Make her sexually dependent on her nappys. She’s not a grown up after all and shouldn’t be allowed big girl playtime. The only time she’s allowed anywhere close to a release is when she’s regressed and safely taped into a nappy. Make sure she gets accustomed to making messy accidents and flooding her nappy to try to get a release.
She should be conditioned and affirmed that anytime she uses her nappy she gets some form of reward. Weather that be an edge or a ruined orgasm. This is the closest she gets to adult playtime and the only time she’s allowed any form of sexual pleasure.
Couple this with having to wear a chastity belt at all times so that she’s only allowed some break in her frustration when the grown ups allow it. Keep her locked up, keep her denied and keep her as a subservient little doll always willing to embarrassingly use her nappy for it’s intended function because she’s so conditioned to getting any type of release and knows it’s the only way to go about it.
From there you can start to phase out giving her rewards, from every change to every other change, to weekly, monthly to whenever the adults say so. Ween her off sexual stuff - she’s much to little for that. Keeping her as a permanently denied, constantly frustrated, sexless little dolly. It’s much more fun to hear her whine and moan like a sweet helpless girl and listen to her furiously humping the mattress in her crib at night and during nap times knowing full well she’s not doing anything but driving herself even crazier into frustration and desperation.
An old favorite, republished for your reading pleasure.
“He’s all yours.”
Agent April Parker nodded to the burly old prison guard, turning from the heavy door just as it clanged shut and beginning to unload her binders full of notes onto the long table. She could see her subject across the room, and her physical impression of him - the first, silent step of her profiling process - was about to begin.
Walton Holbrook, as far as she could see, looked more rugged than his mid-30s age, with a thick, sandy stubble on his chin and four deep-set lines across his forehead. But beyond his weathered looks, his muscular build, and the tattoos that ran across his arms and neck, there was nothing to suggest that this was a man who had spent nearly his entire life in prison. There was simply no outward aggression about him. Even now, with cuffs around his hands and ankles, he seemed utterly nonchalant, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he whistled quietly to himself.
Once more, she looked the man up and down, trying to make sense of his strange demeanor. And then, she sat down at the end of the long table, took a deep breath, and adjusted her dirty blonde hair to ensure a clean, professional appearance. It was time to begin the formalities.
“ Agent Parker, FBI. I’m here to ask you a few questions.”
The man turned his head slowly towards his interrogator, a wide, unnatural smile on his face as he redirected his stare.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Walton Holbrook?”
“Ah, that’d be me!” came an immediate, almost saccharine response.
“Thank you. Mr. Holbrook, where were you on the night of…”
“Have you always wanted to ask that?” he cut her off, zooming through his words, “On the night of October 25th, 1994, I was at the Kendall house fire. That’s why I’m here, silly!”
April was flustered by the interruption, shaking her head to reorient as she skipped ahead in her notes.
“Thanks…” she mustered, unsure whether to show appreciation at the quick reply or scold the inmate for interrupting her, “and is it true you pled-”
“Not guilty to starting the fire? That’s correct!”
“And yet-”
“I was still sent to a juvenile detention center, at the tender age of eight years old? Why, yes, you’re on a roll!”
“And don’t you find it-”
“Strange that I’ve been here since, seeing as no one died in the fire, all the physical evidence pointed to John Kendall, and my behavior, by all accounts, has been good? Well, I can certainly see why someone would find that strange,” he gabbled, his plastic smile unwavering.
“And who is-”
“John Kendall? Ah yes, my adoptive father. Rambled a lot, and no - we didn’t have much of a relationship. And yes, I’m aware he’s in an institution now.”
Agent Parker rubbed her forehead as she tried to make sense of what was going on. It wasn’t just that her rhythm was broken - the questions that Walton had anticipated were exactly the ones she was going to ask, detail for detail, word for word. Were they just that predictable?
“Oooh, oooh!” he mocked, “if you’re done, can I ask a few questions?”
“I-”
“No, I insist, Detective! Since I’ve been so generous and forthcoming with my responses, I think it’s only fair that I should get my turn.”
“I’m not a det-”
“Not important. Now, may I?”
“I- uh… I don’t… fine, sure.” she finally acquiesced. It would buy her time, she told herself, and might give her some insight into this strange man’s mind.
“Ah, where to start?” Walton Holbrook licked his lips, “tell me, who was president when the fire happened? I’m just curious.”
The agent paused for a moment, furrowing her brow as she stared towards the floor. She was a political buff and had always been a strong history student, and yet no names were coming to her mind.
“I… I don’t know, I’m sorry,” she finally mumbled.
“Oh, that’s quite alright,” the man said, his smile widening, “just checking. Now, my next question, next… why are you here?”
After a moment of recalibration, the agent cleared her throat and leaned forward, hoping to finally establish a bit of credibility.
“As I mentioned before, I-”
“No, no. I mean, why are you here?” the man interjected, “It’s quite clear from looking at you that you’re too young to have been on this case from the start, so why is it that you’re here now? Did you volunteer for this? Am I just that fascinating to you? Ooooh, is there some wild arsonist on the loose that you’re trying to nab?”
Agent Parker signaled for the man to stop chattering, and for a moment he let up. “The internal processes of the FBI are stric-,” she began.
“Oh, but maybe it'll help us solve the mystery! Pretty please, detective?”
The girl sighed and weighed her options. It would be a violation of procedure to answer, but she clearly wasn’t making any progress as things were going.
‘“For your information,” she relented, “I was assigned to this case by my superior off-”
“Why? Was it random? Did they give you a reason?”
The agent was annoyed now. “Actually, they did. I was selected for my thoroughness and professionalism. Now can we please get back to the questioning?”
“Oh, wow! You know, I would applaud, but, you know…” the man gestured to the cuffs on his hands, “and yes, of course. Just one last question - are you scared?”
“Sorry?” The girl raised an eyebrow.
“Well, seeing as how it’s a very mysterious case,” he mocked, “well, I think it’s perfectly reasonable to ask if it worries you. I mean… there could be some sort of cover-up involved. This could go deep. Who knows? Maybe I could be hiding something. Maybe I really am the bad guy.
“So tell me honestly, detective, are you scared of me?”
Given a rare quiet moment, the agent sat up and inhaled, trying to gather up all the confidence that she could. “No, Mr. Hol-”
“No, no, that’s not good enough. I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me that you’re not scared. Can you do that?”
“Fine,” Agent Parker rolled her eyes before trying to fix them on the inmate, “I’m not-”
And then, she was lost.
There wasn’t anything that seemed particularly captivating about Walton Holbrook’s blue eyes and painted-on smile, but the girl found herself utterly entranced. Her train of thought vanished completely, and she could do nothing except stare.
For a few moments, there was silence. And then, finally, Agent Parker snapped out of it, awoken not by any internal force of will, but by a warm, wet feeling running down the inside of her pants.
The woman jumped back and gasped. “What the-?” she mumbled, staring down at her obvious accident.
Walton Holbrook laughed wildly. “Well, it certainly seems like you’re scared!”
“I- I- I-” she stammered.
“Now now, it’s alright,” he said, quieting down slightly, “happens to the best of us. Tell you what, why don’t you go wash up in the visitor restroom? I’ve saved something special in there for you.” And with that, he winked.
Agent April Parker was suspicious, confused, and deeply worried. But she could use any excuse to leave the room, and so she did, mustering only “stay here!” as a vain attempt to maintain authority as she left.
The agent trudged slowly through the empty prison hallway and towards its single-stall bathroom, trying all the while to make sense of what had just happened. She had suspected coming into the day that Walton Holbrook would be an unusual fellow, but she could never have imagined anything like this.
Her head was throbbing, and the first thing she did as she walked into the stall was to rest it in her hands, her elbows fixed on the sink for support. And then, as she tried to reorient herself, she spotted something in the corner of her eye, and she knew immediately that it was the special something Walton Holbrook had been referring to.
It was a diaper. A thick, crinkly, plain white diaper, planted on a box beside the sink, as if her accident had been part of some plan.
The agent was horrified. She stood for several minutes, transfixed and quivering, trying to gulp down her emotions and process the situation.
And then, finally, she tapped her ear.
“Parker here,” she said into the small microphone, “do you copy?”
The stood, tapping her feet in the nervous silence. And when another “do you copy” was met with the same empty static, she decided to leave a message.
“Currently at prison conducting Holbrook interrogation,” she began, struggling to maintain a firm tone, “subject seems to have some sort of… hypnotic ability. Will- will attempt to build trust. If you do not receive further update, please- please send backup.
“Over.”
With that, the woman exhaled, turned to the garment laying in front of her, and began to unfold it.
Some moments later, Agent April Parker reentered the interrogation room, waddling slightly as she walked, the pants on her uniform looking as if they were about to burst.
“Happy now?” she asked, trying not to look directly at the inmate.
“Oh, of course!” the man answered immediately, “Always lovely to see my gifts going to good use.”
“I see,” the agent grumbled, cheeks turning slightly red as she sat back down in her chair with a crinkle. “So… you’re some kind of hypnotist, I take it?”
“I suppose you could say that,” Walton smiled.
“How long have you had these little… talents?”
“Oh, I think I’ve been aware of my extraordinary abilities from a very early age. Pots and pans flying around, that sort of thing. And I could tell that the children I was forced to interact with, even the adults around me, were far, far beneath my level.”
“I see,” Agent Parker nodded, scribbling a note in her notepad.
And then, she glanced down at what she had written.
Has vary hi self-opinien
No, that didn’t seem right. So the agent scribbled it out and tried again.
mister holebruk iz ful of hiself
Looking down with panicked eyes, April began to sweat, wondering if she was losing her mind. She scratched the note off again and tried to rewrite it, but this time she struggled to remember which way the letters pointed. All the while, her subject was rambling on about something she had completely lost track of.
“Could you… could you please not talk so fast, Mr. Holbrook?” she mumbled, desperately.
“Not talk so fast?” the man repeated, sounding incredulous, “Whatever do you mean, detective? I’ve been speaking at a perfectly normal pace this whole day. It’s you that’s slowed down.”
The woman turned her gaze back up and sat in a stunned silence, her heart loudly pounding as she tried to determine if the man was bluffing. As she shuffled nervously in her seat, she could feel that her diaper had grown heavier - and soggier - since she first put it on.
And then, she began to sense a rapidly growing need in her bowels. It was another thing to worry about, perhaps, but she was relieved to have an excuse to leave the room.
“I’m sorry Mr. Holbrook I gotta run!” she fired off, scrambling off her chair as if she was in a track meet.
“Oh, no no no no no,” the man said condescendingly, and April stopped - without a thought, without wanting to, only a few feet from the door.
“You’re not going anywhere, young lady,” he continued, “After all, this could be your great opportunity to really earn my trust.”
“No, please, Mr. Holbrook, please, I really gotta go,” she begged.
“Have to go where, little girl?” he grinned.
“To the po- to the pot-, to the bafw - I HAFTA GO!” She pleaded, jumping up and down as a sense of fog filled her mind.
“Oh, but if you stay here, I’ll tell you the whole truth. Isn’t that what you wanted, detective?”
The girl shook her head vigorously, trying to hold back tears. She didn’t want the answers anymore - she just wanted out.
“Tsk tsk tsk. Making things difficult, are we? Tell you what, why don’t I make things simple? Come stand behind your chair, now.”
Agent Parker’s legs began to move on their own, and she felt like a puppet, pulled by strings she couldn’t see. Soon, she was in the middle of the room, right in the eye of the security camera.
“Good girl,” Holbrook mocked, a hint of menace in his patronizing tone, “Alright, now drop those pants to the ground.”
April’s hands undid the pants of her uniform, acting against her will. Instantly, she was standing with her thick, sagging diaper completely exposed. All the while, the pressure inside her was boiling, and she was struggling to hold it in.
“Lovely,” the man smiled, still giving instructions from his seat, “now just bend over - make sure the camera has a nice, clear view of your bottom.”
The girl’s body did as she was told, and she closed her eyes, bracing for what was about to come.
“And now you can let go.”
All at once, the mess that had been building inside April Parker’s body splattered into the back of her diaper, filling it to its brim and turning its outside a distinct shade of brown.
“Very good,” Walton’s smile widened, “I’m sure your superiors will be so proud of you when they watch that. You can come back to your seat now.”
April finally felt control of her body, but she was too defeated to do anything but follow. Without realizing it, she began sucking her thumb for comfort as she staggered forward, her eyes still closed and facing down. She was fighting back tears, but for the moment, at least in that fight, she was holding.
That was until she sat down with a loud, unmistakable squish, and, with the feeling of warm mush pressing up on her rear, started to cry.
“You see, detective,” Walton said casually, paying no mind to the girl’s state, “my mystery isn’t really all that hard to solve. Seems my powers just drove a few people a little mad, and they went ahead and burned down a house to try and kill me. Of course, they weren’t successful, but they decided to blame it on me anyway.
“No, no, where the real fun begins is when the authorities figured out what had happened, and when they started to understand what I was. When it became clear to them how helpless they would be if they ever got on my bad side, well, we just had to work out a little arrangement. And that- well, that’s why you’re here today.”
The girl shook her head as hard as she could, thumb still planted firmly in her mouth, but she knew deep inside that Walton Holbrook was telling the truth.
“Did you really think that you were put on this case because you were so talented and hard-working? No, no, little April, quite the opposite. You were chosen because you were expendable. You’re nothing more than a sacrificial lamb, a virgin tribute to appease a mighty god.
“You’re going to get used to diapers just like the one you’re in now. You’re going to be a good little girl, and you’re going to listen to Daddy. And if you don’t, then I’ll just have to turn your brain to such mush that you’ll forget how to crawl. Now, doesn’t that sound fun?”
By this point, Agent April Parker had lost both the ability and the will to hold back her tears. She cried as Walton stood and snapped off his cuffs, she cried as he nonchalantly walked across the room, and she cried as he slung her over his shoulder and began carrying her downstairs to meet the others.
I was watching her from across the room. “Do you see that girl over there?” I asked the butch who’s been tagging along with me all night for some reason, “I go with her, but sometimes she likes to go with other people, too. I’m sure she’d love to me you—oh.”
She was talking with a guy there, half a head shorter than her. Even from across the room, something was clearly going wrong. She was twisting her arm behind her back, wringing her hands together, fiddling with her hair. Her knees knocked together. She twisted her hips. It was everything she could do not do, well, saying “a potty dance” seemed so demeaning. But there she was, trying her best to hide that she was trying to stop herself from going.
And then, just as suddenly as the fit of fidgeting began, it stopped.
“Are you sure she’s okay over there by herself?” they asked. “It seemed like that guy was asking her something she didn’t really want to focus on. Or she was doing something naughty, and she didn’t want anybody to know it.”
“Well, I don’t think that’s it. You see, she’s a very good flirt. The best, even. But when she gets so focused… she’s not very good at keeping track of herself. Excuse me, I think we’ll both be right back.”
I went over and brushed her back. “Squirt, do you need my help for a second?” I asked, ignoring the conversation that had suddenly gone quiet. She turned to me and nodded. "Excuse us, we'll only be a minute." I took her hand and led her away, and she followed half a step behind me, waddling from side to side as she went, each one of her steps a little too wide from the bulk between her legs.
We went out from the little party, down the hallway, opening door after door in search of a bathroom.
“So what were you two talking about, exactly?” I asked.
“Well, uh,” she flubbed, her face flustering, “you, actually.”
“Oh really.”
“Yes, about how you're so mean, and how you take care of me, and how you, um. You put a plug in my bottom. And how your eyes looked when you put me in d—”
We reached the bathroom, and I lifted her up below the arms onto the cold countertop. The obviously wet diaper rustled in her shorts. I pushed her chest back and started unbuttoning the long button fly on her shorts.
“Did you tell him about your diapers?”
“I told him that you take care of me, and that you help me, and that I have a very exciting secret, and that sometimes I get so excited that I can’t keep it.”
I lifted her butt with one hand as I slid the shorts down her legs as they dangled, absent-mindedly kicking in the air. Untaping the diaper, I watched her shiver as the cold air hit her.
“Oh my,” I said, reaching for my wipes, “you had one big accident. Were you paying attention? Or were you too busy flirting with him?”
“I forget,” she said, not meeting my gaze. I started wiping her clean, paying special attention to her clit. I could see her fingers starting to wander themselves.
“Well, if you forget, it’s a good thing I remembered to put you in these before we came to the party. You would have made such a big mess, nobody would have missed how small you can be when you’re not paying attention.”
“Maybe I wanted to!” She stuck out her tongue. “I’m not clean enough to go back yet.” The wipes discarded, I started my finger inside her.
“I think I’m going to have to give you some special attention. What did you think was going to happen when you told him about your diapers?” I started in and out, rhythmically, steadily. “Did you think he would help change you? Maybe he would hold your hand and look into your eyes as your shorts come down and I tear off these tapes? Maybe you thought you could have his cock in your mouth while I wipe you down and make sure you’re oh-so-clean down there?”
She blushed and nodded and I slid more fingers inside her as she shoved her hand between her legs.
“Did you think he would be a tattletale as soon as he heard you say “my daddy”? That you would never be able to be totally sure your secret was just our secret any more? That if he came and tattled to me that you’d wet your pants like a little girl who can’t control yourself I would give him a present and fuck him in front of you, too?”
I had my whole hand inside her now, her bottom still resting on the wet padding that clung to her hips. She blushed again.
“Or maybe you thought you could convince me to put him in diapers, too? Maybe you thought you could have a little toy to play with, someone who’s even littler than a pants-wetter like you, someone to admire your curves, that you could hold to your breasts like a dolly of your own, who you could make fun while you get to play mommy?”
Her fingers were going faster than I could keep track and my whole fist slid in and out until, suddenly, she arched her back and shuddered and came and soaked the diaper splayed out under her yet again.
After we rested a minute, I reached down and started to tape her back up.
“But wait, you never changed me,” she protested weakly, still exhausted.
“Oh, don’t worry, squirt,” I said, “a diaper like this can take plenty of wettings. There’s no way you would need to be changed the very first time you have an accident.”
“But…” she started.
“If you keep it up, though, I’m sure we can show all your friends back at the party what one of your changes looks like.” I lifted her butt with one hand and slipped the shorts back on—a little puffier now than when we’d left the festivities—and helped her off the counter. “Now go get ‘em, tiger.”
Thanks for your inquiry, but I’m afraid I’m already happily filling that role for someone (aka 💗my daddy, @jay-saun💗).
Pictured above: girl on her hands and knees wearing something suspiciously poofy under her skirt while the adorable giant pink unicorn that her daddy gave her to further solidify their magical daddy/princess bond looks on from above 👸🦄
A young woman gets kidnapped while travelling abroad. Her new Daddy intends to turn her into a perfect baby girl, but Jennifer has no intention of spending the rest of her life as some lunatic’s overgrown toddler.
***
Italy was beautiful. Jennifer’s parents had been so critical of her decision to go solo backpacking in Europe, but they didn’t understand. She was nearly twenty now, and she needed her independence. As much as they might try to deny it, she wasn’t their little girl anymore. She could take care of herself! And looking out at the scenery before her, Jennifer knew she wouldn’t have missed this for anything. Getting drunk in bars was great, and Italian food was to die for, but sometimes it was nice to just hike up to a cliff, away from the beaches heaving with tourists, and have some time alone. She leant against a sturdy railing with a hand under her chin, gazing out at the sea serenely. She didn’t notice the man walking up behind her, until he forced the cloth over her mouth.
She started thrashing and struggling at once, but in her panic she took in a breath, and immediately the overpowering chloroform smell filled her nostrils and sent a rush of dizziness to her head. Her vision began to blur, and a horrible fear gripped her. Her parents had been right. She was going to be used and dumped in a ditch. She was going to get trussed up and sold as a sex slave. She was going to be a statistic, a missing person’s report, a cautionary tale for young women travelling alone.
“It’s okay, little one,” said a deep, gentle voice. Jennifer could feel herself losing consciousness. “I’ve got you. Sleepy time now. That’s a good girl.” She slumped against the strong, unfamiliar back that was pressed up against her, and her vision faded to black.
She was vaguely aware of motion, a comforting sensation, like she was dozing in the back seat of the car during a long trip at night. Like she was a baby being rocked in her mother’s arms. Sometimes it felt like she was dreaming, at other times like she half-awake, but confused, so confused. Where was she? What was she doing? She couldn’t tell how much time was passing. Three hours? Three days? Three weeks? Then, as though she was waking up from the longest nap of her life, Jennifer became vaguely aware that she was lying on something very soft. There was light behind her closed eyelids. She shifted sleepily, and something crinkled.
Her eyes snapped open at once, as though someone had dumped cold water over her head. Memories flooded back to her. She tried to sit up, but her arms were secured at the wrists with straps that connected her to the bed, and her hands were covered with puffy mittens that locked away both her fingers and her thumbs. She looked about desperately and saw that she was lying in some kind of enormous crib, just like a baby’s. There was even a mobile dangling above her head. In fact, the whole room was decorated like an oversized nursery. Pale morning light from a high window illuminated the pink walls, the stuffed animals sitting on every shelf, the playpen, and the large, well-stocked changing table. There was even a rocking chair in the corner.
Her jaw ached, and Jennifer suddenly realised that she’d been gagged. Something plastic was in her mouth, and her chin was wet with drool. She struggled hard against her restraints, but stopped when she felt a sharp twinge in her bladder. That was when she noticed what she was wearing. Above the waist, she was totally nude, and her bare breasts wobbled as she fought against the straps tying her to the bars of the crib. But below the waist, she wore a thick, white, disposable diaper. Its thickness pushed her thighs apart, and it rustled with every movement.
Jennifer felt tears stinging her eyes. She’d been kidnapped by some kind of crazy person! Her first thought was a lunatic old woman, some mad lady who’d lost her little daughter and wanted a replacement. But no, that wasn’t right. She’d been taken by a man. A strong man. Stronger than her at any rate. There’d be no overpowering him. Her best chance to get away was now, before he came to check on her. But her heart sank when she noticed a light shining from a box affixed to the top of her crib. A baby monitor.
There were footsteps in the hallway outside, and Jennifer stared at the door, wide-eyed in panic. He’d heard! A moment later, a man entered the room. He was tall and dark-haired, lean but well-built, older than Jennifer by at least a decade, but handsome nonetheless. He smiled when he saw her, and Jennifer felt a pleasant tingle in her tummy that she hated herself for.
“Hi, sweetie!” he cooed. “Look who’s up! Did you have a good sleep?”
Jennifer let out a fearful moan as he approached her crib and looked down at her over the bars, but he only reached down and undid the strap of her gag. A large pink pacifier popped out of her mouth.
“Please let me go!” she cried at once. “Please! I promise I won’t turn you in!”
He chuckled at that. “I think you’re telling a fib, little one. I think you’d go straight to the police if I let you out and sent you off with a pat on your bottom.” He brushed her hair lightly. “Besides, I’m not going to let go, little missy. You’re far too pretty to be running around on your own!” Jennifer felt another fluttering in her stomach. Get a grip, she told herself. This was no time to be feeling like a lovesick princess. This was no prince charming; this was the monster who’d locked her up in the tower. “Don’t you know how dangerous that it?” the man continued, looking down at her with a mixture of sternness and worry. “I’ve been watching you for a while, going to bars and restaurants all by yourself without any regard for your safety. If I hadn’t taken you, I’m sure some creep would have dragged you into an alleyway and done who-knows-what with you by now! This is for your own good, Jen-Jen.”
Jennifer flushed. She hadn’t been called Jen-Jen since she’d been three years old. The kidnapper had no doubt looked through her bag and found her ID. “You’re crazy!” she said. “And don’t call me that!”
“Don’t call you Jen-Jen?” the man asked, cocking his head and grinning. “But why not? It’s the perfect name for a cute baby girl like you.”
“I’m not a baby!” Jennifer yelled. “You’re out of your mind! I’m a grown fucking woman and you can’t do this to me!”
“Jen-Jen,” the man said warningly, his smile fading so suddenly it made a chill run down Jennifer’s spine. “If you keep saying naughty words, I’m going to put your paci right back between your lips. I may even wash your mouth out with soap before I do it.”
Jennifer whimpered involuntarily. “Please let me go!” she begged again. “At least let me out of this stupid crib! I… I have to pee!” That was true; her bladder was beginning to ache.
The man smiled again. “That’s what your nappy’s for, silly girl! If you need to go pee-pee, just go in your Pampers. The potty is a thing of the past for you now.”
“No!” Jennifer shrieked in disgust.
“Oh? Do you think that’s out of the question? Let me tell you something, sweetie,” the man said, tickling her under the chin. “By the time you’re fully settled in, I’ll have trained you to behave just like a toddler! And that includes using your pants as a potty. You’ll be toddling up to me with your nappy sagging down to your knees, telling me you went wee-wee with a great big grin on your face.”
“That’s not going to happen!” Jennifer yelled.
“Awww, does Daddy have a grumpy baby on his hands?” the man crooned. “A grumpy baby who thinks she’s too big for nappies. But I know what can help… Have you ever met the tickle monster?” His hands leapt to her sides at once, tickling her bare skin and making her shriek with laughter while she squirmed and pulled against her restraints as hard as she could, sending her breasts jiggling about madly on her chest.
You’re not my Daddy, she tried to say. But all she could do was giggle and gasp as he tickled her mercilessly. I’m an adult woman, she wanted to say. I’m not a baby. But the tickling was too much for her bladder, and Jennifer could only sob in between her squeals as a warm rush of pee flooded the thick padding between her legs. “Nooo!” she wailed, as her nappy got soggier and soggier, hating the stupid grin the tickling had forced onto her face, and the way it made her cries sound silly and playful. “No! No! No!” she laughed.
At last his tickling stopped, and his hand probed the now sodden diaper around her crotch. He wore a satisfied smile on his face.
“You can’t do this!” Jennifer cried. She was panting hard and her face was streaked with tears, but she was still fighting desperately against her cuffs. “I have a job! A boyfriend! I have a whole life!”
“Silly baby,” the man chuckled. “You don’t need to have a job. It’s all playtime for you now! And you don’t need a boyfriend either, missy. What you need is a Daddy. Someone to feed you and bathe you and change your stinky diapers. This is your life now, sweetheart.” He reached down and stroked her cheek softly with the back of his fingers. “Back to babyhood for little Jen-Jen! But I can tell you’re still feeling a bit fussy, so I think I’ll let you nap for another hour before letting you up.”
“HELP!” Jennifer shouted, as loudly as she could. “HELP, PLEASE! HEL-” The man cut her off, forcing the pacifier gag back into her mouth and, with a parting kiss on her forehead, and a warm smile, he turned around and left the nursery, leaving Jennifer to struggle in her crib in her soaking wet nappy, and scream behind her pacifier.
***
The full story can be found on Patreon for those who want to read more.
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