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...
Jennie felt like she was going insane. Weeks and weeks of her nappies being in a near-constant state of wetness had gotten her almost used to the horrible icky feeling of pee-pee in her pants, although she was never able to totally get past the shame of having a soaked diaper between her legs. But doing that other thing was something she knew she could never get used to, and she could feel the pressure building up in her bottom. Nothing made her feel more broken, more pathetic, than a messy nappy.
Daddy, the man who called himself Daddy, entered the nursery, and Jennie glared at him from between the bars of her crib.
“Hi baby!” he cooed. “Did you have a nice nap-nap?”
Jennie seethed behind her pacifier gag, but didn’t struggle when he reached in to undo her straps and gag. She got to her feet in the crib, her sopping wet diaper hanging heavily between her legs, her breasts wobbling freely on her chest, and waited patiently for him to lower the side and let her out.
The moment she stepped out onto the carpet, he spun her around and yanked out the back of her nappy. “Hmm, no poo-poos yet,” he said. He turned her back around and looked at her. “Are you holding it in, Jen-Jen? You know that’s naughty. Good girls don’t hold in their pee and poopy. They just go in their pants.”
“I don’t have to go, Daddy,” Jennie lied, hating how petulant she sounded. Her kidnapper had a way of making her complaints and little rebellions feel like typical toddler fussiness.
“I don’t think that’s true, little girl,” said Daddy sternly. “I think you’re telling fibs. But it’s been a while since you last made a whoopsie, so I don’t think you’ll be able to hold it very long in any case.”
Jennie gritted her teeth in anger. It was true. It had been more manageable when she’d been on her back in the crib, but now she was standing the need to relieve herself was growing stronger and stronger with every second.
Daddy took her hand and led her over to the rocking chair. He pulled her into his lap, one around her waist to hold her body close, and turned on the television. “I’ve got something to show you, Jen-Jen,” he said. “I think you’ll enjoy this.”
Jennie felt a horrible jolt in her stomach when she saw what was on the screen. Her own face was staring back at her. It was a missing person’s report.
“And the police are once again urging anyone who might know something to come forward,” the newscaster was saying. “The young woman was last seen on the outskirts of Salerno, but there are no further developments as of yet, however we are… hang on a moment, I’m just getting the news that… yes, it seems we have breaking news on this matter!”
Jennie took in a sharp breath. They had breaking news. For a moment she imagined SWAT teams crashing in through the doors, storming the building and taking Daddy away in handcuffs. But instead, a new picture appeared on the screen, and Jennie’s heart dropped into her stomach.
“Our news agency has received this photograph, allegedly from the victim’s kidnapper himself, which seems to show poor Jennifer in some sort of nursery setting, and indeed wearing, uh, what appears to be an adult diaper…”
Jennie couldn’t hear the rest of his words. There was a ringing in her ears. Daddy had sent that picture in, a picture taken two days ago, perhaps before. It showed her, with her face turned slightly so it was in profile, squatting down with her back to the camera, clearly right in the middle of filling her nappy. Her one solace had been that nobody else could witness her humiliations, but now Daddy had taken that away from her.
“Isn’t that funny?” Daddy said happily, bouncing her in his lap. “Now everyone gets to see you for what you really are! And that’s how they’ll all remember you!”
Jennie started to shriek inarticulately and thrash about in his lap, but he wrapped his arms around her tightly. This couldn’t be happening, she thought. This couldn’t be happening! She imagined all her friends seeing that photo, and her parents. Cool, sexy Jennifer reduced to a diaper-dumping rugrat! Then something happened to make things even worse. Her bowels gave in. Even as she writhed and struggled in her kidnapper’s lap, she let out a loud fart and began to poop her pants. “Noooo!” she wailed, unable to tear her eyes away from her own slightly blurry picture on the television as she packed her Pampers, just like her on-screen counterpart was doing.
Daddy started to laugh. “Awww, are you trying to look like you do on the television, baby? Are you making a stinky too? That’s so adorable!”
Jennie burst into tears as she messed her nappy, even while Daddy showered her face with kisses. “There, there, baby,” he murmured mockingly in her ear. “Don’t cry! How about Daddy’s tickles put a smile on that pretty face, hmm?” His fingers jumped to her sides and he began tickling her, turning her sobs into squeals of seeming-delight.
But with both his hands running up and down her waist, she was no longer held in place on his lap. Jennie leapt up and bolted for the door at once. She had to seize any opportunity. If she wasn’t going to be rescued then she had to get away herself. She had to. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life like this! But she’d hardly gone two steps before she grunted loudly and doubled over, and another rush of poo-poo dropped heavily into the back of her nappy, making it sag almost to her knees. Daddy’s arms wrapped around her middle and dragged her back.
“Uh-uh, baby,” he said. “No running off. I thought we’d gotten over this.”
“No!” Jennie screeched, trying to reach back and beat at him with her hands, and doing her best to ignore the awful mushy feeling in her bulky underwear. “Let me go! I’m an adult! I’M AN ADULT!”
But he just scooped her up like she weighed no more than a doll, and Jennifer gagged as her dirty diaper was pressed firmly against her bottom. Daddy carried her effortlessly over to the changing table in the middle of the room and plonked her down onto it with a squish. “Ewww!” Jennifer cried. She tried to leap off the table to make another run for it, but Daddy just pushed her down onto her back with one hand, and quickly attached her mittens to the changing table’s restraints. Jennie never felt so powerless as when she was strapped down for a nappy change. She tried kicking him, something she hadn’t done in weeks for fear of a spanking, but he simply took both of her ankles in one hand and held them together so that she could do no more than wiggle stupidly on the table.
“Bum-bum up, baby girl,” he said, clearly enjoying himself. He undid the tapes of her diaper deftly with one hand and lowered the front. Jennie screwed her eyes shut so she wouldn’t see what she’d done in her pants, but tears continued to leak down her face. Daddy got to work wiping her messy bottom clean, cooing at her all the while. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t cry. Daddy’s here. Daddy’s gonna make you all clean and dry again, and then we’ll get you a nice, fresh nappy to wear!” Jennie felt her bottom being lifted up once it was clean, and she felt a new diaper replaced the used one. A few seconds later, and Daddy had finished taping it snugly around her waist. “There we go! That’s my pretty baby!” He undid her table restraints and helped her down gently off the table.
Jennie was still sobbing quietly, but the fight had gone out of her for the time being. Was this really what her life was going to be? An endless series of nappy changes and naptimes and messy feedings, having her head fried with inane toddler television shows, being spanked and made to stand in the corner and having her mouth washed out with soap. She was going mad, Jennie knew. Daddy was going to break her little brain.
“That’s my good girl,” said Daddy. “So, here’s what we’re going to do this afternoon, sweetie. I’m going to put on some of your favourite baby songs, and you’re going to dance along to them for me! And remember, Jen-Jen, if you don’t look like you’re having fun then Daddy will spank your little bottom raw!”
Jennie clutched her hands to her head and screamed.
“Once upon a time, there lived a little princess…”
Jackie glowered up at her captor, biting down hard on the plastic bulb of her pacifier gag to let out some of her frustration. She was nestled in the crook of his arm, snuggled up in his lap beneath her Hello Kitty sheets. Her wrists were tied together in front of her, locked inside a pair of fingerless mittens that rendered her hands utterly useless, and her ankles were bound with pink ribbon.
She was naked but for a stupid pink bonnet and a puffy disposable diaper – white, with a decal of rattles and blocks and teddy bears. At least, it had been white when she’d been changed into it earlier than afternoon, but she’d peed in it twice since then. Three large bottles of baby formula had to go somewhere, and over the last few days Jackie had learned that no amount of screaming behind her gag would make the lunatic who’d kidnapped her let her use the toilet.
Her captor smiled indulgently down at her, ignoring the look of hatred on her face. “She was the prettiest princess in all the land,” he continued gently, “and she was known far and wide for having the cutest little bum in all the kingdom!” He patted her padded tushy, and Jackie pulled a face in disgust as her pee-soaked diaper squished against her bare skin. “But the princess was also very naughty…” her kidnapper went on. “Even though it was dangerous for a precious little thing like her, she liked to go out to parties wearing the skimpiest of clothes, tight tops and short skirts that would make even a harlot blush, and shake her little bottom on the dance floor for everyone to see! Running around with her bottom out is the kind of behaviour you might expect from a toddler, a girl too little to have any modesty, not a woman in her twenties! But the princess was desperate to get people to stare at her bouncy booty.”
This time his hand found a bit of her bum-cheek uncovered by her diaper and he gave her bottom a quick, hard pinch. Jackie squealed and wiggled vainly in his lap. She did her best to pour all her loathing into the look she gave him, but her captor just chuckled and pulled her body close. Jackie’s face reddened with more than anger when her bare nipples brushed against the material of his dress shirt, and, unbidden, she felt a tingle in her pussy.
“The princess was in danger of being stolen away by one of the nasty men leering at her bum-bum,” said the kidnapper, “but luckily a good wizard found her first. He knew that even though the princess thought she was a grown-up, really she was just a silly little girl who needed to be rescued – so he slipped a special potion into her drink that quickly sent her off to dreamland, and he snatched her up and took her away to a nice, safe tower before anyone could get to her!”
Jackie could only seethe silently as her kidnapper bent down and planted a loving kiss on her forehead.
“He threw away her silly big girl clothes and got her dressed much more appropriately. The good wizard was very kind. He put the princess in pull-ups, just in case she had an accident, and he gave her a cute, pink potty to pee in. But the princess was in a very grumpy mood when she woke up. She kicked over her potty, then she ripped off her pull-ups and peed all over the carpet instead! What a naughty little girl! She hadn’t agreed to be rescued, she said, and if the wizard didn’t let her go at once, she promised to call the guards.”
Jackie felt her bottom being patted again. She stared off into space, trying to ignore her captor, but he cupped a hand to her cheek and tilted her head to look at him. “Wasn’t the princess silly?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “She was far away from any guards, and the wizard was hardly going to give her any opportunity to call them. What a silly princess!” He jostled her in his arms, and once again Jackie felt her tits rubbing against his chest. She cringed as her pussy wettened inside her pissy-wet pants.
“The good wizard understood that she was a bit scared by everything that had happened,” said the kidnapper, “and he knew she was still getting used to her new life – he’d decided it was best if she never returned to the scary grown-up kingdom, and spent the rest of her days playing silly, innocent games in the tower instead. But still, he didn’t let naughty little carpet-tinklers go unpunished, even if they were pretty princesses… He pulled her over his knee and spanked her misbehaving bottom until it was as red as a tomato! The princess tried her best not to give in, but it didn’t take long until she was bawling like a real baby over his lap and promising to put her pull-ups back on like a good little girl. But the wizard said no. The silly princess had proved she was too little for potties. She’d lost her chance to be a big girl, and that meant she was going all the way back to nappies. The princess threw another tantrum when the good wizard showed her what her new forever-underwear would be, but her second spanking didn’t last nearly as long as her first, and soon she was tearfully promising the wizard that she’d never go potty outside of her pants again for as long as she lived. The wizard knew it wasn’t a promise she meant to keep, but he was going to hold her to it all the same.”
Jackie’s stomach rolled at the thought. That wasn’t going to happen, she told herself. Her sopping wet diaper felt heavy and gross between her legs. She was going to be rescued. The police would come. Somebody. Anybody. Any day now.
“Deep down, the princess was a very sweet little girl. The good wizard was sure of it. But she had a bit of an attitude problem. She would always shout and throw tantrums and say the naughtiest of words, and the wizard had to put a magic dummy in her mouth to keep her quiet!” He tapped Jackie’s pacifier gag and smiled down at her. “Now the princess spends all day sucking on it like a silly baby, and she couldn’t be happier!”
The kidnapper’s fingers fiddled absent-mindedly with the leak guards of Jackie’s adult Pampers as he spoke. Then, without warning, he slipped a finger inside, probing the sodden padding in her pants. Jackie felt the back of his finger brush lightly against her sex, and she bit down hard on her paci to stop herself from moaning. It wasn’t enough. A soft, ridiculous little grunt of pleasure escaped her lips. The sound was muffled by her soother, but not muffled enough to stop her captor noticing.
He grinned. “Silly little thing,” he crooned, running his finger back and forth over her tingling pussy and making her moan again. Jackie hadn’t been able to touch herself since she’d been taken, and no matter how much she hated the man who’d done this to her, the psycho who was intent on keeping her locked up in an oversized nursery forever, she couldn’t stop her traitorous pussy responding to his touch. Her eyes rolled back in pleasure as the kidnapper’s fingers caressed between her legs, and she bucked her hips instinctively. But then the feeling was gone, his hand had moved away from her diaper, and Jackie couldn’t stop the look of desperate need passing across on her face.
“Daddy was just checking your nappy, sweetie,” her captor said lightly. A smirk was playing around his mouth. “I know you were hoping for a little naughty playtime, darling, but those days are over for you. Baby needs to learn chastity, yes she does! She needs to learn that she’ll never have one of her naughty little grown-up orgasms ever again!”
Jackie screamed behind her pacifier and started writhing in place as hard as she could, but the kidnapper lifted her effortlessly off his lap and got to his feet. He quickly secured her bonds to the bed, leaving her arms and legs spread starfish-like beneath her sheets.
“You’ve got quite a soggy nappy, little one,” he said, “but since you haven’t made a messy yet, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until morning for a change.”
“Nnnnnngggghhhh!” Jackie screamed behind her soother. She was fighting furiously against her restraints, but she couldn’t move more than an inch; all she could do was wiggle pathetically in her soaking wet diaper.
“Goodnight, princess,” said her kidnapper, bending down to stroke her cheek. “Daddy will see you in the morning. You’ve got a full day of crawling around your nursery, playing with dollies, and shaking rattles to look forward to tomorrow!” With one last kiss on her forehead, he straightened up and headed for the door. He’d only taken a few paces when he stopped and turned around. “Silly Daddy,” he chuckled. “I forgot to finish the story!” He looked down at his captive, glaring up at him with tear-stained eyes, and smiled lovingly. “And she lived happily ever after… The End.”
“You don’t have to let this ruin your life, baby,” Melissa’s boyfriend said gently. “You just need to have a new attitude about things.”
“A new attitude?!” Melissa repeated furiously. “Last time I went out with Emily and Janet, I pooped my diaper right in front of them. We were in the middle of the mall, and I let out a massive fart and started taking a dump in my pants while everyone watched. How exactly am I supposed to have a new attitude about that?”
“You treat it like it’s such a big deal, sweetheart,” her boyfriend said soothingly. “You never used to take things so seriously. You need to learn to laugh it off when something like that happens.”
“Laugh it off?!” Melissa raged. “Enough people have been laughing at me! I’m not going to start laughing at myself too! I’m not a joke! I hate this! I hate being incontinent! I wish I’d died in that stupid car accident instead!”
“Don’t say that,” her boyfriend said sharply, looking at her with deep concern. “Don’t you dare say that, darling.”
Melissa felt tears welling up in her eyes. “Why not?” she demanded, even though she was already regretting what she’d said. “It would be better than being stuck like this. I feel like a big fucking baby.”
“You can still walk,” her boyfriend said. “Your pretty face wasn’t injured.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “You got lucky, honey-bee. An injury to your spine like that could have done a lot more than take away your bladder and bowel control. Feeling a bit like a baby is a small price to pay for your life.”
Melissa pushed his hand away. She knew he was just trying to make her feel better, but it wasn’t working. “Easy for you to say,” she said, more harshly than she’d intended. “You’re not the one who has to wear diapers.” Her thick Pampers crinkled noisily under her jeans as she shifted. Even her baggiest clothes couldn’t quite hide the bulge around her waist. She’d tried using thinner, more discreet ‘protective underwear’ at first, but it had quickly become clear that they weren’t up to the challenge of containing all her accidents. Eventually, after leaking on the sofa and the bed and leaving dozens of little puddles on the floor, her boyfriend had insisted on getting her thicker ones, heavy-duty diapers that she had to tape on instead of pulling up her legs. He insisted they weren’t the largest size available, but they felt enormous to her. The padding between her thighs had to be three inches thick, and the bulk made it impossible to close her legs. She could never forget they were there, an ever-present reminder of her new status as a grown woman who couldn’t control when she peed or pooped. Even as she spoke, her bladder helplessly released a small stream of pee into her pants. Melissa turned even redder than she had been already, and she stomped her foot. “I hate this!” she cried again, cringing at the feel of her soggy underwear.
“Here,” said her boyfriend, taking his phone out of his pocket. He had an odd expression on his face, slightly hesitant, but as if he were steeling himself to do something. “I want you to have a look at this, okay baby?” He held up his phone to her face, and for a few seconds Melissa just stared, confused, at the swirling colours on the screen. What was this supposed to be? Then something seemed to clunk into place in her head, and she felt as though she were falling inside the spiralling lights. Her mouth slowly fell open, and a line of drool ran down her chin.
“I can’t reverse your incontinence, my love,” her boyfriend was saying, stroking her hair, “but I can make it so you’re not bothered by it.” He kissed her cheek. “I promise this is for the best. You’re going to be a happy, bubbly girl again in no time!”
One Week Later
Melissa, or little Missy as she now preferred to be called, stomped into the living room with a broad smile on her face. Below the waist she wore only her thick, white diaper, and above it she wore a tight, pale blue top with the words “Daddy’s Little Stinker” written across it in big, bold letters. She spotted her boyfriend sitting on the sofa, and hurried over to him, but she’d only gone a few paces when she stopped in her tracks. There was a rumbling noise from her belly. Her mouth formed into a perfect ‘o’ of surprise as she farted loudly. Then her knees bent, seemingly by instinct, and her face screwed up in concentration.
“What are you doing, baby?” her boyfriend asked lightly, suppressing a laugh as he got to his feet and walked over, watching the seat of his girlfriend’s nappy start to bulge out, just as the front darkened and yellowed.
Missy grunted loudly and grinned up at him. “Doing a big poo, Daddy!” she announced shamelessly.
Her boyfriend gasped theatrically. “In your pants, little Missy?!” he exclaimed in mock surprise. “But you’re twenty-seven years old! You’re way too old to be going poo-poo in your pants, aren’t you? Can’t you use the toilet?”
Missy put her hands to her mouth and chortled through her fingers like a little girl. She shook her head, her eyes sparkling with pleasure at the attention she was getting. She grunted again and her nappy drooped a little more. She pointed between her legs. “Gotta diapee, Daddy!”
“I see that, sweetie. But aren’t those for babies?”
“Uh-hu!” Missy chirped. “I can’t control when I go potty, so that makes me a baby!” With one last pouty-lipped, scrunchy-faced look of concentration, she finishing messing herself and straightened up, beaming. Her boyfriend-turned-Daddy held out his arms for a hug, and the infantilized, mind-addled woman toddled eagerly into his embrace. “I love you, Daddy!” she said.
“I love you too, baby girl,” her boyfriend cooed, cuddling her tightly. He didn’t mind the yucky potty smell that reached his nose. It was worth it to have his girlfriend happy again. He reached down and patted the seat of her sagging nappy, eliciting a delighted squeal.
“Yucky Daddy!” Missy giggled. “That’s yucky!”
“Do you want a change, sweet girl? Daddy will get you all clean again.”
“No!” Missy whined. “I wanna play!”
“Are you sure, baby? Janet’s arriving to take you to the park in about fifteen minutes, remember? If we don’t get you cleaned up now, she’s going to see you get your messy nappy changed here on the floor. Doesn’t that bother you?”
They broke apart, and Missy chortled mischievously behind her hands again, shaking her head.
Her boyfriend laughed. “No, I guess it doesn’t,” he said, smiling indulgently. “You don’t mind if everyone thinks you’re a big baby, do you little Missy?” He reached out to cup the front of his girlfriend’s nappy with his hand. He could feel the warm, heavy wee-wee within. He gave it a little rub, and Missy let out a soft cooing noise. “In fact,” her boyfriend went on, smirking, “I think you like it, don’t you?”
Missy’s eyes rolled back in pleasure and she nodded. It made her feel all tingly. People still pointed at her when she went out in public, but she enjoyed the attention now, and when they laughed at the sight of her diapers bulging under her jeans out peeking out from beneath her skirt, it made her giggle too. She didn’t blame them. She knew she looked super silly in her massive Pampers. But there was nothing wrong with being silly. Being silly was fun!
“Alright, little Missy,” her boyfriend said, rubbing the front of her soggy pants harder. “Daddy will give you a little playtime, okay? Then when Janet arrives we’ll change your full nappy right here on the floor. Maybe she’ll even help me wipe your mucky bottom!” Missy moaned and started thrusting her crotch against his hand. “You know how glad she is to have her bubbly best friend back,” her boyfriend continued, “even if it does mean dealing with your messy bum. And Emily will be round to babysit tomorrow. She’s got all sorts of silly games planned.” Missy gurgled happily and humped his hand harder. “So you don’t have to worry about a thing, little one.” He kissed her on the top of her head. “Daddy’s going to make sure that losing your potty training was the best thing that ever happened to you!”
Missy orgasmed in her dirty diaper, and she would have fallen to her knees if Daddy hadn’t caught her and held her close against him. As her body shuddered with ecstasy in his arms and she cooed with pleasure, she knew for certain that she was the happiest little girl in the world.
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?”
"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!"
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?!”
