Your Weekend in Diapers Chapter 1
You get home from work Friday night, and I’m waiting for you when you walk in the door. You’re a little surprised because I’m rarely home before you, but you don’t think much of it. You take your coat of and start to ask me about my day as you put your jacket in the closet but stop as you feel a tug at your waistband. You’re suddenly taken a back as you realize I’m checking your underwear.
“What are you doing?” You ask, shocked. You try to step away, but I pull you away from the closet and push you over the back of the couch.
“Last Friday night you went out to the bar with your friends and then wet the bed. I had to clean it up all Saturday morning. I’m not letting that happen again!” It had rarely happened before, and while it was mortifying, you thought the issue had been resolved. You feel your face go flush as your pants come down for a more thorough check...
“That was an accident and only because I was drunk! It’s not like it happened at work! Why are you checking now!” You can feel me poking and pulling at your undies, scrutinizing them more than you’d like. No obvious stains, but that’s not to say you didn’t have an accident at work and change. I let go of your panties, your pants around your ankles, you try to adjust your panties so they’re comfortable again.
“We’re going to give you a chance to redeem yourself this weekend.” I take you by the wrist and lead you to the room. You try to keep up as best you can with your pants around your ankles, with your free hand you try to bring them to waist. We get to the room and we have some new furniture: a changing table. “Get up on the table” I tell you. You just stare at it, you’re quickly piecing the next part together and before you have a chance to react, I’ve whisked you through the air and your butt is on the soft padding of the table...
I produce a large white diaper from the closet and wave it in front of your face. Your eyes go big as your suspicions are confirmed. “Lay down” I command. You refuse but I grab your ankles put them together and bring them up to your face. Your butt exposed, I use my free hand and start spanking, rhythmically alternating cheeks. As your butt takes on a new crimson shade your whimpers start to turn into cries as the spanking starts to crescendo.
I stop and as you catch your breath I explain: “here’s what’s going to happen. Your butt is going in this diaper. Tonight, after dinner, we’re gonna go out with your friends again, and we’ll see how you do tonight. You’re going to be diapered all weekend. You may have three changes. When I tell you it’s time for a change, you can either accept one or stay in your dirty diaper to save on changes. Once you’ve reached three, you will be subjected to a new punishment for each extra change. Make it through the weekend with fewer than 6 changes, and we’ll consider your accident just that, a one-time mistake. On the 6th change, you will be diapered for the month and we’ll continue this game.”
The reality of this is all sinking in. As the dread of so much embarrassment comes to mind, tears start to well in your eyes. I slip the diaper under your butt and gently let go of your ankle as your butt drops onto the padding. You could see it was thick, but you had no idea just how thick it would be. You had never seen a diaper so big. It’s soft, but as soon as it touches your skin you’re overwhelmed by your new reality and start to weep.
I powder you and pull it between your legs. Forgetting the sting of the spanking from just moments ago, you fight it the whole way. Undoing tapes as they get applied. But each tape you remove, two more replace it. I finally grab your wrists. You look down to see all four tapes of a giant white diaper stuck on your body. You squirm a little, but the diaper follows where ever you go, crinkling loudly with every position shift. Defeated, you relax, and I let go of your wrists. “Come on” I say. “I’m making dinner and I want to keep an eye on you. And don’t even think about taking it off. If you don’t like wearing that, you’ll hate what happens if you try to take it off...”
I give you a hand getting off the table. I watch as you explore your new underwear. You look in the full-length mirror and whine. Your butt is puffier than even I anticipated. Your reach down and try to pull up the pants around your ankles. You can’t get them over your diaper. “Oh don’t worry you don’t need those anyway, I need to be able to see when you make a mess!” “I’m not gonna make a mess!” You yell. “I don’t need diapers!!” I collect your pants as you dejectedly kick them off. “We’ll see about that”...
We go on the kitchen and you sit on the couch looking at your phone. You’re trying to distract yourself from your new existence but inside you’re a wreck. I prepare a nice simple meal, some of your favorites and the smell is cheering you up. You waddle to the kitchen (you can’t believe you have to waddle now) and smell the air while I put some plates on the table. You take a seat at your normal spot, but I stop putting food on the table and stare at you.
"What are you doing?”
“Sitting for dinner?” You reply, confused. I grab you by the ear and pull you from the seat. I go to the closet and wheel out a highchair that’s been assembled. “This is where you’ll be sitting this weekend”...
You’re embarrassed that you didn’t see it coming. Of course, how could you be so foolish, it would never be that easy. But, you’re hungry and the food smells so good that you decide to pick your battles and climb into the high chair, clearly built for a smaller person. When you sit down, the back of your diaper is higher than the back of the chair offering almost no support. This chair is modified a little bit however, the belt that secures you in the seat along with the tray table both have hanging padlocks on them. I Cinch you in and lock you up and push your highchair to the table...
I go to the seat facing you and start eating from the plate of food and talking to you about my day like nothing is different. Your plate of food is still on the table just out of your reach. You lean over your tray table and try to reach it. Leaning, like everything you do now provides a new reminder of your diaper prison. The thickness preventing you from going as far as you’d like. I suddenly notice. “Oh I’m sorry how rude of me.” I say. “Here let me feed you.”
I can feed myself!!” You shout, so much embarrassment in one day is starting to ware on you.
“You can’t even use the toilet. Why should I trust you to feed yourself?”
I walk over towards you. You’re embarrassed and know it’s going to get worse but at least you’ll finally get to have this tasty food. To your horror though, I don’t bring the plate to you but instead produce a bowl of oatmeal that has been sitting in the microwave. I put it on your tray.
“I don’t want that!” You shout, on the verge of tears. You lean and try to reach the plate. “I want real food!!”
“Now I made this just for you” I say sternly. “Just try it, you might like it.” You look down it’s obviously cold and separated. Even an oatmeal lover wouldn’t eat it like this.
“I know what oatmeal tastes like! I’ve had it a million times! I don’t want it I want real food!” My demeanor changes. I quietly pick up the bowl. I take it behind you, and the chair prevents you from turning around. You get a sudden jolt of fear as the waist band of your diaper is pulled back and a cold cascade of gross oatmeal fills the back of your diaper.
To be continued... Chapter 2
