“Who’s my good girl?” Daniel cooed. “Who’s Daddy’s happy baby?”
Jessie squealed and giggled on the changing table as her ex-boyfriend tickled her sides, and when he bent down to blow a raspberry on her tummy, she let out a girlish shriek of pleasure.
“Let’s finish getting you changed, little miss pee-pee pants,” Daniel said playfully, straightening up. He reached for the tapes of Jessie’s nappy and started changing the twenty-something-year-old woman’s pissy Pampers, pulling down the front to reveal the soggy yellow padding within and got to work cleaning her up with a pack of baby wipes.
Jessie squirmed impatiently on the table, but a quick smack to her bare bottom settled her down, and when Daniel passed a baby wipe over her wet pussy, she closed her eyes in pleasure and let out a sensual moan so at odds with her infantile situation that he couldn’t help but laugh. Jessie didn’t get to have sex anymore, but she still had an adult body – and as a result, she spent a fair amount of her time bent over her stuffies, humping them desperately in her full diapers.
Daniel wiped the pee-pee off her bottom and private parts, and slid her sopping wet nappy out from underneath her bottom, replacing it with a fresh one. Holding her legs in the air by her ankles, he slipped the new nappy underneath her and settled her butt down onto the thirsty padding. With a wet thump, he dropped her used diaper into the nappy bin next to the changing table, then he bent over the infantilised young woman lying before him and finished taping up her latest pair of adult-sized Pampers.
Finally, scooping her up into his arms, Daniel lifted his ex-girlfriend off her changing table and deposited her on her hands and knees on the floor, naked except for her thick nappy. He kept the flat nice and warm, and his ex-girlfriend didn’t care much about modesty anymore. She was perfectly content to crawl around the apartment with her breasts dangling beneath her and her thickly diapered butt on full display.
Daniel had just given her a firm pat on her padded bottom to send her off to play with her toys, when a second young woman appeared in the doorway.
Ally came toddling into the room totally nude, bottom jiggling and bare breasts bouncing alluringly, without even a pair of training pants to give her any modesty. With one hand pressed against her pussy, and a look of desperation on her face, she looked utterly helpless.
Daniel couldn’t help but grin at the sight of her. Just for fun, he’d used the hypnosis to turn Ally into a total exhibitionist, a girl with a compulsion to strip off her pull-ups and run around in her birthday suit whenever she felt the urge. Ally had always been the type to enjoy dressing up in stylish clothes that accentuated her feminine curves, riding the line carefully between dignified and slutty. Now all her assets were completely on display, and there was nothing dignified about the way she ran around the flat with her large, bare breasts jiggling all over the place. She looked adorable (and a little absurd), and that was just the way he wanted her. Daddy’s silly little nudist.
“Potty Daddy!” she screeched, clutching between her legs and hopping on the spot in a ridiculous potty dance. “Needa wee-wee!”
“Just hold on a second, baby,” Daniel said reassuringly, looking around for her potty. He’d decided that the toilet was far too grown-up for someone as immature as she was, so now Ally did all her business on a little plastic potty designed for toddlers.
“Nodda baby, Daddy!” Ally whined. “Big giwl!”
“That’s right, sweetheart,” Daniel said distractedly, spotting her potty sticking out from underneath Jessie’s crib and hurrying to pick it up. “You’re my big girl, and Jessie’s big sister! You’re not a silly baby who needs nappies, are you?”
“Nu-uh!” Ally agreed, still hopping and squirming in place.
“Here you go, darling,” Daniel cooed, placing the pink plastic potty down on the floor in front of the wiggling woman and lowering her plump bare bottom down onto it, just in time. A tinkling sound filled the air, and Ally’s face relaxed into a blissful smile.
Daniel smiled too, partly out of sadistic pleasure and partly because Ally looked simply adorable. As a result of the hypnosis, she was stuck permanently in potty training, able to use her plastic training potty most of the time, but still prone to the occasional wee-wee accident on the floor. Daniel didn’t mind the clean-up. It was worth it to see how cute and helpless the formerly proud woman looked standing in a puddle of her own pee, sucking her thumb anxiously and hoping Daddy wouldn’t spank her bottom for making a mess.
“That’s a good girl!” Daniel praised, but Ally’s mind was far too simplified to pick up his slightly taunting tone. “That’s my big toddler!”
Ally just grinned stupidly up at the man who’d taken away all of her dignity and independence and intelligence, and turned her into an overgrown two-year-old dependent on him for everything. Then, once she’d finished going pee, she stood up, spun around, and bent over at the waist, presenting herself to him without a shred of modesty.
Daniel chuckled at her behaviour, and used the pack of baby wipes on the changing table to wipe her clean. He was going to enjoy taking Ally out in public, watching her toddle about in her training pants and pulling up her shirt to show strangers her “big boobieth”. But still, he didn’t care about her any less than Jessie. As far as he was concerned, they were both his sweet, silly little baby-women.
Really, he thought, they’d all got what they’d wanted. He got to have two beautiful, overgrown babies to take care of, and they got to have a loving Daddy to take care of their every need. But they would have to share him.
Your stunned silence and blushy cheeks prove it. So does the way your eyes darted down to your diaper, as if you needed visual confirmation that the sogginess spreading through your diaper wasn’t in your head.
You didn’t mean to fill your diaper.
There is no hiding the truth: you aren’t pretending to be a diaper girl anymore.
You are a diaper girl.
This revelation changes everything—and nothing.
Your life will look the same, sure. You’ll have the same rules, the same routine, the same everything.
But there will be one major change.
We’re not pretending anymore.
For so long, you allowed yourself to believe this was all a game that we chose to play. You weren’t actually a silly diaper girl!
No, you were an adult who just got off to the idea of it all. Of pretending you needed diapers. It was hot because it felt real, but never was.
Well, it’s real now.
You’re everything you pretended to be. A silly, helpless diaper girl.
You’re back in diapers for good.
It’s not a choice. There is no more “big girl” AND “diaper girl.” No more flittering between two worlds. You don’t get to comfort yourself that your diapers are a kinky accessory.
Diapers aren’t kinky anymore—they’re a necessary and practical solution for those who can't control themselves.
I’m sure it will be a much easier transition for me. My life won’t change much. I mean, it makes no difference to me whether you choose to fill your diaper or not—I’ll still wipe your tushie clean.
You’re the one who’s going to have to accept she’s no longer potty trained. Diapers are a permanent part of your life. You’re just a diaper girl, whether it’s hot or not.
I remember how squirmy it made you when I decided you were no longer allowed to cover your diaper at home. It drove you wild having your “shame” on full display.
Will it still be squirmy for you, knowing it’s a practical reality of your life?
I hope so! But it doesn’t really matter.
Because from now on, I won’t be doing it to make you blush—I’ll do it because I need to know if you’re about to leak. To make my life easier.
Now that you’re back in diapers, my primary concern is being the best caregiver I can be for my babygirl.
Because that’s what you need.
I won't slide my finger into your diaper to make you blush; I’ll do it because you need constant diaper checks to prevent leaks.
I won't lay you on the changing table because it makes you squirmy; you’ll be there because your diaper needs to be changed.
I won’t carry your diaper bag with me everywhere we go because it’s fashionable; I’ll do it because I’ll need to change your diaper anywhere—whether it’s a party, bar, or the grocery store.
And don’t think you’ll keep any big girl privileges, sweetie.
Your bedtime isn’t for fun anymore; it’s because after a long day of caring for my diaper-dependent buttercup, I need some alone time.
And of course, all the silly nicknames won’t change—because how else would I speak to someone who is back in diapers?
Are you starting to understand?
You’re an authentic diaper girl now. You get all the privileges of someone hopelessly trapped in diapers.
Sarah attends her little cousin’s birthday party, but after she makes the girl cry, the hypnotist hired for the event decides she needs a little attitude adjustment. Sarah missed the hypnotist’s performance earlier, but that’s okay, because he’s happy to give her a one-on-one session to help her enjoy herself just as much as the birthday girl.
***
Sarah parked her car in her Auntie’s driveway and rolled her eyes at the sight of the decorations adorning the front of the house. Multicoloured streamers were draped over the hedges, and a large pink banner hung over the doorway – the words Happy Birthday Penny, written in sparkly silver letters, were flanked by a pair of cartoon unicorns. It was so embarrassingly girly that Sarah couldn’t help but cringe. She wasn’t a tomboy exactly, but she’d long since abandoned anything quite so pink and cutesy.
She got out of the car and huffed. She was twenty-one years old for God’s sake! She had better things to do than spend a whole afternoon at some stupid baby’s birthday party, but her mother had been insistent. Sure, Penny was her cousin, but Sarah hardly even knew her. She’d been away at university when Penny had been born, and Sarah had only seen her a handful of times. She didn’t like babies. Most of her friends thought they were adorable, but Sarah couldn’t get the thought of dirty diapers out of her head. Babies were so disgusting!
Sarah opened the front door and heard the loud laughter and shrieking of a little girl’s birthday party happening inside. How old was Penny anyway? Sarah looked up and noticed several pink balloons bobbing about on the hallway ceiling, emblazoned with the large number “3”. Surely she’d be out of nappies by now at least. If Sarah was asked to go anywhere near a used diaper, she was going to storm out straight away.
She walked down the hall, following the noise, and entered a spacious kitchen that was adjoined to the living room. The place was covered in streamers and balloons and confetti, and there was an enormous chocolate cake sitting in the middle of the table. Her little cousin was wearing a bright pink dress and a plastic tiara, running around the living room playing a game of musical chairs with her friends.
“There you are, Sarah!” came a voice, and Sarah looked around to see her Auntie marching towards her, smiling. “I was worried you weren’t coming!”
“Oh, yeah…” Sarah said vaguely. “There was a lot of traffic.”
Her Auntie’s smile became rather fixed, but she didn’t contest the lie. “Why don’t you have some cake?” she asked sweetly.
“No thanks,” Sarah said, glancing at the chocolate cake with distaste. Just imagine how many calories were in that! Her Auntie wasn’t exactly fat, but she was a lot plumper than Sarah’s own model-thin physique. She might be happy to risk her figure, but Sarah certainly wasn’t.
At that moment, the game of musical chairs ended, and Penny was left jumping up and down, squealing excitedly at her victory. Her mother went over to congratulate her, leaving Sarah to help herself to a drink.
She looked around hopefully for a sign of something alcoholic, but there was nothing. Already wishing she’d made up some excuse not to come, never mind how furious her mother and Auntie might have been with her, she poured herself a plastic cup of lemonade and lounged against the kitchen counter, examining the other guests. There was no-one else even close to her age. Everyone was either a brat or a parent.
Then a man strolled over and leant against the counter next to her. He was dressed very peculiarly in a tailed coat and bowtie, like a stage magician.
“Hello,” said Sarah, uncertainly.
“Nice to meet you, sweetie!” the man said cheerfully. “Are you enjoying the party?”
Sarah was about to lie and say that she was, but there was something about his overly bright tone that annoyed her. “No,” she said bluntly, sounding much more like a pouty child than she’d intended. She felt her face going red.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” the man said kindly. “It’s a shame you weren’t here earlier. I’m a hypnotist, you see. I’m very good with suggestions. I go around deciding what all the boys and girls should become, then I tell them how to act accordingly. There’s always at least one person who’s not enjoying themselves, but after a session with me, they’ll be running around and giggling as happily as anyone else.”
He smiled at her, and Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. The man was quite handsome, even if he was almost twice her age, but there was something a little unsettling about his expression. He was probably hoping to get into her pants, Sarah thought. But no… that wasn’t it. His expression wasn’t predatory. Not exactly. It was more amused, or condescending. He was looking at her in the same way all the parents were looking at their shrieking three-year-olds, and Sarah didn’t like it at all.
“Well anyway,” she said, thinking hard for an excuse to get away, but at that moment her Auntie reappeared, holding Penny’s hand. The girl was fidgeting with the hem of her pink dress and staring shyly at her shoes.
“Sarah,” said her Auntie in a whisper, “could I have your help? I’m afraid Penny’s had a little accident, and I could do with someone to help me clean her up.”
“She had a…” Sarah began, looking down at Penny’s waist. No pee-stained socks. No puddle on the floor. “An accident?” she asked. Surely this couldn’t be happening. Surely she wasn’t really being asked to do this.
“In her pull-ups,” her Auntie clarified.
Sarah looked at her in disgust. “She’s pissed herself and you want me to help change her fucking nappy?” she demanded, disbelieving.
“Sarah!” her Auntie exclaimed in a shocked voice.
“No way,” Sarah said firmly, “I’m not doing that.”
Penny started to cry.
“Now look what you’ve done!” her Auntie snapped. She turned to her daughter. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”
“Oh come on,” Sarah sneered. “Can she really not use a toilet at three years old?” She felt a little guilty about making her cousin cry, but she was too angry to care. Her Auntie was acting like she was the one who’d done something wrong! Just because she didn’t want to change a disgusting, pissy diaper! “Maybe I should have brought some nappies for her as a birthday present.”
Her Auntie glared at her furiously. She’d just opened her mouth to say something when the hypnotist cut in. “I’ll take care of Sarah,” he said mildly. He exchanged a meaningful look with her Auntie, and Sarah was shocked to see a smile flash across the woman’s face. She nodded and led her crying daughter away by the hand, throwing Sarah one last furious look over her shoulder.
Sarah rounded on the ridiculous man. “What do you mean you’ll take care of me?” she demanded, raising her eyebrow in a superior way. “I’m not a… not a… What are you… doing…?”
Her voice faltered. The hypnotist had taken out a shining silver pocket watch, and was swinging it in front of her face. Sarah wanted to laugh, but something stopped her. Her thoughts felt slow and sluggish. The hypnotist was saying something, but she wasn’t sure what. The watch was glittering brightly. So, so brightly…
The hypnotist took her by the hand and started leading her further into the house. She tried to stop, but it was as if her body was out of her control. Her feet wouldn’t obey her! She felt a knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach. What was going on?!
The man smiled at her over his shoulder. “Like I told you before, I’m very good with suggestions. I always have been! I know you’re scared, Sarah, but there’s nothing to be frightened about. I’m just going to help you have a lovely time at Penny’s party, and after that…” He paused, smirking. “Well, after that I suppose it will be up to your Auntie.”
Sarah tried to say something, anything, but no words would come out. Before she knew it, she was sitting in a comfy chair in the spare bedroom, the noise of the party echoing distantly. The hypnotist was sat directly across from her, his shiny silver pocket watch back in his hand.
He swung it gently before her eyes, and Sarah couldn’t tear her eyes away. So shiny, she thought. So pretty. Pretty pocket watch…
“That’s it, Sarah,” the hypnotist cooed. “That’s a good girl. Now, we’re going to have a little talk, that’s all, and see if we can make your behaviour match your attitude.”
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"Can you open your mouth for me? Give me your best alligator smile!"
Your eyes fixate on the device in Nurse Molly's extending hand. It has a pink plastic guard with a long, rounded, silicone shaft. If it weren't so large, you'd almost think it was a...
Pacifier.
"Wh-wh-what is this for?" You ask nervously, failing to suppress your stammer. It's particularly difficult given how cold this examination room is. Air from a nearby vent runs up the open back of your pale pink hospital gown, and you're forced to clutch the thin paper against your bare hips to prevent your naked bottom from getting exposed. Without thinking, you begin to chew anxiously on your lower lip.
"It's for that," Nurse Molly replies, the prologue of a smile drafting itself across her pretty face. "You bit your lip again. That's what this program is all about! These nervous tics you told us about on your application: stuttering, lip biting, scratching, shaking, and all the others...they may be psychological, but your body and mind work as a team. This equipment will help prevent damage to your lips while laying the foundations for correcting the behavior."
You don't take your eyes off the silicone nipple. You fight your body's nervous impulse to start rubbing your arms, instead crinkling the paper of your pink hospital gown.
"B-b-but I thought I w-w-would be doing sp-speech therapy. How can I t-t-talk with that in my mouth?"
Nurse Molly places a hand on your wrist in an effort to comfort you. "All in good time. Right now, it's important that we work on strengthening your jaw muscles and put a stop to the biting. Pretty please, open your mouth for me?"
As much as you've started to question this inpatient treatment program, there's something in Nurse Molly's gentle voice and soft grip that calms you down. What are you so nervous about, anyway? The reason you're here is because every other program has been unable to help you. Maybe this one will finally work...
Slowly, you let your mouth fall open.
"A little wider, honey," Nurse Molly whispers, tightening her grip on your wrist almost imperceptibly. "It's going to feel like a lot to take in at first."
You can't help but nibble your lip -- just a little -- before gaping your mouth as widely as you can. Nurse Molly wastes no time before sliding the firm, pliable silicone nipple deep into your mouth. Your gag reflex is tickled, but you manage to stop yourself from sputtering by holding your tongue wide and flat against the shaft. Immediately, you feel saliva pooling in the few remaining recesses of your mouth, and the device emits a loud, slurping sound as you swallow awkwardly around it. Nevertheless, a small bubble of drool forms at the corner of your lips.
"Mmmmnmmhhhhhh," you moan, reaching up reflexively to take out the device with your free hand.
"Ah ah! No touching!" Nurse Molly scolds, grasping your other wrist and pulling your palms together in front of you. You shift your feet, desperate to spend the nervous energy which has started to build. The hem of your paper hospital gown flutters dangerously high from the blowing vent.
"The device is designed for long-term use, so I want you to get into the habit of keeping it in unless a doctor or nurse removes it. Try to form an 'O' with your lips and suckle naturally."
You grimace as you turn to look into the full-length mirror on the door of the examination room. There you are, shivering in your pale pink hospital gown, your eyes arched in a forced look of surprise, your cheeks bulging like a chipmunk's. The pink guard of the device bobs ridiculously and makes a suction-cup squelch as you swallow again. A line of thick drool escapes your mouth and begins draining from behind the plastic guard. You have no doubt now: this is effectively a giant pacifier.
"It looks like you're quite the little spit factory!" Nurse Molly teases, grabbing a paper towel and wiping around the shield of the pacifier as you blush hotly. "You'll get into the rhythm of sucking and swallowing soon enough, but it may be a good idea to start wearing a bib for a while. You certainly don't want to be walking around the clinic covered in drool stains!"
A bib?! You reach up again to remove the pacifier in protest. Nurse Molly is quicker, interrupting your impulse and pulling your hand away from your mouth.
"Don't fuss," she says. Her tone is not unkind, but it is forceful. "The doctor won't agree to start your speech therapy until you demonstrate you've been using the device as prescribed."
You stare at Nurse Molly in exasperation, shuddering as more drool forms around your mouth. Surely you can't be expected to suck on a giant squishy pacifier with no way to ask questions about your treatment! Desperate to tic, you begin scratching your forearm, which causes Nurse Molly's eyebrows to shoot up.
"I have an idea."
Nurse Molly reaches to pull out a large drawer under a nearby table. After a few moments of searching, she extracts what appear to be two cloth pads in the same pale pink color as your hospital gown.
"Make a fist for me, honey."
You hesitate, cottoning on to what Nurse Molly intends to do. If you weren't dressed in the embarrassing hospital gown, there's a chance you would spit out your pacifier, turn on your heel, and march out the door right now.
"Make a fist. You have to make a fist." Nurse Molly makes it clear this isn't a request.
You swear you begin salivating more as you slowly lift your shaking hand. Frothy drool spills out from behind your pacifier as you curl your fingers and thumb together. You realize through your heavy breathing that you're actually suckling rhythmically on the rubbery shaft, filling the air with a soft squish, squish, squish, squish, squish.
Once your hand forms the desired fist, Nurse Molly wastes no time in smothering it with one of the pink cloth pads. The inside of the cloth is soft and pillowy, but very constricting; you couldn't uncurl your fingers if you tried. A tied ribbon strap is tightened around your wrist, and you raise your hand to gawk at the ridiculous balled mitten that now encases it.
"This should put an end to that scratching, and help remind you to keep that oral device exactly where it needs to be!" Nurse Molly smiles triumphantly, raising the second cloth pad.
Something clicks in your brain as your other hand is quickly mittened and secured snugly in place: you're completely helpless now. Not only can you no longer scratch, but you won't be able to get your clothes back on or open a door without help. What happens if you need to use the toilet?
"Mmmmhhhmmmn?" You gesture frantically at your pacifier as thick gobs of drool begin to collapse like icicles on the front of your paper gown. You feel the need to communicate; to take back some control. You crane your neck forward to spit the silicone shaft out, but think better of it when you see Nurse Molly's severe look.
"Ohhh, I see, honey," Nurse Molly coos with concern as you continue to point stupidly at your suckling mouth with the fat, balled mitten. "But don't worry. It's just a little drool. Let's get a bib on you. Then, I'll walk you to the bedroom where you'll be staying with us these next few weeks. How exciting! Soon, you'll feel like a whole new person."
You moan and shake your head, suckling furiously as more nervous energy builds. You want to scratch, to bite your lip, to stutter, to do something that gives you a feeling of control.
But as Nurse Molly holds up a large cloth bib -- white with a pink trim -- you realize fully that you're not in control. You're pathetic, muted, and covered in drool. The only thing you can do is fill the air with slurping and sucking as Nurse Molly tightens the bib around your neck. Robbed of your ability to tic, you try to focus all your nervous energy on your mouth. You're already painting the white cloth of the bib with thick streams of spit as you concentrate hard on suckling.
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