he/him, I'm single, and I live in New York.
This blog is 18+ only.
Below are some of my more popular stories and other posts that you might enjoy. Also, feel free to ask me literally anything.
Stories
Sunday Morning: part one, part two, and part three
Ice Cream Diaper Girl
The Big Girl Challenge
Shorter text posts
Send her to bed early...
I'm not doing it because I'm mean...
You know what's hotter than checking her diaper?
Let's sleep in until noon...
Come stand next to me while I'm working at my desk...
Let's get in bed and I'll touch you through your PJs...
THE ADULT CLINIC: POST OP MESSING’S
Katie was have a nice and messy weekend off from work and she was loving every second of it . Katie recently became a diaper dependent after undergoing a surgical procedure to do so at The Adult Clinic and have been messing her diapers ever-since . Every morning she would wake up in a moist and soggy diaper and lay in it until she would eventually change it . She was of course aroused by wearing them and they made her feel sexy and so young . Her boss at work couldn’t care less about it and now that she has a Doctor’s note supplied by the Adult Clinic to wear them they couldn’t do a thing about it there and her boyfriend also finds them kinky and loves the look and even when asked changes it for her . The only drawback of wearing them are the smell of them after she messes and inconvenient times she goes but she found ways to accommodate for the changes and has adjusted to wearing them . Katie doesn’t even regret her decision of becoming Diaper dependent and prefers it this way and wonders why no one else becomes diaper dependent.
Poor Bella squirmed, she knew full well what the contraption she was strapped into was for. Her work colleague had found out Bella's secret submissive desires when they both ended up at a fetish night the week before. Bella couldn't believe it when Janice, the disgusting old lecherous woman in her HR department had walked in, dressed in PVC and leading a girl in her 20s on a leash, grinning hungrily when she spotted Bella across the room in lingerie looking like a deer in headlights. Bella had begged the woman not to tell anyone she was here, exploring her secret submissive desires, and the older woman had agreed - on one condition. Bella was to become her toy the following weekend.
One week later, Bella found herself at the HR manager's house, dressed up like a cheap whore.
"Now now, sit still Bella, or else I'll be telling everyone else in the office what a dirty little submissive freak you are." Bella whimpered at Janice's words, as the large woman scooted up onto the stool, and hiked her skirt up, allowing the fabric to fall over Bella's head.
Bella felt wet thighs wrap around her as she was pulled in until her nose pressed against Janice's sex, thick matted curls of pubes tickled Bella's nose and her face was immediately drenched in a mix of pussy juice and sweat from the dominating woman.
"Eat me you little slut" Janice ordered, reveling in her control. She pulled out her phone and began recording, lifting her skirt for a moment to get a nice face shot of Bella sucking on her clit, mascara smeared on her cheeks as she obeyed.
Yes Bella had only agreed to this weekend, but soon enough the poor girl would be signing a contract keeping her wrapped around Janice's finger for the rest of her career.
Janice nearly came at the thought, but pushed the girl's face away just in time to hold off. She wanted to savour this submissive little tart's downfall for a little longer first.
“You still haven’t showered?” April asked. “They’ll be here in half an hour!”
I never understood why she felt the need to throw an ‘Easter’ party. That’s something done for families, not a bunch of her girlfriends. I refused to ask her about it, though. After all, it was she who made the rules around here.
“I’m sorry,” I said, hanging my head. “Got a little distracted.”
“Just hurry,” she sighed, frustrated, but still managing a smile. “How’s your diaper?”
“A little wet,” I shrugged, “seems a shame to waste…”
“It’s okay,” April giggled, “I got you some more yesterday. Pants down.”
There was a stirring in my crotch as I swiftly obeyed. I loved it when she’s firm like that. It makes me…well, firm.
She squeezed the front of my soggy diaper, laughing a bit. “A ‘little’ wet,” she scoffed mockingly, quickly pulling the tapes off one by one until the diaper plopped to the floor with a dull, crinkly thump!
Her nails wrapped around my purple, swollen balls, jiggling my cage back and forth so that it clanked and rattled. “D’aww!! Poor wittle purple pee pee!” she cooed.
My legs clenched together and I couldn’t help but let out a needy whimper. I know I asked to be caged, but I didn’t think April would have quite so much fun with it. Getting her to be more dominant towards me was a slow, and sometimes arduous process. It took a lot of communication for her to feel comfortable with the diaper thing. She always felt a little uneasy, like she was doing something wrong, or not enough. But once I brought up chastity play, everything sort of clicked–no pun intended. Suddenly she had motivation. She had stakes. Things she could use to both torment me and get me to do things I otherwise wouldn’t want.
She picked the yellowy pink diaper up off the floor, balling it up and taping it into a compact orb.
“Shower. Now.” She told me in her stern voice, “No funny business. I need you in and out pronto!” She gave me a sharp smack on the ass to get me moving. I yelped, scampering down the hallway. But she didn’t give me the diaper. She usually always makes me handle the diaper. Come to think of it, she hadn’t made me throw my own diaper away in quite some time.
As I made my way down the hall, a wall of stench practically smacked me in the face. The laundry room just so happened to be where we kept my used, soiled diapers. A quick glance inside showed the diaper bin absolutely overflowing. No wonder it stunk so bad. My little creations were starting to become quite ripe outside of the plastic of the diaper genie. I pinched my nose, leaning over to get them back in the bag so they could stop smelling up the house, I didn’t exactly want April’s friends getting a whiff of my–
“I’ll handle that.” April said, scaring the bejeezus out of me. I jumped, startled. She stood behind me in the doorway, arms crossed. “Let it get a bit full, did we?”
I knew she was talking about me letting it become overflowing. It is my job to take it out when it gets bad, but I honestly didn’t realize it had gotten this far.
“I’m sorry!” I apologized again. Usually this kind of thing led to a firm spanking, which I wasn’t exactly in the mood for right now, but she just shrugged nonchalantly.
“It’s okay, silly babies can’t always remember their responsibilities. I’ll take care of it. Now. Get. In. The. Shower!”
I bustled off before she could change her mind. What has gotten into her? I could hear her fussing with the crinkles of the diapers and plastic before I flicked on the water. I kept it cold to ease my aching balls, but soon turned it back to hot to relax my nerves. I always get a little anxious when April’s friends are coming over. All of them are so bright and beautiful. It’s hard to be in their presence without getting a little…flustered. April knows it too, that’s why she invites them over as much as she can.
I found myself getting a little worked up again. This fucking itch throbbing inside my cage that was impossible to scratch. I squirted a little body soap into my hand, making sure to keep the water from washing it away. I reached behind me and coated my crack with it, gently pressing my finger into my little button. Putting something up my ass would not have been my first choice at the moment, but since I didn’t have another option, I figured this had to be the next best thing. The soap made it burn a bit, but I didn’t care, this was the only way I could get a bit of relief...or maybe it was just working me up more. I quickly worked a second finger in and was pumping them in and out of my ass when the shower curtain ripped back.
“Whatcha doin?” April grinned. I quickly straightened and popped my fingers out, but it was obvious I was caught in the act. “I told you: no funny business!”
I stuttered as I grasped for an excuse, but none came. I was in big trouble.
But once again, she didn’t seem to mind. “Get out and dry off.” she said, tossing me a towel. “Your clothes are on the bed.”
She left without another word.
I was waiting for her to reappear around the corner with her hairbrush or a paddle. Perhaps this was a late April Fool’s joke (again, no pun intended). She was lulling me into a false sense of security only to really bring it on later. But nope, nothing. I tiptoed through the house with trepidation. Turning into the bedroom, I immediately stopped in my tracks.
Laid across the bedspread was a frilly little dress. It was canary yellow with accents of pink and white fringe.
Next to it was a diaper I’d never seen. It was, admittedly, quite cute, with pink and purple accents and stars around a little bunny on the front.
“Do you like it?” April asked, startling me once again.
“I…yes.” I confessed. I really did. “But not for today.”
“Why not? It’s Easter!” she proclaimed.
“But your friends are coming over.”
“So what? They know you wear diapers and dresses.”
I gulped at that, flushing in shame. I wasn’t particularly proud of the fact that her friends were in on my little secret, but it was one of the stipulations for April to agree to the whole ‘diaper’ thing.
“Ok, fine.” I sighed, changing tactics, “But they’ve never seen me in diapers and dresses.”
“Sure they have.” April said simply.
My stomach dropped again. “What??”
April laughed and rubbed my naked shoulder affectionately. “Honey…you don’t think I could tell them something like that and not show them a few pictures, do you?”
I shivered in shame, or was that just a very violent cringe? I decided not to ask her which ones she showed them. I was better off not knowing.
“They thought the video of you twirling in your sundress was adorable!” she told me with a smile. “They also think you’re cuter than Ella.”
Oh god.
Ella was what April liked to call my sissy ‘gurlfriend’. We have gotten together for quite a few…playdates. Oh fuck! I hope she didn’t show them videos of me and Ella–
“On the bed, sweetheart.” April said, patting the mattress and picking up the diaper. “We need to get you ready!”
******
“Aren’t you the cutest!!” Daisy cooed, pinching my cheeks.
“The pigtails are just adorbs!!” Brooke admired, curling them in her fingers.
Lily laughed, “Is his diaper wet? I wanna see his diaper!!”
They all turned to April expectantly, who just smiled like a proud mother. “Show them, sweetheart.”
It seemed like a pointless endeavor, the bottom of my diaper could easily be seen beneath my dress, but the girls–including April–relished in my humiliation. So I obliged them, lifting the hem of my skirt and exposing my diaper to their ooo’s and aaahhh’s.
“Is he wet?”
“I think so!!”
“Already?” April asked, aghast, “I just changed him!”
Like 30 minutes ago. I thought, as if that would save my dignity. I had plenty of room left though, there was no need to change me.
“There’s no need to change him right now,” April said to my relief. Having my diaper open and exposed in front of four beautiful women would be quite humiliating. If only I knew what was to come…
“Is it time for the Egg Hunt yet?” Daisy asked impatiently.
April’s smile looked a little too mischievous for my taste. “It sure is!”
They made me get down on my hands and knees, shepherding me along until I made it to the backdoor. The light burned my eyes as the sunlight peeked through the open door. If it weren’t for my thigh-high stockings, the concrete of the patio would have scraped up my knees.
“Today is a special day for you, sweetheart!” April said, “You get the chance to have your cage unlocked!!”
My ears perked up, suddenly I became much more attentive.
Lily brandished a woven Easter basket—a rather large Easter basket—setting it down in front of me.
“I have hidden the key in one of your used diapers.” April explained, “and have hidden those diapers around the yard.”
Scanning the landscape, I started to notice hints of white, colorful, taped-up diapers scattered around. I didn’t have long to look though, my attention was quickly drawn to Brooke and Daisy pulling my arms behind my back. There was a clinking of chains, and soon my wrists were cuffed together. To make matters worse, I felt my hands being stuffed inside of what I recognized to be locking mittens.
“You have 10 minutes to gather as many ‘eggs’ as you can.” April explained. “Any eggs you fail to retrieve after the allotted time will be forfeited.”
I wanted to protest, to say something clever or ask questions that would get me an advantage, but before I could even utter a word, April had her phone out.
“Your time starts…now!”
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Thank you to @misterwitts for providing such an awesome diaper pail photo, and for everyone who was kind enough to submit a photo. If you'd like to read the rest of this story, you can find it on my Patreon. Happy Easter, Ramadan, or whatever it is you choose to celebrate! Cheers!