Naomi looked up at her Daddy and grinned cheekily. She was squatting down in the middle of the bedroom wearing nothing but her sopping wet overnight nappy. She let out a cute grunt, and something dropped into the seat of her diaper, making it droop heavily between her legs.
Isaac shook his head, smiling. “What a messy girl!” he cooed, as his girlfriend-turned-baby scrunched up her face into a silly pout and grunted again, filling her britches with another yucky load. “Are you making your morning messies?”
Naomi straightened up with a big, dumb smile on her face when she was finished pooping her pants, and Isaac held out his arms for a cuddle. She squealed with pleasure at the invitation and hurriedly toddled into his embrace, pressing her bare chest against him eagerly and allowing him to scoop her up effortlessly into his arms.
“What a stinky baby!” Isaac said, planting a kiss on Naomi’s cheek.
Naomi gurgled happily.
“You couldn’t use your potty?” he teased, bouncing her a little in his arms.
Naomi giggled and shook her head, sending her dark pigtails flapping around her face. “Need nappy!” she declared, proudly.
Isaac chuckled and held her tightly. She was a bit stinky, but it didn’t bother him. Her warm, nearly naked body felt delightful snuggled up against him. “Miss Brenda says you’re the best cuddler in your class,” he said, tapping her on the nose. “Always running up to give her big hugs!”
“Wuv cuddles,” said Naomi, nodding seriously.
Isaac laughed and held her closer to him so she could rest her head on his shoulder and slip her thumb into her mouth.
Isaac rocked her gently in his arms, utterly content. Naomi’s sense of shame and modesty was gone forever, along with all her adult thoughts. It wasn’t easy taking care of a twenty-something-year-old toddler; she threw tantrums and made a mess with her food, and he swore her diapers always needed changing when he checked – although Naomi didn’t care one bit for the state of her Pampers, and was perfectly content to waddle around in full pants all day if he let her. But he knew he’d made the best decision of his life giving her a booster for the virus. She fit in so much better at her daycare now. She was thrilled to wear whatever clothes he dressed her in, and if he decided to put her in nothing but her nappy, or even nothing at all, then she was thrilled about that too.
He stroked Naomi’s back softly with his fingers, feeling blessed. He’d noticed a new girl had been brought to HappyDays Daycare recently, seen the way the snooty young woman had argued with her boyfriend and Miss Brenda as she was dropped off, pointing at Naomi and declaring that she didn’t belong with a bunch of “drooling, diaper-filling rugrats like her”. Like Naomi had once done, back when she could still talk in full sentences, she’d complained about how she “barely had any symptoms at all”, and even suggested that sending women with all their mental faculties to daycare was “part of some big conspiracy to infantilise women”. But he’d been happy to have a word with the woman’s boyfriend afterwards, and point him in the direction of an excellent hospital where certain members of the staff might just be happy to pass him a very special syringe under the table. Isaac smiled to himself, thinking that Naomi might well be having the woman round for a playdate in the not-so-distant future, and her angry, arrogant face would be blissfully blank as she lay down next to Naomi and he changed their nappies side by side. Just another Baby Fever girl.
He patted Naomi’s crinkly bottom and carried her over to the changing table that stood in the corner. “Time to get your messy bottom clean, little one,” he cooed. “Then it’s off to daycare for a full day of fun and games! Aren’t you a lucky girl?”
“I’m afraid she was a very naughty girl today,” said Miss Brenda, as she handed Naomi over to her boyfriend.
Naomi sniffled. She was staring at her feet, rubbing one of her sore, red bum cheeks with one hand, careful not to squish her droopy, dirty diaper against her skin.
“Oh Naomi…” Isaac sighed. “What did she do?”
“She threw a tantrum because she didn’t want to join in with song and dance time, so we had to spank her. She was quiet enough for story time, but when playtime started, she spent the whole time sulking instead of playing with her dollies like we told her. Then she came up to me and demanded I let her use the toilet, when I’d already made it quite plain that girls in the baby class do all their yucky potty business in their pants. She made poos in her nappy in the end, but because she was such a brat about it, we decided to leave her in her stinky Pampers for the rest of the afternoon to teach her a lesson.”
Naomi looked up at Isaac, hoping to see some outrage on her behalf, but instead her boyfriend was nodding in approval. She sobbed and stomped her feet angrily. “It’s not fair!” she whined.
“It’s perfectly fair, little girl,” said Miss Brenda, sternly. “I explained the rules to you. All the girls in the baby class get treated just the same. It’s you who wanted special treatment, missy!”
“I’m very sorry for the way she behaved,” said Isaac, sounding a little embarrassed.
“There’s no need to be sorry!” Miss Brenda said quickly. “I’m sure it’s not your caregiver skills that are the problem. It’s early days for her after all, and it’s only natural that she’s a bit grumpy about her new life. But we’ll probably be keeping little Naomi in the baby class from now on, so if I might make a suggestion, I’d recommend keeping her in nappies full time going forward. It will help her learn her place.”
Isaac nodded. “I was just thinking of taking away her potty privileges. She hardly ever makes it to the toilet at home anyway, and judging by her behaviour today, it looks like she could do with being taken down a peg or two.”
“No!” Naomi squealed.
“I’d better get little miss stinky pants home,” Isaac said, smiling at Miss Brenda. “I think I sense a tantrum coming on.”
Miss Brenda chuckled and waved them off, and as they walked through the daycare’s doors, they could hear her start talking to another man. “Hello, Peter! Your wife and daughter were a pair of sweet little princesses today, as usual. They’re always such a delight!”
They stepped outside and Isaac led Naomi down the path, towards the car. “Daddy is very disappointed in your behaviour today, little one,” he said, crossly.
“They made me go in the baby class!” Naomi complained.
“And from the sounds of things, you acted like that was exactly where you belonged,” said Isaac. “If you want people to treat you like a grown-up, Naomi, then don’t behave like you’re in your terrible twos.”
Naomi reddened, but said nothing as Isaac helped her into the back of the car, where an oversized car seat was waiting for her. She was just positioned over it when she suddenly realised something. “Wait!” she said. “I can’t sit down! I… I’ve got a… It will get…” She looked at her boyfriend imploringly.
“I know baby,” said Isaac. “You’ve pooped your pants. But you have to sit down, sweetheart. Daddy will change your nappy when we get home, okay?”
Naomi let out a soft whine that turned into a cry of revulsion as Isaac forced her down into the seat. The disgusting mess in her diaper was smushed against her bottom, and she could feel the heavy, pee-soaked padding pressed up against her pussy. “Ewww!”
“You’d better get used to it, Naomi,” Isaac said as he buckled her in. “You’ll be wearing your night-time nappies during the day from now on, just like Miss Brenda suggested.”
Naomi whimpered as Isaac shut the door and went around to the driver’s seat. She felt tears welling up in her eyes. She banged her fists angrily against the soft armrests of her car seat. She hated the way Miss Brenda had driven her to tears, first during her spanking and then again when she’d been forced to mess herself. Sobbing and sniffling made her feel like such a baby, and she knew everyone around her would just see it as a sign of a regressed mind. But how could she not cry in this situation?! It wasn’t fair! They treated her like a toddler, then accused her of acting like one just because she complained about it!
The drive home wasn’t long, at least, so Naomi didn’t have to spend too much time sitting in her own mess, but every swerve and bump in the road made her hyper conscious of the ickiness in her underwear, and by the time they’d pulled up by their house, she was desperate for a change.
“Daddy…” she mumbled, knowing it would butter him up, “Please can I have a nappy change? This thing is so gross…”
“Yes you can, baby,” Isaac said kindly, walking her up to the front door. “Daddy will change you right away, okay? Let’s just get inside.”
Naomi looked around anxiously to see if anyone was looking at her. She tugged on the hem of her Daddy’s Girl shirt, trying fruitlessly to pull it down low enough to cover some part of the enormous disposable diaper that bulged out from beneath her transparent tights.
Isaac unlocked the front door and she hurried inside, the thickness of her nappy causing her to toddle awkwardly. Even when not swollen from wee-wee, the padding between her legs was enough to stop her touching her thighs together; full as it was, she was forced to waddle along like she was just learning to walk.
“Okay precious girl,” Isaac cooed, “let’s get that yucky-wucky nappy off your cute little bum-bum, shall we? Off to the bedroom!”
With an unnecessarily firm pat on her Pampered rump, Isaac sent her on her way. He followed close behind, and Naomi was uncomfortably aware of his eyes on her bottom. Before all of this began, that might have made her wet – but with a loaded nappy strapped to her butt, it only sent a rush of shame to her cheeks. She reached their bedroom, went inside, and stood obediently in the middle of the room while Isaac prepared the changing supplies. He prepared the powder, and the baby wipes, and lay her changing mat down on top of the bedsheets.
Next, he turned to her. “Let’s get those tights off, baby,” he said happily, kneeling down, slipping his fingers into their waistband, and tugging them down to her knees. Without their support, her diaper sagged dangerously low between her thighs. “What a little stinker!” Isaac teased, pinching his nose as his girlfriend’s nappy drooped heavily before his eyes, straining at the tapes.
Naomi covered her face with her hands, doing her best not to burst into tears again. She felt like her womanhood had been stripped away. In place of the dignified, independent young woman she’d been, there was just an overgrown little girl, still in diapers, still dependent on her Daddy, about to get her messy bottom wiped for her. Tears began to spill down her cheeks.
Isaac moved her over to the bed and helped her to lay down on the changing mat. “There you go, baby,” he said, lovingly. “That’s a good girl. Daddy will get you clean and dry again, okay my darling? We’ll get rid of this stinky thing and have you in a nice, fresh nappy in no time.”
Naomi kept her face covered. She couldn’t bring herself to look. She couldn’t stand the thought of seeing what she’d done in her diaper.
Isaac undone the tapes with a snap, and pulled down the front of her adult-sized Pampers. “P-U! What a messy baby!” he cooed, lifting her legs into the air by her ankles and exposing her bottom. “Daddy’s really got his work cut out for him!”
Naomi tried to pretend she couldn’t hear, tried to pretend she was anywhere else but lying on her back on a changing mat, getting her full nappy changed by her boyfriend. She tensed a little when she felt the cool baby wipe pass across her buttocks.
“I know it’s a little cold, my love,” said Isaac, “but it will get you all squeaky clean.” He worked away at her mucky bum for a while, pausing to croon at her and run his fingers lightly across her belly in an attempt to tease out a giggle. But Naomi was too humiliated and broken to laugh.
“Daddy just wants you to be happy, baby,” said Isaac. His voice sounded a little strange. He’d finished wiping her clean, and her disgusting nappy had been removed from underneath her and rolled up to be tossed in her diaper pail, but he held her by the ankles and lifted her legs into the air once again. Naomi prepared herself for the dusting of baby powder, but it didn’t come. Instead, she felt a painful pinch on her left bum cheek.
“Ow!” she cried, removing her hands from her face and staring up at her boyfriend accusingly. “What was…” Her voice died uncertainly in her throat as she saw Isaac putting aside a large hypodermic needle. She felt her heart drop into her stomach. What had he just injected her with?
“I promise you’ll be much better off like this, Naomi,” said Isaac.
“What was that, Isaac?” Naomi whispered.
“The virus,” he said. “Or at least, it’s something that will mimic the symptoms of the virus. Just a much stronger form than the kind you have.”
Naomi tried to speak, but she couldn’t get any words to pass her lips. She could only stare at her boyfriend in horror. There was a tingling in her head, a pressure growing in the back of her mind.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said, “but this is for the best. You know how unhappy you were today. Having everyone treat you like a baby must be so hard when you’ve still got your adult mind. But this way you’ll be Daddy’s girl where it counts.” He tapped the side of his head. “And I promise you’ll absolutely love your daycare.”
Naomi let out an incoherent scream of fear and fury, but the pressure in her head rose suddenly to a climax, as if a river had burst through a dam, and she felt her mind being washed clean, her adult thoughts and feelings scrubbed away, leaving her sweet and silly for her Daddy.
“I don’t need to go to a stupid daycare!” Naomi insisted, as her boyfriend dragged her up to the front of a squat, one-story building. A large sign outside read ‘HappyDays Daycare for Baby Fever Girls’. “You can just leave me at home! Nobody will find out! Please!”
“I told you, sweetie, I’m not going to take that risk,” Isaac said shortly, pulling her along. “My paternity leave will run out soon and I’ll have to start going back to work, and I am not leaving you unsupervised. This is where you’ll be playing during the day from now on.”
“But-”
“That’s enough, Naomi,” Isaac cut across her. “Honestly, you might insist that you haven’t experienced any mental regression, but if you ask me you’ve been acting like a fussy little four-year-old today!”
They entered the building, Isaac tugging her along, and were met at once by a smiling, middle-aged lady in a plain white blouse and jeans, standing in front of the reception desk.
“You must be Isaac,” she said politely, shaking his hand. “And you,” she said, turning to Naomi and grinning, “must be little Naomi! Hi, sweetie! You can call me Miss Brenda!”
Naomi scowled. This was exactly what she’d been afraid of. A bunch of dumb daycare staff, lucky enough to be immune from the virus, cooing over her like she was an actual toddler. “I’m a grown woman,” she said firmly. “I might have the virus, but I don’t appreciate being talked down to like a child. For you information, I haven’t undergone any mental regression whatsoever, and-”
“Naomi’s a little embarrassed about her condition,” Isaac explained, cutting in apologetically. “She hasn’t experienced much mental regression and she’s a bit grumpy about the idea of going back to daycare.”
“Not to worry,” said Miss Brenda, her eyes crinkled with amusement, “we’ve got plenty of experience dealing with fussy girls who want to pretend they’re still grown-ups. We’ll keep her in line. Is it alright if we spank her?”
“Yes, that’s fine,” Isaac said casually. “I imagine it will be necessary. Naomi can be quite naughty sometimes.”
“What?!” Naomi squealed, looking from Miss Brenda to her boyfriend in shock. They both ignored her.
“That’s good,” said Miss Brenda. “We find that a red bottom is by far the easiest way to teach a misbehaving young lady her place. We have other methods, of course, but a spanking is usually the quickest. I see she’s wearing pull-ups. Can she use a potty?”
“She still uses the toilet at home most of the time, but she wets the bed every night, so I’m sure she’d pee during any naps, and she does have accidents in her special undies on occasion.”
“I see,” said Miss Brenda. “We have a one-strike policy when it comes to accidents at HappyDays. We’ll start Naomi off in the big girl’s class, I think, since she’s so insistent on being treated like a grown-up, but we’ll move her down to the baby class if she proves she can’t make it to her training potty on time.”
“That sounds excellent,” Isaac said happily. “I can see she’s in good hands.”
“Hold on a second!” Naomi whined. Her face was burning. She was uncomfortably aware that her just-in-case pants were still a bit wet from earlier, and she didn’t like the sound of this one-strike policy at all. “You can’t just talk about me like I’m not here! It’s not fair! It-”
“Hush, baby!” Isaac scolded. “The grown-ups are talking.” Naomi spluttered indignantly, but once again, she was ignored. Isaac turned back to Miss Brenda. “I’d better be off,” he said. He slipped an arm around his girlfriend’s waist and pulled her close to him, planting a big kiss on the top of her head. “Be good for Miss Brenda,” he told her. “Daddy will come and pick you up at the end of the day, okay?” With an extra kiss on her cheek and a firm pat on her padded rear, he turned and left the building.
Naomi stared after him in shock, feeling a strange ache in her chest at the sight of him walking away, leaving her here with this strange woman. But she was distracted a moment later, when Miss Brenda shoved her hand down the back of her tights and groped her bum through her padded pants.
“What are you doing!?” Naomi squealed, spinning around to face the woman.
“Just checking your pull-ups, princess,” said Miss Brenda sweetly, and before Naomi could react, she’d thrust her hand down the front of her tights this time, slipping a finger invasively into her training pants. Naomi froze.
“Oh dear, Naomi…” said Miss Brenda, sounding disappointed. “An accident already? You heard what I said about our one-strike policy, didn’t you?”
“N-no!” Naomi spluttered. “This doesn’t count! That was earlier today, before we even arrived!”
Miss Brenda sighed and shook her head. “Looks like it’s the baby class for you, little one.”
“No!”
“Yes, little missy,” the woman said, taking her by the hand. “Come along now. Let’s swap those yucky wet pull-ups for a nice, clean nappy, okay?”
“It was just an accident!” Naomi said, feeling utterly ridiculous. “I don’t need nappies! Please, I don’t need the baby class! I’ve still got my adult mind! I should at least be with other people who aren’t fully regressed!”
“Our class divisions are made on the basis of potty training level, not mental age,” said Miss Brenda, leading her deeper inside the building. “Not all of our staff sign up to change a grown woman’s messy nappies, so that’s the way we split the groups.”
Naomi screwed up her face in disgust. “I don’t do that in my pants!” she cried, revolted.
Miss Brenda said nothing. She took her through a set of large double doors and into the room beyond. It smelled of peanut butter sandwiches, baby powder, and pee. Naomi gaped at the sight of a dozen fully grown women, ranging everywhere from their early twenties to their mid-forties, all dressed up like babies and toddler, either waddling about clutching dolls, or crawling around on the floor playing with blocks and shaking rattles, pacifiers bobbing between their lips. Although their outfits all varied, there was one thing they had in common – each and every one of them was wearing a thick disposable diaper. They peeked out from under skirts, or stuck out above waistbands. Some were bulging beneath onesies and overalls, but there was no mistaking what any of them wore in place of panties.
Miss Brenda gave her bum a swat. “Don’t dawdle, sweetie. Let’s get you up on the table! I know a cute little botty that needs a nappy on!”
Naomi felt too dazed to resist as she was helped up onto the adult-sized changing table that stood in the middle of the room. Her anger and indignation were gradually giving way to a mounting horror at her situation. She’d be coming here every weekday for who knew how long. What if they never found a cure? What if they never relaxed the restrictions they’d placed on virus victims? What if she’d be stuck being treated like a stupid toddler forever?
Miss Brenda tugged down her tights, taking her pull-ups with them. She examined the slightly soggy inside and tutted. Then she got to work sprinkling baby powder on her privates and rubbing it in. “We don’t want you getting a rash, do we baby?” she cooed, making Naomi cover her face in shame. “No we don’t!” She dusted powder over Naomi’s bottom next, patting it firmly into her wobbling bum cheeks. “No nappy rash for the happy girls at HappyDays daycare!”
Just as the woman was slipping a bulky, crinkly disposable nappy under her bum, Naomi felt the sudden need to pee. The urge arose without warning. A few seconds ago she’d had no idea she needed to go, and now she was totally desperate for the toilet. She tensed on the changing table. Even if Miss Brenda let her, she knew there was no way she could make it to the bathroom in time.
“Um… Miss Brenda…” she said feebly, taking her hands away from her face, intending to warn the woman. But it was too late. She lost control of her bladder, and, in the middle of her diaper change, an arc of pee-pee streamed from her pussy.
“Oopsie!” Miss Brenda sang, expertly pulling up the front of Naomi’s nappy in time to catch the sudden jet of pee before it could hit her blouse. “Uh-oh!” she chuckled. “Looks like I’ll have to warn the rest of the staff that you’re a nappy change tinkler, Naomi!”
Naomi thought she might faint with embarrassment. Her new diaper wasn’t even taped on yet, but she could feel it warming around her crotch as she pissed into the padding helplessly. Miss Brenda tittered and pressed it down firmly against Naomi’s crotch so she could resume taping it on.
“Ewww!” Naomi squealed as the wet padding was pressed against her skin. “Gross! Can’t I get a… you know… another one?”
“No, sweetie,” said Miss Brenda, taping Naomi’s diaper shut. “We have a rule here at HappyDays to help save on nappies.” She patted Naomi’s padded crotch, smiling. “None of our girls get a change until they’re soaked to the brim, or until they’ve done a nice big poo-poo in their pants!”
A virus that causes women to manifest babyish behaviours, or even mentally regress entirely, is sweeping the world. Naomi's symptoms are very mild, but that doesn't stop her losing her status as an adult in the eyes of society.
***
“This is ridiculous!” Naomi whined. “There’s nothing wrong with me!”
“You tested positive, sweetheart,” her boyfriend said, patiently. “And your potty issues aren’t nothing. How many pairs of undies did you ruin before you agreed to start wearing your training pants?”
Naomi felt her cheeks burning. “They’re not training pants, Isaac!” she insisted, stomping her foot, suddenly very aware of the thickness of the protective underwear between her legs. “They’re just… just…”
“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” Isaac said. “They’re your just-in-case pants, aren’t they? But my point is you’ve got to stop pretending that your life isn’t going to change because of this. You’ve got Baby Fever, my love.”
“But there haven’t been any mental changes!” Naomi practically shrieked. “The only thing that’s changed is that my bladder control is weaker! So why do I have to have my driving licence revoked? Why do I have to lose my job? Why do you have to be named my legal guardian? It doesn’t make any sense!”
“It’s for your own safety, Naomi,” said Isaac. “You don’t know that there won’t be any mental changes. Your little pee-pants problem could just be the start.”
“If there were going to be worse symptoms, they would’ve happened by now!” Naomi insisted, cringing at his choice of words. “I’ve been looking into it online. There are loads of women like me! We barely show any symptoms at all, and yet we’re subjected to all the same rules as a bunch of overgrown toddlers!”
“We don’t know enough about how the virus works, baby,” Isaac said, calmly. “For all we know, you could go months without any more symptoms, only to develop severe ones all at once. What if it happened while you were driving? What if you suddenly found yourself with the mind of a little girl while you were out alone in the city somewhere? Just think what might happen! Anyone could take advantage of you, sweetheart!”
“But there have been hardly any cases where a women develops more severe symptoms after three weeks!” Naomi protested.
“But there have still been some,” said Isaac. “Do you know what would happen if you ended up mentally regressed, and I’d allowed you to just wander about like you didn’t have the virus? The government would label me an irresponsible caregiver, and I’m not going to risk that. I’m not going to risk you being taken away from me and dumped in foster care. Is that what you want, Naomi? Do you want to end up in foster care?”
Naomi was blushing furiously. After a moment, she looked down at the floor and shook her head.
“Then be a good girl and do as Daddy says.”
Naomi tensed. “You’re not my Daddy,” she mumbled, still looking at her shoes.
“I am now, baby,” Isaac said firmly, “and I’m going to take care of you properly.” He took her by the hand and started leading her out of the living room.
“Where are we going?” Naomi asked, meekly.
“I ordered some new clothes for you,” said Isaac, “and they arrived today. They’re in the bedroom.”
“New clothes?” Naomi repeated, confused. Then she realised what he must mean. “No!” she squealed, trying to dig her heels into the carpet. “Please, Isaac! Please just let me just wear my normal clothes!”
“Don’t be silly, sweetie,” he said, pulling her along effortlessly. “The official guidelines state that you have to be recognisable as a virus victim. That way people will know something’s wrong if you’re by yourself. You’ve been walking around in adult clothes for far too long already, little missy.”
“But I don’t want to dress like one of them!” Naomi whined, thinking of the virus victims she sometimes saw in public, grown women dressed up in ridiculous rompers and overalls and frilly dresses. Mostly they had gormless, happy expressions on their faces, victims of the full mental regression, but others, who had merely manifested babylike behaviours that rendered them helpless and dependent, blushed with embarrassment as they toddled along in their ludicrous outfits. The idea that she should have to dress like that too, when all that was wrong with her was a little trouble holding her pee, was utterly absurd. “People will think I’m fully regressed!” Naomi complained desperately. “Isn’t it better that they know I still have my adult mind?!”
“It’s better to be safe,” said Isaac. “Plus the guidelines say it’s a good way of signalling to everyone that you’re out of your contagious phase. That will give people a lot of peace of mind if you do something babyish in front of them.”
They entered the bedroom, and Naomi saw that there were several large cardboard boxes sitting on the bed. They looked perfectly innocent, but the thought of what was inside them made her chest tighten. “Please, Isaac…” she tried again, but her boyfriend paid her no mind.
He got to work opening the boxes, and Naomi thought she might faint at the sight of the clothes he began to pull out. The fact that it was exactly what she’d expected, and feared, was no comfort to her. Childish tops and leggings, a soft pink tutu, a snug-looking pramsuit, a sparkly leotard with Disney princesses on the front, a sky blue onesie with a pattern of yellow ducks; Isaac unpacked them all and folded them neatly on the bed, ready to fill her drawers. He glanced up at her. “Start getting undressed, baby,” he said, as he folded a set of purple pyjamas covered in prancing unicorns. “I want to get you into your new clothes right away.”
Naomi opened her mouth to protest, but Isaac shot her a warning look and she closed it again. Cheeks flushed, she started to strip, removing her loose, V-neck shirt and letting it drop to the floor. She slipped off her shoes, and her jeans went next, falling to her ankles and leaving her standing in nothing but her bra and her thick pull-ups. She looked down at the clothes at her feet, wondering when she’d get to wear them again. The possibility that the answer might be never hit her suddenly like a blow to the stomach. Feeling faintly dizzy, she examined her absorbent underwear, and with a fresh rush of embarrassment, she noticed they looked a little discoloured. She squeezed her legs together experimentally. There a slight squish. When had that happened?
“Did you have an accident, baby?” Isaac asked.
Naomi froze when she realised he’d been watching her. Her face felt as red as a tomato. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at him, so she just nodded her head, still looking at the floor.
“Do you need changing?” he asked.
“No,” she mumbled. “It’s not much.”
“Alright, darling,” Isaac said, gently. “For now we’ll just get you dressed, okay? Arms up!”
“I know how to dress myself,” Naomi said, petulantly, raising her head to glare at her boyfriend. But she lifted up her arms all the same, allowing him to pull a long-sleeved pink top down over her head. At first she thought it wasn’t that different from the shirt she’d just removed, except for the colour, but then she spotted the writing on the front. Daddy’s Girl. “Seriously, Isaac?”
“It looks cute on you,” her boyfriend said, planting a quick kiss on her pouty red lips. Naomi felt butterflies fluttering in her tummy despite herself. Cute, as in adorable, she reminded herself. Cute, as in not sexy. She imagined trying to seduce him in any of her new clothes, and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was bad enough trying to be sexy in padded underwear, let alone a romper with a pattern of rattles, baby blocks, and diaper pins.
A pair of thick white tights came next, and Isaac knelt down in front of her, allowing her to stabilise herself with her hands on his shoulders while she stepped into them. “Left foot first, that’s it. Then the right. Good girl!” He pulled them up her legs and over her bulky protective pants, but despite the tights’ thickness, they didn’t quite conceal what Naomi wore around her bottom.
Isaac stood after that, picking two pink ribbons from a pack on the bed, and started running his fingers through her luscious black hair. Naomi knew what he was planning at once. “No!” she squealed, stepping back. “There’s nothing wrong with keeping my hair down! It’s fine!”
“The government guidelines say that pigtails and pink ribbons are the best and easiest way a virus victim can be identified, Naomi,” said Isaac, firmly. “This way everyone will know you’re a Baby Fever girl.”
Naomi clenched her fists. She wanted to scream and shout, but she knew that if she did, Isaac would just say she was throwing a tantrum and suggest it was evidence of her developing virus symptoms. She took a deep breath. “Fine,” she said, through gritted teeth.
“Good girl!” Isaac said, and he started tying her dark hair into a pair of high pigtails that dangled down to tickle her cheeks. “Perfect,” he announced, once he was finished. “Come see what you look like, baby.”
Naomi wasn’t at all keen to see her reflection, but Isaac dragged her over to the full-length mirror and stood her in front of it. “Oh my God…” she whispered when she saw herself. She looked like a giant three-year-old, complete with training pants bulging out from under her tights. Tears welled up in her eyes. “I look like a joke!”
“Don’t say that, sweetheart,” Isaac cooed, bending down to kiss her cheek. “You look adorable! You’ll be the cutest girl in your class!”
“In my… in my what?”
“Your class, baby. At your daycare.”
Naomi stared, horror struck, at her boyfriend’s face in the mirror. “At my what?!”
"Uh-oh!" I cooed in a lilting, sing-song voice, smiling at the sight of the discoloured padding between my wife’s legs. "Did little La-La have an accident in her diapee?"
Alana gazed at me blankly for a few moments, blinking stupidly, then stared down at her drooping diaper. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, only now aware of the heavy wetness between her legs. "Oop-shee..." she lisped from behind her pacifier. "Oop-shee, Dada! Wet-wet!”
Dressed in nothing but her t-shirt and nappy, Alana was already attracting a lot of attention from the other beach-goers. Despite her long and slender legs, she toddled about as unsteadily as a two-year-old, her shapely bottom clashing absurdly with the babyish bulk it was wrapped in. Her generous breasts wobbled braless beneath her top while she splashed in the shallows or sat building sandcastles with clumsy hands. Now her soaked Pampers were drawing even more stares and snickers.
I grinned. "Such a silly baby! You couldn't even tell you'd tinkled until Daddy told you, could you? Who’s a silly girl? Who’s a silly little soggy-pants baby?”
Alana giggled, enjoying the sweet tone of my voice. “Siwwy!” she squealed loudly, pulling a few more gazes in our direction as she bounced up and down on the spot, pigtails flapping about her face. “I a siwwy, soggy-panths bay-bee, Dada!”
I chuckled and stroked her hair. “You certainly are. Daddy likes you so much better like this, sweetheart. No more snarky comments, no more nagging. And I happen to think soggy diapers suit you much better than those boring business suits you used to wear.” I cupped her face in my hands, looking into her blank, innocent eyes. "Grown-up time for good girls," I said softly.
Something shifted in her expression, a look of mild confusion that turned to mounting horror as her adult mind came back, and she realised where she was, what she was wearing, how many people were watching...
All her memories of the past few days suddenly clarified. How I’d promised to help her unwind after a difficult day at work, and shown her that strange, spiralling video with the pretty colours that had made her feel so relaxed and sleepy and small. How I’d taken her into her office and paraded her around in front of all her former subordinates dressed like a one-year-old, even letting that intern she always yelled at tickle her tummy and pat her thickly diapered bottom! How I’d brought her to her favourite fancy restaurant, strapped a bib around her neck, and fed her a meal off the kid’s menu while she babbled happily and received pitying looks from the other diners. And now here, at a public beach, where she'd been making an infantile spectacle of herself in front of hundreds of people...
Her body tensed, her hands balled into fists, and she opened her mouth to unleash a furious tirade, pacifier falling from her lips.
"Baby time for bad girls," I said quickly, before she could get a word out, and at once her shoulders relaxed again. All the anger and humiliation drained out of her eyes in a second, replaced by a vacant contentment. I tickled her under the chin and elicited a gurgling giggle. "That's better," I crooned, cuddling her close and kissing her forehead. "It’ll be fun to bring big girl Alana back every now and then, to show her how she’s spending her life, but I think a few seconds is all I can stand. I much prefer my little La-La.”
Alana's expression changed again, gaze tightening and lips pursing together, as if she was thinking hard, and for a moment I feared the hypnosis was failing, that my ruthless, intelligent wife was fighting the mental conditioning. But then she let out a soft grunt and bent her knees.
“Oopsie-daisy!” I chuckled. "Is baby La-La going poo-poo in her pants?"
Alana cocked her head, mouth hanging open, and after a moment she frowned and reached behind her to press a hand to the back of her Pampers. Then she grinned proudly and nodded. “Poopy, Dada!”
"Who's a messy girl?" I cooed, reaching out with tickling fingers to illicit more delighted squeals from my big baby girl. "Is it you, La-La? Are you a messy-bum baby at the beach?"
"Methy giwl, Dada!" Alana shouted for all to hear. "I a methy-bum bay-bee at da beach!"
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.
No little girl, you will wait to be changed today. I’m sorry you did that in your diaper, but you were naughty today which means you wait. We need to practice patience, anyway.
Stacy bent over at the waist, giving the dishwasher an extra scrub before she put it on. Always bending at the waist was one of Daddy's rules, and in another world that might have meant flashing a pair of sexy panties, or even her bare pussy. But that wasn't the life she had.
She let out a soft grunt, her posture stiffening as she pushed to fill her diaper. She kept scrubbing while she pooped her pants, trying not to draw attention to herself; she could hear Daddy moving around in the kitchen behind her, and she didn’t want to deal with his teasing comments. She might have waited for him to go back to his study, but she just couldn’t hold it any longer. She’d been trying to keep her Pampers clean all morning, and months of diaper discipline had done its job to erode her toilet training. She wasn't incontinent... yet. But she estimated she had about as much control as the average four-year-old when it came to keeping her pants clean and dry. A stream of pee soaked into the thirsty padding, joining the growing load in the seat, and for perhaps the hundredth time that day, Stacy desperately wished her boyfriend allowed her to use toilets.
Another grunt escaped her lips, despite her best efforts, and a deep, amused voice sounded from behind her. “Uh-oh..." Stacy felt her stomach sink. A hand cupped the seat of her nappy, even as it sagged lower between her legs. "Is my naughty little maid making a mess?” She could practically hear the sadistic grin on his face. “What a good girl you are,” her boyfriend cooed with sickening sweetness, "carrying on with your chores even while you make Daddy a present!”
Stacy scowled. Even if she’d wanted to take a break specifically to poop her pants, she didn’t have time! If she didn’t finish cleaning the kitchen and start preparing Daddy’s lunch soon, she’d find herself kicking and wailing over his knee. Although he loved to infantilise her as much as possible, Daddy didn’t let her laze about all day like a real baby. She was, in his words, "still a girl", and that meant doing "girl duties" like cooking and cleaning. Her pussy wettened, and she cursed herself. Why did she have to get off on this?! Why couldn't she just have been a normal girl with a normal boyfriend and normal sexual interests?
With a final grunt, she finished messing herself. Even though they were extra thick, she'd managed to fill her diaper to capacity; the tapes strained with the weight of her load as she straightened up, and Stacy felt even more conscious than usual of the poop packed against her derierre. “Daddy?” she began hesitantly. She knew it was futile, but the huge mess in her pants was so yucky that she couldn't help trying. “Please can I go change my diaper?” She didn't even care if it meant she got a spanking. She just wanted out of the horrid, smelly thing drooping between her thighs.
Her boyfriend smirked. "Of course not, silly baby. You know the rules. It's your responsibility to make sure everything in the house is clean, except your own pants. That's Daddy's job."
Stacy pouted. "Does Daddy feel like doing his job now?" she asked sulkily.
He laughed and swatted her thickly padded rear. “Not just yet, little girl. If that attitude is anything to go by, another hour or two in a stinky nappy will do you some good. Besides, you've still got your chores to finish! Better not dawdle..."
Stacy let out a whine, but she knew better than to complain. Her diapered butt belonged to Daddy, just like the rest of her, and he could do whatever he wanted with it. She knew it would please him to watch her mopping and scrubbing the floors and surfaces, making sure they were completely spotless, all while sporting a thoroughly dirty diaper. Huffing, she bent over and got back to work. Maybe if she was good, Daddy would change her after lunch...
There were footsteps, and Rosie looked up from tying her shoes to see her little sister standing above her, hands clasped behind her back, with a wide, faux-innocent smile on her face.
“What do you want, Vi?” Rosie asked, half exasperated, half suspicious. She could see Violet’s four best friends lounging in the kitchen at the other end of the corridor, smirking at her and giggling behind their hands. Rosie rolled her eyes. Violet and her friends were only two years younger than her, but they acted like such children.
“Where you are going?” Violet asked sweetly.
“Out,” said Rosie. “Over to a friend’s house.”
“Whose house?”
“Penelope’s. Why do you care?”
“I’m your sister, Rosie,” said Violet, pretending to look hurt. “I’m just looking out for you! I want to know you’re not getting into trouble.”
Rosie scowled, finished tying her shoes, and straightened up. “I’m not the one who’s always getting into trouble, Vi. In case you’d forgotten, I’m the older sister, and in terms of maturity I’m about a decade ahead. If anyone needs looking out for, it’s you. But that’s not my job. Aren’t you pleased, anyway? With Mum, Dad, and me gone, you’ll have the house to yourself.”
Violet pouted. “I was hoping you’d come and play with us,” she said, putting on a tone of mock disappointment. “We’re going out into the garden. It’s a beautiful day…”
“Yeah, thanks but no thanks,” said Rosie, turning to leave.
“Wait, just one more thing!” said Violet.
Rosie sighed and turned back around. “Yes, Vi?”
“Why are you wearing all those clothes?” her sister asked, smiling.
“What?” Rosie looked down at herself. She was only wearing a tank top and a pair of shorts. Not overdressed at all, but hardly so underdressed that it would make sense for Violet to be sarcastic about it. And what did she care about wearing revealing clothing anyway?
“What the hell are you talking about, Violet?” Rosie asked. She was starting to get seriously annoyed with her sister wasting her time. Thank God she’d be leaving home and going to college soon. “Of course I’m wearing panties,” she said impatiently. “What else would I wear?”
Violet giggled. “Nothing at all, of course! I didn’t mean to offend you, big sis. I just thought you might want to go bare bummed today.”
Rosie suddenly felt dizzy. “I… Wha…” Her sister’s words seemed to reverberate inside her head. Why did that phrase sound so familiar? “Bare… bummed?” she repeated.
“That’s right!” said Vi. “You know, with nothing over your tushy.” Her smile widened. “Botty out.”
An image appeared in Rosie’s mind of herself marching outside in her tank top, her shoes, and nothing in between, with her nude bottom jiggling and her privates on display. “That’s… That’s…” That’s crazy. That’s insane. “That’s silly!” she blurted. She was blushing hotly. Only babies wandered around with their tushies out! “I’m not gonna go bare… bare bummed.” Again, the words felt strange in her head, like they were bouncing around inside her skull. She became suddenly aware of the way her underwear had ridden up uncomfortably between her cheeks, and how her shorts were chafing against her bare skin.
“No?” said her sister, cocking her head. “How about bare boobied then?” she grinned, cupping her own breasts in her hands and jostling them.
Rosie let out a soft groan as another wave of dizziness passed over her. What was going on? She could see herself clearly in her mind, standing with her hands on her hips and her perky breasts out, grinning stupidly, and for a moment she thought how wonderful it would be to take off her top and throw away her bra (maybe even all her bras). She blushed even more fiercely. She was a grown woman! She couldn’t stand about topless like a little girl on the beach, no more than she could go bare bottomed like a naughty toddler who’d decided to strip off her nappy and run around in the buff. But she was conscious now of the tightness of her bra, the way her skin almost seemed to itch beneath it, hot and sweaty. “Noooo…” she whined, shaking her head. “Not gonna… Not gonna do that…”
“Are you sure?” her sister cooed. “Sure you don’t want to take off your panties? Sure you don’t want to get those big boobies out of that nasty bra? Are you sure it’s not nakie time for little Rosie?”
“Ugghhhh…” Rosie moaned in displeasure as Violet’s words echoed in her mind once again, and she pictured herself running around the house totally nude, and then out into the garden, giggling and hopping about playfully with all her assets on display. She felt a rush of fear and embarrassment at how real it seemed. This wasn’t right! She looked into her sister’s face and saw the malicious glitter in her eyes. Violet was doing something to her. She didn’t know how, but her little sister was messing with her head!
“Come on, Rosie,” Violet teased. “Don’t fight it. Big sissy knows what you want! Do I need to say it again?”
“Not… Not big sissy,” Rosie mumbled. Her words felt awkward and wrong, like she couldn’t get them out right. “You the liddle sissy!”
Violet shook her head, still smiling, and keeping her eyes fixed on her older sister like a predator. “Oh no, I don’t think so, Rosie,” she said. “I don’t think it’s possible to be much littler than you! You’re just a silly little baby who likes to run round naked.”
“Nu… Nu-uh!” Rosie whined. “I don’t!”
“Oh yes you do, sweetie,” said Violet. “And you’re about to show it. Because like I said, it’s nakie time for little Rosie.”
This time when the words resounded inside her head, it felt as if they were washing everything else away, leaving behind only a pleasant tingling. Brainwashing, Rosie had time to think, before her thoughts disappeared. I’m being brainwashed. But then there were only happy tingles left, and a smile tugged at the young woman’s lips.
***
Violet grinned at her older sister as she watched the slightly vacant look enter her eyes. It had worked! Weeks and weeks of hypnotic conditioning had finally paid off! Her friends crowded round eagerly, giggling at the sight of Rosie’s vapid expression.
Rosie looked down at herself, and her smile slipped. A pout appeared on her face. “Wan’ off,” she cried, fidgeting with her clothes, and Violet was thrilled to see that tears were actually appearing in her cold, snarky, older sister’s eyes.
“Awww,” one of her friends crooned. Violet knew Rosie’s mind was too regressed to pick up on her mocking tone. “Are those big girl clothes all icky, sweetie? Don’t you like them?”
Rosie was trying to take off her shorts, but her hands were desperate and clumsy. She started to cry.
“Here, let me help, baby sis,” Violet said, and she brushed Rosie’s hands aside and tugged her shorts down her legs in one swift movement. Rosie helped by kicking them off happily. “That’s a good girl!” Violet laughed. “Panties next, sweetie. I know you don’t want them on either, and in any case they’re not nearly absorbent enough!” She slid Rosie’s underwear off and tossed them aside, and another of her friends reached out and patted Rosie’s bare bottom, making her squeal delightedly at the attention.
Violet removed Rosie’s shoes, then moved on to her sister’s top half while her friends fussed and cooed over the oversized toddler. “Arms up!” she ordered, and Rosie did as she was told. Violet pulled her tank top off and reached round to unclasp her bra, letting it drop to the floor to reveal her large tits. Violet had always been a little jealous of her sister’s figure, but now she just smirked at the sight of Rosie’s big boobs wobbling stupidly on her chest. “What a good girl you’re being!” she cooed in her most syrupy sweet voice, and Rosie started bouncing on the balls of her feet in pleasure, both at the praise and at the wonderful feeling of her nakedness.
Violet took her sister’s hand and led her back through the house into the kitchen, with her friends bringing up the rear, laughing at the sight of Rosie’s jiggling derriere. “Now Rosie,” she said seriously, coming to a halt in the middle of the kitchen. Violet let go of her sister’s hand and took something white and crinkly out of a carboard box on the table. She unfolded the thick adult nappy and held it out for her sister to see. “You have to put your nappy on now, okay?”
“No!” Rosie shrieked, her face screwed up with anger. “No naffy!” She stomped her foot on the ground furiously. “WANNA BARE BUM-BUM!”
Violet’s friends cackled with laughter, but Violet just stood there patiently, trying her best not to join in. “Well okay, sweetie,” she said gently, “but that means you have to stay outside, okay? I don’t want to clean up any puddles on the carpet.”
“Kay,” Rosie agreed.
“And if you need to do a poo, come and tell big sissy. We’ll put your nappy on so you can poop in it, then we’ll change you straight away so you can go back to being a nakie girl. Does that sound good?”
“Uh-hu!” Rosie chirped.
“Good girl!” Violet laughed, while her friends howled with mirth or made noises of disgust. “Now let’s go outside!” She left Rosie’s nappy on the table and took her sister’s hand again, leading her out through the back doors of the kitchen and into the back garden, a wide green lawn rimmed with flower beds. The sprinklers were on, sending arcs of water over the grass, and there were large fences all around – though they were sufficiently far out in the countryside that they wouldn’t have to worry about what the neighbours might think about a grown woman strutting nude into the garden. The sky was bright blue and cloudless, and it was hot enough even for Rosie in her birthday suit.
A table and some chairs sat just outside the door, under the shade of an umbrella, where Violet’s friends settled themselves with glasses of white wine, but Violet led her sister further out onto the grass and gave her a pat on her bottom. “Off you go and play, Rosie!” she said, with an evil grin her infantilised sister couldn’t see. “It’s lovely and sunny out, isn’t it? Mum and Dad are only gone for a week, but that’s plenty of time to get rid of all those silly tan lines!”
Rosie giggled and ran over to jump and play in the sprinklers, getting nice and cool in the water. Violet took a seat with her friends and sipped on her glass of wine, smirking as she watched her older sister prance about in the streams, showing off her ass and making her boobs slosh about all over the place.
“This is perfect,” Violet purred, as Rosie bent over, mooning them with her bum and chortling at them between her legs.
“She looks so stupid!” said one of her friends gleefully.
“I think she’s adorable!” cooed another.
“She’s both,” said Violet with satisfaction. “She’s my cute, dumb, little big sister, and I much prefer her this way.”
“Are you going to keep her like this?”
“Only for a week or so,” said Violet. “After that, our parents get home and it might be a little hard to explain.” The girls tittered. “I don’t think I’ll let her go totally back to normal though,” Violet went on, smiling darkly. “I might keep one or two things the way they are right now.”
“Like what?”
Violet was about to answer when she laughed suddenly and pointed at her sister. Her friends looked over and burst into laughter too when they saw what Rosie was doing. She was standing in the middle of the garden with her thumb in her mouth, peeing onto the grass between her feet.
“That’s what I want to keep,” said Violet, with relish. “She’ll get her adult mind back and have no memory of this, but her toilet training is going to stay gone.”
“So she’ll actually need diapers?”
“Yep.”
“Ewww!”
“I’m also going to keep her desire to get naked. It won’t be active all the time, but sometimes she’ll just be struck by this overwhelming urge to strip off her clothes and run around with her bottom out – at least while she’s in the house, anyway. As fun as it would be to watch my goody-goody sister go streaking in the mall, I’d rather not get the police involved.”
“When you say she’ll have this urge to strip off, that includes her diaper, right? Won’t she make a mess?”
“Oh yes,” Violet laughed. “Our parents aren’t going to be very happy with her! Rosie’s always been the ‘well-behaved’ daughter in their eyes, but I think that might change once she starts ripping her nappies off and peeing on the carpets. And of course, going to college will be a total write-off. I’ll be the one going off to university in a couple of years, but I think Rosie will be better off right here with Mummy and Daddy to keep an eye on her.”
Before she they could say any more, they were interrupted by Rosie, who rushed over to them with her hands clasped tightly over her bare bum. “Big sissy!” she wailed desperately. “I GOTTA GO POO-POO!”
Her friends erupted into gales of laughter yet again, and Violet got to her feet, grinning broadly, to fetch her sister’s nappy.
Alex De Vries watched from the car as Caroline came into view, holding an older woman’s hand as she stomped along barefoot, heading towards the entrance to the trailer park. She wore a tight, Care Bears t-shirt on top, and there was no mistaking the enormous adult diaper she wore around her bottom, concealed only by a ruffled, navy-blue diaper cover. Her silver-blonde hair was no longer sleek and shiny, but pulled up into two scruffy pigtails high on either side of her head, and though her make-up free face was still beautiful, she had none of the dignity and class she had carried with her only a few short weeks ago. Even as De Vries watched, she stopped in her tracks. Her face took on a look of sudden surprise as she bent her knees and stuck her bottom out behind her, seemingly on instinct, and began to poop her diaper. The older woman stood over her, shaking her head in a long-suffering way, but smiling widely too.
De Vries snapped a few pictures with his camera, grinning. “This is perfect, Harris,” he said, glancing to the man in the driver’s seat. “I can’t believe you managed to convince her to do this!”
“Mrs Jackson deserves most of the credit for that,” said the agent. “I only got her to walk through the gates.”
“Still, even getting that high-and-mighty brat inside was an achievement,” said De Vries, taking a few more pictures as Caroline stomped her feet and cried, no doubt whining about her rapidly deteriorating potty training.
“How did you even find this place?” asked Mrs Harris.
“Eileen is an old friend of the family,” said De Vries. “She jumped at the chance to take in a snobbish little rich kid and treat her like a two-year-old. She just loves taking care of babies, but she’s got a bit of a sadistic side to her too, so this is the best of both worlds for her.”
“And this was Eric’s idea?”
“Yeah,” said De Vries. “He’ll be out in a couple of years. They could only get him on minor charges in the end, and in the meantime he’ll get a real kick out of knowing the prissy bitch who turned him in is living as an overgrown toddler in a trailer park.” He winked at Mr Harris. “All thanks to our friends on the inside, of course.”
The agent smiled. “Happy to help. My favourite is that lawyer you’ve got working at the strip club next town over. She gave me almost as much trouble as this girl, but she’s not so full of herself now she’s shaking her tits on stage and giving lap-dances to old men with wandering hands.”
“I think this has to be my favourite,” said De Vries, watching the diapered rear of the twenty-four year old woman disappear round the corner into the trailer park. “Shall we head in after them, then? I want to be the one to give her the news.”
Mr Harris nodded, and the two men got out of the car and headed into the trailer park after Caroline and Mrs Jackson. When they knocked on the door to her home, the woman’s voice called, “It’s open!”
They stepped inside, looked around, and saw Caroline was lying on her back with her legs spread in the air, and Mrs Jackson kneeling in between them, working away at the younger woman’s messy bottom with a pack of baby wipes.
“Momma!” Caroline squealed.
“You hush, little lady,” Mrs Jackson ordered. “You know what Momma thinks about privacy for girls who can’t keep their pants clean.” She looked over her shoulder. “Sorry boys,” she said, “I’m just in the middle of changing Betsy’s diaper. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, Mrs Jackson,” De Vries said courteously, fighting to keep the grin off his face.
“Momma’s gonna get you all nice and clean again, aren’t I, baby?” she cooed at Caroline. “Gonna get that nasty, stinky diapee off you cute little tushy-wushy!”
Caroline covered her face with her hands while Mrs Jackson finished changing her diaper. It was only after she’d been helped to her feet that she saw who’d entered the trailer. She didn’t recognise De Vries, but her eyes widened at the sight of Mr Harris.
“Is it over?” she asked, toddling forward, looking hopeful. “You got them, right? I can go home now!”
“I’m afraid we have some bad news, sweetie,” said De Vries, doing his best to look apologetic rather than delighted. “The court case fell through,” he said in a quiet voice. “They got a few of the De Vries on minor charges, but it wasn’t the big sting they wanted. I’m afraid it won’t be safe for you to go home.”
Caroline looked horrified. “B-b-but what’s going to happen to me?” she stammered. “You’ll get them soon won’t you?”
“I’m sorry, honey,” said De Vries, “but it doesn’t look like it. I know this will be hard for you to hear, but we’ve decided to extend your witness protection scheme indefinitely.”
“What… what does that mean?” Caroline asked, trembling.
“You might have to be Betsy Jackson for the rest of your life.”
“No…” Caroline whispered, stepping backwards. “This can’t…” She looked around, taking in the sight of her overflowing diaper pail, of Mrs Jackson’s condescending smile. “This can’t be my life!” she cried. “No! No! NO!” She grabbed the tapes on one side of her fresh diaper and ripped them off. “I’m not doing this forever! I’M NOT!”
But before Caroline could start blowing her cover, Mrs Jackson’s voice boomed over hers. “Bad girl, Betsy!” she shouted, grabbing the young woman by the arm and delivering several sharp swats to her semi-bare behind. “You do not try to take off your diapers! How many times do I have to tell you?! You are not potty trained anymore, young lady, and you never will be again!”
“NO! NO! NO! NO!” Caroline screamed, while Alex De Vries and Mr Harris watched with satisfaction.
“You’re in diapers for life, Betsy!” Mrs Jackson shouted over the sound of Caroline’s sobbing and screeching. “You belong here with Momma, and you’ll just have to accept it!”
Caroline could feel eyes on her bottom as she followed Mrs Jackson around the barbecue, being introduced to all her friends and neighbours. She could hear the giggles as she passed, and saw people whispering behind their hands to each other. Snatches of conversation reached her ears, though she tried to block them out.
“Is that girl in a wet diaper?”
“That’s Eileen’s daughter. I heard she were living in the city, but she had to come back after she got in an accident. Can’t control when she goes potty anymore.”
“I’d fuck that ass if it weren’t for them diapers!”
“You’d fuck anything, Chase!”
“Momma, why is that lady in a diaper? Is she a baby?”
“That’s what happens to girls who don’t mind their Mommas, Tracy. God turns them back into babies.”
Caroline kept her eyes down and concentrated on eating her hot dog, trying to pretend she was anywhere else, but Mrs Jackson kept her moving through the crowd, meeting one person after the next.
“Hello, Ben!”
“Ah, hello Eileen! And this little lady must be your daughter!”
“Look up and say hello, Betsy. This is Ben. He’s our local pastor.”
Betsy looked up and saw a large, grandfatherly-looking man with a salt and pepper beard and sparkling eyes. “Nice to meet you,” she mumbled.
“Oh Betsy,” Mrs Jackson scolded good-naturedly, reaching over to wipe Caroline’s mouth with a napkin. “You’re such a messy little thing! You’ve got ketchup all over your lips, silly girl!”
Caroline blushed. It wasn’t her fault! The man serving out hot dogs had covered hers in sauce, and she hadn’t been given a napkin of her own. He’d taken one look at her diaper and decided she didn’t need one, no different from any of the mucky kids running around with ketchup all over their fingers.
“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in my services on Sundays, Betsy,” said the pastor. “Or would you rather she go to the church’s kid’s club?” he asked Mrs Jackson. “Anna-Lyn looks after the kiddies, and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind changing Betsy’s diapers.”
“I can change my own diapers!” Caroline blurted angrily. Then she felt herself going even more red. What was she saying?! How had she got into this mess?!
Mrs Jackson smacked her hard on her Pampered rear, and she yelped. “Bad baby!” she scolded loudly, pointing a finger sternly into her face. Faces turned in their direction. “You do not take that tone with the pastor, or with anyone else. Is that clear, Betsy?”
“I… But…”
Mrs Jackson spanked her again.
“Ouch! Yes! Sorry, Momma!”
Mrs Jackson turned back to the pastor. “That would be great, Ben. I’m sure I’ll want a break from changing her stinky diapers by Sunday, and the kid’s club is exactly where she belongs after the way she’s behaved today.”
The pastor chuckled. “I don’t doubt it.” He smiled at Caroline. “From what your Momma told me day before yesterday, it sounds like you were getting a bit too big for your britches, honey-bunny,” he said, nodding wisely. “But you’re with your Momma now. It might be hard to accept this at the moment, but maybe that accident was God’s way of getting you back where you belong. You needed your attitude fixing, and them diapers will be perfect for the job, I bet.”
Caroline seethed silently. Was this lunatic saying she deserved to be in diapers?!
“Now, I’m gonna get myself another hot dog, if you’ll excuse me!” Ben said jovially. “See you both on Sunday if I don’t catch you earlier!”
Mrs Jackson said goodbye to the pastor, took Caroline’s hand, and led her on through the crowd.
“Mrs Jackson!” a voice called, and Mrs Jackson turned.
“Oh, hello Destiny! How’s the baby?”
“She ain’t popped yet,” said the woman called Destiny. She was a young woman, maybe younger than Caroline herself, but she was heavily pregnant. Her bare belly protruded out from a trashy crop top that struggled to even contain her swelling breasts, and she wore a pair of jean shorts that were so short they looked more like underwear. “But I see you’ve got a baby of your own!” she laughed, looking down at Caroline’s sagging diaper. “I think someone needs a change!”
“Oh no, not yet,” Mrs Jackson shook her head. “I’ll wait until Betsy makes a boom-boom before I get her in a clean diaper.”
Caroline screwed up her face in disgust. She didn’t know what was worse, the idea itself or the sickeningly infantilizing language.
Destiny tried and failed to stifle another laugh. “I see,” she said. “I’m sorry, but it’s just… she’s how old?”
“Twenty-four,” Mrs Jackson answered, her eyes twinkling.
“And still in diapers!”
Mrs Jackson tittered along with her. “It is pretty silly,” she agreed. “To think, my Betsy strutted off to the big city, thinking she was all mature and independent, and now she’s right back here with her Momma, starting again from square one! Only this time I’m not sure she’ll be growing up… She was a nightmare to potty train the first time round, and now after the accident, the doctors say there’s no chance she can learn to sit her tushy on a toilet again.”
Destiny shrieked with laughter. “That musta been a bit of a step down for her!”
“Oh yes,” Mrs Jackson nodded. “She’s always been a bit entitled, haven’t you Betsy?” She patted her bottom, then gestured around at the trailer park. “Thought you were too good for all this, didn’t you, sugar? But I reckon here is right where you belong.”
Destiny snickered. “To tell the truth,” she said, “I can’t stand when them city folk look down on us.” She smirked at Caroline. “Know I shouldn’t say this about your daughter, Mrs Jackson, but I think them diapers suit her nicely.”
Caroline gritted her teeth. She wanted to tell this stupid rube that her life, her real life, was a thousand times better than whatever this dumb trailer park had to offer. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She closed it again looked down at her feet. At least she still had her shoes. She wondered how long it would be before ‘Momma’ decided she ought to be running around barefoot. She couldn’t spend another day here. Not only was she stuck in diapers, and expected to use them, she was surrounded by these stupid yokels taunting her about it, treating her ridiculous Pampers like they were something she’d earned.
“Let me know if you ever need a babysitter, Mrs Jackson,” Destiny went on, and Caroline could hear the relish in her voice. “I could do with some practise changing diapers!”
“I’ll be sure to let you know, Destiny!” said Mrs Jackson, sounding delighted. “That’s so kind of you to offer!”
Destiny headed off to greet a couple of other young mothers, and Mrs Jackson said something to make Caroline feel even more horrified. “I think it’s about time you pooped, Betsy.” She spoke quietly since the trailer park residents were still milling all around them, but Caroline heard the words as if they were echoing loudly inside her skull.
“No,” she said at once, turning to Mrs Jackson desperately. Not that. She wouldn’t do that. Especially not here. “Please,” she added, seeing the look on the woman’s face. “Please… I don’t have to go… I can’t…”
“Yes you can,” said Mrs Jackson impatiently. “An incontinent girl would have made a big whoopsie in her adult diapers by now. You finished your food a while ago, and you haven’t done uh-ohs all afternoon. You need to go poo-poo. Now go.”
Caroline looked into Mrs Jackson’s face, her eyes wet and pleading. “Please don’t make me…”
But Mrs Jackson didn’t waver. “You either make poopy now, young lady,” she warned, “or I give up looking after you and you can go right back home for the De Vries. I won’t have you endangering me because you think you’re too good for dirty diapers.”
Caroline’s lip wobbled pathetically, and tears filled her eyes yet again. What choice did she have? Fighting the intense feelings of revulsion and shame that were welling up inside her, she started to push. Her knees bent a little, almost automatically, but she was determined not to make it obvious what she was doing. She wasn’t going to make a spectacle of herself for these backwards hicks. Her lips pressed tightly together and she let out the softest of grunts. She could feel things beginning to move into action in her bowels. She let out another quiet, almost ladylike grunt, and then she let out a loud, rumbling, unladylike fart.
She went cold. That hadn’t happened, she told herself. That hadn’t happened. But people were turning to stare at her, giggling and pointing. For a moment, she was frozen in place, and then Caroline grunted again, noisy as a pig this time, and her body fell into a squat. “Uggghhhh….” Caroline groaned as she filled her diaper like a giant toddler. Her bladder released again as well, sending a fresh rush of pee to join the poopy in her pants. Dozens of people were watching her, smirking and laughing.
“Uh-oh!” one voice sang. “Looks like it’s stinky-time for the biggest baby in the trailer park!”
“P-U!” exclaimed another, closer at hand. “I’d never have guessed such a pretty girl could make such a smelly diaper!”
“Awww, is Betsy making a boom-boom?” cooed the pregnant woman, Destiny. “Loots like this Betsy-wetsy doll doesn’t just tinkle!”
Caroline could feel the warm, horrible mess drop heavily into the seat of her already droopy diaper, and it sagged down to mid-thigh, barely hanging onto her hips by the tapes. “Noooo!” she wailed, as she finished pushing the disgusting load into her baby pants. This wasn’t right! This wasn’t her! She didn’t belong here! Her Pampers were full to bursting with pee and poop. Caroline straightened up and hopped from foot to foot hopelessly, flapping her arms and whimpering. “Ew, ew, ewww!” she sobbed. Everyone was looking at her. “It’s so yucky!” she cried, and gales of laughter erupted all around her. She felt dizzy with humiliation.
“It’s okay, sugar,” a voice cooed, oozing sweetness. Mrs Jackson. Momma. “Momma’s here, and I’ve got a nice, clean diaper for my big baby girl.”
Caroline clutched her hand desperately. Anything. She needed to get away. Even just back to the stupid trailer. With her eyes swimming with tears, all the faces around her were blurred, but she knew their gazes were all fixed on her. But Mrs Jackson didn’t lead her anywhere. Instead, she lowered her gently down onto the grass.
“No…” Caroline moaned, when she realised what was happening. “No, please… Oh God…”
“Here will do just fine, Betsy,” said Mrs Jackson, firmly. “That is one full diapee, and Momma doesn’t want you stinking up the trailer. Now, where’s Destiny? Destiny! How’d you like to help me change little Betsy boom-boom?”
Caroline had to pee. She squirmed a little in Mrs Jackson’s lap, pressing her thighs together as far as her thick diaper would allow. It wasn’t far. She tried to focus on the inane soap opera that was playing on the old-fashioned TV set, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it forever. Sooner or later, she was going to wet her pants. The thought filled her with disgust.
Mrs Jackson smacked her thigh. “Stop wiggling, Betsy,” she said. “Incontinent girls don’t do the potty dance. When they need to pee, they just go. They can’t hold it.” Caroline let out an inarticulate whine of protest, but Mrs Jackson just smacked her again. “Don’t forget we’ve got the barbecue party to go to soon. If you make tinkle now, I can change you before we go. You don’t want to spend the whole party walking around with pee-pee pants, do you?”
Caroline gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to go to the stupid barbecue party at all. She had no interest in ‘making friends’ with any of these people. It was bad enough that Mrs Jackson had insisted she sit in her lap. Come get some sugar, baby, she’d said. We’re all huggers round here. Sit in Momma’s lap, that’s a good girl. Caroline hadn’t even put anything on over her diaper yet. The massive, babyish thing crinkled with every movement, and she wouldn’t have been able to forget about it even if Mrs Jackson hadn’t been constantly prodding and patting it. Don’t you just look sweet as honey?
“Do you need a red bottom, Betsy?” Mrs Jackson asked warningly.
Doing her best not to burst into tears again, Caroline shook her head and started trying to focus on relaxing her bladder. Wetting herself would be disgusting, but better to get it over with now so she wouldn’t have to walk around stinking of piss later. For a moment her potty training got in the way, screaming at her that she wasn’t sitting on a toilet, but over the last couple of hours of mindless soaps she’d grown increasingly desperate to go, and now the dam broke. Oh God, she thought, as warmth blossomed beneath her crotch. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Hot pee-pee flooded her diaper. The thick, thirsty padding whisked it away, but not so fast that Caroline couldn’t feel it sloshing about in her pants. “Ewww!” she whined, as the wetness spread beneath her bottom, and the smell of urine reached her nose. “It’s so gross!”
Mrs Jackson smiled as she cupped the front of Caroline’s diaper and felt the heavy warmth. “It certainly is,” she said. “A grown woman still wetting her diapers. Yuck!”
Caroline’s cheeks flushed even more than they had been already. “But… but…” she stammered indignantly. I couldn’t help it, she almost said. Except she could, of course. But Betsy couldn’t! It wasn’t fair to talk to her like that!
“Oh don’t get so fussy!” said Mrs Jackson, playfully, bouncing her on her lap and making her wrinkle her nose in revulsion as her pissy pants squished against her tushy. “You’re a twenty-four-year-old in a wet diaper, Betsy. You’re not above a little teasing, a few points and laughs.”
Caroline was furious. Was this how they treated people with disabilities here?! But then, she was pretty sure she’d laugh if she saw someone her age wearing a giant diaper. Certainly if one of her friends became incontinent, there was no way she’d keep associating with her. It would be so disgusting…
“Now come along Betsy-wetsy,” Mrs Jackson teased, patting her soggy bottom and scooting her off her lap. “We’d better get you changed before we head out.”
Betsy-wetsy?! Caroline got to her feet and groaned as her diaper drooped heavily with the weight of all her wee-wee.
At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Caroline barely had time to look up before Mrs Jackson had strode over and flung it open. “Jordan!” she said happily. “Come in!”
Caroline’s mouth dropped open in horror as Mrs Jackson helped the old man from next door up into the trailer. She looked around frantically for anything to cover herself with, but there was no time. She put her hands between her legs in a totally vain attempt to conceal her soggy, sagging diaper. “M… Momma!” she squealed, looking furiously as Mrs Jackson.
“No need to be shy, Betsy,” the woman said dismissively. “Jordan knows all about your potty pants problems already.”
The old man grinned at her again, and his eyes crinkled with amusement as they flitted down to her Pampered crotch. “Nice to meet you, Betsy,” he said. “I was quite surprised to see you show up at your Momma’s without one of them there diapers on your cute little tushy, but I could hear what happened afterwards.” He chuckled. “First day back with Momma and you already got yourself into trouble, didya?”
“With the way she’s been behaving, it’s only a matter of time until she finds herself over my knee,” said Mrs Jackson, and the two of them laughed.
“Anyway Eileen,” said Jordan, “I only came to let you know they’ve already got everything set up down on the field. If you don’t hurry, they’ll be out o’ hot dogs!”
Mrs Jackson checked her watch. “Oh Lord, is that the time already?!” She turned to Caroline. “We’d better get going, Betsy!” Mrs Jackson took her by the hand and tried to lead her out the door.
Caroline dug her heels in. “But… wait!” she spluttered, blushing and glancing at the old man. “What about my… my… I need to change first, remember?! And I need to find something to put over them!” The denim short shorts she’d came in had no chance of being tugged over the enormous bulk of her new baby pants.
“I’m sorry, sugar,” Mrs Jackson said sympathetically, slinging a thick pink diaper bag over her shoulder, “but we don’t have enough time to change you right now! I don’t want to miss the food, and that diaper will hold for now. It’s not even messy yet. As for something to go over them, you don’t need to worry about that. It’s plenty warm out, and you can think of it as an appropriate punishment for turning up without a diaper on earlier.”
Caroline could see Jordan smirking out of the corner of her eye. “No!” she shouted. “I’m not going out there in-”
Mrs Jackson delivered a hard swat to her bottom. Even through her thick padding, Caroline winced at the blow. “Ow! Stop! I don’t… Owie!” Mrs Jackson smacked her again, aiming for her soft upper thighs, where the tiniest bit of her bare bottom was exposed. Caroline jumped forward, only to feel another spank land on her ass.
“Get that cutie-patootie moving, young lady!” Mrs Jackson instructed, continuing to smack Caroline’s reddening heinie and forcing her to toddle bow-legged out of the trailer, following after Jordan, squealing indignantly all the while and trying to block the woman’s blows with her hand. “You’ve had a bad attitude about your diapees ever since you arrived, Betsy!” said Mrs Jackson, as she forced the younger woman down the step and out onto the grass. “Come to think of it, making you keep your diapers out is probably for the best. That way everyone will know what you’re wearing, and they’ll be able to report back to me if they ever see you running around in panties again.”
“No!” Caroline wailed, tears of shame and fear filling her eyes yet again. “You can’t!” But all that earned her was another spank to her bum cheeks.
Old man Jordan just chuckled merrily, as if he were amused by the sight of a misbehaving child being disciplined by her mother, and not an adult woman getting a sore bottom for the crime of not wanting to waddle outside with nothing but a soaking wet diaper below the waist. Caroline wanted to glower at him, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up into his laughing eyes. Instead she looked meekly down at her feet, her eyes wet and her lower lip trembling.
“There we go!” said Mrs Jackson, once Caroline had stropped struggling. “That’s better. We don’t want any grumpy little girls at the barbecue, do we?” She kept hold of her hand and started leading her around the trailer and down along the grassy path, heading towards the other end of the trailer park, and the field beyond from which the sounds of shouts and laughter were issuing.
It was hard to walk properly with the thick, saturated padding pressing her thighs apart, but Caroline had no choice but to stomp along beside Mrs Jackson, with the old man on her other side, and her droopy diaper wobbling between her legs.
Caroline walked past trailer after trailer, dragging her suitcase behind her, looking away with disdain whenever one of the residents caught her eye. It was a warm, sunny mid-afternoon, and there were a number of people sitting around in plastic chairs outside their homes, smoking and drinking beers. Little gangs of kids ran around screeching, and Caroline wrinkled her nose at the sight of several dirty-looking toddlers whose diapers were out on display.
Mr Harris had given her a new outfit, a pair of ripped denim short shorts and a red and white plaid top that she’d changed into reluctantly, but she’d absolutely refused to put on the thick adult diaper he’d tried to give her. Eventually he’d given up. I’ll let Mrs Jackson deal with you, he’d said, and dropped her off outside the trailer park. Caroline was sure she could reason with the woman. The idea that she was actually expected to… She could hardly bare to put it into words… go to the bathroom in her pants was absolutely absurd.
Eventually she stopped outside the trailer matching the description Mr Harris had given her. It wasn’t as run down as Caroline had feared, but it was still a trailer, a world away from her high-rise apartment building or the large suburban house she’d grown up in. She glanced around and saw one of the neighbours, an elderly man, grinning at her. Caroline turned away contemptuously, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.
A clattering noise came from within, and then footsteps. A moment later, and the door was flung open, revealing a plump middle-aged woman wearing jeans and a simple white shirt. Her curly brown hair was tinged with grey, and she reminded Caroline of one of the matrons at the private school she’d attended. She smiled broadly when she saw her. “Betsy!” she cried happily. Caroline could only pull a face, but Mrs Jackson grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into a massive hug. The woman was standing a step up, so Caroline’s face was shoved into her large breasts. “Momma missed you, baby!” said Mrs Jackson, while Caroline squealed and tried to free herself from the woman’s tits. “Come inside!” She broke out of the hug and pulled Caroline up into the trailer and closed the door behind her before she could say a word.
The inside was at least clean and reasonably well furnished, but it was much smaller than Caroline’s apartment. She spotted what looked like her new bed shoved against the wall of what passed for Mrs Jackson’s living room, though in fact it was just an area of the trailer with a television set sitting opposite an armchair, and the kitchen occupied the same space. It seemed like only Mrs Jackson’s bedroom and the bathroom were separate, off down the other end of the trailer. Caroline was suddenly distracted by a firm hand gripping her bottom. “Eek!” she squealed, spinning around.
Mrs Jackson’s wide smile had vanished, and she was looking stern. “Where’s your diaper, young lady?” she demanded, removing her hand from Caroline’s rear, her voice low and dangerous.
For a moment Caroline just stared at her, wide-eyed and afraid, but then she swallowed and composed herself. “That’s something we need to discuss,” she said, in a business-like voice. “I’ve decided to alter that part of my new identity. It’s totally ridiculous that-”
“Oh sweetheart,” Mrs Jackson interrupted impatiently, shaking her head, “it doesn’t work like that, as I’m sure you’ve been told. I get that you’re a big city girl who thinks she’s too good for diapers, but you’re going to wear them, and you’re going to use them, and that’s that.”
“No, that is not that!” Caroline said angrily. How dare this stupid bitch presume to boss her around!
“Keep your voice down, missy,” Mrs Jackson instructed, putting a finger to her lips and giving her a warning look. “The walls here aren’t thick. Anything you say loudly will be heard all round, and it’ll be important to maintain your cover even in the house, most of the time. This is a special exception.”
Caroline gaped at her. She had to act like Betsy even when she was inside the stupid trailer?!
“While you’re under my roof, you’ll follow my rules,” Mrs Jackson continued, hands on her hips. “That means sticking to your new identity. And that means diapers, and it means using them for poop and pee.”
“No!” Caroline squealed, scrunching up her nose in revulsion. Mrs Jackson gave her another warning look, and she lowered her voice. “But why can’t I just pretend?” she asked desperately. “If I do have to wear them, why can’t I just pretend like I use them?”
“I don’t know how it was when you lived in the city,” said Mrs Jackson, “but people round these parts visit each other’s homes all the time. There’ll need to be a full diaper pail sitting in the corner for them to see, and you’ll have to be soggy and stinky in front of people often enough too. If you go about wearing diapers, people are gonna notice if they’re never used. That means you’ll have to fill ‘em.”
“No!” said Caroline loudly, and she stomped her foot on the trailer floor. This was too much! These people were crazy!
“Betsy!” Mrs Jackson scolded. She lowered her voice again, and moved closer. “Can’t you think about anybody but yourself? The agency went through all the trouble of crafting you a new identity to keep you safe, and you throw it back in their faces?”
“I…” Caroline stammered. “I didn’t ask for-”
“And they’re not the only ones involved,” Mrs Jackson cut across her. “I’m putting myself in danger just by housing you. Do you understand that, young lady?”
Caroline blushed. She was starting to feel ashamed. “I… I just…”
“And in any case, I’ve already laid the groundwork by telling people here about your incontinence. To suddenly show up keeping your pants clean would be suspicious. It would put you in danger. It would put me in danger.”
“But…” Caroline could feel tears stinging her eyes. “But it’s so embarrassing!” she cried.
“I know, sugar,” said Mrs Jackson gently, pulling her in for another hug. “But it’s only temporary, remember. The agency told me all about your case. I’m sure they’ll have those nasty criminals locked away in no time. Only a few weeks until the sting operation, they said. It’s sure to go well, and then I’ll be able to tell everyone my daughter headed back to the big city, okay?”
Caroline pulled out of the hug and nodded, blinking back her tears. Was she really going to do this?
“Good girl,” said Mrs Jackson, smiling. “Now, we’re gonna have to do something about the way you came, because there’s no diaper under them shorts, that’s for sure, and anybody who saw you knows it.”
“What are we going to do?” Caroline asked, confused.
“We’re going to put on a little show for the neighbours,” said Mrs Jackson, giving her a wink. She cleared her throat. “Why aren’t you wearing a diaper, Betsy?!” she demanded suddenly, in a voice that was surely loud enough to carry to all the nearby trailers. Caroline jumped with fright. Mrs Jackson reached out, grabbed her shorts, and yanked them firmly down to her knees. “And where did you get those panties?!” she shouted. “Get them off this instant before you make a mess! You know you don’t belong in those anymore!”
Caroline felt frozen, but Mrs Jackson didn’t seem to need her to do anything. The woman pulled her shorts off the rest of the way, hooked her fingers into the girl’s underwear, and tugged them down too, exposing Caroline’s bare bottom and pussy.
“Bad girl, Betsy!” she scolded, when she saw the strip of pubic hair Caroline left above her coochie. “Having hair down here is very unhygienic for a girl who still wets and messes her pants!”
Caroline felt herself blushing scarlet. Everyone would be able to hear this!
“We’re removing that right now!” said Mrs Jackson firmly. She marched to the bathroom and came back with a razor and a tube of cream. Caroline was still too stunned to move. She just stood there, nude but for her shoes and socks below the waist, while Mrs Jackson rubbed the cream over her neat pubic hair and brushed it away deftly with the razor. She felt dizzy with shame as she looked down at her totally smooth nether regions. She looked like a pornstar, or… or…
“Much more fitting for a silly little girl like you, Betsy!” Mrs Jackson announced. “You might be twenty-four, but as long as you’re living in this house, you’re still a child as far as I’m concerned!” She went over to the cupboards next, and took out a large square plastic package. She placed it on the counter, ripped it open, and pulled out something large, white, and rectangular.
Caroline felt sick. At a glance, it looked even thicker than the one Mr Harris had tried to make her wear. And sure enough, when Mrs Jackson unfolded the diaper, Caroline could see the padding that would go between her legs had to be at least three inches deep. She’d never be able to hide something like that!
Mrs Jackson advanced on her, and Caroline backed away instinctively, her eyes fixed on her future underwear, but the woman grabbed her by the arm, spun her around, delivered several sharp smacks to her bare bottom. “Naughty girl!” she shouted, while Caroline shrieked with pain. “Don’t you try to run away, Betsy! You’re putting this diaper on now, before you pee all over the floor! Spread your legs!”
Without even thinking about it, Caroline did as she was told. Mrs Jackson fed the crinkling thing between her thighs and pulled it up. Caroline’s body shuddered the moment the soft padding touched her.
“Hold that in place, young lady,” Mrs Jackson said briskly, and Caroline grabbed the diaper by the front and back to hold it up against her while the other woman secured the tapes. Only then did she realise she was crying.
“I don’t wanna wear diapers!” she sobbed, as Mrs Jackson finished sealing her into her padded prison. The diaper was so thick it made her stand bow-legged. She’d never felt more pathetic. “I wanna use the toilet!”
“I know, sugar,” Mrs Jackson cooed, pulling out the back of Caroline’s diaper and sprinkling in a little baby powder. “But we both know your days of using toilets are over for good.” She patted the crying girl on her Pampered bottom and smiled. “The doctors said your incontinence is completely permanent, so as yucky as diapers are, you’re just gonna have to get used to ‘em!”
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