I think it’s important milestone for girls to start waking up wet. It truly reminds them there just small girls through and through. Making sure to give her an extra large bottle (Or two.) before bed so she has to go pee pee during the night but being safely secured into her crib there’s no way she can get out to use the bathroom. Forced to submit and go in her nappy like a good girl. Eventually she’s fall asleep again and wake up in the morning in her crib, warm and safe with her squishy mess between her legs from her “accident” (she’s defiantly have to go atleast one more time before she’s let out for the morning.) making sure to throughly check her and lightly tease her in the process. Only to repeat the same process everyday. Overtime she’ll stop waking up to pee and subconsciously start going in her sleep. Retraining your adult girlfriend to make her accidents in her nappy is only a fraction of her overall age regression.
I realised today that it’s been a 100 days since i last had an orgasm. 100 days since I was last allowed release. It seems impossible to think it’s been so long, and yet it also feels like a lifetime. When i really sit and think about it, it’s crazy to think that i’ve had so few orgasms in the past year, and even then non of them have happened in the last few months.
There’s something strange about a number like that. At first it feels impossible (although not quite as impossible as 2 years i’ve managed before), then dramatic, then eventually it becomes part of the rhythm of my body. You stop measuring it in weeks and start measuring it in behaviours instead. In the way my thoughts linger too long. In how quickly my breathing changes. In the ache that never fully leaves. In the squirming i don’t even realise I’m doing. In learning how to sit inside want without trying to escape it.
I have a constant ache that never leaves, sure i might be distracted from it for a little while, but it’s always there in the background, like my body is perpetually waiting and building up to something it’s not allowed to have. My wanting feels almost unbearable sometimes, especially the times Sir has edged me and just responds to my begging with “no”. The realising that no amount of aching or wanting or need changes the fact it isn’t my decision to make. It’s a potent feeling, it’s cruelty and kindness, it’s frustration and devotion, it’s obedience and pleasure and surrender.
Thinking very strongly about being frustratingly denied adult pleasures, Mommy taking me out to show me off to the girl I've been crushing on and ending up getting her number for babysitting,,, I end up the baby while she goes off and has fun adult times, cartoons on and toys in my playroom while the baby monitor plays out them making love, if I can manage beyond the humiliation, finding the nearest plushie to "Make love" to myself,,,, Gosh,,, Yeah, no reason for these thoughts at all 🥴
I squirm in discomfort, wiggling in my rolling chair, as I pretend to stare at the numbers on the screen in front of me.
My bladder, full to bursting, screams out to me in agony.
11:30 am.
It's only been two hours since I peed last, but, my body doesn't seem to care about that. All it seems to be worried about is relieving itself.
I turn my head, peeking towards the hallway where the office bathrooms are located. A shiver of unease works its way down my spin.
The fluorescent lights in the hallway flicker. A dark, malevolent figure appears in the darkness before the light becomes steady again.
I wince as a surge of pain, radiates through my body.
Despite my misgivings, I need to find a toilet, and I need to find it now.
Hesitantly, I stand up from my desk, and step towards the nearby hallway.
The lights flicker again, causing me to jump slightly, and a soft laughing, seems to come from just behind me.
I ignore it, desperation growing as I dart into the creepy corridor.
Why am I so nervous? What's making me so jumpy? It's not like I haven't used this exact bathroom a hundred times before.
I start walk down the hall.
I can see the bathroom door just a few yards away.
A soft, warm breeze, like hot breath, tickles the back of my neck.
I turn my head, but nothing is there.
A light flickers again.
The chime-like laughter seems closer now.
I pick up my pace and look forward.
The bathroom seems farther away.
Something is wrong.
"Uh oh, does someone need to go potty?"
A deep, feminine voice coos from some indistinct direction.
"Why don't you let Mommy help you?"
My bladder is throbbing in pain, as I spin around, trying to find the source of the voice.
Except for me, the hallway is empty.
I start to sprint.
The door to the bathroom appears close, but, doesn't seem to be getting any closer as I run towards it.
The lights turn completely off, and I run headfirst into something hard.
I fall to the ground, nearly losing control of my bladder as my ass hits the floor hard.
"Ah, ah, ah, no running inside, little one!" The maternal but malevolent voice coos from somewhere above me.
Squinting up, through the darkness, I can just barely make out a large, humanoid shape, looming above me.
Large, ethereal hands reach towards me, and I scuttle backwards as fast as I can.
The lights flicker back on, and I'm once again alone.
The bathroom door is also somehow, blessedly, closer.
I climb back to my feet and briskly walk towards the door that seems to be my only salvation. I'm hesitant to one, the warning of the shadow monster still ringing in my ear.
The door does seem to be getting closer, slower than I like, but faster than before.
By the time my fingers touch the door handle, my bladder is on the verge of exploding.
The pain from the pressure in my abdomen almost overwhelms the fear I am feeling as I transverse the liminal space that is the office hallway.
I turn my head, looking over both shoulders to make sure the super natural presence is no where near.
"It's ok, sweetie," the voice whispers in my ear, "The potty isn't that scary. Go inside."
The sudden, disembodied words, cause me to panic.
I quickly turn the door handle, and throw my body into the bathroom.
The lights, controlled by some sort of motion sensor, struggle to turn on.
In the small, familiar room, is filled by the giant, feminine shape of the creature that has been following me. In this room, she seems to exist more fully, not disappearing in the light.
I scream out at her unexpected presence.
My pants suddenly feel hot and wet, as the shock overwhelms me, causing me to lose control of my bladder.
I try to back out of the room as the matronly monster steps towards me, but, in a moment, my back is against the door as she looks down on me. A look of fuax, condescending disappointment is fixed to her face, as she reaches out for me.
"Uh oh, looks like someone couldn't quite make it to the potty on time," the monster says, her hands sliding under my armpits as she lifts me into the air with inhuman strength, "That's alright, sweetie, some little ones just were never built for potty training."
I try to resist. I push and kick and wriggle and squirm, desperate to be free from her hold.
She doesn't notice.
I try to scream, but as I attempt to open my mouth, it's suddenly sealed shut by some sort of large, foreign rubbery object.
"Don't worry, sweet one, Mommy's not mad," the monster coos, carrying me towards the door, "It's my job to take care of cute little things like you."
Her hand wraps around my backside, balancing me on her hip like some overgrown toddler as she walks towards the bathroom door. I whimper and whine behind the seemingly magical gag in my mouth.
"Oh, don't whine, sweetheart," the Monster continues, reaching for the door handle, opening the door to a dark, empty space, drastically different from the hallway that was there before, "You're Mommy's now. You're Mommy's for the rest of your sweet little life."
Panic envelopes me as she steps through the door and carries me into the darkness, never to be heard from again.
Nora’s boyfriend dragged her by the ear inside their apartment. “What time do you call this, missy?” he asked sternly. “You were supposed to be back an hour ago!”
“Ouch! Stop!” Nora cried. “We just stayed out a bit longer than we planned! What’s the matter with you? Owie!” Her words were slightly slurred. She was still a little tipsy from all the gin and tonics she and her girlfriends had drank that afternoon.
“Then why didn’t you tell me? I was worried sick about you, baby!”
“Let go of my ear!” Nora squealed. “My phone died!”
Her boyfriend let go of her ear at last, but his nose twitched, and he frowned. “How much have you had to drink?” he demanded. He must have noticed the alcohol on her breath. “Did you drive home like this?”
Nora’s face reddened guiltily. “I… I’m not that dru-” Her words turned into a gasp of shock and pain as a hard smack landed on her bottom. She stared at her boyfriend open-mouthed. He’d hit her. Smacked her! She took a step backwards. This was a different side of her boyfriend, one that usually only came out during sex, and while she couldn’t deny that her pussy was tingling a little at his commanding attitude, things were going too far. She didn’t feel like a naughty slut being bossed around in the bedroom. She felt like a misbehaving toddler about to be put in time-out.
“Bad girl, Nora!” her boyfriend scolded. He grabbed her by the arm and spun her around, lifting up her dress and delivering several more painful swats to her behind. “Very bad girl! Don’t you know how dangerous that is?”
“Ow! Ow! Stop!” Nora squealed, squirming to free herself from her boyfriend’s grip. “Stop it! You can’t treat me like this!”
“Oh yes I can, baby,” said her boyfriend, still spanking her rapidly reddening tushy. “You think you’ve got all kinds of rights, silly girl. A right to go out with your friends whenever you want. A right to drink alcohol. A right to be treated like an adult. But those are privileges, and in this house you’ll lose privileges for bad behaviour. I’m your boyfriend, and that means I’m responsible for you.”
“You’re not responsible for me!” Nora insisted. She fought as hard as she could to escape the smacks raining down on her bum, but her boyfriend held her in place effortlessly. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m a grown woman!” she whined.
The spanking stopped, and her boyfriend spun her back around, putting a finger up to her face. “You’re a naughty child,” he said firmly, and before Nora could say anything else, he was dragging her over to the bedroom. “If you’re going to act like a baby,” he said, marching her along, “then I’m going to treat you like one.”
They entered the room, and at once Nora’s eyes were drawn to the bed. For a second she stared in total confusion at the thick disposable diaper that was laid out on top of the sheets. Then she realised what her boyfriend meant to do.
“No!” she shrieked. She tried to back out of the room, but his grip on her arm was too strong. “I’m not going to wear that! I’m not!”
“Oh yes you will,” said her boyfriend. “You’re going to wear them and you’re going to use them until I decide you’ve earned your way back into adult underwear. In the meantime, you’d better get used to pottying in your pants, missy. Perhaps that will help you understand how immature you are!”
“Ouch!” Nora yelped as her boyfriend delivered another hard swat to her backside to move her closer to the bed, and her new nappy. “This is crazy! If you think I’m going to take this, you’re out of your mind! OW!”
One Year Later
Nora crawled to the living room on her hands and knees, her thickly diapered rear wiggling in the air behind her as she crept along, looking for her Daddy. Over the last few months, she’d found out there were an awful lot of privileges she could lose. The privilege of choosing her own clothes had quickly joined her potty privileges in the dustbin, and frilly frocks and overalls and stupid baby tees had replaced her elegant dresses and tight jeans – although, like now, she often wore nothing but a nappy inside the house. Not long after that, she’d lost the privilege of feeding herself, and deciding what she ate and drank. Alcohol was a big no-no, of course, and she had to drink exclusively from a baby bottle so she didn’t have any spills. Usually she got to eat whatever Daddy was having, but sometimes she’d just have a big bowl of yucky baby food plonked down in front of her instead. That was happening more and more lately.
It was hard to be a good girl. There were just so many ways to misbehave, and so many privileges to lose! The privilege of acting smart, of watching adult television, of not constantly drooling down her chin. The privilege of walking and talking and getting to cum. She hadn’t realised just how deluded she’d been about her rights, how much she’d taken for granted. Daddy said she had a lot to learn.
She reached the living room and crawled inside, grinning behind her dummy when she saw Daddy sitting in his chair. He looked up as she entered, his smiling eyes lingering on the sagging, yellowed nappy swinging between her legs.
“Uh-oh!” he said. “I think little Nora’s done a big pee-pee, hasn’t she?”
Nora blushed and giggled. His warm tone made butterflies flutter in her tummy. Even though Daddy could be very strict, he was very loving too. He held out his arms. “Come to Daddy, baby!”
Nora hurried over happily, eager for a nappy change. Even after a whole year with disgusting dirty diapers strapped to her bottom, she wasn’t used to the yucky feeling of going potty in her pants. Pee-pee wasn’t as bad as poopy, but she could feel the cold, icky wee-wee padding pressing against her privates, and if she thought about it for too long, it made her want to gag. She’d sank so deeply into her new lifestyle that sometimes she almost forgot she was a grown woman being punished, but a full diaper that badly needed changing would always remind her.
She reached Daddy and got up on her knees, looking at him adoringly, her pacifier bobbing cutely between her lips.
“What’s the matter, baby?” he asked. “Did you come looking for Daddy?”
Nora nodded her head and wiggled her bottom, making her soaked nappy sway from side to side between her bare thighs like a pendulum. She looked down at it pointedly and then back up to him. She wasn’t allowed to speak unless a grown-up removed her soother, so she gurgled stupidly, hoping it would put him in a good mood.
He laughed. “I think I know what my baby wants,” he said, and Nora grinned more widely behind her paci. Good. She could get out of this horrible thing at least. “My little girl wants to suck!”
Nora’s face fell as Daddy unbuckled his belt, undid his zipper, and pulled out his hardening cock. No! That’s not what she wanted! She shook her head and gestured down at her wet diaper, but Daddy just pulled her dummy out of her mouth and, before she could say a word, shoved his dick between her lips.
Nora groaned in displeasure, but she didn’t fight. She’d lost the privilege of saying no to him long ago. Her sore asshole and her tramp stamp tattoo (“Daddy’s Baby Bitch”) could attest to that. Once, she’d hated anal and been adamant that she didn’t want any tattoos. Well, she supposed that was still true... But Daddy was in charge of her body now, and Daddy liked to use her butt, and he liked the way she looked with a trashy tramp stamp on her lower back, so now she did anal and had tats. She’d never liked blowjobs either, but Daddy loved to feel her mouth wrapped around his cock, so…
He pumped her face up and down, his hands gripping her pigtails tightly. “That’s a good girl,” he said, breathing heavily. “That’s a good girl, Nora. This is where you belong, nice and safe with Daddy.”
Nora gagged and choked on his cock, feeling it shoving into her throat.
“My precious girl. A good baby who knows her place. Who might just spend the rest of her life in diapers.”
Nora moaned unhappily at that. She struggled to extract her lips from Daddy’s dick, but he was too strong, and she didn’t dare bite down. The rest of her life?! That wasn’t right!
“Getting to grow up again is also a privilege, baby,” said Daddy, thrusting into her mouth faster and faster. “And if I keep finding resistance from you, I’ll revoke it. Then you’ll be stuck. Like this. Forever.” He came down her throat, and Nora swallowed it all fearfully. She hadn’t realised getting her privileges back was a privilege too. She was such a stupid girl. As she slumped to the floor, gasping and panting, her pissy diaper squelching between her legs, she resolved to be on her very best behaviour from that moment on. Then maybe, one day, Daddy would let her be a big girl again.
This post by @littleghxstmouse got my brain brrring. And now I can't stop thinking about a content creator whose subby baby brain forgets just how far they've already sunk...
Thinking of staging an accident in front of their friends... then realizing that that ship sailed long ago. Everyone knows they're in diapers anyway!
Wanting to do something about wetting the bed and being punished for ruining the mattress... but then remembering that their CG never takes off the ultra-thick plastic protector their nightly indiscretions earned years ago.
Thinking of filming a scene of them eating messily and being laughed at and given a bib for being such a baby... then recollecting that it's been over a year since they were even allowed to try feeding themselves.
Imagining a bit with their pull-ups being discovered and mocked during a sleepover... only to recall that their CG hasn't bought them anything thinner than daytime diapers in years.
Wanting to do a scene of them "accidentally" sucking their thumb in public... but then looking down at the giant pacifier clipped onto their clothes and realizing they've already slipped way past that.
Dreaming of embarrassing themselves by pissing themselves during sex... but then having to admit the closest thing to sex they get these days is humping their stuffies through their diaper while their CG cheers them on.
"Hmmm..." He looked at his watch as he finished the last of the dishes. "Time really got away from us, huh? Looks like it's almost your bedtime."
She checked her phone. It was 8:45. "Are you serious?"
"What, about bedtime? Of course. It's a very serious matter." He turned to head into their bedroom. "I'm going to grab your jammies. Can you be a big girl for me and brush your teeth by yourself?"
It looked like he was. For the past week, he'd just been making up an earlier and earlier "bedtimes" for her and waiting to see if she'd crack. "It's barely even dark out!" She protested, pointing out the window at the soft pink sky.
"We're not having this argument tonight." He stated. "I'm going to go get your jammies, and if your teeth aren't brushed when I come back out, we're going to have a conversation. Are we clear?"
"....whatever..." She mumbled.
"I love the enthusiasm," He quipped as he ducked into their bedroom. She wasn't a fan of early bedtimes, but she was even less a fan of corner time, so she, to her own chagrin, went and brushed her teeth. Midway through, he came into the bathroom to check up on her, her pajamas slung under his arm. He chose the frilly pink nightie with the big smiling unicorn on it. Barf.
He gave her a proud squeeze on the shoulder as she finished brushing her teeth. "Look at you, doing it all by yourself! Such a big girl." He praised her. "Okay, let's get your jammies on. Arms up, honey."
"I can get changed myself, too!" She shoved the nightie away as if it was radioactive. “And I am not putting that on.”
"I'm sure you can, dear," He said in the sort of tone you use on a child trying to tie their shoes on their own for the first time. "Can we put our arms up? Can you show me what a good listener you are?" He started trying to pull her sweater off, but she fussed and squirmed away.
"Honey, can you please-"
"No, I am not going to just-"
"Just hold still, and-"
"You're treating me like a child, and-"
"Excuse me!" He suddenly raised his voice. "You had better start behaving yourself right now, or you are not going to like what comes next." That got her stock still. She obediently raised her arms up. "Whatever..." She murmured.
"Thank you," He said, and pulled her sweater up and over her shoulders. "See how much easier things are when we work together? It doesn't all have to be tantrums and fussing." He praised as he finished undressing her."
"I wasn't having a tantrum..." She mumbled, discontentedly crossing her arms in front of her chest to retain a hint of modesty. "Of course you weren't. Step in, honey." He extended a pair of pull-ups in front of her. She blanched. "You said I didn't have to wear these earlier!" Despite her protests, she still stepped through the leg holes.
"I said you didn't have to wear them during the day," He clarified as he pulled the garment up her legs. She barely had time to register the soft, puffy feeling before he pulled the pink nightie over her head. "But we still don't want to take any chances with little night-time accidents, do we?"
Her face flushed with indignation as he took her hand and started leading her towards the bedroom. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she wasn't entirely confident in staying dry the whole night. She wanted to sulkily stare down at the ground, but doing so just led her to make eye contact with the smiling unicorn on the front of the nightie. She decided to give voice to her discontentment. "This whole production is ridiculous," She proclaimed.
"I know, honey."
"I'm a grown woman. I don't need you to do this!"
"Sure you are, sweetheart,"
"Are you even listening to me!?"
He turned back to her with a warm, tired smile. "Of course I am, honey. I always do," He assured her. "And I love that you have such an active imagination. But we have this same conversation every night, and if we don't get you to bed soon, you're going to be all over-tired and cranky tomorrow. We can play pretend in the morning, alright?"
"Oh my god!" She groaned. "I'm not...you're so...ugh, whatever!" She kept following him, but stomped her feet as she walked in an act of daring civil disobedience. When they reached their room, he crouched and switched on a small nightlight. "I don't need that," She grumbled as he stood back up.
"Oh? My mistake. I'll turn it off," He went to crouch back down, but she grabbed his arm. "No, it's fine. Uh...you can just leave it."
"Ah. Well, that's very kind of you, saving me the trip down." He said, before scooping her up and planting her on his hip. "Hey! Put me down!" She fussed. He, obviously, didn't listen. Instead, he carried her over to the bed, pulled back the covers, and softly laid her down. Her protests became slightly more muted as he pulled up the covers, settling them around her chin, and softly ruffled her hair. "Alright, love. Sweet dreams. See you tomorrow. Call me if you need anything, alright?"
She grabbed onto his hand as he tried to pull away. "Wait..." She said, in a much quieter, less strident voice than before. "You promised we could read a bit if I was good today."
"I do remember that. But there was another condition. Do you remember what it was?"
"Umm...hmmm..." She squirmed a little bit.
"You promised you would be good, and you wouldn't give me any fuss about bedtime. Did you keep your promise?"
"Well...I didn't fuss a lot...and I had a really long day at work..."
He gave her a look that plainly said that he wasn't convinced.
"Come on, please? Only five minutes? I'll be really good tomorrow, I promise." She extended a pinkie to show how serious she was.
He thought for a moment, before completing the pinkie swear. "Alright, move over." She fought to keep the grin off her face as she sidled over to make room for him. He slid beneath the covers, and she flopped onto his chest, nestling her head in the crook of his neck. "I think I indulge you much more than I should," He said as he picked up the book from their bedside table. "We're going to have a conversation about your behaviour tomorrow,"
"Mmmhmm..." She sleepily agreed as he cracked the book open. After much more than five minutes of reading, he set the book onto the bedside table and went to get up. Her tranquil, half-asleep face twitched into a soft frown as she tightened her arms around his neck. "Nooo..." She quietly protested.
"No? No, what?" He asked.
"You...you hafta stay." She whined.
"Oh, I do? When was that passed into law?"
He was teasing her again. She managed to wrench her eyes open and give him a look. "You...mmm..." She was interrupted by a pressing yawn. "You hafta stay until I fall asleep. It's the rules."
"Oh, the rules. How could I forget?" He ran a hand through her hair. "I think my big girl just wants a little extra attention. Maybe she's not as big as she thought,"
"Am too!" She complained. "Just...just stay a little more."
"Alright. But you're going to be on your best behaviour tomorrow, agreed?"
Oh, baby, it's adorable how you keep whining, claiming you're an "adult," a "big kid," how you "don't need a caregiver."
But, sweetie, I think it's about time you give that up.
I mean, look at yourself, squatting there in your cute little onesie, diaper drooping nearly to your knees!
Have you ever seen anything so precious in your life?
If you weren't meant to be just like this, my adorable diapered pet, why would the universe make you this irresistible?
Now, stop your whimpering, the smell isn't that bad.
If you waddle off quickly to your playpen and show me just how perfect of a baby you were built to be, I might even change that messy bum of yours before you go nini!
Girlfriend who is so determined to get you into diapers she forcibly takes your potty training from you 😵💫 every night she pretends to go to sleep with you only to slink out of bed, coming back with a bowl of warm water. She puts your hand in it and watches as you wet the bed helplessly.
She wakes you up in the morning to show you what you’ve done and you promise her through tears it’s just a blip! “Aw baby, don’t worry! I’m sure it’s just a one off…” and here comes this but “but just in case maybe you should wear a pull up tonight?”
You don’t even question why she has pull ups just on hand but she talks you into it with that silver tongue of hers over the course of the day and you find yourself standing as she helps you into a pull up, sliding it up your hips as you stand there rethinking your life choices.
Rinse and repeat… she stands and watches as you wet your pull up, hand in the bowl again. Just as she hoped, your pull up overflows and you wet the bed anyway. This time, she wakes you up feigning concern as her lovely girlfriend is clearly a proper bedwetter now and she just must have you wear thicker padding tonight, no ifs or buts!
Again, you don’t question why she has a pack of adult diapers in the wardrobe, you’re just thankful that she’s so prepared for your accidents! Your girlfriend praises you as she tapes you, her adult partner, into a diaper! “Gosh you look so cute in this! You should totally wear these all the time!” She says as she presses a quick peck to your lips and helps you up.
She does this for months until you’re a genuine bed wetter, never waking up with a dry diaper ever again. At least you’re okay during the day right? Sure… until she starts adding those pills to your juice…
Who else loves a good set-up-to-fail situation? Between the mitts and the safety doorknob cover, they never had a chance.
Did this on a day where I wanted to draw but was stuck closely supervising a situation all fuckin day. So I did this intermittently and managed to end with a lil colored sketch
The door creaked open, and Jake stepped into the room, his smirk widening as he took in the sight before him. Charlotte, was sprawled on the nursery rug, her diaper a swollen, sagging mess between her thighs, her fingers absently rubbing at the soaked plastic. Her eyes were glazed, her cheeks flushed, and a trail of drool glistened on her chin. She didn’t even look up at first, too lost in a blissful haze.
"Hey there, Lottie," Jake said, his voice dripping with amusement as he crouched beside her. "Miss me?"
Charlotte blinked slowly, her lips curling into a dumb, dopey grin. "J-Jake?" she slurred, her words thick and sloppy. "Wha’ you doin’ hewe?"
Jake chuckled, reaching out to tap the bulging front of her diaper. The squish was obscene, the plastic soggy under his touch. "Oh, you know. Just checking in on my favorite little diaper slut." His fingers traced the tapes at her hips, his touch possessive. "You’ve been such a good girl for me, haven’t you? Filling up your diaper all on your own."
Charlotte giggled, her hips wiggling as another trickle of warmth escaped her, soaking the already drenched padding. "I dunno," she admitted, her voice high and breathy. "Jus’ feel nice…"
"Mmm, I bet it does," Jake murmured, his hand sliding up to cup her cheek. "You know, Lottie, you ever wonder why it feels so nice? Why you can’t stop peeing yourself? Why you get so dumb and horny in that thing?"
Charlotte’s brow furrowed in confusion, her fingers still rubbing lazy circles over her diaper. "I-I dunno…" she whined, her bladder aching with the need to go again. "Jus’… is."
Jake’s smirk turned predatory. "No, baby. It’s not just anything." He pulled out his phone, flipping through it before turning the screen toward her. "See these? The Tumblr blogs? The ads? The hypnos?"
Charlotte’s eyes struggled to focus on the images, familiar pictures of women in diapers, the same ones that had haunted her late-night scrolling. Her lips parted in surprise, but before she could speak, Jake continued.
"I sent them to you," he admitted, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. "Every single one. That first ad you saw? The one that got you all hot and bothered? That was me. And those diapers you just had to try?" He chuckled darkly. "Special order. Laced with something… extra. Something to make sure you stayed my good little Pampers packer."
Charlotte’s breath hitched, her mind struggling to process his words. But the chemical haze in her system made it impossible to hold onto the horror, the betrayal. All she could focus on was the warmth spreading between her legs, the way Jake’s voice made her ache.
"You-you made me.... this?" she started, but her words dissolved into a moan as another gush of pee filled her diaper, the wetness seeping against her skin.
Jake’s grin was triumphant. "Oh, Lottie." His hand slid down, pressing firmly against her soaked padding. "I told you years ago I’d have you in diapers. Did you really think I’d let you forget?"
Charlotte whimpered, her hips bucking against his touch. She should be angry. She should fight back. But the chemicals, the hypnosis, the pleasure, it all made her brain too fuzzy to resist. All she could do was giggle dumbly, her fingers clawing at her diaper as she peed herself again, her body trembling with need.
"P-please," she begged, her voice small and needy. "I-I need cummies…"
Jake’s laugh was low and dark as he leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. "Oh, baby," he murmured. "You’ll get them. But first…" His hand pressed harder. "You’re gonna be such a good girl for Daddy."
Charlotte’s world narrowed to the sensationthe way her mind melted further with every word. She didn’t fight it. She didn’t want to.
She just giggled, her body trembling as she whispered, "Yes, Daddy…"
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Caroline has to go into witness protection to hide from a criminal gang, but she’s less than happy about her new identity as Betsy, an incontinent young woman living in a trailer park with her strict Mommy.
***
“So I’m getting a new name?” Caroline asked dubiously, as the car sped down the highway. She didn’t like the idea of witness protection. She was used to the life of a wealthy young socialite from the city, and she wasn’t keen at all on leaving it all behind, even if it was only for a few weeks like the agency promised. But what choice did she have? She shuddered at the thought of the De Vries getting to her. The crime family were notorious for the cruel and unusual punishments they inflicted on the people who had wronged them.
“It’s not just your name,” Mr Harris, the agent, replied. “You can be tracked by your habits, your tastes, your sense of style, so all of that’s got to change as well. The agency has a full character profile for you to adopt.” Keeping his eyes on the road, he reached over to open the glove compartment and take out a brown file, which he handed to her. “That’s the new you.”
Caroline opened the file. “Betsy Jackson?” she read with distaste. That was a hick name if ever she’d heard one. Surely nobody could look at her with her sleek, silver-blonde hair and elegantly made-up face and think she was a Betsy Jackson. It got worse. “What the fuck?!” she exclaimed, staring down at the paper. “What is this, Harris? It says I live in a fucking trailer park!”
“A trailer park out in the country is the perfect place for you,” said Mr Harris. He was the very model of a government agent with his dark suit and glasses, and his totally impassive expression. “It’s the last place the De Vries will expect you to be.”
“That’s because it’s the last place I’d want to be!” Caroline shrieked. “I am not going to live in a trailer park! Put me somewhere else!”
“The arrangements have already been made, Caroline,” Mr Harris said flatly. “We can’t just create a whole new identity for you because you didn’t like this one. It’s either this, or nothing.”
Caroline flushed with anger and went back to reading the file, scowling. It’s just for a few weeks, she told herself. Just a few weeks until the agency makes its move and all the De Vries get locked away, then you’ll be free to go home. Something on the page caught her eye. “It says I live with my mother,” she said, confused.
“Mrs Jackson works for us,” Mr Harris explained. “She lives in the trailer park, and she’s helped us with witness protection programs in the past. She’s firm, but she loves to take care of people. She’ll be your Mom, and you’ll be her formerly estranged daughter who’s come back to live with her after things in the city fell through. Mrs Jackson used to live in another park, so the sudden return of a daughter won’t raise any eyebrows here.”
Caroline’s lip twisted at the thought of having to pretend to be the daughter of some middle-aged trailer trash woman, but she held her tongue. Just a few weeks. She looked down at the file again, and something else jumped out at her. For a moment she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She read it through again, sure she must have misread. But the writing was plain. Betsy’s return to her mother is motivated by the car accident she was involved in several months ago, which left her with severe and permanent… “Incontinence?!” she shrieked. “You don’t mean… Like when you can’t control when you pee?!”
“That’s right,” Mr Harris said calmly. “Betsy is diaper dependent.”
“No!” Caroline screamed, revolted.
“No?”
Caroline looked at him as if he’d gone mad. “No as in I’m not doing that! I’m not going to be seen wearing diapers!”
“It’s an important part of Betsy’s backstory, Caroline,” Mr Harris insisted.
“It’s ridiculous!” Caroline shouted. Some of her friends were the types to go gooey-eyed over babies, but she never had been. The idea of having to deal with diapers was so gross! And even though she was sure there was no way she’d actually be expected to use them, just the idea of adult diapers was enough to make her feel nauseous. “Why incontinence?!” she demanded. “Why does it need to be part of her stupid backstory at all?!”
“It gives you a believable incentive to go back to living with your mother. Don’t take this personally, Caroline, but I doubt you’re that great of an actress. It’s going to be pretty clear to people that you’re not too happy about living in a trailer park with Mrs Jackson. Your incontinence creates an explanation for that. Betsy thought she’d escaped from the sticks, and her mother, and made it to the big city where she was finally free to be an independent young woman, but then she got into that accident, lost her potty training and her prospects, and is forced to toddle back home to her Mommy in Pampers.”
Caroline blushed furiously. This was insane!
“It’s also an additional layer of protection,” Mr Harris went on. “The rich young lady the De Vries are after isn’t likely to hide away in a trailer park of all places, and she’s definitely not likely to be that new girl who can’t even keep her pants clean. This will keep you safe. It’s for your own good.”
“Complain about it all you like,” said Mr Harris, “but everything has already been set up. There’s no changing it now. The fact is that Betsy can’t control her bladder or bowels, and starting today, Betsy is you.”
“But I can control my bladder and bowels!” Caroline shouted.
“I know that,” Mr Harris said, patiently.
“Then what do you expect me to do?!” she demanded.
“It’s simple,” the agent said, and for the first time he actually smiled. “You’ll just have to pretend like you can’t.”
"Please lift your skirt and show the group what’s underneath, Lisa."
The classroom fell silent. Lisa’s fingers trembled as she pinched the hem of her pink tutu, her cheeks already flushed with embarrassment. She wasn’t like the other girls in Bunny Class—most of them wore pull-ups, thin and discreet, easy to hide under their little skirts. But not Lisa. Not anymore.
Her teacher, Miss Harper, stood with her arms crossed, her voice sweet but firm. "Go on, dear. We’re all friends here."
Lisa swallowed hard, her pacifier bobbing between her lips. She knew what was under her skirt. She knew everyone would see. But she also knew she didn’t have a choice.
With a shaky breath, she lifted the layers of tulle, revealing the thick, crinkly bulk of her diaper. It was white, adorned with building blocks and already a faint yellow, proof she’d used it at least once today. The plastic backing rustled loudly as she shifted, the sound echoing in the quiet room.
A few giggles erupted from the girls still in pull-ups. "Eww, Lisa, you’re such a baby!" one teased, her own pull-up barely visible under her shirt.
Lisa’s face burned. She wanted to argue, to say she wasn’t a baby, that she didn’t want to wear this. But the words died in her throat. Because deep down, she knew the truth. She had wet herself during storytime. She had needed the extra thickness, the security of something that wouldn’t leak when she forgot to use the potty. And worst of all, she liked how it felt. The way it hugged her, the way it made her waddle when she walked, the way it reminded her she didn’t have to worry about accidents anymore.
Miss Harper smiled, stepping closer. "Very good, Lisa. Now, let’s all clap for Lisa for being such a brave girl."
The class clapped half-heartedly, some girls whispering behind their hands. Lisa let her skirt fall, her fingers curling into the fabric. She could feel the warmth between her legs, the way the padding had already started to sag with use. She shifted again, and the crinkle was even louder this time.
"Lisa has been doing so well with her unpotty training," Miss Harper announced, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "She doesn’t even need the potty anymore, do you, dear?"
Lisa shook her head, her pacifier slipping from her mouth. "N-no, Miss Harper."
"Good girl." The teacher patted her head like she was a toddler. "And because you’re such a good little girl now, you’ll be moving to the Chicks Class tomorrow."
Lisa’s stomach dropped. Chicks Class? That was for the girls who were even more regressed, the ones who wore diapers all the time, who got changed on the table in front of everyone, who didn’t even try to use the potty anymore. Some of them couldn’t even walk anymore!
Her eyes stung. "B-but I don’t wanna…"
"Lisa," Miss Harper’s voice was sharp now, cutting her off. "This is not up for discussion. You need this." She gestured to Lisa’s diaper. "You’re already using it like a good girl."
Lisa’s bottom lip wobbled. She could feel it, the warmth expanding into the diaper. She had used it again, just a little, while she was standing there. Without noticing.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
"Aw, don’t cry, Lisa," Miss Harper cooed, but there was no real sympathy in her voice. "You’ll love Chicks Class. And who knows? Maybe you’ll even make some new friends who also like filling their diapers."
The class giggled again. Lisa’s hands clenched into fists. She wanted to scream, to run, to prove she wasn’t just a baby. But then her belly cramped, and she gasped, her knees pressing together.
No. No, not now.
But it was too late.
The mushiness spread between her legs, thick and embarrassing. The diaper did its job, swelling around her, the scent of baby powder barely masking what she’d done. Lisa’s face burned as she realized, everyone could see it. The way her diaper sagged, the way she instinctively rocked her hips.
Miss Harper didn’t even bat an eye. "Oh dear. Looks like someone’s ready for a change." She turned to the class. "Lisa certainly filled her diaper, didn’t you, sweetheart?"
Lisa nodded miserably, fresh tears streaming down her face.
"Good girl," Miss Harper said again, patting her head. "Tomorrow, you’ll be with the other Chicks. And I’m sure you’ll fit right in."
Lisa didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Because as much as she hated it, as much as she wanted to be anywhere else, she knew Miss Harper was right.
She was a baby now.
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