Little Bit Of Comfort

ABDL/Bondage blog w/ bonuses here and there. Twitter : Incubaby 23 |they| 420 Friendly NMIK🔞 DNI w/ MAP or AntiCG/l Friend of regressors

[perfectly-innocent-sideblog]

what if you & another girl were stuck in locking diapers together & also kind of pent up & so obvs the only way to get off was to take turns grinding on each others thighs in whatever state your diapers happened to be in at the time! would that be messed up or what??

[peculiarchangeling]

The Boss is Under New Ownership (AB/DL)

Susanna smiled at the investor, turning to gesture out to their micro office. The five of them, working in a rented loft, still felt like they were playing pretend at business more than actually doing it, but the people who kept writing them checks seemed to believe they were a real operation, and Susanna could convince herself that they were right. 

“Becca,” she commented, leaning against the receptionist’s desk for a moment. She liked having a receptionist, someone to whom she could assign little tasks. “Would you mind taking a coffee order for our guest?” 

It wasn’t technically one of Becca’s responsibilities, but the receptionist wouldn’t say ‘no’ in front of an investor, she’d do as she was told. 

“Maybe in a moment,” the investor replied. “First, let’s talk about our plans for this place.” 

That was an excellent thing to hear. All thoughts of the receptionist forgotten, Susanna turned her attention back to him. 

“So…” she pushed the door open to her private office, one of only three distinct ‘rooms’ in their loft–the other two being a small meeting room and the single-stall bathroom. “What do you think?” 

She walked around to her desk, hoping they’d made a good impression. While they had enough seed money to stay afloat for a couple more months, they needed a big ticket contract or a high roller if they wanted to keep going after that. She’d pulled out all the stops for the tour–dressing up in her best pantsuit, bringing everyone in to work at their desks all at the same time, trying to show that they were a real business operation. 

The investor, a man named Anton, was a few years Susanna’s junior and had dressed casually, but his watch cost more than her car. Glancing over his shoulder, he set down his backpack, closed the office door behind him, and reached to the side, turning the rod that closed the blinds over the office window so that the employees couldn’t see inside. 

Anton smiled politely. “I think you’re perfect.” 

Susanna’s eyes widened and her professional smile blinked into real delight. “You’re ready to invest?” She bent over her desk to grab a pen, hoping they could get a contract ready just then. If he was eager, she wanted to–

“Stop moving.” He spoke plainly, without force or emotion. Hardly even a command, and yet…

She froze. Bent over her desk, Susanna did exactly as he’d told her, stuck in place like a statue with her ass stuck out. 

Walking a step closer to her, Anton said, “Piss yourself.” 

There was no decision making, no chance to process his words. Susanna let her bladder go, a flood of urine pouring suddenly into her light blue pantsuit. A waterfall of warmth ran down her legs, staining the fabric to a dark navy and forming into a puddle around her feet. Susanna’s face flushed, and her heart began to pound in her chest with humiliated terror. 

“I’ve been looking for a place like this.” Anton raised a hand and slapped Susanna’s ass, hard enough to make her squeak in pain. He squeezed, fingers groping her through the wet fabric. “Small enough that I won’t have any trouble taking command, led by someone who knows how to blush.”

Susanna couldn’t even speak, still held perfectly still, but she felt every touch of his fingers as he took his hand away from her backside and reached beneath her chest to grope her breasts. 

“I don’t need…whatever it is you’re trying to do here,” he continued. “Honestly, I didn’t pay attention during that part of the tour. You’re going to be my…does it go down more smoothly if I call you a ‘Personal Assistant’ instead of a slave?” 

Swallowing, Susanna tried to find her voice.

“You can speak, but do it quietly.” 

“What the fuck?” Susanna whispered. “How are you doing this?” 

He took his hands away from her and walked back to his bag. “Does it matter? Take off your clothes.” 

She whimpered, but her hands were already moving to obey. Standing up straight, she stepped out of her shoes and undid the buttons on her suit jacket, then pulled her top off over her head, stripping with efficient motions. 

“Stop.” 

She stopped, midway through removing her bra. Eyes pleading, she asked, “What do you want?” 

He laughed in her face. “I’m taking what I want, isn’t that obvious? Look me in the eye, finish taking off your bra, leave your pants on for this.” 

That relieved Susanna, just barely. He didn’t want her fully naked, though she still exposed her chest. She stared at him, unable to look away, unable to cover herself.

Anton stepped up to her, looking her in the eyes from only a foot away. “Think about how your panties feel. Focus on that–it’s private, it’s not something most people would see, because you have dignity. You might not even think about their significance often, but you will now.” 

She did, aware of the way the cotton panties–warm and sopping wet from her accident moments before–rubbed against her skin. Dread built in her as her mind ran down that train of thought. The little privacies that she took for granted, the assumption that her choice of underwear was for her. 

“These are your last pair of panties that you’ll get to wear,” Anton said. “Apologize to them.” 

“I’m sorry, panties,” Susanna mumbled. 

(Is he going to rip them off?) she wondered. (Or, no, he’d made me apologize, he’s going to make me destroy them.)

“Good. Now shit yourself.” 

The command was so direct, so matter-of-fact, that it took longer for Susanna to recognize the humiliation than it did for her body to obey. Face burning, she stood like a passenger in her own body as she felt herself push, filling the seat of her panties with solid waste, all the while focused on Anton’s leering grin.

He stepped closer, his body touching hers, and wrapped his arms around her so that he could reach down and squeeze the back of her pants, pressing the mess into her as she stained her last pair of panties. She couldn’t stop him anymore than she could stop herself, and his touch only emphasized her helplessness, her inability to protect her body, her privacy, her dignity. 

“No more Susanna. You’re Susie now,” Anton told her.

Susie nodded. 

“Go to my bag, take off your pants, and put on the clothes inside,” Anton continued, stepping away so that she could move. 

When she took a step, she felt the mush in her pants squish, rubbing against her thighs with every little motion. That was when the smell hit her, too, stronger than she’d expected, an overpowering stink that anyone in the room would notice immediately even if they missed the dark stain on the seat of her pants. 

Unzipping his bag, she found a ‘skirt’ that was barely six inches long, a pink top that looked a little too small for her, along with the more obvious piece of apparel, the one that drew her focus, the diaper. 

“Your underwear isn’t for you anymore,” Anton said. “It’s for everyone to see. At a glance, we’ll all know how much you’ve humiliated yourself lately, how little you can control your own potty training. Though, if anyone asks, I also expect you to announce the state of your diaper clearly, I don’t want to leave any ambiguity.” 

Fingers trembling, Susanna slid her thumbs into the waistband of her pants and pulled them down, then moved to do the same with her panties, which strained to hang on around her waist with all the weight they were holding against her skin.

“Stop.” 

She did, of course.

“I didn’t say to remove your panties. Leave them on. You’re going to be a dirty girl for a while, I want you to stew in how it feels.” 

Susie left her panties in place, but unfolded the diaper, momentarily unsure how to put it on. In a crouch, she turned the crinkling garment in her hands and tugged it up between her thighs,  squishing the stinking mess against her skin. 

Fumbling, she got a couple tapes in place, grateful that they were hook-and-loop and that she could adjust them for a better fit once she got the diaper on. A moment later, she burned with shame at herself, realizing she’d felt a positive emotion about the diaper she’d been forced to dress herself in.

The skirt came next, and as Anton had warned, it concealed nothing. Her diaper sagged below the hem, puffy and white and heavy from the inherited accident. 

“Tell me about your diaper,” Anton interrupted. 

“It’s full,” she replied loudly. 

“Hmm…no. You can describe it as ‘clean’, ‘soggy’, or ‘poopy’. Try again.”

“My diaper is poopy,” she announced helplessly. 

“Good. Finish getting dressed.” 

The top was, as she’d predicted, too tight. It clung to her skin and seemed to vacuum seal around her breasts, nipples visible as clear points beneath the elastic fabric. She stood and faced Anton, face burning, eyes watering, in an outfit that seemed equal parts slutty and juvenile. 

Anton smiled. “There you are, Susie. You will be allowed to change when I say, and you won’t beg for one, or even acknowledge your accidents, except when someone asks you. You won’t even remember how to use anything other than a diaper. Your potty training isn’t gone, it simply belongs to me.” 

She shuddered. At least if she’d been incontinent, she could have the dignity of luck. If he dictated every time she used her diapers, Susie knew that every accident would come at the most humiliating moments. 

“Alright. Come with me.” Anton pushed open her office door and–

(Wait, he’s going to let everyone see?) 

Susie waddled after him, forced into an awkward gait by the puffy diaper between her legs. Naturally, everyone in the office turned to look, expecting good news about an investment or bad news about a failed deal, but instead they saw their boss with her nipples showing through a tight top and a smelly, sagging diaper hanging between her thighs. 

“What the fu–” Becca started.

“This is normal,” Anton announced. 

Becca fell silent, nodding. 

“Susie is going to be like this from now on,” Anton continued, addressing the whole room. “She’s for all of you to play with. Whatever you want her to do, just say it: she’ll run your errands, make copies for you, wash your car, rub your feet. There are a few rules: You won’t take her out of dirty diapers unless I’ve allowed it, and she’s not here for you to fuck. This isn’t something you will tell anyone about, and it won’t strike you as strange, but you will be aware of how humiliating it is for a grown woman to need diapers, how pathetic it is that she can’t even change herself.” 

Susie whimpered, wishing she could do something. She could speak, but what would she say? ‘Please’? 

Becca perked up. “What about after-hours errands?” 

The receptionist seemed to take to it with more enthusiasm than Susie had hoped, even given the man’s control. He’d normalized her humiliation, but he hadn’t told anyone to exploit Susie’s enforced obedience. That was entirely Becca’s choice.

Anton smirked. “Already planning on how to turn her into a maid?”

Becca’s mischievous smile made Susie squirm. “Maybe.”

“I’m not sure you want someone as dirty as her to be responsible for keeping things clean,” Anton commented, tone dripping with an added edge of condescension. “Susie, can you tell everyone about your diaper?” 

(Please, no, just–) “My diaper’s poopy,” Susia announced helplessly, and in response, the office burst into snickering laughter. 

“Show everyone.” 

She raised the skirt, as though it wasn’t already obvious what she had on beneath, and turned, showing off the sagging seat of the diaper. “My diaper is poopy,” she repeated, wearing a stupid smile in addition to the humiliating outfit.

Becca, sitting nearest to her, pinched her nose. “Yeah, we can tell.” 

That just got more laughter. 

“Can you control when you go potty?” Anton asked her.

She shook her head. “No.” 

“Do you remember what a potty is?” 

She tried to think, to form a mental image, but her mind felt hazy. “No.”

More laughter. It was as though she were just entertainment, a comedy show for the benefit of her employees. Her former employees. 

He pointed to a door in the office. Not her office, not the meeting room. “What’s that room for?” 

She stared at it, trying to remember, but trying to recall the purpose of that room felt like trying to grope in the dark for a lightswitch that wasn’t there. She had only the vaguest idea, but she guessed. “It’s…for…diaper changes?” 

More laughter, but Anton only smiled with something halfway between amusement and pride. “No, your changes are going to happen where everyone can see, but that’s a very good guess.” Changing his posture, he addressed Becca. “If you agree to be responsible for her after hours, I suppose it can’t hurt to let you use her as well. Are you comfortable with changing diapers?”  

Becca rolled her eyes, and Susie noticed the contrast. He hadn’t forced Becca to agree, he had asked. She got more choice in whether or not she’d change Susie, than Susie did in whether or not she’d have her diaper changed. 

“Sure,” the receptionist agreed. “Changing diapers a couple times a day seems like a fair trade.”

Anton nodded. “Now…I need to get my new office set up properly. Susie–why don’t you go on a coffee run? You won’t tell anyone what’s happened here, but you will be candid if anyone notices you’ve had an accident.” 

Susie’s eyes widened as she lowered her skirt. He was going to make her go outside like this? 

Already waddling to the door, she pleaded, “But–” 

“Stop.” 

She froze.

Anger flashed in Anton’s eyes and he stepped over to her, raised a hand, and gave her a hard spank on her upper thigh, where the skin was exposed. It hurt, and she yelped. “You do not talk back to me.” He spanked her again, this time on the seat of her diaper, mushing it to emphasize how much she’d filled her panties. “You do not argue. When I tell you to do something, you say ‘Yes Sir’ and you obey.”

“Yes sir,” Susie said, eyes welling with tears from the shock and pain. 

“Good.” Smiling again, he said, “Now, find out what everyone wants to drink, then go get it.”

She nodded. “Yes sir.” 

“There you go, Susie. Maybe, if you get back quickly enough, I’ll let you change your diaper tonight.” He smiled, clearly drinking in her desperate whimpers and pleading looks. “...but I doubt it.” 

The End

...

This was originally written as a standalone short, but positive feedback from my subscribers convinced me to write a sequel! It's a sub-exclusive, set about a month after this, showing how Susie has acclimated to her new life. 

If you want to support my writing, and read the bonus sequel, you can subscribe to me at one of the links below! The platforms are functionally the same, it just depends on which UI you prefer. 

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2128530

Ream

A membership platform built by authors for authors.

[incubbaby]

Hello tumblr! Im sure most of my followers are either lurkers or bots, but if you see this and like what i have reposted or post, im also on Twitter under (X)incubabyplus, please follow there as I may actually be posting there more, both text and pics.

[mads-the-dog]

The Rag Doll

The ragdoll's permanent grin shines down on you from its perch on the mantle. Despite knowing the object is inanimate, that it has no thoughts, you can't help but feel like it is judging you as you clean the living room at your partner's behest.

A shiver runs down your spine as you break eye contact with the cursed doll. You suddenly redouble your efforts to make the room spotless, not wanting to give your partner any excuse to become upset with you.

How long has it been since Emily the doll came into your life? Two months? Six?

Since being placed in your arms that one fateful night at a dinner party, you're whole life had become a blur.

"Sweetheart, why don't you hold Emily for a bit, your getting yourself a little worked up."

You had glared at your partner, upset they would interrupt the serious conversation about your growing discontent with the current conservative administration to do something as ridiculous as hand you a toy.

But, when the soft doll with hair made of yarn and a dress made of fabric scraps entered your hands, it was as if your whole personality changed.

Gone was the opinionated, educated, confident therapist with multiple graduate degrees.

In her place stood a timid, shy little girl that wanted nothing more than to clutch her dolly and please her caregiver.

"Yes, Zaza," you had chirped as you demurely fingered the doll's soft hair.

At the same time, internally, you were screaming.

Zaza? You had never called your partner such a cutesy nickname before, let alone done precisely what they told you to without argument.

What the hell was wrong with you?

But, as much as you raged inside your head, outwardly, your body played the part if perfect little girl immaculately.

"I'm so sorry if my little girl was bothering you," your Zaza had told your guests, "She's such a silly little thing who can get so chatty sometimes!"

Your friends--people who had known you for years--started to giggle behind their whine glasses as you looked embarrassedly down at your toes and shuffled your feet like a chastised child.

"Sweetheart, why don't you go play with your dolly in the corner for the rest of the night while the real adults talk?" Your partner dismissed you.

Your internal dialogue was going wild with embarassment, frustration, and anger. How dare the person you love talk to you and treat you like this? You were an adult! A professional! Not some kid to be casual dismissed with a toy.

But, as you raged in your head, your body did exactly what it was told, skipping joyfully to a large chair in the corner, sitting down, and 'playing' with Emily, your new doll.

The whole memory made you shudder. However, it was what has happened since that was like living in a nightmare.

When your guests left, your partner plucked the doll from your hands, immediately allowing your mind to reassert its control over your body.

You raged. You screamed. You threw things.

The rage an indignity of having your independence and adulthood so suddenly and thoroughly stripped from you flower out of you.

"Such a naughty girl! Good girls don't throw tantrums," Your Zaza had said before placing the rag doll in your arms again, suddenly stripping your adult mind of control again.

From there, your partner had explained your situation.

After months of subtle hypnotic conditioning while you slept, they had established the floppy doll as a trigger object in your mind. When the doll was in physical contact with you, your adult mind slipped into the passenger seat, replaced with the personality of a timid little girl, desperate to please any adult, but especially their Zaza.

Horror overwhelmed you as you could physically feel the truth of your partner's statements. You were completely unable to control your own body which, to your horror, was all to eager to follow any of your partner's commands.

"Let me show you just how deep it goes, sweetie," they had grinned, "It's been such a long time since you used the potty, pretty girl. Why don't you just wet yourself right here for Zaza?"

If you had had any control over your eyes, they would have widened in shock as suddenly, you felt a growing warm wetness around your crotch, followed by the dripping of urine landing on hardwood floors.

You looked down to see your favorite dress ruined with pee.

"Yes, Zaza," your body chirped as you peed, clutching Emily close to your body.

Your partner's laughter was sickening.

"See, sweetie. Zaza is totally in control now."

And they were.

Even when the rag doll wasn't in your hands, your partner found a way to demonstrate their dominance.

Attempts at escape, to assert control of your own, little 'temper tantrums," as your Zaza called them, were all met with days if not weeks with Emily in your arms subject to humiliating punishments.

Sometimes, your potty training and ability to walk was stripped away, leaving you like an overgrown infant.

For lesser tantrums, maybe you were just given an oral fixation, unable to function without a thumb or binky between your lips.

For the most minor infractions, you might find yourself bent over Zaza's lap, crying into Emily's cloth dress as you let yourself be spanked by your partner.

But, regardless of the resistance, it was met by the doll placed in your hand the the immediate loss of control of your own body.

Was it any surprise now, after months spent as a prisoner in your own body, that you would do anything to please your captor and avoid that fate?

"Sweetie! It looks beautiful in here! You did such a good job cleaning!"

Your stomach churns on both anxiety and excitement from the praise from your partner. They walk up, tilt your chin up, and kiss you.

"Such a good girl!," their hand deeps under your skirt as panic hits you, "But your diapy is dry? I thought I told you you weren't a big girl today?"

Panic overtakes you as they step towards the mantle, reaching for Emily.

Desperate to maintain control, you give in. You bend forward, clutch your fists, and, of your own volition, push. You grunt as you feel the humiliating diaper between your legs sag with the weight of the stinky mess flowing out of your backside.

Unfortunately, for you, your debasement is too late.

"Oh, sweetie, you're not supposed to potty on demand. You're supposed to potty when you need to!" Zaza says as she grabs your doll, turning towards you as you slowly back away, "I think you need some time with Emily to teach you that!"

You eyes widen as your doll is unceremoniously placed back in your arms.

"Why don't you go play with Emily and Mr. Bear in your room, stinky bum? Show Emily just how much you love your messy diapers."

You want to whimper. You want to whine. You want to rage.

Instead? You nod your head in affirmation, turn on your toes, and waddle to your bedroom, to mount your giant stuffed bear and grind your disgusting, used diaper into it until you cum over and over again.

Hopefully, Zaza won't videotape you this time.

[diaperedshiba]

Art by Craymin

[bunnygirlprostate]

that awkward, nerdy "gifted boy" from highschool is now needily whining and humping the leg of a concerningly older woman she calls mommy

[cassie-loves-stuffies]

These plastic panties are SOOO precious!! 😍🥰💖

[pacifierpuppy]

Does anybody wanna play kisses with me?? It’s a game I just made up where we kiss each other.

[pacifierpuppy]

M-maybe we could also squish our diapers together too 👉👈

[pacifierpuppy]

Fucked up that everyone is reblogging the other version and not this one. Cowards. Grow up and wet your diapers like an adult.

[disastermommy-deactivated202601]

toilets are for fucking losers, put on the diaper

[crayonsandcottontails]

Euphemisms that imply you don't know what arousal is... "Awww, are you feeling tingly again??" "I'm feeling really funny..." "Do you need help with what to do now??" "Do you want to make it feel good??" "Can you help me make it smaller again..."

[boldlybluewinner]

[thatheathenbastard]

My red flag is I never message first because I think I’m annoying whoever I’m talking to.

[ditzyanddisgusting-deactivated2]

If I won't wet my diaper, just do it for me. Pull the back of my diaper and piss straight into it, make me go hump my wet diaper and thing about how nice it feels. Tell me I'm not getting a change now until it leaks whether that's from your piss or mine

[optimisticengineertaco-deactiva]

[miyoriia]

trans girls in diapers

[miyoriia]

trans girls in diapers smoking weed

[sad-little-maddy]

[notformaintosee-deactivated2024]

Hypnosis that makes you wet you yourself every time you stand up for yourself