Saturday, 20 of September of 2014

Category » Stories


We climb the stairs back to my apartment. He walks behind me and I know why. My long, satin dress clings to my ass and legs and he has always been a man who appreciates a perky ass and curvaceous legs. I sway my hips just a little more than necessary to entice him.

We reach the door and, as I unlock it, he reaches around me and fondles my breasts. I pause and he becomes more aggressive, grabbing me hard and biting my neck more than he is kissing it. I lean back into him, grinding against his crotch. Then I open the door and pull him inside. We kiss in the foyer for a moment before we move, still kissing, to the bedroom.

My eyes are closed as we go. I know my apartment well enough to walk to my room without really looking. He lifts me like a baby and lays me down on the bed–and I hear a crinkle. I ignore it at first, but then I smell something sweet, but strange. Baby powder?

I reach over and feel something soft and plasticy. He’s still kissing me, but I push him back and look over. What could I possibly have left on the bed?

In the lambent light of the streetlamp outside I see something white and puffy. I can’t quite make out what it is.

“Take off your dress,” he orders and immediately starts doing it. He rolls me over and starts unzipping me, his rough beard scratching my back as he kisses down, down, down my exposed spine.

I reach over and pick the thing up, turning it around and trying to think what it could possibly be. Did I leave this here?


He has stripped my dress off and flipped me back over. He’s kissing down the front of my body, I suspect about to eat my pussy, but I’m concerned about the thing. I notice that it folds and open it.


I’m beginning to realize what it is. How did this get in my room? My eyes flicker away and I notice something else on the dresser–and something else on the bookshelf. Suddenly I realize that everything in my room has changed. The furniture is still the same, but even the books on the shelf are different. My sheets are different. The bathrobe hanging over the back of the door is different.

“Manny! Wait, look.” I push him off of me and back against the headboard.

He kneels up, still fully dressed, even wearing his jacket and tie. He doesn’t look around, but smiles at me. He’s beautiful when he smiles.

“Do you like it? I had it done while we were out.”

Even the wallpaper.

“It’s a freaking nursery!”

He reaches out and caresses my face. “Welcome home, baby girl.”

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His breathing has been steady for at least thirty minutes, but I’ve been waiting for this all day and I can’t ruin it by being over anxious. I have to wait until I’m sure. My arm oozes across the comforter to check the time on my phone. 12:33 am. He must be asleep by now, deeply enough that I can slide out of the bed, keeping my legs straight until I can bend them gently to melt against the floor. I do not move so much as seep across the bedroom to the closet. I’ve left the door open so that I can reach in and feel around the top shelf under my sweaters until I feel something even softer, something that crinkles.

My heart races and I can’t be careful anymore. I grab the diaper and quickly walk down the hall, holding my breath. I sneak into the bathroom and switch on the light, illuminating my naked body and the thick, white diaper. I squeeze it hard and my clit throbs. I open it and lay it out on the tiny bathroom rug then lie down on top of the diaper, pressing my ass into the softness. I wiggle back and forth, pulling the front of the diaper up over my vulva, and I moan softly.

“Yes. This is what I want.”

I’m alone, but I don’t want to be. I imagine a man kneeling at my head, his knees brushing my ears as his warm hands knead my breasts while I rub my eager clit and wet slit against the diaper. My dampness soaks into the absorbent loveliness and I imagine his deep voice playfully chastising me, “This is why you need a diaper. Without it, you make a mess.” I tape the diaper as tightly as I can and my sex convulses as each tab is pressed down.

I lie on the floor working the diaper against my pussy, but the part of me that is made of longing rolls over onto her knees, presses her breasts together, and asks the man, “Do you need to pee?”

He grunts and stands before me. His cock is not fully erect, but he is definitely excited. He grasps it with one hand and tilts my head back with the other. I feel his hot urine splash against my face. I open my mouth and lap at his stream. His urine runs down my breasts, over my belly, and into my diaper, filling it so that it bulges between my legs.

I rub myself furiously on the bathroom floor as I release my bladder and fill the diaper, imagining that it’s the man’s pee and not mine, that he is marking me and claiming me. I’m getting close, so close to cumming against the soft, white diaper, warm and wet and–

The door opens and M stands against the darkness. I’m illuminated as thought I was on a stage and he can see everything that I’m doing: my hands between my legs, the wet diaper, my flushed cheeks.

My eyes start to tear as I ask, “Why aren’t you asleep?”

He is looking between my legs, not at my face, when he answers. “I need to pee.”

I start to cry, sitting on the floor, looking up at him. I don’t sob, I don’t make a sound, but tears run down my cheeks, down my neck, spreading over my skin.

I realize that, in avoiding his gaze, I’m staring at his crotch. He stirs, gets bigger. His glans pushes its curious way out into the fluorescent light.

I imagine that, somehow, he’s mocking me with his erection. “Stop it!” I cover my face with my hands and begin to cry in earnest.

He kneels down and tries to take my hands away. “What were you doing? Were you playing with yourself?”

“Yes, okay! Yes!”

He continues to gently pull at my hands and I continue to hold them to my flushed, wet face.

“Did you wet it? Do you like it?”

I push against him, refusing to answer. Finally he gets frustrated and just wraps his arms around me. I can feel his hot, hard cock against my leg and then against…my diaper.

He moans and pushes against the thick plastic. “Oh, baby girl!”

“Stop it, Manny!”

But he doesn’t stop. He pushes me down so that I’m on the floor and he’s on top of me, pressed hard against me. He’s breathing hard and rutting against my diaper. It almost feels like sex, the way the warm, wet diaper is digging into my sex, the way he’s holding me so close.

“Why can you like it, but not me?”

“You don’t like it!”

“Oh, but I do.” He gives one long, hard push to drive the point home. I open my hands to peek at him and his mouth connects with mine. He kisses me hard, as though he means to devour me, and I realize that I’ve wanted this for a long time.

There’s no denying that he’s aroused by finding me like this. I melt and let him kiss me as fiercely as he wants to.

“It’s wet!”

I begin to get nervous again, but he reassures me, “I like that it’s wet! It’s so sexy.” He kisses me. “Can you wet it some more?”

I bite my lip and nod.

“Do it.”

I relax and let the rest of the warm liquid flood my diaper. It swells up and overflows each time he pushes against me.

“Oh, fuck!” His hand flutters around my hips as he tries to undo the tapes of the diaper, but he’s never done this before and can’t seem to figure it out. I reach down and help him, untaping the sides so that he can pull down the front of my diaper and slide his dripping cock into me.

He thrusts over and over again, the diaper making a sweet squish each time he pushes into me. His arms are wrapped around my neck and he has me pulled close to him. My eyes are closed and all my being is focused on experiencing the warmth of his body and the warmth of the diaper as they cradle me from either side.

He’s breathing like an animal as he pants, “You’re a dirty little girl. I can’t believe that I’ve been fucking such a sick little pervert for so long and didn’t even realize it. What other dirty things do you do when you’re alone?”

I gently push him back until we’re looking into each others’ eyes. “You have no idea.”

He cums inside of me and I feel the warmth everywhere: in my sex, on my ass, on my belly. It feels amazing and I can’t wait to feel it again.


T’was the Night Before Christmas

T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a sound was heard, but the click of a mouse.
Her stockings were clipped to her garter with care,
In hopes that his prick soon would be there.

The submissives were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of nipple clamps danced in their heads.
And Mamma in her negligee, and I with my strap,
Had just gotten out the porn for a long winter’s fap.

When out of the basement there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the dungeon I flew like a flash,
Tore open the cages and drew up my lash.

The moon on a breast bright as new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to the locks below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But an illicit lay, with eight cocks trembling in fear.

With a cute little minx, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment she must really love dick.
More rapid than eagles those cocks they all came,
And she moaned, and shouted, and called them by name!

“Now Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of my pleasure! And try not to fall!
Now bash away! Bang away! Pound away all!”

So many cocks ’round her body did fly,
Several met with an obstacle, one came in her eye.
So up to her bust the coursers they flew,
With her ass full of toys, and a prick or two.

And then, well, I heard a sound most uncouth,
As a cock in her mouth scraped ‘gainst a tooth.
As I drew back from the scene, and was turning around,
Down the stairs dear old Mamma came with a bound.

She was dressed all in leather, from her head to her foot,
And her clothes were all polished and shined black as soot.
A bundle of toys she had, plugs, human pony tack,
Cross dressing garments, and clamps for a lucky sack.

Her eyes, how they twinkled! Her dimples, how merry!
Her cheeks were like roses, her clit like a cherry!
Her droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the hair on her mound glistened like wet snow.

The ball of a gag, she shoved past my teeth,
Handcuffs encircled my wrists like a wreath.
She tightened the straps ‘cross my legs and my belly,
Her pussy was slick red, like a bowl full of jelly

That’s when she took a dong down from the shelf,
And I laughed when I saw it, in spite of myself!
A wink of her eye and a twist of my head,
Soon gave me to know I had something to dread.

She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
And took hold of my cock and gave it a jerk.
And laying her finger aside of her nose,
And giving a nod, up my asshole she rose!

She thrust it mightily, to the team gave a whistle,
And to me they flew like a heat-seeking missile.
But I heard her exclaim, ‘ere I lost my sight,
“Happy gang bang to all, and to all a good-night!”

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A Carousel Ride

Gothic Lolita Carousel

Elise tugged at her skirt and worried, for the hundredth time, that her diaper was showing. Of course it wasn’t, especially under all the ruffles of her chiffon petticoat, but the thought that even a few inches of her thickly diapered bottom might be showing was terrifying. It should have been a wonderful day. She had woken up to a text from Jonathan saying that he was coming over first thing to take her to Japantown, that he had a present for her and to be sure that she was showered, primped, and shaved.

He’d been bringing up shaving more and more often. The first time he’d asked her to shave between her legs, she’d been a little nervous. She had always kept at least a little hair to hide the exact details of her parts. Even though she’d been sleeping with Jonathan for a year now, she was still nervous about him looking at her down there and, even with some curly black hair to obscure his view, she usually covered herself with her hand when he even glanced at her.

Still, she had done it. She would do almost anything he asked her to. He was tall, handsome, and had the darkest eyes she’d ever seen–they were almost black all the way through. He made her feel small and safe, cradling her in his arms and even tucking her into bed at night when he wasn’t able to sleep over. At some point, she had even slipped into calling him “Daddy,” and he often called her “princess.”

She prepared herself just as he wanted. She had an hour, which was just enough time, so long as she didn’t dawdle in the bath. From there she put on an overall skirt, baby yellow top, and braided her hair. She wore the ankle socks with the yellow ruffle that he had bought for her, and the ducky print panties she had owned for years, but only wore once she met her Jonathan. She was just smoothing some lip gloss over her lips when the doorbell rang. She grabbed her bag and ran to the door, eager to see his reaction to her girlish ensemble.

When she opened the door, he grabbed her and lifted her up for a kiss. His tongue pushed past her lips and filled her mouth. He tasted her. His hand cupped her pantied bottom and he squeezed her so hard that she squeaked and squirmed. Finally he broke off the kiss and looked into her big, brown eyes. “You’re wearing the ducky panties.”

She blushed, but looked straight back at him. “How can you tell without looking?”

He caressed her bottom. “Daddy just knows.” She beamed. “And your skirt was flipped up in front.”

She smoothed down the front of her skirt, embarrassed.

“It’s okay, princess. Let’s go into your bedroom. I have something for you.”

He took her hand and led her back to her room. Smoothing out her comforter, he laid her down on it and she began to wonder if he was going to eat her out. He leaned over her and kissed her again, pulling up the front of her skirt and slowly pulled down her panties. She felt her clit tingle in anticipation.

He dropped her panties to the floor and began rummaging in his messenger bag. She heard him pull out something soft and plasticy before he again bent to kiss her, supporting himself on an elbow and stroking her hair.

“Will you do anything for me?”

She smiled. He had gotten her a sex toy! How cute! She’d only had one vibrator until now and it wasn’t a very good one. She wondered what it could be.


He held the thing up and she felt her chest tighten. It was a diaper.

The anticipation drained away and she sat up and wiggled away to the edge of the bed. “What’s that for?”

“It’s for you.”

She took the thing from him and turned it over. It really, truly was a diaper. The plastic was thick and crinkly and there was a babyish design of blocks and other toys across the front. The blocks spelled “BABY.” “For me to do what?”

“I want you to wear it, silly girl.”

Elise looked into her boyfriend’s eyes. He didn’t seem to be making fun of her, but maybe it was a joke. She had been wearing very juvenile clothes lately. And maybe it was sort of stupid to be calling her own boyfriend Daddy. She was 26, after all. Maybe this was a wake-up call.

She laughed and handed the diaper back. “Well, I’m not going to. Let’s go. I hope that isn’t the present you had for me.”

Jonathan stood up and smoothed the diaper out on the bed. “It is part of it. Lie down. I’m going to tape it on you.”

“Are you joking?”


Elise frowned and stood to leave. “Let’s go.”

But as she moved past him, he caught her in his arms and pressed her to him. He took her hand and pressed it to his crotch. He was rock hard. “Do it for Daddy.”

Something clicked inside Elise, a small little movement, like the flicking of a light switch. It was just a little nudge to do this odd thing for the man she loved, the man she called Daddy. And she did like calling him that, and wearing little girly clothes for him. It made everything feel naughtier, more subversive. It made sex new again.

She could do this thing for him, and perhaps find new levels of intimacy. It would be their secret, something that most people probably wouldn’t even believe. Or she could refuse and they would spend a miserable day together, and eventually forget about it and go on as before. And that was the real question: did she want things to go on as before or did she want to go deeper into this whole Daddy-princess thing?


Elise lied down on the diaper, Jonathan gently guiding her, positioning her hips and the diaper until it was lined up just right. His hands seemed to shake as he pulled a bottle of baby powder from his bag and sprinkled just the tiniest bit onto her vulva. The powder smelled wonderful and Elise arched her back as he smoothed it into her skin, his hand gliding over her labia. Finally he pulled the front of it up and taped it securely into place.

Jonathan then took her hand and helped her up and led her over to the mirror. The diaper was thick and puffy between her legs and crinkled with each step. Looking at it made Elise feel a little light headed. There was no way she could hide it under her overall skirt. She would have to change.

“I guess I should pick out another skirt.”

Jonathan ran his hands over her silhouette. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But you can totally see–”

“You can wear your pea coat to cover it up. And anyway,” he turned her face to him and kissed her again, “We’re going shopping.”

To be continued…


Something Borrowed, Something Wet

For the hundredth time, Diana brushed invisible stray hairs up under her veil and Veronica swatted her hand away. “Stop that! You’re only messing it up.”

Diana examined herself in the large mirror. She knew she looked lovely in her plunging, sweetheart neckline, pearls, and white gloves. Her hair really was perfect, curling in an elaborate up-do beneath her fragile veil. On her feet were tiny satin shoes, dyed to the exact shade of her gown. And beneath that gown were sheer stockings, baby blue garters, and the most uncomfortable thong Diana had ever worn in her life. No matter how she wiggled or didn’t wiggle, it pulled fiercely and set her skin on fire. She reached back to adjust it now and Veronica smirked.

“I told you not to wear that thing. It’s stupid.”

Diana bit her plump lower lip. “I want to be…sexy. And he still doesn’t know…”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “You still haven’t told him?”

Diana blushed and looked down at her boquet. “I–I–I–”

“Okay, okay,” Veronica whispered, casting a nervous glance towards the door. “You don’t have to tell him if you don’t want to.” She wasn’t about to make her best friend cry on her wedding day, but the mean streak in her couldn’t help adding, “He’ll just have to find out on his own.”

Diana’s lip trembled and she tugged at the thong again, then patted her hair out of nervousness. She really did look ravishing when she was about to cry, or at least ravishable, mused Veronica.

“Here’s what, you could wear the diaper up the aisle, then wear it to dinner, and take it off before you go back to the hotel.”

Diana fidgeted with her flowers. “We-e-ell, that might work.”

“Of course it would,” Veronica said. “God knows your dress is pouffy enough. Here.” Veronica rummaged about in the huge purse she always carried and pulled out a thick, white, disposable diaper and a bottle of talcum powder.

“Lie down,” she commanded. Diana obeyed, quietly. She usually sucked her thumb during these moments, but now her gloves prevented her and she seemed at a loss what to do with her hands. Eventually she settled for clasping her bouquet, just as she would when she walked down the aisle.

Veronica swished the yards and yards of fabric out of the way, trying not to wrinkle them. “This really would have been easier if there hadn’t been all this nonsense about the thong anyway.” Diana murmured a non-commital reply. Her mind was clearly on the coming diaper.

Veronica had known about Diana’s diaper fetish almost since they had met. Having an interest in them herself, she had seen the signs. Of course, Diana was more of an adult little girl than a diaper lover, which was what Veronica called herself. Still, the common interest had been more than enough to base their friendship on, even with their polar personalities.

Veronica slid the diaper up under Diana’s hips and pulled the thong off as gently as she could. She suspected it was simply too small, but she would never suggest going one size up. Diana just belonged in diapers and Veronica would do everything she could to make sure she stayed in them.

As Veronica opened the baby powder, a little puff of it jetted into the air, its sweet smell filling her nostrils. “Mmmmm.” She bent her head and deftly began licking at Diana’s exposed clitoris.

“Oooh! No!”

“Be quiet,” Veronica snapped. “This is your last chance, after all.”

Diana pursed her lips and arched her back, trying to feel guilty, but enjoying it too much. The smell of the baby powder, the soft feel of the diaper under her bum, Veronica’s bold tongue–it was too much to resist.

As Diana moaned and ground herself against Veronica, thoroughly smudging her lipstick, Veronica reached down between her own legs and slipped a hand under her skirt. She, too, was wearing a diaper. As she teased her friend’s clitoris, she massaged her own against the softness, enjoying the crinkly sound that it made.

Finally, Diana’s eye fell on the clock. “Oh my god!”

“What?” Veronica asked, her mouth full and her hand busy.

“I’ve only got five minutes!”

“They expect you to be late.”

“No! Hurry up! They’ll all be waiting outside!”

Veronica rolled her eyes and took one more good lick. “Fine.”

She finished diapering Diana quickly, using only a little baby powder. Then, Diana hopped up from the table she had been lying on and looked in the mirror, holding her skirt high to enjoy the view of herself as a diapered bride.

“There’s still something missing,” said Veronica lazily as she took something else from her bag. It was a pacifier dangling from a sterling silver clip.

Diana’s mouth formed an O and she gasped, “Oh, no, Veronica! I couldn’t!”

“Not on your dress. Here.” Veronica bent down and clipped the pacifier to her friend’s garter. “Now we’ll both know. You owe it to me, after not letting me finish.” And she took Diana gently and kissed her.

Then there was a knock at the door, and it opened abruptly before either woman could move.

Jon slipped in the door quickly, then froze. His bride stood holding her skirt aloft, her maid of honor behind her, caressing her thighs. This was shocking enough, but once he’d had time to adjust, he realized that his beloved Diana was wearing a thick, plastic diaper and that a pacifier on a ribbon dangled from her garter.

Diana shrieked, “No!” and buried her face in her hands. Veronica, usually so quick with a response, stood mute, too stunned even to pull her hands away from her friend’s milky thighs.

Before Jon could move or even speak, he realized he had an erection. He shifted his weight and, his stutter returning due more to shock at his body’s reaction than to what he was seeing, asked, “W-w-w-what are you d-d-d-doing?”

Veronica returned to her senses before Diana did and pulled the blushing bride’s dress down, stepping out from behind her.

“I was just helping her fix her garter.” Veronica brushed hair back from her shoulders, glaring at Jon and daring him to argue.

“She was in a diaper.”

“She’s nervous and when she’s nervous she feels like she has to go. You might not get a bathroom break for a while. You should know this about your freaking wife.”

Diana still huddled behind Veronica and the brunette did make for an imposing image, standing in her strapless bridesmaid dress looking like an Amazon ready to defend a comrade to the death. Her large bust was thrust out and her hands were on her hips, like Wonder Woman.

But she was still only a five and a half foot tall woman, really not much more than a girl, and Jon was over six feet and leanly muscular. He strode across the room, his erection rubbing against his silk boxers, and pushed Veronica out of the way. He pulled up Diana’s dress, yanking off the pacifier and clip. His hand lingered on her diapered mons, keeping the dress up and adding to his bride’s humiliation. “Then what the f-f-fuck is this?”

Veronica, pushed aside, but still the force to be reckoned with, jutted out her chin and tried to snatch the pacifier away. “It’s just a little inside joke.”

Jon had two options. He could choose to believe Veronica and leave, apologizing, explaining he’d only come in to steal a quick pre-wedding kiss. Or he could throw the pacifier to the ground and call the whole thing off–at least until this was straightened out.

And then an evil thought began to form in Jon’s mind. Those would be what most men would do and indeed what Jon would normally do, but he was jittery from all the planning and the stress of knowing that soon he would be speaking in front of almost three hundred people. And the feeling of Diana pressed up against him, her soft body yielding to him and the feel of her sex growing hot through the thick, crinkly diaper, the faint smell of baby powder and the fact that he hadn’t had sex in almost a week–drove him to think of something he would otherwise not have had the courage to do.

He reached out and pulled off Veronica’s dress. It was really only a tube with some crystals on it and it came off easily enough, sheeting down to her knees where it pooled, exposing another thick, becoming diaper and Jon’s penis throbbed with enthusiasm. Veronica screamed and raised her hand to slap Jon, but he grabbed her wrist and twisted her under his arm in a dance spin, and pinned her next to Diana.


“Look,” said Jon, turning to face the two girls beneath him, one struggling, one still, “I think this is some sort of sick sex thing and I’m not letting you go until it’s all explained. In fact,” he pressed his eager sex against Diana’s crinkling diaper, “I’d like to hear all about it.”

Veronica was still enraged and trying to break free, but Diana’s pupils dilated just a little and her breath became deeper and quicker. She gently pressed back against her fiancee and curved her back, presenting her breasts to him ever so subtlely. She was clearly becoming aroused. And, though he was not as familiar with Veronica’s body as he might like to be, he thought there was a stage-like quality to her struggling, as though it weren’t meant to free her, but to show that she would need to be controlled. And her nipples were like little gems, hard and eye-catching. She thrust her pelvis at him in mock resistance.

Quickly, Jon released Veronica’s hands and grabbed her hair, forcing her mouth to his. It wasn’t long before the kiss turned real. She arched her back to press her breasts to him and her hands fell to her sides. She yielded, even if not with the helpless softness of Diana, who tranquilly stroked Jon’s hair while he thrust his tongue into her bridesmaid’s mouth.

Pulling away, Jon cradled the now docile brunette in his arm. “Will you be a good girl now?”

Veronica’s eyes opened and she looked solemnly into Jon’s face with the seductive innocence of a young girl. She nodded, not knowing how to impart the appropriate submission to her voice.

Jon kissed Diana in turn, rubbing against her diaper as he did so. She reached down to caress his sex, but he pulled her hand away. “I want to feel your diaper.”

Diana let her hand drop to her side again.

Jon reached behind her and unzipped her dress, pulling it down over his bride’s shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Now he stood in his tux with two diapered beauties, one blond, one brunette, pressed together in his arms.

“H-h-how long has this been going on?”

Veronica bit her lip, but Diana just stared blankly ahead, stroking Jon’s hair and tucking it behind her ear. She seemed to know that this was an argument between her fiance and her best friend. She, as usual, was happy to play the innocent bystander while other people argued and figured things out.

“A while.”

“You put her in diapers?”


Jon snorted. “You’re lesbians or something?”

Veronica seemed amused by this, smiling coquettishly. “Not exactly. I mean, she’s marrying you, isn’t she? And I like guys, too. It’s just that when it comes to diapers…”

“Yeah, I imagine it’s hard to find a playmate.” Jon traced Veronica’s nipple with his thumb. He had started absentmindedly massaging Diana’s breast and now she moaned and tilted her head back a little. “Undo my slacks.”

Both girls reached for Jon’s zipper, Veronica’s long, slender fingers competing with Diana’s childish ones. They not only undid his pants, but took out his cock. Diana nuzzled her diaper front against it while Veronica teased and stroked it, beating it playfully against Diana’s diaper.

Jon oozed pre-cum as he asked, “Do you have any more of those diapers?”

Veronica pressed her breasts against him and whispered, “Yes. Why?” She traced the shell of his ear with her tongue, not forgetting to still thump his cock against Diana’s diaper.

“Go get one.”

Veronica pulled herself out of Jon’s grip and went to rummage through her purse. Jon turned his focus to Diana. “You’re a bad girl, darling.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Oh!” Jon’s cock pumped and for a moment he thought he might cum, but he calmed down just in time. Not yet. Not yet.

“I’m going to have to fuck you and your little friend, you know?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Again his cock pumped. “Put your thumb in your mouth.”

Diana complied, her cherry lips pursed becomingly around her babyish thumb. Part of Jon wished it was his cock in her mouth, but the visual of his bride, in nothing but her diaper, garter, and veil, sucking her thumb, was incredibly appealing.

Veronica returned holding a diaper and baby powder in one hand. Her other hand was caressing her breast. “I love making her do that, too. I bet she sucks dick like a champ.”

Jon smiled. Oral sex wasn’t really Diana’s forte, but what she lacked in skill she made up for in enthusiasm. She seemed to think all she had to do was put it in her mouth and suck away as fast and hard as she could. It was fun if there had been a lot of foreplay, but otherwise a little much. Still, it was cute to see her on her knees, eager to please and her breasts swaying as she pumped away.

Veronica waved the diaper, still playing with her breast and nipple. “And what should I do with this?”

“That one’s for me.”

Veronica and Diana undressed Jon, laying his clothes out on a chair. As they did, he alternately kissed and fondled them or told them to kiss each other. He couldn’t keep his hands off of their crinkly diapers. He found himself loving the sound they made and the way they emphasized the girls’ movements and accentuated their curves and tiny waists. When he was fully naked, he took a moment to grab both girls again and push them face to face and pump his cock between their merging diapers. As he did, Diana and then Veronica lifted their legs, giving him better access to their diapered clits. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought Diana came. Her little face became flushed and she grabbed Veronica insistently around the waist, pushing eagerly against her partners and giving a little shiver.

Jon decided she’d had enough. Cupping her face in is hand, he said, “Let’s get me into one of those, too.”Still flushed, she could only nod.

Jon lied down on the table, his erection pointing straight up. Veronica slid the diaper under his hips and Diana cuddled up next to him, kissing him and stroking his chest. Veronica sprinkled baby powder onto him and started stroking it in. She started slow, but got faster and firmer as Jon became more excited, thrusting his tongue into Diana’s mouth and his cock against Veronica’s hand. He felt his loins tighten and knew that he couldn’t hold back much longer. The smell of the baby powder, the warmth of Diana in his arms, and Veronica’s skillful hand were too much.

He came straight up into the air, spurting onto Veronica’s hand, his bride’s thighs, and drenching the diaper.

As he lied there, his waning penis hovering over an open diaper, Veronica started to laugh.

To be continued…


Babysitter Blackmail

Melissa slid a stick of bright pink bubble gum into her mouth and began chewing pensively. She was leaning up against the lockers, one foot braced against them, thrusting her knee out at a lazy, yet imposing angle that showed off her smooth, tan thigh. If there had been anyone in front of her, it would have shown off her white, cotton panties, too.

She pulled her cell phone out of her sweater pocket and checked the time again. 2:56. Claire would come bouncing along at any moment. The thing about girls like Claire, Melissa reflected, was that they could be relied upon to do as they were told.

What Melissa did have to worry about was Jenny. Sometimes when she’d poached a babysitting job from Melissa—like today—the little brat would get everything she needed from her locker during study hall, then just slip out when the bell rang. “I just like to be on time. It’s kind of my thing. And those poor parents just work so hard!”

Yeah. It was really stressful for Mrs. Ruprecht to take a break from daytime TV and oggling the pool boy to get her nails done. Melissa blew a slow, vindictive bubble and took a great deal of satisfaction in its deflating demise.

Jenny. That two-faced little bitch. Well, if they didn’t get her today, they’d get her tomorrow and then it would be over forever.

Just then, at 2:59, Claire jiggled into view, a little winded and glowing, carrying a large shopping bag covered with a towel to hide its contents. “I, like, ran. I totally had to tell Mr. Schwartz I was on the rag, too!”

Melissa gave a humorless smile. “Perv probably liked hearing that. Jen should be along any minute now.”

The bell rang and students began pouring out of their classrooms, jostling to their lockers to collect books and binders. Claire smiled and waved enthusiastically at the boys who slowed to look her up and down, then blushed and hurried on as they caught Melissa’s mocking eye. It wasn’t long before Jenny appeared, her uniform skirt swishing about her knees and her butter blond hair held back from her Neutrogena fresh face by a thin, pink ribbon tied in a sweetheart bow at the crown of her head.

Every girl in the school wore her uniform differently. Most girls got lost in their uniforms, their stick thin bodies lost in the folds of tartan and thickly knit sweaters. Some girls looked dumpy, straining at the fabric in a way that suggested it was about to burst, launching buttons with enough force to lodge them in the stuccoed walls.

Claire also strained against her blouse and sweater, but only in the chest and in a way that made her classmates and a few of the less scrupulous teachers sweat. Skirts seemed shorter on her. Sweaters seemed more clingy. When Claire’s knee socks fell down, there was always a line to get behind her and watch her bend to pull them back up.

brunette schoolgirlMelissa inhabited her uniform coolly. It fit perfectly, accenting her form, but not revealing it. Her sweater looked soft, but impenetrable. Her skirt rode high, but never blew up in a gust the way Claire’s did. He shoes were never scuffed and her socks never fell down. Julie Wineman claimed she’d once seen her gluing them on after gym, the way Japanese girls supposedly did.

Jenny also had a very distinctive way of wearing her uniform, that managed to get her quite a bit of attention, which was one of the many reasons Melissa despised her former friend. From far away it looked innocent enough. She didn’t have to leave too many buttons undone the way Claire did and she didn’t come off as unyielding the way Melissa did. Instead she seemed unattainable in that charming and innocent way that made boys want to defile her and girls suspect that she really knew how many under-the-desk erections she was responsible for, though she would have blushed and seductively bitten her lip had anyone told her. It was something in the way her skirt swished when she walked, the way she bent at the waist to pick up a dropped pencil, the way her gold, heart-shaped locket glinted from its resting place on her breasts.

“Hey Melissa,” said Jenny, smiling. “Hi Claire. What’s up?”

Melissa grinned like a crocodile. “Oh, not much. See, I thought I had a babysitting job after school, but it seems Mrs. Ruprecht changed her mind at the last minute.”

Jenny opened her locker and began redistributing her books. “Oh. That’s…too bad. You know, Stephanie and Johnny are such great kids.”

Melissa stared fixedly at the side of Jen’s face. “Yeah. She actually sounded a little cold when she called. She said something about expecting a sitter to do more than just collect five dollars an hour to ignore her kids and not, what was it, enrich their developing minds.”

“Well,” said Jenny, turning to face her, “That really is what a sitter should be doing, don’t you think? But I’ve really gotta run. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Melissa slammed the locker door and Claire strode around to the other side of the backstabbing Jenny. “You have somewhere to be? Because we don’t.”

Claire giggled.

“You’re coming with us.”

Melissa hadn’t asked how Claire had managed to get the key to the boiler room because she didn’t care so long as it was in her hand before 3:00 pm, but if she had, she would have been surprised to know that all her nubile friend had to do was slip one of a dozen copies off a ring in the office and, when Mrs. Gunderson had hazily asked what she wanted it for, promised to be careful and bring it back later.

Now the two girls were pushing the third down a narrow, railed flight of metal stairs. Instead of growing frightened and helpless as she might have if there were anyone else around, Jenny was getting pissed.

“Don’t fucking push me, Claire!”

“Shut up and get down the stairs or she really will push you,” threatened Melissa.

Claire giggled. “Yeah!”

Once at the bottom, Claire drew out a length of rope out of the shopping bag and began to tie Jenny’s wrists to the banister with surprising skill, picked up from numerous after school experiments with Josh La Rue. Meanwhile, Melissa was taking other things out of the bag and began to arrange them in a corner. There was a big, thick, pink blanket; an oversized baby bottle; a purple terrycloth bib with “BABY” embroidered on it; a snow white bonnet; mits; booties; and a thick disposable diaper that had been decorated with Winnie the Pooh stickers—all big enough to fit a girl of Jenny’s size.

It wasn’t until she was firmly tied that Jenny noticed what Melissa was doing and by then Claire was cutting off her clothes. Too scared of the big, shiny shears to squirm, Jenny was reduced to obscenities. “That the fuck are you crazy bitches doing?!”

Claire, of course, giggled.

Melissa sauntered over, dangling the bonnet by its strings. “You know, Jenny, you think you have the world on a string and you can just spin it around and play with it and no one will ever question you or even notice.” She clapped the bonnet on over the bound girl’s summer blond hair and tied it in place before taking told of her chin. “But I’m sick of you calling parents and stealing my business. And today maybe it’s just a few dollars from a babysitting gig, but tomorrow it will be a guy, or a role, or an award, or maybe even my little lapdog Claire. But I’m not the type of girl to just sit by and let that happen, because there are a dozen little puppeteer sluts like you in this school, but none of them have been stupid enough to not realize that I was watching them.” Claire had fetched the bib and handed it to Melissa who tied it tightly around Jenny’s neck. “So I’m afraid I have to make an example of you.”

Jenny’s eyes had been steadily widening throughout the monologue and were now the size of saucers. “What are you going to do?”

Melissa shifted her weight slowly and held out her hand. “Claire, give me the camera.”

Claire handed it over, practically squirming with glee, and then stood back, as if to better take in the scene. Melissa didn’t waste any time, but began snapping pictures happily.

“Oh, come on, Jen. How about a smile!”

“Fuck you!”

“Oh, now that’s not nice,” Melissa cooed, the camera still snapping away. “Claire, maybe you need to dress the baby. She’s being awfully naughty.”

Claire eagerly slipped the mitts and booties onto Jenny’s hands and feet and gave her cheek a pinch. “She’s really cute, huh, ‘Lissa?”

“She’s going to get even cuter.” Melissa smiled. “Now, little Jen Jen, what do babies wear on their bottoms?”

“You’re a psychotic bitch, Melissa Hewitt!”

Melissa’s smile evaporated and she handed the camera to Claire, who was shuffling from foot to foot, clearly enjoying the dramatic humiliation.

Melissa strode over to her infantilized captive and grabbed her hair. “If the baby is going to use big girl language, she’s going to be spanked. You really should know better, Jen Jen. What if your Mommy or Daddy heard you talking like that?”

Melissa roughly turned Jenny away from the camera and the girl shrieked as her hands were twisted against the rope. Then, as Claire took over her archival duties, Melissa began to spank Jenny fast and hard.

“You are going to stop cussing RIGHT NOW. That’s no way for a baby to talk, and you’re definitely a baby, Jenny. You’re just a big, immature brat who thinks she can have whatever she wants, but I’m going to teach you better. I am in charge here. Not you. NEVER you.”

Jenny squirmed and whimpered as her bottom went from milky white to pink and then, in hand-shaped spots, to red. Though the spanking only lasted a few minutes, it left both spanker and spankee exhausted. When Melissa felt she’d worn both her arm and Jenny’s bottom out, she stopped. Jenny spun back to face the camera as she was released.

“Now,” said Melissa, taking the camera back from the momentarily sobered Claire, “What do babies wear on their bottoms?”

Jenny sobbed, “Diapers.”

“That’s right. Claire, would you?”

Claire took the diaper and scurried to tape it around Jenny’s waist. It was a little awkward in the standing position, but Claire made it work by roughly twisting Jenny this way and that and slapping her thighs to force her to cooperate.

As Melissa watched, she noticed that Jenny had grown a bit smaller. She still shone like a new penny, but she had lost the imposing aura that only seemed to be visible to other females who were in direct competition with her. She was beginning to break. Melissa smiled. If this worked out the way she hoped, there were a few other girls who would likely find their way into the boiler room.

Mmm. That’s nice,” said Melissa when Claire had finished. “But pick your head up. We want to see that pretty face.” Trembling, Jenny raised her head and looked at the camera. “Now smile, baby.”

Jenny glanced at Claire, who was resting her hands on her hips and shifting her weight from side to side, and complied, giving a shy, but very pretty little smile.

Aw, that was a nice one. Wasn’t that a nice one, Claire?”

Yeah, that was really cute.”

You always did have such a pretty smile, Jen Jen. I think that will be the one I make flyers of if you piss me off again.” Jenny shivered. “But you’re not going to do that, are you baby?” Melissa and Claire laughed. Jenny’s diaper crinkled as she twisted from side to side, trying to find an angle that didn’t show too much off to the camera.

You can give her the bottle now.”

Claire pressed the bottle to Jenny’s lips and gave her breast a friendly caress. Jenny was surprised to find that, humiliated as she was, her nipple was hard. She told herself it was just because there was a draft. “There’s nothing in it,” said Jenny after a few sucks.

Melissa lowered the camera. “I suppose next time we’ll have to bring some milk for the baby.” She exchanged a confused glance with Claire and then went back to snapping pictures.


The Reformatory

Emma sat in the waiting room with her hands folded in her lap, digging her toe into the carpet and trying to breathe slowly. Karen had told her that breathing slowly was really the only thing to do–that, and pray.

Emma was awaiting her first enema from the reformatory school nurse. All the girls got them once a week to help keep them regular and docile. As a new transfer, Emma had managed to avoid one until now, but from now on, she would be here in the waiting room every week, listening to the girl before her being led down the hall and trading nervous giggles with the girl to go after her.

Though Emma was almost 21, her aunt, also her legal guardian, had made a special petition to have her sent to the reformatory until she was twenty-five and declared a minor indefinitely.  Overall the Pennyroyal Reformatory Academy wasn’t so bad. The teachers and matrons were strict and sometimes the prefects abused their power, but the other girls were friendly, the food was good, and the classes were usually interesting. Emma was even on the field hockey team, where she had made several good friends already, including Karen, the captain.

Karen had been a great comfort to Emma. The first night in the dormitory had been difficult enough. Upon arriving, Emma had been led to the long hall where all the girls slept in dehumanizing rows and her bags had been opened. Almost everything had been deemed inappropriate or decadent, including her pink silk babydoll, which had been replaced with a rough cotton nightgown and, worse yet, a thick cloth diaper and plastic pants! Emma had thought that the matron and assisting prefect were making fun of her at first, but it soon became clear that they really did expect her to wear the horrid thing “in case of accidents.”

“But I’ve never had an accident!” Emma had protested.

“Your aunt informed us that you had a history of bedwetting,” said the matron coldly as the prefect, a tall blonde girl, smirked and twirled a pigtail.

Emma blushed. “Not since the first grade. I outgrew it a long time ago.”

“Nevertheless,” said the matron as she laid out the diaper and pulled a bottle of strawberyy scented talcum powder from the nightstand drawer, “You do have a history of bedwetting and the reformatory often has a regressive effect on new girls–especially those with delicate temperaments like yours. I see you are not here to reform a violent nature or tendency to steal, but a tendency toward the carnal.”

The prefect sniggered and Emma blushed even harder, trying to hide her face behind her long, brown hair. “Can’t we wait and see first?”

But of course the matron said no and ordered Emma to lie down on the diaper and threatening to call another prefect to force her if she protested again.

With no other choice and desperate to avoid further humiliation, Emma lied down with as much dignity as she could muster. The prefect held her shoulders down and smirked silently into Emma’s face, but Emma turned away and stared at the wall as the matron instructed her to lift her hips and slid her frilled silk panties off. It was the last pair she would wear before being issued with the plain cotton school bloomers all the girls wore and that were checked each morning. Then there was a shower of cool talcum powder, which the matron quickly smoothed over Emma’s shaved mons, another school mandate.  As the matron leaned far over Emma to fit and pin the diaper, the unfortunate brunette could not help but notice the matron’s ample clevage pulling against her sheer white blouse. For some reason, that made the whole ordeal worse and Emma’s eyes began to tear, but she did not cry until later that night, when she met Karen.

Emma was snuggly pinned into her diaper beneath the institutional plastic pants which would prevent leaks. She had gone to bed earlier than the other girls, lest she be tired from her trip. Of course, the other girls were already in bed by 9:30, so poor Emma had been lying there for an hour already, unable to sleep, but too frightened of what type of punishment this place might enforce to risk getting up, even just to get a book.

But the other girls were used to the early nights and the hall was filled with the deep, regular breathing of twenty young women by 10:00 pm and Emma wasn’t able to hold it in a moment longer. She began sobbing into her pillow, perhaps louder than she would have if she had all her wits about her, but she was psychologically exhausted. How could her aunt have done this to her? Perhaps she was a little boy crazy, but a lot of girls her age were and they weren’t sent to a reformatory! They certainly weren’t diapered anyway. And now there weren’t any males for miles and miles around. Even the milk man and meter reader were female!

Then Emma felt the gentle weight of a hand on her shoulder and caught her breath.

“Are you alright?”

Emma turned her head to look into the deep hazel eyes of a handsome brunette girl about her own age. She looked more friendly than concerned, though.

“I’m Karen.”

Emma tried to surreptitiously wife her nose on her sheet. “Emma.”

“Would you like to sleep with me tonight, Emma?”

Emma’s heart swelled before she realized that if she were to crawl into bed with this possible sympathizer, her diaper would be exposed and her humiliation renewed. She began to stammer an excuse that would not result in the girl leaving her alone when Karen cut her off.

“They diapered you?”

“Yes!’ Emma cried and began to sob again.

But Karen only laughed a little and pulled up her coverlet, then her nightgown. She, too, was in a diaper.

“They’ll use any excuse to get you into one, you know. Especially Matron Bittern. She seems to have a fetish.”

Emma giggled despite herself.

“Now would you like to sleep with me? Just for tonight?”

Emma nodded and from then on the two had been fast friends. That first night cuddled together in Karen’s tiny little bed, diaper to diaper, and black eyes looking into hazel, had made sure of that.

As Emma turned over these events in her mind, the door to the infirmary was opened by the head nurse, an older brunette woman in a thick, but translucent white uniform and cap, pinned severely to her neat hair. She was pressing a buxom young redhead out the door by the small of her back. The girl’s eyes were rimmed in pink, as though she had been crying, or trying not to, and her hands were clutching her skirt in front of her.

“Next,” was all the woman said and Emma jumped up obediently. Though she didn’t turn to look, she could feel the next girl in line staring after her anxiously. As Emma neared the door, the nurse took hold of her shoulder and guided her, almost pushing, into the room beyond.

It was a larger room than Emma would have imagined, with an antique, wooden examination table, covered over in green leather; a gynecological table; a sterile steel sink; and a countertop laiden with all manner of sundries, but what stuck out the most was the line of red, rubber enema nozzles and thick, plastic disposable diapers.

In one corner was a screen, behind which Emma could see the outline of a chair and nothing else. The nurse gestured to it. “Would you please to remove your clothes and put on a robe.” It was not a question and Emma obeyed, folding her jumper, blouse, socks, and underthings on top of the chair, kicking her brown loafers under it, then deciding to line them up neatly. The last thing she wanted on top of an enema was a list of cane strokes added to her punishment record.

As she undressed, she peered around the screen and saw the nurse preparing a large bowl of solution. Even from across the room, it smelled strongly of peppermint. Once the solution was mixed, the nurse set it on a towel on the counter and lined up one of the red bulbs, a bottle of lubricant, a stack of wipes, a diaper, and some talcum powder. She also slipped into a rubber apron and gloves.

“If you are finished, please come here.”

Emma jumped, embarrassed at being caught watching, and went to the nurse. A towel had been laid on the floor before the exam table.

“Stand over the towel with your legs spread and place your forearms on the table.”

Emma obeyed quickly, but it felt to her as though every action were stretched out. Her arms seemed to float down towards the exam table as through water, her ankles seemed to part from one another as though through a jelly. As she glanced down, she noticed that the front of the open-backed gown she wore plunged down to expose her breasts. Her hand twitched to cover herself, but the nurse was spreading the back of her gown open and she thought better of it.

“Try to relax and we’ll have you back to your class soon.”

As the nurse applied a liberal amount of lubricant to her gloved fingers, Emma reflected that this was perhaps the worst part of the process. She had known that the enema would come, but one was not actually summoned to the infirmary until the slip came. A rectangle of thin, white paper, the slip was marked by a red border. It was delivered to a classroom by one of the prefects or perhaps a hall monitor, handed directly to the teacher, who would read the intended girl’s name aloud. Emma had herself snickered at girls whisked out of class to receive the dreaded poke of Nurse Dalton, as it was called, even as her own time drew nearer. When it had finally happened to her, she had vowed she would not anymore.

Still, there had been more than one girl who had tittered as Emma had risen from her desk and taken the walk of shame down the asile. The girl who had brought the slip, a prefect and, at twenty-five, one of the older girls at the school, had even waited to walk her out, as it was her first time. Crossing to the front of the room, she had noticed Karen giving her an encouraging, though still pittying, smile, but she had been too humiliated to raise her head, much less smile back. The walk to the infirmary with the prefect had not been any better. They had delivered one more slip and picked up another girl on the way. The prefect had been mockingly nonchallant about the whole thing and even stopped to discuss the matter with a hall monitor!

“Hello, Mary.”


“Just taking these two new girls down for their first poke. I hear Nurse Dalton is in a fine mood today, too. Poor things!”

“Yes, I had the poke yesterday. She was so rough the diaper afterwards was almost welcome! She’s had a bee in her bonnet this whole week. Not even the staff are safe! She’s been recommending the poke for treatment of nearly everything.”

“Really! The staff!”

“Yes, these two little waifs will wish they’d gotten it at the beginning, like the rest of us, I dare say. Won’t you, little waifs?”

As the two girls laughed, Emma and her companion had found themselves unable to respond, but luckilly the prefect was anxious to be prompt for her delivery and had bid the hall monitor farewell.

“Breathe deeply. A little lubricant will make this all the easier.” And with that, the nurse had plunged her fingers into Emma’s rectum. Though she should have been, she hadn’t really been expecting it and a little, “Ow!” escaped her before she regained herself.

“If that’s so bad for you, you’re certain not to like this,” said the nurse, roughly pulling out her fingers and changing gloves.

The nurse took the bulb and filled it with water once, squirting it quickly out, to warm the bulb, then began filling it again, slowly. As Emma watched it swell with the warm, peppermint-scented solution, she began to feel dizzy. Her breathing quickened and she even thought of running for the door. She had never had anything like an enema. Even the lubrication had been a new and horrible experience. As the nurse lifted the bulb, its nozzle dripping water like a snake dripping venom, Emma felt a thin line of urine trickle down her thigh and her leg shivvered. The part of her mind not crazed over the menacing, red nozzle was grateful for the towel.

The nurse’s heels clicked as she took position behind her motionless, yet frantic, patient. She held the nozzle against the quivvering pink anus for a moment, then plunged it in, squishing through oilly lubricant and clenching muscle, to the soft innards of Emma’s rectum.

The warm water came like a flood, too fast, too gushing, leaving Emma too dazed even to try to push it out. She felt herself filling with it, felt it slosh about inside of her, warming her and loosening her bowels. Again and again the nurse plunged the nozzle into the basin of water and plunged the water into Emma. On the fifth bulb, her body began to give.

“Oh, please, ma’am, stop!”

“The whole basin. You have about five more,” said the nurse calmly.

“No, I can’t.”

The nurse sighed and filled the bulb again. “That’s what all you girls say and you all take it.”

“You d-don’t understand,” stammered Emma. Something in her body was going to release. She could feel it. The water inside of her was balooning and pressing down on her bladder. When was the last time she’d used the ladies’ room–not counting, of course, the little accident just now? This morning? Before breakfast? With every bulb, the pressure increased.

“I have to use the bathroom,” quavered Emma.

“That’s what the diapers are for. Please don’t speak. You make it difficult.”

Emma trembled, the nurse must see it. Her whole body shook with the effort of not disgracing herself, of not angering the nurse and gaining who knew what punishment, but as the nozzle slid back into her rectum, she felt herself begin to gush.

The first wave was the worst. Emma could feel the water shoot out of her, then trickle down her thighs. She gave a little scream and tried to press her legs together, but they were shaking too much.

The nurse said nothing until the last of the liquid had drained away.

“Oh my. Undress.”

Emma obeyed, but couldn’t keep herself from sobbing as she did. She removed the dressing gown and held it uncertainly.

“In the sink,” said the nurse, with a hint of annoyance. She was wiping down her gloves and apron, though as far as Emma could see she hadn’t been splashed. As Emma placed the dressing gown in the big, stainless steel sink, she glanced at the floor. Most of the liquid had been absorbed by the pad, but there were still splatters on the floor. She was relieved to see that it was clear, but it smelled.

As Emma stood over the sink naked, wondering what would happen next, the nurse thrust an apron at her, along with a pair of rubber gloves, a spray bottle, and a rag. Emma stood dumbly.

Nuse Dalton appeared to be getting impatient. “Put the apron on, you stupid girl. Clean up that mess you made on the floor, then we’ll wash you properly. After you’ve been disciplined, you can have a suppository and go back to class.”

Emma reached for the apron and put it on quickly. No one else at the school had spoken to her that way before. They had been firm, but always respectful. She was already embarassed by her accident and being called a “stupid girl” only deepend her humiliation.

“Did you expect somene else to clean up after you sprayed used enema water all over the floor?” The nurse sneered as Emma got down on her knees and began mopping up the malodorous water. “Honestly, it’s just disgusting. The problem with girls like you is that you have no control. I’ve been giving enemas for twenty years and the handfull of accidents have all been with unwilling, uncooperative, disobedient little girls like you.”

Emma’s eyes began to tear. She could smell her own waste and knew that it was true: she was disgusting. But she hadn’t done it on purpose! She would never, ever do something like that on purpose. She knew better than to correct the nurse, though. She was in enough trouble already.

After the water was mopped up, Emma threw away the pad and cleaned the floor with the sharp contents of the spray bottle. The alcoholic smell of the cleaner was, however, preferable to that of the enema water and Emma could also blame the fumes for the tears in her eyes. When the floor was sparkling clean, Emma dropped her gloves and apron into the sink as well and put the spray bottle down, then stood with her hands clasped in front of her, waiting to be told what to do.

Nurse Dalton inspected the floor, but failed to find anything wrong. She nodded once to show that the job was adequate, then took Emma by the arm and bent her over the sink, dropping another pad onto the floor. She took a clean rag and saturated it with warm water and soap and began scrubbing Emma’s hindquarters. She scrubbed hard and fast and indiscriminately. No part of Emma was safe, from the rose of her anus to the curtains of her sex. The washcloth was rough as a cat’s tongue, but Emma shivvered as it flicked against her clitoris. Oh please, not there!

The only thing that could humiliate her further would be to become aroused while being cleansed of her own filth. She squirmed this way and that to try to avoid contact with the cloth, but Nurse Dalton chased her down, pulling the cloth between her legs and even slipping a bit of it inside of her struggling patient. Emma let out a little moan, half of frustration and half of longing.

Finally, the nurse moved onto her legs, scrubbing and scrubbing til Emma’s thighs were red. She also scrubbed the girl’s calves, feet, and each one of her little toes. Finally Emma was rinsed with the same wash clothed, soaked in warm water that was wrung out over her lower body. The trickling water further teased her swollen clit. But Nurse Dalton wasn’t finished there. When Emma tried to take the towel to dry herself, the nurse snatched it back and told her to stand still. “You’re not even self-reliant enough to hold your bowel. You’ll be towel dried like an infant.”

The drying was rough and just as intrusive as the washing, but Emma shut her eyes and tried to think of being back with Karen, relating an edited version of the events and being fawned over and petted.

“There,” said the nurse, tossing the towel into the overflowing sink with everything else. She stood up and patted her hair into place. “Now I shall have to beat you.”

To be continued…


Bed and Breakfast

A small car cruised down a gravelly road in the country, gliding along the gentle curves. In the car, the passenger, a woman in her late twenties, placed her hand on the thigh of the driver, a man of about the same age. As the car moved forward, her hand moved further and further up his leg until it reached a thick, soft bulge in his pants. As she pressed her fingers into the soft mound, she also put her hand between her own legs and felt a similar bulge.

The woman, whose name was Jenna, pulled up her skirt to reveal a white disposable diaper. Its plasticy covering crinkled as she rubbed the front. The man smiled, but kept his hands on the wheel. The woman squirmed in the diaper, clearly enjoying the sound and feel. Without speaking, she carefully unzipped the front of the man’s pants and slipped her hand inside.

The soft plastic covering was cool and slick. She licked her fingers so that they would slide across the surface more easily as she caressed the man’s cock which was getting hard. She gave him a firm squeeze before taking his hand and placing it between her legs.


With his large hand resting on top of her mons, the woman began to wet her diaper. The damp warmth spread slowly over her sex and filled the downy material, causing it to plump enticingly. The man gave a little groan and squeezed. She had wet a lot and little droplets of urine slid down her legs as her husband clutched at her.


“Oh, shit! I’m sorry!”

Jenna frowned at the mess in her lap, dabbing at it with her skirt. Kevin pulled over and, jumping out of the car, rushed around to Jenna’s side. In one smooth motion he pulled open the car door with his right hand and twisted to unbuckle her seat belt with the other. Then, before she could react, he lifted her out.

Giggling, she batted at him. “No, Kevin, stop!”

Kevin smiled at his wife and opened the door to the back seat. He deposited her onto the chair and pulled out a large, gray diaper bag of the sort that was made specifically for fathers. It was packed with everything they might need for a quick car change: diapers in His and Hers sizes, wipes, a changing pad, and baby powder. As Kevin rummaged through the bag to get out everything he would need, Jenna lied on the back seat with her heels up on the seat, coyly peering at him from behind her knees.

When he had everything arranged as he wanted it, Kevin untaped the sides of Jenna’s diaper to reveal her smoothly shaved sex. Kevin’s heart skipped a beat. He stroked the bare skin with a finger, making a long S shape.

“I thought you said you didn’t want to shave.”

Jenna tilted her head to the side and bit her lip. “This is a special weekend.”

Kevin smiled and lowered his lips to his wife’s exposed mons. “Yes,” he said as he gently kissed it, “It is.”

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Adult Baby Therapy

Sitting in the waiting room of the therapist’s office was a young girl, no more than twenty-one or twenty-two, flipping through a well-used fashion magazine. She was casually dangling her flip flops so that every now and then they’d fall to the floor and she’d have to pick them up, giving the girl sitting across from her a teasing glimpse of her white, eyelet lace bra. Finally the door to the office creaked open and the therapist, Dr. Barber, showed out her previous patient, a stylish man in his early thirties in a business suit. He smiled at both the girls and jauntily stepped out the front door.


The girl with the flip flops dropped her magazine back into the pile and bounced up. As she walked past the therapist into the door two mildly strange things happened that she didn’t notice. First, the therapist inhaled deeply, sucking in the aroma of the girl’s clean, brown hair. Second, she gave the other girl, a slender fairy-like thing with a short pixie cut and big eyes, a smug look before she gently closed the door.

The office was modernly decorated, with a large red couch and arm chair and a low, pine coffee table. There was no desk, but along the back wall was a huge storage cabinet or console. The bottom half was studded all over with large drawers while the top held books, their titles made unreadable by the frosted glass of the cabinets separating them from the room. It was a bright, cheerful room, not dark and scary like the others Kim had been in. Plopping down on the couch, she even noticed a jar of sweets. With the self-assurance of a spoiled young adult, she stuck her hand into the jar and grabbed a handful and began mindlessly popping them into her mouth, one after the other.

Dr. Barber settled into her chair and reached for Kim’s file on the coffee table, smiling. “Well. It’s nice to meet you, Kimberly. I’m surprised your mother didn’t drop you off.”

Forming her words around a mouthful of sweets, Kim said, “My roommate gave me a ride,” and proceeded to make herself even more at home, curling up on the couch and even pressing her feet under one of the throw pillows.

“Ah.” Dr. Barber was still smiling as she flipped open the file, but it was a smile layered over some other emotion. Kim assumed it was irritation and dismissed it. “I see you’ve been to a few therapists.”


“Didn’t like any of them?”


“That’s too bad.” Dr. Barber shuffled through the pages slowly. “And why have you come to see me today?”

Kim sighed. “My parents are making me, if I don’t want to be cut off. They think I’m immature or antisocial or something, but I’m fine. I have, like, a ton of friends.”

“Doing okay in school?”

“I get Cs. Some Bs.”

“Boyfriend?” Dr. Barber’s voice and the way that she very carefully didn’t look up from the file suggested that she already knew the answer.

Kim bit her lip and paused in her candy consumption. “No. I’ve never really had one.”

Dr. Barber smiled and slid the file back onto the coffee table. “Plenty of time for that. You’re still very, very young.”

Kim didn’t answer.

“Do you like being very, very young, Kimmy?”

That one caught the girl off guard. “What?”

“Kimberly, your parents specifically sent you to me because I deal with a certain kind of person.” Dr. Barber leaned to one side in her chair, pensively resting her chin on her knuckles like Rodin’s Thinker. “Do you know what an infantilist is?”


“It’s the type of client I see and your parents think your behavior may be a way of acting out because you don’t understand what you are. I’m going to help you by assessing you and seeing if they’re right.”

Kim shifted, putting her feet back down on the floor, meeting Dr. Barber’s gaze full on for the first time. “And if they are?”

“That all depends. I have to get to know you first. Usually I help you find ways to act out your tendencies—your fantasies—positively. Are you willing to let me assess you?”


Miss Barber’s smile refreshed itself. “I’m very glad to hear that.” Kim smiled back. “Now, first I’m going to ask you the basic questions.”

Miss Barber took up Kim’s file again and began to ask her a long series of questions about almost everything: her relationships with friends, how she felt about her parents, what she enjoyed in school, what sort of music she listened to, how and how often she masturbated, what she wanted to do over the summer, her medical history, and more. They were fairly basic questions, except for a few about diapers and whether she thought about them and if she ever wore them.

And Kim had to admit that, yes, she did think about diapers, even if she had never worn them.

“Why not?”

Kim was reclined on the couch again, but this time her feet were respectfully on the ottoman Dr. Barber had fetched for her.

“I just…why would I? I don’t need them.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Kim giggled nervously. “I think I’d notice if I did. I think everyone would notice.”

“Maybe,” said Dr. Barber, her voice taking on a deeper, more sensual tone, “You really do. Only no one’s noticed because they didn’t know what they were looking for, but I do.” Dr. Barber set down her pen and the file. “You seem like just a normal girl, except that you’re a little bratty and a little self-centered. Lots of girls your age still watch cartoons and want to be spoiled. There’s a whole sub culture of young women who act like infantilists and don’t even know it. But that’s the style now. Out of every hundred girls who likes to wear babyish clothes and is obsessed with Hello Kitty, there’s maybe only one, or perhaps two, who wants to do those things not just because it’s en vogue, but because she’s an adult baby. She wants to be made to wear diapers and talk like a baby and act like a baby. She fantasizes about having her room turned into a nursery and never having to deal with all the adult responsibilities, like paying bills, dating, finding a job. She just wants to be a baby girl, no matter how old or how big she gets.”

As Kim listened, she found herself growing wet and aroused, thought her mind was desperately protesting. “But I is a big girl!” Kim clapped a hand to her mouth. It had come out in baby talk. The childish whine, the soft R, the incorrect grammar. There was no way to deny it.

Dr. Barber smiled her knowing, almost smug smile yet again. “Of course you are, Kimmy. And I have something in the drawer right behind me. Something just for Kimmy that I think you’re going to like.”

Dr. Barber stood and went to the cabinet as Kim watched, horror, fascination, and joy fighting for prevalence in her mind. As Dr. Barber bent down and opened the drawer, Kim found herself sucking her thumb and pulling the throw pillow to her, cuddling it like a teddy bear. When the therapist stood up, Kim saw that she was holding a thick disposable diaper, baby powder, and a pink baby bottle.

“No!” Kim cried, shrinking back into the couch.

“Yes, baby. It’s the only way to work through all of this.” Dr. Barber set the things down on the coffee table and gently, but firmly, took the pillow away from Kim. The girl stretched her arms out after it as it was taken away, whimpering.

“My, but I’ve never seen a girl who needed so little coaxing to regress!” Miss Barber ran her fingers through Kim’s hair and they looked into one another’s eyes for a moment. “Would baby like a teddy rather than just a pillow?”


Dr. Barber turned back to the drawer and, as she did, a part of Kim’s mind rallied against the increasing oddness of the situation. Just get up and leave. You can go wait in the coffee shop around the corner. Once you tell Mom and Dad, they’ll never ask you to come back here again. Just walk out the door before she even turns around again! But Kim stayed.

Dr. Barber turned back, holding a light brown bear with a red kerchief around his neck. He wasn’t new by any means. His fur was matted and rubbed off in many places and his button eyes had lost all of their shine. One of his ears was even half gone. He was nothing if not shabby—and instantly recognizable.

“Blue-boo!” gasped Kim. “Where–”

“Your mother brought him over. I thought it might help.” Kim grew a little frightened as she realized that her parents might know more about this than she had assumed. It showed in her eyes. “Yes, your mommy and daddy have a very good idea of what’s going on here. They don’t know everything, but they know enough that if they did know everything it wouldn’t phase them. Now take your teddy–” Kim took the bear into her arms and cuddled up against it. “–And lie down like a good little girl.”

Kim obeyed, perhaps a little slowly, but only because she was transfixed by Dr. Barber’s lovely, low voice. The therapist’s dark eyes seemed to be drinking in the pale green ones, hypnotizing the young girl into puerile submission. She began to undress her, drawing off her shoes and unbuttoning her jeans.

“No,” said Kim, still speaking in her charmingly infantilized voice. She gently tried to push Dr. Barber’s hand away from her fly, but there was no conviction in her protest, no power in her movement, and the good doctor simply ignored her. Kim even lifted her hips to better allow her to remove her pants and panties.

Before Kim could put her bum down again, Dr. Barber opened the diaper and slid it underneath her.  Then she twisted open the baby powder and sprinkled the wonderful stuff all over Kim’s open lap. Kim shivered and even moaned a little as Dr. Barber’s fingers spread the cool, sweet powder over her clitoris and between her labia.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

“Yeah.” Kim arched her back and put her thumb in her mouth. Dr. Barber kept rubbing, massaging Kim, who was blatantly enjoying the attention, pushing her mons against the therapist’s hand.

Dr. Barber chuckled. “That’s hardly appropriate behavior for a baby girl. And yet so many adult baby girls seem to enjoy being played with at changing time.”

Kim cuddled her teddy in the crook of her arm, flinging her other arm over her head and spreading her legs wider. “Rubby…” She knew what was happening was probably not, in the strictest sense, right. But Dr. Barber was a therapist. If she said it was okay for Kim to cum in her diapers, then it was okay. Wasn’t it? She opened her eyes and looked at the older woman, looming over her.

leather secretaryDr. Barber was rather attractive. Her dark hair was swept up into a practical bun, little tendrils of hair tucked behind her ears. Her breasts were large and strained against the buttons of her white, collared shirt. She also wore a black pencil skirt, stockings, and heels. Pearls were fixed to her lobes and hung from her neck. Black, plastic eyeglasses framed her almond-shaped eyes. She was now unbuttoning the top few buttons on her blouse, allowing her cleavage to tumble into view, growing deeper and more enticing as each strained button popped open. Her other hand dutifully remained between Kim’s legs, manipulating her clitoris and teasing her lips.

“Does Kimmy want titty?”

Kim felt herself flush. “Want.”

“Want, what?”

Kim could only knit her brows and stare up at Dr. Barber’s now revealed lace bra.

“Yes, Mommy,” the therapist prompted.

Kim almost came, but managed to pull herself back. “Yes, Mommy!”

“Good girl.” Dr. Barber drew her hand away, leaving Kim’s slender hips still searching for it, and began to tape up the diaper.

“Mommy!” shrieked Kim. “Rubby, Mommy!”

Dr. Barber chuckled. “Not right now, baby. First titty. Then little Kimmy can have what she wants.”

Kim almost threw Blue-boo, but before she could, Dr. Barber was on the couch next to her, drawing her up and removing Kim’s bra from under her top, positioning her under her full breasts, and removing her own bra.

Dr. Barber’s breasts were heavy and fell against Kim’s face with a soft thud. Without thinking, Kim opened her mouth and began searching for the older woman’s honey brown nipple. As if the whole situation weren’t odd enough, Kim was further surprised to find that Dr. Barber’s breasts were indeed full of milk! As Kim’s mouth closed over it, squeezing the nipple ever so slightly, thin, sweet milk shot into her mouth. She was surprised, but swallowed reflexively, giving a little squeal of shock and delight.

Dr. Barber moaned and smoothed Kim’s hair. As Kim felt her own sex tingle with the excitement of what she was doing, she felt the therapist shift under her and knew that she must be feeling the same thing. Determined to be a good girl, Kim began suckling in earnest, pulling and pushing against Dr. Barber’s breast, milking her with her mouth.

As she lay in her new Mommy’s lap, Kim felt strangely secure and sheltered, but also responsible. It was her job to be a good adult baby girl and nurse from her new Mommy. It was a simple job, one that she could easily handle, but, from the way Dr. Barber’s hips were rocking, clearly very important as well. If she didn’t drink all of Mommy’s milk, who would? Mommy’s breasts would swell and burst and all that lovely, pure milk would be wasted!

“Good girl!” the therapist cooed. She cradled Kim with one arm and allowed her other hand to snake its way down the girl’s chest to the diaper. Again she began rubbing through the thick diaper, searching out the girl’s padded clitoris. Kim hugged her bear tight, pleasure spreading through her diapered parts.

“Does little Kimmy know what feels really good?” Dr. Barber asked.

Kim shook her head, still holding the nipple in her mouth, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as if to concentrate the pleasure.

“It feels very good to wet your little diaper. Just let all that pee pee come out and make your diaper extra slippery for rubby with Mommy. Would my Kimmy like that?”

Dr. Barber pushed down so hard on Kim’s clit that the girl shot up and un-latched. Kim gave a little cry of pain and writhed, trying to escape the suddenly firm hand.

“Does Kimmy want to wet her diapy to make cummies for Mommy?”

It was too much. Tears began to flow down Kim’s face, leaking from her tightly shut eyelids. The pleasure of lying in this woman’s lap, diapered and nursing, had been so intense that the sudden thought of being so humiliated was too much for the remaining adult training embedded in Kim’s mind, but she still couldn’t stop herself from answering, “Yeah-huh.”

To be continued…


A Wet Spanking

Penny stood in the center of her room wearing her full school uniform, shifting uncomfortably. Her panties were absolutely soaked. She had tried to sneak back to her room alone to change them before anyone noticed, but her Daddy was vigilant when it came to the state of her panties, and had noticed quite easily. Now he was standing with his back to her, laying different implements out on the bed: a hair brush, a short leather strap, and a drilled, wooden paddle. He placed them in a neat row to one side, then sat down to the left of them and laid a thick, white towel across his lap.

“Come here.”

Penny shuffled over to the bed, her hands behind her and her shoulders drawn up. But she couldn’t stay outside of his reach forever and the moment she was close enough, her Daddy’s strong hand thrust out and took hold of her forearm. He drew her over his knee despite her whining, struggling protest and pulled up her skirt, blotched with moisture, to expose her squishy, wet panties.

Holding her down with one hand, his other explored the dampness of her panties, massaging the wet cotton into her crotch as he reviewed the exact levels of wetness between her legs. Penny felt her cheeks burn with shame. She was throughly wet with pee and her Daddy’s stern curiosity was causing a new, creamier wetness to seep from between her legs, warming the cold fabric. She gave a little moan and he stopped.

Without commenting, he took hold of the hairbrush and began to swat her bottom with fast, even strokes. Penny moaned again, this time in pain, and squirmed in her Daddy’s lap. All her bucking only managed to lift her towards the brush and her bottom reddened quickly. She knew it was no use struggling, but she couldn’t help it. The brush just stung so much!

As she moved on her Daddy’s lap, she noticed something rising from between his legs to jab her in the belly, something hot and rigid that seemed to swell under his pants. She tried to avoid it, but her Daddy seemed to enjoy pressing it against her, first into her soft stomach, then into the vee between her legs. As he spanked her harder, he also thrust the object harder against her. Penny found that if she clenched her legs just right it would rub her in a way that felt nice and made the spanking easier to take. By this point the towel had fallen away and the front of her Daddy’s pants were soaked, especially where he was pushing against her.

Then, with a final, strong swat, the hairbrush spanking and thrusting were over. But Penny’s Daddy didn’t stand her up and tell her to go change her panties. Instead he began caressing them again, seeming to enjoy their dampness and even the smell of wet that was rubbed all over his hand and into his lap. He stroked her for a while before he spoke.

“I think you need to wear a diaper, little girl.”

To be continued…