Caroline has to go into witness protection to hide from a criminal gang, but she’s less than happy about her new identity as Betsy, an incontinent young woman living in a trailer park with her strict Mommy.
***
“So I’m getting a new name?” Caroline asked dubiously, as the car sped down the highway. She didn’t like the idea of witness protection. She was used to the life of a wealthy young socialite from the city, and she wasn’t keen at all on leaving it all behind, even if it was only for a few weeks like the agency promised. But what choice did she have? She shuddered at the thought of the De Vries getting to her. The crime family were notorious for the cruel and unusual punishments they inflicted on the people who had wronged them.
“It’s not just your name,” Mr Harris, the agent, replied. “You can be tracked by your habits, your tastes, your sense of style, so all of that’s got to change as well. The agency has a full character profile for you to adopt.” Keeping his eyes on the road, he reached over to open the glove compartment and take out a brown file, which he handed to her. “That’s the new you.”
Caroline opened the file. “Betsy Jackson?” she read with distaste. That was a hick name if ever she’d heard one. Surely nobody could look at her with her sleek, silver-blonde hair and elegantly made-up face and think she was a Betsy Jackson. It got worse. “What the fuck?!” she exclaimed, staring down at the paper. “What is this, Harris? It says I live in a fucking trailer park!”
“A trailer park out in the country is the perfect place for you,” said Mr Harris. He was the very model of a government agent with his dark suit and glasses, and his totally impassive expression. “It’s the last place the De Vries will expect you to be.”
“That’s because it’s the last place I’d want to be!” Caroline shrieked. “I am not going to live in a trailer park! Put me somewhere else!”
“The arrangements have already been made, Caroline,” Mr Harris said flatly. “We can’t just create a whole new identity for you because you didn’t like this one. It’s either this, or nothing.”
Caroline flushed with anger and went back to reading the file, scowling. It’s just for a few weeks, she told herself. Just a few weeks until the agency makes its move and all the De Vries get locked away, then you’ll be free to go home. Something on the page caught her eye. “It says I live with my mother,” she said, confused.
“Mrs Jackson works for us,” Mr Harris explained. “She lives in the trailer park, and she’s helped us with witness protection programs in the past. She’s firm, but she loves to take care of people. She’ll be your Mom, and you’ll be her formerly estranged daughter who’s come back to live with her after things in the city fell through. Mrs Jackson used to live in another park, so the sudden return of a daughter won’t raise any eyebrows here.”
Caroline’s lip twisted at the thought of having to pretend to be the daughter of some middle-aged trailer trash woman, but she held her tongue. Just a few weeks. She looked down at the file again, and something else jumped out at her. For a moment she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She read it through again, sure she must have misread. But the writing was plain. Betsy’s return to her mother is motivated by the car accident she was involved in several months ago, which left her with severe and permanent… “Incontinence?!” she shrieked. “You don’t mean… Like when you can’t control when you pee?!”
“That’s right,” Mr Harris said calmly. “Betsy is diaper dependent.”
“No!” Caroline screamed, revolted.
“No?”
Caroline looked at him as if he’d gone mad. “No as in I’m not doing that! I’m not going to be seen wearing diapers!”
“It’s an important part of Betsy’s backstory, Caroline,” Mr Harris insisted.
“It’s ridiculous!” Caroline shouted. Some of her friends were the types to go gooey-eyed over babies, but she never had been. The idea of having to deal with diapers was so gross! And even though she was sure there was no way she’d actually be expected to use them, just the idea of adult diapers was enough to make her feel nauseous. “Why incontinence?!” she demanded. “Why does it need to be part of her stupid backstory at all?!”
“It gives you a believable incentive to go back to living with your mother. Don’t take this personally, Caroline, but I doubt you’re that great of an actress. It’s going to be pretty clear to people that you’re not too happy about living in a trailer park with Mrs Jackson. Your incontinence creates an explanation for that. Betsy thought she’d escaped from the sticks, and her mother, and made it to the big city where she was finally free to be an independent young woman, but then she got into that accident, lost her potty training and her prospects, and is forced to toddle back home to her Mommy in Pampers.”
Caroline blushed furiously. This was insane!
“It’s also an additional layer of protection,” Mr Harris went on. “The rich young lady the De Vries are after isn’t likely to hide away in a trailer park of all places, and she’s definitely not likely to be that new girl who can’t even keep her pants clean. This will keep you safe. It’s for your own good.”
“Complain about it all you like,” said Mr Harris, “but everything has already been set up. There’s no changing it now. The fact is that Betsy can’t control her bladder or bowels, and starting today, Betsy is you.”
“But I can control my bladder and bowels!” Caroline shouted.
“I know that,” Mr Harris said, patiently.
“Then what do you expect me to do?!” she demanded.
“It’s simple,” the agent said, and for the first time he actually smiled. “You’ll just have to pretend like you can’t.”
At Second Chance Academy, girls who failed to earn their high school diplomas before their 20th birthday get a second chance to become proper adults. The program is a minimum of 18 months. Each month the student is evaluated to ensure they have completed the age level milestones to graduate to the next age level. If they fail, then they are stuck at that age level until they prove themselves to have the physical, intellectual, emotional and psychological maturity to move to the next level.
This girl has been in the program for 4 days and during that time she has refused to mess her diapers as required for all students at levels 0, 1, and 2. This has had 2 results. 1, she was given a dose of magnesium citrate with breakfast before being sent to her morning classes. And 2, she has already failed her 1st month and earned a second month at level 0 since she has refused to accept the rules of the academy.
As the morning classes end and the students head for the dining hall, the gurgling in her stomach overwhelms her and she loses control in her diapers. Her next diaper change is after lunch so she will be changed after spending 45 minutes strapped into a high chair being spoon fed pureed food while still in the disgusting mess.
She immediately swear to be a good girl from now on no matter what she has to do.
Mark came home late last night to find his girlfriend passed out on the couch with a puddle of pee underneath her. The house looked like a tornado had blown through it and it didn’t take much to figure out that she had a 4th of July bash while he was helping her sister move into her new apartment. He left her there and went straight to his bedroom which was, thankfully, undamaged and went to bed.
This morning, he woke her up at 6 AM with a diaper in one hand and her maid outfit from a costume party a couple months ago in the other. He quickly got the diaper on her and slid the maid outfit over her head. Then instructed her to clean the house until it sparkles like new or he would light a fire one her ass with a spanking.
She started cleaning, but an hour in, got bored and tried to get on the computer. The password had been changed. Then she found the tv was locked as well. And her tablet. And her phone was locked so that all she could do was make emergency calls which means only 911 or him. Then she found the note on the fridge that she would need to earn adult privileges back. Everything from the phone, tv and computer, to using the toilet and wearing adult clothes would have to be earned.
She got back to cleaning and as the pressure in her bladder built, she realized she wouldn’t have a choice, she was going to spend the rest of the day, and probably several more days, in diapers.
When he got home from work, her boyfriend informed her she would be allowed to choose one adult privilege back per month if she behaves, if she doesn’t, additional privileges will be taken away. Then it got worse, to ensure she obeys the rules, her sister would be babysitting her anytime he isn’t home and would have complete authority over her while she is in charge.
It was bad enough having a babysitter take care of her all day. But why did it have to be the girl who already made my high school years miserable? Now I get treated like a baby all day, my bully is given permission to tease me and make fun of me, her job is to boss me around, and she can punish me anytime she sees fit.
Take right now for instance, it’s only 10 AM and she wants me to take a nap. After my tantrum yesterday when she caught me rubbing my diaper, she decided to put itching powder on my diaper area instead of baby powder. Then she triple diapered me so that no matter how much I rub, it doesn’t do any good, AND every time I try to itch, she smacks my bottom. She told me I’m not allowed out of my crib until lunchtime and I won’t get a diaper change until I’ve soaked all three diapers. Meanwhile she keeps alternating between smacking my diapers and taking videos of me rubbing my diaper trying to get some relief.
When will the torment end? My parents said I have to have her as my babysitter until I get into college, but with the grades I got, that’s nearly impossible, and when you add the tormentor to my daily schedule stopping me from doing any online class work, I don’t see that I’m ever going to get to “prove that I’m an adult” and earn my freedom.
After falling behind on her bills, Cat had 2 choices, take her roommates offer to cover her expenses and become her roommates baby house slave, or be kicked out on the street. Cat agreed to be her roommates house slave until she can cover her bills again.
Cat was immediately put in a diaper, had all of her pants, shorts, dresses, and skirts locked away so she has to be given bottoms in order to cover her diaper, then put to work cleaning their shared apartment. From now on, Cat is responsible for all cooking, cleaning, shopping, and other household tasks. This is on top of working so that she can try to start covering her own expenses again.
Cat didn’t realize how bad her new life would be until she was caught trying to remove her diaper to use the bathroom. Thats when she was spanked for the first time, then had to kneel on her bed until she wet her diaper. After that, she had to clean the bathroom from top to bottom before she could be changed.
She has work in an hour, so unless she can clean the bathroom, get changed, and get to work in less then an hour, she will have to go to work in a used diaper too, or call out of work, or quit her job and accept that she will be her roommates diapered house slave forever.
Ok, Sophie. Here’s the deal. Now that we are three weeks in and our football team is 0-3, we should talk about our bet. Lift your dress. You see, I thought that making you my diaper girl when our team loses would be enough to make me happy, but now I’m thinking that the whole school would appreciate knowing about it. Then I thought, no, that’s not really fair. Not without you agreeing to it. So, here’s your choice. Be the school’s baby mascot every time the football team loses. By the way, they lost every game last season. Or, expand our little deal to cover basketball and soccer seasons as well. At least our basketball team won a few games last year. So, what do you think. Be the whole school’s baby girl, or expand our bet to soccer and basketball?
Oh, something else to think about, we are both freshman and we didn’t agree to an end date for our bet. So if our football team loses their last game, you get to be the school’s diaper girl until the start of next season too. Or we do it for basketball and soccer and you might get a chance to be a big girl occasionally.
A week after her 18th birthday, Abby had been kicked out of the house. After months of couch surfing, scratching together for a couple nights in a hotel, and even a few nights of camping on the ground, she thought she had found her way out of the situation.
She had run into a woman who needed a live in nanny, and she needed a job and a place to stay. 2 days later, she had moved into her new home and started working for the woman taking care of their 6 month old twin daughters. It wasn’t long before things turned sour though.
A couple weeks after moving in and starting to care for the kids, she got curious and tried on one of their diapers. It didn’t fit, but she was able to use tape to secure it around herself. During the twins nap time, she decided to try wetting it. Unfortunately, this was also when she discovered that their mom had an appointment today as she walked in on Abby in the middle of wetting the diaper.
Abby was sent to her room to pack her things in tears. How could she trust Abby to take care of her babies if she was still a baby herself.
An hour later, the mom walked into Abby’s room to find her curled up in a ball crying. They talked and a new solution was found. Abby would stay on as babysitter, but anytime the twins mom was home, Abby was a baby. In addition, Abby is diapered 24/7 and is banned from using the toilets. Diapers were bought just for Abby that had cute little bunnies on them.
Now, Abby gets to change 3 times a day. The money she earns from babysitting the twins pays for her housing, food, and diapers along with $250/month that goes into a savings account. When that account is full enough 5to cover half her community college expenses, the mother will cover the other half of the cost and Abby will be sent to night classes.
If Abby graduates college, then she might be allowed to potty train again, otherwise she will be the baby babysitter forever.
She thought it would be fun to dress up like Harley Quinn and go pranking her rivals. Unfortunately, one of her rivals heard what was going on and was ready for her. Caught in the act, she was given the choice between an arrest for trespassing or being treated the way she has been acting.
Now Miss Harley Quinn has been turned into Captured Baby Harley. She will remain in her diapers and bondage all weekend, by then her captor will have enough photos of her sleeping in diapers, eating baby food in diapers, playing in diapers, and using her diapers that keeping her in check will no longer be a problem. Keeping her in diapers won’t be a problem either, if she ever gets caught without a diaper on, a video of her playing with baby toys in her Harley Quinn costume and diapers will be released to Social Media.
Now she has only work and her new home where she serves as a diaper maid to her former rival.
Parties always lead to interesting discoveries. For example, after last nights winter white out party, Natalie crashed in the spare room instead of going back to her dorm room during the morning house check, her most embarrassing secret was discovered and by the time she wakes up, the sisters of the sorority that hosted the party will have a perfect plan for taking advantage of their knowledge…and evidence.
When Natalie wakes up, she will be confronted with the pictures of her diapered state and given 3 options.
1, she can move into the spare room instead the basement of the sorority house which will be converted into her private nursery. In exchange for housing, keeping her secret, and allowing her to join the sorority, Natalie will be their diapered house girl responsible for all cleaning of the sorority house and decorating for all house events including parties, meetings, and activities.
2, she can return to living in the dorm, however, she will be placed in a locking diaper cover preventing her from using the potty and forcing her to ask for a diaper change. If she chooses, her RA or roommate can be informed of her condition and given a key and diapers so she doesn’t have to find one of the sorority sisters in order to get a change.
3, the sorority can ensure that every social media group and channel connected to the college has her picture posted by mid morning and everybody at the college will know about their diaper girl classmate before the day is out.
Natalie quickly chooses the first option, as embarrassing as it is, since it guaranteed her privacy, allowed her to take care of her diapers without excessive having to ask for changes, saves her money, and allows her to officially join the most influential sorority on campus.
By tonight, she will be dressed as a maid, with thick diapers and have a crib, high chair, and changing table set up in her new nursery.
I had been training you to potty in your diapers whenever you felt the need for the past two months, and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, it turned you on. We were standing in the kitchen in the early morning when I hear you grunt. I look over and see you in a quarter squat, one hand on the island, your face with that look of unmistakable concentration.
“Honey, are you pooping?”
You grunted again, not in response, but in doing your business. I could already tell this was going to be a doozy, but then you went down into a full squat, and I could tell that you had some real work to do. I continued my work while you were busy pushing, which continued for a few more minutes, including pushes on all fours and grunts on your knees while holding up onto the counter. When you were sure you were finished you stood up gingerly and delicately cupped the mess from the seat of your diaper.
“You get it all out?” I asked, coming over to inspect. You nodded and I grabbed the seat of your diaper and pushed up, spreading the mess into your bottom, getting up on your tippy-toes as I did so. Then I pulled back the waistband of your diaper and checked. Sure enough, you filled that thing. I let go and gave your bottom a few more thuddy smacks.
“Finish your chores, then come over to me, I want to degrade you some more. If you’re good enough I’ll let you choose between a diaper change or an orgasm.”
She was so close. That was the cruelest part, just a few more crawling steps and she might have made it. The bathroom door was open, the toilet waiting, porcelain white and shining under the overhead light. But you knew what was about to happen before she even whimpered.
Her knees trembled against the tiles as she crawled, back arched, padded bottom swaying helplessly. The thick Pampers crinkled with each little shuffle, the pastel prints stretched tight over her curves. And then, just as she reached the edge of the threshold, her body betrayed her.
A shudder rolled through her body. Her hands clutched at the floor, fingers splayed wide. The first muffled noises filled the diaper, the telltale swelling and spreading heat marking the moment of defeat. She froze, mortified, her cheeks flushed scarlet. The hypnosis had worked perfectly again. Every time she laid eyes on a toilet, her mind triggered the inevitable release. She still hadn’t figured it out, which only made the spectacle sweeter.
You leaned casually against the doorframe, arms folded, watching as your boyfriend’s wife sagged onto her elbows, whimpering. Her hips gave a final twitch as the last of it pushed into the seat of her Pampers, squishing warmly against her skin.
When she finally lifted her head, eyes glassy with humiliation, she didn’t look at the toilet anymore. She looked at you. At the woman who had taken her husband. At the woman who now held her leash in ways far deeper than marriage papers ever could.
“Mommy… please…” The word cracked like glass, dragged out of her throat with equal parts shame and desperate need.
The word cracked from her throat, humiliating and desperate. You had taught her to say it. Taught her to crawl. Taught her to beg.
Every accident left her smaller, weaker, needier. Every accident left her more yours.
You let the silence stretch, let her stew in the sticky warmth of her soiled diaper and the unbearable knowledge that you had made her this way. That she couldn’t even crawl to a toilet without proving she belonged in Pampers, begging her husband’s new girlfriend for a change.
She wasn’t just almost humiliated. She was ruined.
The brightly lit store buzzed softly with faint chatter and the hum of fluorescent lights. Ava bounced alongside Daddy, her steps light and eager. Her eyes darted across the shelves, the colorful packages of diapers and pull-ups gleaming under the harsh lighting. She felt proud—Daddy said she'd done well enough during the day to earn this special treat. Pull-ups! She was finally getting pull-ups!
Her heart thumped as they reached the aisle. Ava’s face lit up at the sight of the packages adorned with cheerful cartoon characters and pastel patterns. She tugged at Daddy’s hand, her voice spilling over with excitement. “Look! That one has little unicorns on it!”
Daddy smiled warmly, giving her a playful nudge toward the shelf. “Go ahead, princess. Pick your favorite.”
Ava nodded enthusiastically, her pigtails bobbing, and crouched down in front of the lower shelves. The cutest pack—bright pink with sparkly rainbows and unicorns—was tucked just out of reach. Her tongue poked out in concentration as she stretched forward, the hem of her floral hoodie riding up as she squatted.
And then, it happened.
The faintest, almost imperceptible moment of release. Ava froze, her eyes widening. A telltale warmth bloomed in her diaper, followed by a heavy, unavoidable sensation settling in the seat of it. Her cheeks flushed a deep red as she whimpered softly, shifting her weight uncomfortably. The squish of the sudden mess was unmistakable, betraying her to anyone within earshot—or smell.
"Oh, Ava…" Daddy chuckled, shaking his head as he knelt down to her level. His tone was soft but dripping with amusement, and he gently tipped her chin up to make her look at him. "You didn’t even last long enough to pick the pull-ups, did you, baby girl?"
Her cheeks burned crimson, and she squirmed in her squat, the fullness of her situation unmistakable now. “I… I didn’t mean to, Daddy,” she whispered, her voice breaking.
He kissed her forehead with a grin. "I know, sweet pea. Almost made it, though. Almost."
Ellie had always been a free spirit—loud, late, and living life just a little too much on the edge for her mum’s liking. After yet another incident involving a campus party, a failed exam, and a very public argument with a professor, her mum had reached her limit.
“I told you what would happen,” her mum said, arms crossed, staring Ellie down like she was five years old again. “If you’re going to act like a child, I’ll treat you like one.”
Ellie had scoffed. Until she saw the outfit.
The dress was an old-fashioned, cutesy college-style pinafore, clearly meant to look like something from a storybook. But worse—far worse—was what came with it: a bulky white nappy. One that rustled embarrassingly with every step.
“This is ridiculous,” Ellie hissed as her mum helped her into the outfit.
“No one can tell,” her mum said with mock sweetness. “It’s just a cute little dress.”
That was a lie. Ellie realised it the second she bent to pick up her books. The hem of the dress lifted just enough for the unmistakable padding to peek out. She saw the glance from her neighbour. The double take. The stifled smirk.
Ellie turned crimson.
Walking through campus that day was torture. She heard whispers, caught snickers, and felt every rustle of the plastic beneath the frills of her skirt as a sharp reminder of what she’d been reduced to.
But the worst part? Somewhere deep down, buried beneath the mortification, she realised something.
She kind of deserved it.
Maybe not the nappies, or the dress—but the wake-up call. Her mum had always supported her, always tried to pull her back when she went too far. And Ellie had always brushed her off. Until now.
When she got home that evening, Ellie stood in the doorway for a long time before saying anything.
“Mum… Can we talk?”
Her mum raised an eyebrow, arms still crossed. But there was a softness behind it now. As she felt the back her nappy
And Ellie, padded and red-faced, nodded. “I think I’m ready to act my age again.”
As her mom patted the floor for her to come and sit down she unfolded a clean nappy Ellie looked on in shock please mom I don't need a nappy by the look of that soggy one its exactly what you need.
Look at her. Isn't she the most precious thing you've ever seen?
Daddy's silly little Pouty Princess.
Would you believe me if I told you she used to be a lawyer? And not just any lawyer—she was a bulldog. Men twice her age would groan whenever she confidently waltzed into the courtroom.
If only they could see her now.
I'm sure it's frustrating for her. She used to argue—and win—cases in front of federal judges. Now she can't even convince Daddy to stay up past her bedtime.
The best part is she still tries to argue her case to me like the lawyer she was. As if she has any use for logic and cunning anymore.
I stand there, grinning, as she makes her case. It's just so entertaining. Watching her use all that legal training and experience to stay up past 8 is just...perfect.
"Daddy, this 8 PM bedtime is arbitrary and capricious, decided unilaterally by you without any input from me. It violates my right to due process and, therefore, must be moved to 9 PM."
I love the juxtaposition of it all—all those fancy, serious words neatly packaged in clever arguments. It's impressive.
Well, it would be if she wasn't doing it in a soggy diaper, with a paci dangling from her shirt. Her feet stomping, arms flailing wildly.
"You're adorable, counselor. But no," I say, booping her nose and sliding her paci in her mouth.
She's so unserious now.
How could I possibly take someone like her seriously? I mean…she wears diapers. She has a bedtime. She writes with crayons, for heaven's sake.
Crayons!
Then, when she inevitably doesn't get her way, she huffs and she puffs, throwing the most adorable tantrums you've ever seen.
And they are tantrums. No different from the tantrums you'd find in every daycare across the globe.
That's the magic of diapers.
Nobody, not even my once powerful lawyer, can be taken seriously when they're squatting behind the couch making pushies.
She's not staying up past her bedtime. Nothing she says will change that. Besides, she needs her sleep.
She has a big day tomorrow. She's arguing before her Royal Stuffies Court, and it may be her biggest case yet!
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