Newbie Nursery

Chapter Five Vivian rarely had reason to ponder just how ominous her home looked from the ground.  When at the height of her power, she always came in from the sky, soaring with the wind. That showed off the fortress in all its majesty, buried in the side of a mountain, but didn’t give her the same sense of perspective.  Trudging up the switchback road from below, she saw how the craggy towers looked almost like a lower jaw set against the sky. Even ignoring the obvious problems of attacking a fortified structure set well above, and the reputation she had cultivated, it was no wonder she rarely had to deal with intruders–her home looked positively unsettling.  They entered through the side door, rather than the impressive drawbridge, and the Wizard quickly set about putting her to bed–feeding her a simple meal of porridge, taking her out of her soggy diaper and dirty clothes to bathe her, cleaning dirt and grime from many days of work and travel off her fair skin–she cringed as she saw her skin now had calluses forming on fingertips and a few light bruises where she’d bumped into things while working. Her hair, dirty and greasy from all the work, finally fell in long dark locks once again as it was washed out, and she began to feel a little more like herself…until the Wizard taped her into a thicker nighttime diaper and zipped up the pajamas she couldn’t take off, reminding her of her new position before locking her into her binding cage–that is, her crib. She couldn’t even complain. The past few days had involved miles upon miles of hiking and a full day of brutal manual labor. Her body had been fatigued in a way she could scarcely remember; she didn’t feel the sting of a long day of masochistic torture and injury, but rather, the bone-deep ache of having worked with her hands.  A part of her wanted to fuss, to stay up and keep herself awake just to show that she didn’t need a bedtime, but the sleepy part of her won. Only minutes after the Wizard turned out her lights and left her for the evening, she began to snore. … Vivian flushed as she read the instructions that the Wizard had presented to her. After their morning rituals had gone by–changed into a fresh daytime diaper, fed a breakfast of porridge, dressed in a onesie, skirt, and apron–he’d shown her this, and told her to read it. “You can’t be serious,” she said, eyes widening.  That comment had earned her ten minutes standing with her fingers laced behind her head and her nose in the corner of her bedroom. The Wizard didn’t punish her harshly, but he wouldn’t let her break the rules without consequence, and ‘No Back Talk’ sat proudly at the top of the list. Once her time out had ended, though, she returned to the list. “Sir, I–” she began, trying to think how to phrase her objection without it being back talk. “I can’t possibly complete all this in one day. Is it a test of some kind? To see how I’ll handle an impossible challenge?”  The wizard smiled ever so slightly, nodding in approval. He bore a smirk that made him look both younger and older, somehow–emphasizing both his wisdom and a slight sense of youthful energy and amusement. Vivian still guessed he was somewhere in his fifties, but just then, he could have convinced her she was decades off in either direction. “Very well phrased, but I will not share that intent with you, not yet.”  “B–” Vivian almost said ‘But’, however she caught herself before earning another ten minutes in time out. “Yes, sir.”  The chore chart he’d presented was simply ridiculous. The amount of work presented could not be done by one woman without magic–laundry, sweeping, dusting, with room numbers and specifications listed next to dozens of check boxes. It seemed as though he expected her to get every guest room and all the quarters in the fortress clean in a single day.  “I do have one more instruction for you,” the Wizard added. “But think of it as an aid, not a punishment.” That made Vivian wary. “Why would I think of it as a punishment?”  “There’s a song,” the Wizard explained, ignoring her question completely. “A working song, if you will. Sing it, and it’ll give you motivation.” Vivian rolled her eyes. “Okay, what’s the song?”  The Wizard raised a bushy eyebrow at her. “What’s the song, sir?”  He nodded appreciatively, then stood a little straighter, singing a clean, smooth melody.  “It’s time for me to clean up, clean up, clean up, I’ve made such a mess, a mess, a mess, It’s time for me to clean up, clean up, clean up, I’ll have to do my best, my best, my best.” Vivian stared in shock. She knew this song–she was fairly certain anyone who’d grown up this side of the Rorchian Plains knew that song. It was typically used to get toddlers to get to pitch in.  Glowering at the indignity, Vivian balled her hands into loose fists, trying to keep her anger from becoming too obvious. (Soon, Imperionus will come,) she thought, (And I’ll wipe this smug look off your face.) Aloud, she only said, “I don’t need a song to motivate me.”  The wizard raised an eyebrow at her. “I’ve instructed you to sing it, Vivian.” Glaring into his impassive eyes, she shot back, “You’ve instructed me to clean, and I’ll do that, and nothing else.” Reaching out, she snatched the parchment chore chart from his hands, stalking out into the hallway.  The Wizard didn’t stop her. She’d half expected to find herself with her nose in the corner yet again, but that didn’t scare her; she had half a mind to simply refuse the task and let him put her in time out all day. She was doing what he wanted, he could go cry about it if she didn’t do it in the precise way he wanted. Glancing at the list, she read her first task–sweep the guest room in the north tower. Fuming, she waddled to the closet where the Wizard had made her organize her cleaning supplies and snatched a broom, anger driving her as she went up the stairs. The Wizard waited for her in the guest room, leaning against the desk. “You know the rules, Vivian,” he warned. “Follow my instructions.” “I’m sweeping, aren’t I?” she asked, attacking the floor with straw bristles. It was surprisingly dusty up in the tower, as she rarely came up here, but that hardly mattered since she never had need of the guest room.  “Do it properly,” he continued. “This is your final warning.”  “Alright, fine.” Vivian whirled on him. “What will it be, ten more minutes in the corner?”  Shaking his head slowly, the Wizard snapped his fingers, and Vivian felt power seize her.  Her arms moved, holding the broom, brushing it gently from side to side, but she hadn’t told her body to move. She initially sought out the compulsion, searching her own mind, but the Wizard hadn’t breached Vivian’s thoughts. Instead, he’d borrowed strands over her own power, and as she moved helplessly across the room, she felt the threads of magic pulling at her arm. The Wizard had made Vivian into his puppet.  Her movements weren’t delicate–though her arms moved smoothly, it was the result of being tugged along, a slight delay. She tried to fight, but her muscles had gone limp, so that the only thing holding her up were the strands of magic leashed around her torso.  She could still move her eyes freely–darting her gaze over to the Wizard, she saw his hands moving gently, rocking side to side, controlling invisible marionette handles to guide her through her chores. “What is this?” she snapped. “Let me go!”  “You wouldn’t do your chores the way I requested,” the Wizard instructed mildly, forcing Vivian to kneel and sweep up a little corner of dust. “So, I’ll help show you the correct way. Oh, and of course…”  As he paraded her from one side of the room to the other, he began to sing. “It’s time for me to clean up, clean up, clean up…”  “Ugh,” Vivian groaned, trying to shut out the song. She couldn’t block her ears–her hands were being puppeteered to wipe dust off the room’s desk–and though she tried to hum to block out his singing, she couldn’t stop his voice from echoing in her mind.  Attempts to break free of his control were equally fruitless and frustrating. Her limbs were slack, deadened by his magic, and she couldn’t trace the spell’s origin well enough to disrupt its power.  It wasn’t that he’d, once again, defeated her. She could accept being beaten. It was the sheer effortlessness of his display, the proof that he could control her with barely an eyeblink of effort, that made her fume. Stuck under his control, she cleaned, slower than if she’d been in charge of her own faculties. Vivian swept the room, dusted the furniture, bundled up the bedsheets to wash. As ‘she’ finished up in the room, though, she felt her belly gurgle slightly, and her eyes widened. She wasn’t allowed to hold it, and she realized too late that her face had given her away. She could try and hold it anyways, but already the Wizard humiliated her–if he caught her fighting to keep her diapers clean, he’d make things worse.  Her cheeks turned pink as she weighed her options, but before she could make a choice, the Wizard made one for her. Still softly singing the song, he dropped the strings on her torso and arms, spreading her knees, guiding Vivian into a low squat.  “I’ve made such a mess, a mess, a mess…” he sang, smirking down at her. Glaring up, face burning red, Vivian had no choice but to do as she was told. Working with the pressure she’d felt, and with the pose she’d been dropped into, she puffed up her cheeks and pushed, packing the seat of her diaper full while the Wizard watched her, fully aware of what she was doing.  “Vivian,” the Wizard instructed, smiling. “Stand up and turn around. I need to check you.” “I can’t–” she began, but her body lifted of its own accord, so that her feet came off the ground and she twirled around, dangling from the magical threads.  Stepping up, the wizard gave the seat of her diaper a squeeze, pressing the muck into her skin just for a moment. Her blush deepened to burning hatred, and she struggled to conjure a biting insult that would draw the Wizard into anger. “Good girl,” he announced, before she could think. “You didn’t even try to hide your accident, and you let me check you immediately! I think that deserves a reward–let’s get you changed.”  What remained of her resistance melted under his shameful praise, and under the subtle warning–if she complained, she might not get that promised change. Feeling pathetic and particularly small, she nodded, letting the Wizard waddle her down the stairs to her nursery.  She’d already grown distressingly used to the process, having her mushy diaper changed up by the Wizard who controlled her life–the indignity was as fresh as ever as he wiped her clean, but she no longer felt surprised or put off by the cold of the wet cloth or the routine of powdering her and taping her into a fresh diaper.  This was just…what she did now.  She couldn’t change her circumstances, but she could at least alter how they affected her.  “I’ll sing the song,” she mumbled, as the wizard puppeteered her into a sitting position.  “What was that?” the Wizard asked, turning slightly as though to hear better. “I’ll sing the stupid song,” she snapped. “Just–let me do it myself.” He nodded, and with a snap of his fingers, she felt her body return to her own control.  Sucking in a breath, Vivian calmed herself, then began to sing as she got to her feet. “It’s time for me to clean up, clean up, clean–ah!”  Gasping, she felt a wave of pleasure roll over her–subtle but pervasive, stimulation that spread up from between her legs. It caught her off guard, and she stumbled. Shooting a glance back at the Wizard, who just raised an eyebrow at her. “I told you it would be encouraging,” he pointed out.  Flushing, Vivian resumed the song. “I’ve made such a–ah–mess, a mess, a mess.” The pleasure that rolled over her was energizing. Teasing, as well, and even a hint frustrating, but it felt fundamentally good. It wasn’t exactly an encouragement, like the Wizard had said–it was a distraction, to keep her mind occupied with something immensely more enjoyable than sweeping.  As she stood there, the bliss spreading from between her thighs faded, and she frowned, even as she mumbled the next line, “It’s time for me to clean up, clean up, clean up…”  “Well,” the Wizard commented, noting her frustrated expression, “It will only work if you get to work.”  Nodding, she snatched up her chore chart and scurried off to work, and the song’s power flared to life within her.  (Gods damn it all,) she thought, flushed with pleasure as she began dusting furniture, the words of the song spilling out of her mouth. “I’ll have to do my best, my best, my best.” (I should have listened to him immediately. I hate that I should have listened to him immediately.)  It was more than just an on/off switch, too. As she worked, she found that if she was quicker, if she didn’t linger, the pleasure would grow more intense–never enough to paralyze her or overwhelm her senses, but just enough to push her further forward, driven to act. She might not have been the most precise or detailed, but she had an entire room clean in less than twenty minutes, floors swept, sheets stripped, furniture dusted. Ready to move to the next job, she faced her parchment chore chart, marking off the room so that she could– Bliss burst to life in her, pleasure that truly did overwhelm Vivian. She dropped to her knees, gasping as the magic swelled to life, and with a shameless moan, she squirted into the front of her diaper, staining the wetness indicator strips. Her legs wobbled, and her singing caught in her breath.  The pleasure stopped in an instant.  Letting out a quiet whimper of disappointment, Vivian resumed again, starting the single verse from the beginning. “It’s time for me to clean up…”  The sensations returned, and she got to her feet. She understood: So long as she worked and sang, the music would keep her excited. When she finished a task, that’s when she’d get her real reward. So, she sang, until the words of the song blurred in her mind into background noise. So long as she kept doing her chores, she’d remain in bliss, and when she struck off a room from her chart, she’d sink to her knees and moan in delight. “It’s time for me to clean up, clean up, clean up, I’ve made such a mess, a mess, a mess, It’s time for me to clean up, clean up, clean up, I’ll have to do my best, my best, my best.” She fussed through lunch, not because she was being spoon-fed steamed vegetables while imprisoned in a high chair, but because she couldn’t do her chores while eating, and she wanted to get back to work right away. As soon as the Wizard allowed, she returned, cleaning fervently.  Vivian barely noticed that her chart was complete until she struck off the final task and went to look for her next room, only to find that she’d done it all.  As the pleasure trailed off, she kept mouthing along to the song, but the expected joy didn’t come. Flushed, she sought out the wizard, eyes downcast as she found him cooking something up in the kitchens.  “Sir,” she said, approaching behind him.  “Yes?” he asked, glancing up from his stew. Eyes falling on her, he set down the ladle and turned to face her. “Hold on.” She stood in place obediently as he stepped up, lifted her apron and skirt, and tested the front of her diaper with a gentle press of his hand. “You’re soaked. Let’s get you changed.”  Most of the saturation hadn’t come from peeing, but that didn’t change the fact that he was right–she’d squirted into her diaper often enough to saturate it to capacity. Still, she felt the need to ask, “Is there anything else I can do? I finished my chore chart.”  “That’s enough for the day,” he replied, leading her by the hand out of the kitchen. “You did a good job, Vivian–and just this morning you were complaining that you couldn’t get it all done!”  “I mean…” Vivian began. “I’d do more, if there’s something I could do!”  “No.” He shook his head. “That would leave you tired and cranky–trust me to take care of you, Vivian.”  She whined, but obeyed, waddling behind the Wizard back to her nursery. Part of her wanted to rage, to demand he give her another chore, but she had learned through repetition that complaining wouldn’t get her what she wanted.  She wouldn’t capitulate completely, though–throughout her change, she kept her arms crossed over her chest and her lip out in a pout, making it clear that she wasn’t happy. She didn’t argue or fight, and she let the Wizard undo the snaps on her onesie and wipe her clean, but until she got what she wanted, she wouldn’t be nice about it either.  As he taped her new diaper up, though, the Wizard smiled mischievously. “You’re learning,” he said, proudly. “I can tell you’re upset, but I didn’t get one word of complaint out of you.”  Vivian still said nothing, eyeing him warily.  “So…” he said, thoughtfully. “I suppose, if you really want to, you could clean the master bathroom–but that’s it for the night, alright?”  A broad smile came unbidden to her face, breaking her sour expression, and Vivian nodded. “Thank you, Sir!”  He smiled back at her, bowing his head in acknowledgement. “You’re welcome, Vivian.” ... Taxes ended up being a big problem this year, with a major bill being sent my way that totally wiped out my savings. If you're able to pitch in a little support, I'd very much appreciate it. Whether it's subscribing for a couple dollars on SubStar or Ream, or getting yourself a custom story commission, any extra financial aid would be massively helpful. Subscribe and get early access: https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl Commissions: https://forms.gle/K5Eu8FT922pEBfBN9

This story was me.  But instead of the Girl Who Wanted to Wear Diapers, I was the Boy who Wanted to Wear Diapers.  The only difference was that I was 13 years old when I bought some cheap Depends at the pharmacy.  I too was very disappointed.  It also unfortunately led to me sneaking one of my friend's baby's diapers and then my my then baby cousin in the early 2000's when I was in high school.  Yup, I was just like Maddy alright... 😅

That's going to be very soon.  I have in mind what is going to happen here.  Stay tuned... 😀

She sobbed a bit, " it wasn't a game i didn't know what else to do. You were nice and i just went along with whatever you said i hadn't had a shower in like 5 days or a hot meal. I'm sorry okay." She catches her breath for a bit and grabs her backpack and rummages around for a second and produces her ID, "Here" she shoves the Kentucky state license in his chest before curling up back in the ball. caught up in her story she had wet briefly a couple times without recognizing it, but not enough to leak. but as she moved she could feel the squishiness and groaned Why does this keep happening to me.  she buries her face in her hands.

Wow, what an amazing update! It kept giving more and more! I'm loving this story so far. I can't wait until we figure out what the deal is with Trish! Keep up the good work!