Sissy Room

We all been slacking with our busy lives! I win!

@RearzJacob I'm confused about the purpose of the clothlike outer layer. If the diaper has a plastic shell underneath it then it seems redundant to put a clothlike layer on top. I would think this would also add extra cost to the manufacturing process. I have tried Rearz plastic backed products and I was very impressed with the performance but my wife and I are both IC and wear full time and we can't afford them on a regular basis. Hugs, Freta

They’re great. 34in waist no problem at all.

((For a little context, thought I don't think it's needed to enjoy the story for what it is, this is set in the same setting as my storyYou Are Not Immune To Propaganda where abdl has grown to mass appeal and becoming prevalent in culture))   It was a cool spring evening at the Masterson estates, the ground and manor having gone quiet with all the children going to bed, Lord and Lady Masterson having gone on holiday to Bermuda, and the Nanny Beatrice Swan was sitting in one of the lounges trying not to bore herself to death by reading Little Women.   She prided herself in taking the appearance of a well put together nanny in her late 30s, modeling herself after Mary Poppins, sophisticated and nurturing, and having spent the last two decades as that persona, she had it down pat, but deep down, that simply wasn’t her. If it were up to her, she’d be at home, lounging on her sofa half dressed watching trashy television with a bottle of wine and takeout, instead she was sitting in an expensive and oddly uncomfortable red leather chair dressed in an overly stiff suit and skirt, reading a book that exhausted her to tutor a 13 year old who would prefer to use AI to write an upcoming essay on the novel, not that Beatrice could blame her, if the technology was available when she was a schoolgirl she would’ve been using the same shortcuts.   Beatrice had to force herself to sit down and read through this slog, only imagining what she’d rather be doing, sitting at home, half dressed, devouring some takeout with a bottle of wine while enjoying some trashy television or playing a mindless shooter game, probably the latter, she had just purchased the season pass and barely gotten to play it- Only she had responsibilities. When Beatrice was a fresh face 17 year old her grandmother had gotten her a position on the Masterson’s house staff as a maid, she had threatened Beatrice to always maintain an air of professional elegance, or else she would end up living in a trashcan in a ditch, today, Beatrice understood this as hyperbole, but that fear she felt as a young woman just stepping into the working world stayed with her.   With a sigh, Beatrice tore her tired eyes away from the book in her lap, taking off her glasses and massaging the irritated bridge of her nose, her gaze drawn towards her surroundings in an effort to not go to sleep. Passing by the elk head mounted on the wall, the ancient portraits of Mastersons long deceased, the furniture that cost more than her entire apartment and its contents combined, the young lady standing in the doorway, dressed modestly as was her style, a bag behind her back and a tea set balanced carefully in her hand.   “Oh, Miss Annette, I didn’t realize you were home,” Beatrice said, thankful for the distraction, setting the book aside and returning her glasses to her face, sitting up just a bit straighter, her knees straight and pressed together as tight as she can, hands meeting on her lap, the picture of etiquette, her grandmother would be proud.   “I got home a little while ago, may I join you? I made some tea.” Annette said, smiling. The two of them had always gotten along, though, if Beatrice had to admit, their relationship was rather complex. Beatrice may have raised the girl since Annette was small, in fact, her coming along was the only reason Beatrice got a promotion in the first place, Mrs Masterson offered to put Beatrice through college to get a degree in early childcare when she found she was expecting.   A complex dynamic- Annette had been raised by Beatrice at her skirtails, if she scraped her knee if was Beatrice she was calling for, not Mrs Masterson, if she had a bad dream, she was looking for Beatrice to crawl under the covers with, when her moods became too much to handle in such a little package, it was up to Beatrice to calm the girl down and if need be punish her, and yet- Annette, whether she knew it or not, was in many ways her boss as well as her charge. And while Beatrice had never forgotten that fact, it took Annette awhile to clue in on it. Beatrice could still picture the day when Annette found out that her Nanny wasn’t part of her family, really.   Beatrice had saved and scrapped by for months, planning a long overdue holiday, the first one she’d been able to take since starting out as a lowly maid and working herself to the bone to ready herself for Nannying for the prestigious family. The last day, final hour before Beatrice would leave to Spain for well deserved rest and relaxation, little Annette had proudly rolled out her little suitcase, pleased with herself declaring that she had packed all by herself and was ready to set off with Beatrice. It had broken Beatrice’s heart when she had to sit down Annette and explain that she wasn’t allowed to go, and while say she hadn’t said in so many words, this was a break for Beatrice so she wouldn’t have to rear another woman’s child for a couple of weeks. The confusion, the betrayal on that little girl’s face warped her perception, though maybe warp is the wrong term, set her straight, on how their dynamic really was. Beatrice was a commoner and Annette was cut from the cloth of the bourgeoisie. Annette had tried to explain that no, Beatrice was like her big sister, her caretaker, her parents had to sit down with the girl and explain to her the way of the world. Beatrice had to wait for that little talk with baited breath, expecting that this outburst, misunderstanding, and attachment would cost her her livelihood- living in a trashcan in a gutter- Annette when she had returned politely said her goodbyes, and little more had come from that, Beatrice still had her job, but Annette never quite looked at her the same way again.   The time away with Annette spending more time around her mother apparently lit something up in Mrs Masterson, the girl would not spend much more time as an only child, going from the lone child of the wealthy Mastersons to the oldest of 10, and rearing 9 more children kept Beatrice quite busy, she barely had time to recognize the distance growing between the two of them. By the time Annette had become a teenager, she had become a rather independent child, hardly having time for her old, busy Nanny.   “Miss Annette, I would’ve made you tea if you had asked,” Beatrice said pleasantly, Annette gave her a demure grin as she poured a cup and handed it to Beatrice.   “I wanted to make it for you, Nanny. It’s been so long since we’ve gotten the chance the talk. I’ve been so busy with school and you have my siblings- Would you mind calling me Annette? You’ve known me all my life, it feels strange to be given a suffix…”   Beatrice accepted the offered cup and thoughtfully took a sip. “I’m not sure it would be proper,” Her mind turned towards that trashcan in the gutter, the thought of what Mrs Masterson would say if she found her daughter treating the hired help as anything resembling equals.   “I’m not a child anymore, Nanny. I don’t care about what’s proper, its my decision on what I can be called,” Beatrice noted the stiffness that Annette adopted, the aura of offense she took at the very notion.   With a shrug, Beatrice simply said, “If that’s what you want, Annette, you are an adult now, you can be called what you like.” She got a smile in return for her troubles.   “Then-” Annette pretended to think about it, though Beatrice could tell it had already been decided in her mind long before this moment, “May I call you Beatrice?”   There was that fear again, the promise of destitution, with a sigh, Beatrice said, “If you must.”   The girl had noticed the sigh, Beatrice detected an indignant wiggling of her shoulders as she pulled an armchair up, a small table with the platter of tea and biscuits between the two of them. Beatrice considered offering help with the heavy, pricey, old armchair, doing minor calculus in her head of how many months she’d have to work to pay off a damaged antique like that. “Well,” Annette said, a trill of excitement on her voice as she sat down and reached into her bag, a large, black shopping bag that Beatrice couldn’t see into, “I’ve wanted to talk- ask your opinion on a growing trend.”   Beatrice sniffed a little as a magazine was passed into her lap, a fashion magazine displaying the latest trend. “Hmm… Yes, I’ve seen it. Rather silly, if you ask me,” She said, adjusting her glasses and leafing through the pages. Image after image of women dressed as infants lined the pages, articles talking about ‘How to find the right Daddy’, ‘Going from 23 to 3’, and ‘From Biodegradable to Plastic, what Bottle is right for You and Your Look’. Women between the ages of Beatrice and Annette sporting expensive looking onesies and baby doll dresses, a garish amount of lace and pastel colors, ladies with bombshell bodies sporting looks that said preschool more than catwalk, and each image with a less than discreet pronounced bottom that Beatrice could only imagine, and in some cases didn’t need to, what was causing it.   “Girls spend their whole lives trying to get as old as quickly as they can, and some silly trend comes along and young women barely adults are trying to get back to the playpen- Hmmph, I’d say if any other your sisters find the fad appealing, I may have a good bit of job security for the future,” Beatrice allowed herself a small chuckle. “Although…” She mused, taking another sip of her tea, “I suppose you’re not testing the waters by asking if you were thinking of your sisters.”   “No,” Annette admitted, looking pleased with herself, “I wasn’t thinking of them.”   Looking back down at the magazine on her lap, Beatrice thought about it, imaging her charge in one of the getups on the pages. Sure, Beatrice wouldn’t be a huge fan of changing a grown woman’s diaper, but it hadn’t been that long ago, not to a woman Beatrice’s age, that she had been putting Annette into adorable outfits like these. “I could- See how it might be fun,” Beatrice said, catching the glimmer of excitement on Annette’s face.   “You do?” The young girl practically purred, tapping her fingernails on her skirt rhythmically, “Are there any particular styles you like the most?”   “Well, your Mother always picked out everything- She had a very distinct fashion sense.”   “Don’t remind me,” Annette said, a little grumpily, “That’s why, umm- I’d just like to have your opinion on it.”   “I’m quite flattered, Annette, but really you have all the say in this- Not that I’ve agreed to anything, mind you-”   “Of course.”   “Of course,” Beatrice nodded. “But I just don’t really see the trouble in humoring you, if only for the evening.”   “Oh,” Annette pursed her lips, “I was thinking of an arrangement a tad less temporary.”   Beatrice cocked her head, “Go on?”   “Well, I know my parents pay you quite a bit of money for your services, but I doubt its enough to do everything you’ve dreamed of. I’ve been moving and investing my own trust fund quite carefully over the last year since its become available to me and managed to get a good fortune out of it, I’d be willing to pay you triple the amount, if you were to come stay with me. I’d provide room and board, of course, so not only would you be making more, you’d also be saving more as well.”   Considering it carefully, Beatrice gave it some thought. Annette’s oldest sibling was 15, and the youngest 6 with a set of twins that had finally turned Mrs Masterson away from wanting any more, taking care of one, admittedly large baby for three times the salary as opposed to 9 children of wide variety of ages and needs sounded very promising. Not to mention, there was a strong possibility that the staff that would need to be hired to replace the lone Nanny would incentivize the Mastersons to bring Beatrice back at a much higher price range than she could negotiate at the position she was at the moment.   She looked up, seeing the expectant look on Annette’s face, and understood now that there was an underlying motivation in even considering such a strange request: Beatrice did adore the girl. She could spend a few months dressing and feeding the girl she had raised if it would make her happy, until this silly adult baby fad teetered out.   “Might I suggest a trial period? Let’s try it for tonight, just until your siblings get up, then, if it goes well, we can have a proper discussion about any arrangements after your parents return.” Beatrice set her tea cup down, along with the magazine. “I suppose you already have some options in that bag?”   “Really?!” Annette stood up, a huge grin plastered across her face, hopping over to her Nanny, pulling her up and into a tight hug, “Oh, goodness, I thought you’d need more convincing than this! Yes, I have some supplies, I think they’ll be perfect-”   “Yes,” Beatrice pulled away, brushing the dust off herself, “Well, it’s not as if its not my first time.”   “You mean, you’ve done this before?” Annette eyed Beatrice up and down, as if looking at her in a new light.   Beatrice chuckled, “Of course, silly girl, what makes you think I haven’t? I’ve been doing it since you were small.”   Annette’s eyes bulged out, “Really? I had no idea! You truly are a trendsetter, Beatrice!”   “Yes, well- Sorry, what do you mean?”   But Annette was already going through the bag, the crinkle of plastic as it was ripped free from packaging coming from her. “Oh, I was so hoping you would agree! And to think, I was willing to offer you four times as much as my parents pay you.”   That caught Beatrice’s attention, “Beg your par-” But was silenced as a soother was plunged between her lips. Beatrice stared at the dummy beneath her nose, in stunned concentration. She was about ready to pull it free when she noticed the next item Annette pulled from the bag.   A blast from her past. When Beatrice had first started working for the Mastersons her uniform was styled after a French maid, neither Beatrice, her grandmother, nor Mrs Masterson seemed to care much for the uniform, but it seemed to make Mr Masterson happy, and at the end of the day, he was the one funding everything. It seemed his eldest daughter had inherited those same sensibilities. Annette pulled out something very close to what her father had decided the young women under his employ should wear, only instead of black, the white lace was around bright pink, an apron sewn on the dress that was more decorative than anything, along with matching white and pink striped thigh high socks.   Beatrice had spent the last two decades of her service perfecting a posh and eloquent persona that she exclusively used in the presence of the Mastersons and their affluent friends and associates, and in an instant the eldest of the Masterson’s brood broke it in an instance, a low, cockneyed croak of, “Oi! What the hell is that?” Spitting the dummy out with a very unlady like spray of spittle along with the words.   Annette was unperturbed by the outburst, “Isn’t it darling? I saw it and immediately thought of you. Its actually what made me bold enough to come with my offer.”   “I, well-” Beatrice cleared her throat, collecting herself, “Well, yes, fine, if that’s what you want to wear, I suppose-”   “Me?” Annette looked back towards Beatrice, a sly grin on her face, oddly enough not unlike the look her father would have given one of the maids when he ‘accidentally’ dropped something and requested that they pick it up. The apple didn’t fall from the tree so much as it rolled off the vine and landed between the roots. “No, my dear Beatrice,” Annette took a calculated step towards her former Nanny. “It’s for you, of course.”   “Of co- Annette! This isn’t what I thought I was agreeing to!” Objected Beatrice, growing red in the face, and growing redder as her charge reached towards her suit jacket, unbuttoning it with a careful flick of the fingers, then moving towards the top of Beatrice’s blouse.   “No?” Annette had a certain feigned disappointment in her words, “Well, does it change much? If I were you, I would think that it would be a net benefit. What? You thought you would have to go back to changing my underpants and reading me bedtime stories?” Annette barely tried to hide the roll of her eyes, “I can’t imagine that being anything less than tedious, to be honest…”   “Well, yes! I didn’t think- Hey!” The blouse came undone, Beatrice’s black brassiere on full display. She backed away, only to fall back into the chair she was just in. Hiding her underwear with one hand and pulling her shirt back together with the other, she spoke quickly, “I wouldn’t have thought that you would want to-” Her eyes were darting wildly up around the room, trying to make sense of what was being requested of her.   “Wouldn’t you prefer it like this,” Annette took a step back towards the bag and pulled out a package of animal printed diapers, pink sloths, flamingos, and fluffy pink cats decorating the white outline of the display’s diaper. “Think of it, instead of pampering me, or watching any of my, frankly, dreadful siblings, you’ll be the one taken care of. I’ll feed, change, bathe, and play with you and make sure to take care of any needs you have. All that, and the boost in pay, and living expenses being handled by me, what do you have to lose? You were already humoring me, right? Take my offer, do it for four months and you’ll have earned as much as you had working for my parents for a year, spend a year for me and you’ll make four years worth of your salary, all to be my little girl.”   “Four- You said four times my salary is how high you’d go.”   Annette held the package of diapers behind her back and swayed her hips while looking up, “Did I? Hmm… I suppose that doesn’t matter how much I offered you if you’re planning on backing away anyways, would it? So I take it you’re interested?”   “I didn’t say that-”   In a sing song voice, Annette sang, “I didn’t hear a noooo.”   “This, this is coercion!”   “You said a trial period, correct? What if I say we try it for tonight, say four times your pay, let me dress you up, sit you on my lap and I’ll read you a bedtime story and give you a bottle. If you don’t like it, fine, we’ll never bring it up again- And if you do- Well, we can go from there.”   Beatrice tapped her foot, considering the proposal, “I get to keep my underwear.”   “You may keep your cute little bra, if it makes you happier.”   “I get to use the loo before you tape that thing on me.”   Annette shook her head, “No, full package, I want at least one accident and a change before dawn.”   “Are you out of your mind?!” Beatrice gasped. “This is beyond absurd! Five times the pay!”   “Deal!”   “And instead of a bedtime story, I’d like to play Doomshooter 4 on your brother’s BS-7. I’ve barely had time to play it and it drives me bonkers to watch him be cruddy with it.” Beatrice looked away, folding her arms and desperately trying to act like she hadn’t just said that.   Annette snickered, “Is my little Bea-Bea a gamer girl? I’ll make sure to remember that when I plan out a nursery for you, so long as you obey my bedtime and don’t stay up all night playing!”   “And- Umm, I want that bottle to have some wine in it. The good stuff, from your father’s collection.”   “I don’t want a drunk little girl.”   “Well if you want a wet little girl you’ll have to indulge me, I haven’t wet myself without a drink since I was small.”   “Did you just admit that you have wet yourself with a drink?” Annette asked amused.   “Neither here nor there.”   With a sigh, the younger woman reluctantly agreed, “Yes, fine. Is there anything else, your highness?”   “I-” Beatrice thought about it, trying to stave off just one more moment before giving up, “No- Fine,” Beatrice lifted her arms, and without a moment of hesitation unzipped the side of Beatrice’s skirt, the clothing falling to the floor, revealing her blue panties to her former charge. Her jacket and blouse soon fell to the growing pile of discarded clothes and shame, leaving her in just panties and glasses, regretting not moving to a more fitting room, the cool air making her nipples stick out and leaving her feeling incredibly vulnerable.   Beatrice looked down at herself, letting out a pitiful noise from her mouth as she realized just how precarious of a position she was in. “I’m not so sure about this,” She commented as the woman half her age stuck a thumb on both sides of her underwear and pulled them down, Beatrice dutifully lifting a foot delicately to allow the girl to free her from the binds of her panties.   “Shush, Bea-Bea, let Nanny Annette make it all better. Silly girl, spitting out your binky,” Annette produced a nearly identical pacifier from her bag and slid it through the gap in Beatrice’s mouth. She gave it a test suckle, and then another not so test suck, finding the presence more soothing than she had initially expected.   “Let’s get baby Bea-Bea all nice and comfy,” Annette led Beatrice down to the floor, the older woman shutting her eyes and pretending she was with someone else who was touching her in such an inappropriate spot, as she heard the click of a tub of wet wipes pop open and shivered at the sensation of the towelette brush against her quivering body, followed by the slick touch of two fingers lathered with an ointment that was just as cool. The air was filled with lavender as the dust of baby powder descended on Beatrice’s fanny. There was no mat, and Beatrice hoped that whatever servant came to clean this room in the next couple of days wouldn’t notice the white powder on the floor or at least wouldn’t mention it.   Her eyes opened up just in time to see the girl unfolding a huge diaper covered in pink cartoon animals, fluffing it up like a pillow. Beatrice wondered where Annette learned about that, did she read about it, or see one of the countless videos about the adult baby trend that was going on.   “Bea-Bea,” The tone Annette used was gentle, almost as gentle as the touch she used to raise Beatrice’s legs up as she slid the padding under her, a welcomed relief from the cold, rough carpet that was beneath her rump. “Do you remember the day when you went on vacation and I tried to go with you when I was little?” Beatrice nodded. “I was absolutely heartbroken, not because I couldn’t go with you, but because Mother told me what you were, she said you were ‘hired help’, someone they paid to tend to me. What a load of nonsense, I thought, I never saw you as help. I thought you were my big sister, always taking care of me, teaching me things, showing me how to be responsible, and Mother was telling me you were my lesser?” Beatrice miserably sucked on the pacifier, trying to get her glasses to adjust with a flick of her head. “I could never see you as help, to be honest, you’ve always just been my family, but… When this whole adult baby thing got going, it got a new idea in my head, if I can’t have you as my big sister, maybe you can be my baby sister. So I started plotting, saving, investing, anything I could do to make sure you’ll agree with me that this road is the correct way.”   Beatrice wiggled her bottom on the soft cushion of the padding, the air inside the encasing becoming warm as it adjusted to her body heat, the crinkle of the diaper as Annette took Beatrice by both hands and raised her in a sitting position. “So yes, I’ll bribe you, money is what makes the world turn, my parents always pushed that idea on me, everyone has a price. Arms up, little miss!” Beatrice did as she was told as the stiff dress was pulled over her head and arms through the sleeves, her hair in a bun becoming just a tad bit messier and glasses becoming skewed. “Good girl, oh you are adorable!” Annette cooed at her, and Beatrice felt her face becoming flush. “Now lets get your stockings on,” Though the socks didn’t go quite up to the top of her legs, Beatrice could feel the top of the lace of the stockings tickle the bottom of the very thick padding, and as she stood up and looked down, Beatrice could see that the embarrassing maid outfit no where near hid the bulk of her diaper. Silently she prayed that none of her charges needed her for the rest of her evening.   “Now, someone needed a baby bottle of wine?” Annette said as she pulled out another package from the bag. Beatrice, still looking down at her garish attire, starting to picture her wardrobe in the upcoming months if she fully agreed to this, nodded enthusiastically. “Ok, lets get baby comfy in Nanny Annette’s room.”   Annette packed everything back into the large black bag including Beatrice’s clothes that she was starting to miss dearly, took Beatrice by the hand and marched her through the wide halls of the manor, Beatrice’s ears twitching at every creek that she had grown used to. Sure, she had gone to schools smaller than this building, but she had never felt so sure that someone in all the acreage would wander upon her right at this moment in the dead of night. Her anxiety peeking as they drew closer to the wing with the children’s rooms in it, and only dissipated as she was brought into Annette’s childhood bedroom.   The room, as all the Masterson children’s were, was larger than Annette’s entire apartment, a walk-in closet that Annette would be comfortable using as a bedroom, a bathroom, and a (relatively) small lounge area with a few recliners and a sofa that Annette had used as a place to privately entertained friends as an adolescent. “Make yourself comfortable, ok?” Annette told Beatrice, setting the bag down and left.   Beatrice had been in this mammoth sized room a thousand times before and this among all other times was the most uncomfortable she had been, in both the room, her clothes, and her own skin, hearing the crinkle of the diaper on her whisper with every step as she made her way to the bed. She crawled up on it and made a nest of the pile of stuffed animals that had been there since the Annette was a child. How many times had Beatrice climbed on to this very bed to read Annette a story, and cuddle her after a nightmare? Too many to count. This time, she was the one in need of comfort, as she clung to the side of a large elephant.   Some time passed by, too much time, Beatrice kept expecting the door to swing open and one of the younger Mastersons to creep into the room and find their Nanny dressed like an infant. To the trashcan and gutter, Beatrice grimly reminded herself, to the trashcan and gutter. Her thoughts darkened as the minutes ticked by, Beatrice wondering how she had been convinced to get into this mess.   The door creaked open, and Beatrice instinctively hid her body into the pile of stuffed animals, until she heard, “Bea-Bea? There you are, silly goose, get out of there,” Beatrice stuck her head out of the pile and saw Annette, one hand with a bottle of ruby red wine with a tan nipple on the top, underneath, nestled into her armpit the rest of the bottle that Beatrice was thankful to see, feeling more than ever like she needed a drink, and in the other arm her brother’s BS-7, the cables neatly wrapped around the console and a pair of controllers in her hand. She hoped the second controller was just for show, not wanting to carry Annette through a round of multiplayer or the campaign.   “Well, don’t just stand there, get comfy on the couch while I set this up.” Annette said as she set both bottles down, and going by her large television, fiddling with cables trying to set it up. Beatrice toyed with stepping over and helping her, but the invitation of being intoxicated was too much, and was drawn towards the bottle like a bee to a rose.   The familiar bee-beep came from the BS-7 as the tv lit up, Annette looking proud of herself for setting up the system, looking behind to find Beatrice pulling her pacifier out of her mouth and starting to guzzle down the bottle. “Hey! Let’s not get this party started so quick!” She took a few steps towards her Nanny to took the bottle from her.   “Hey!”   “Ahh, ahh, we’re gonna do this right, my little Bea-Bea,” Annette passed a controller to Beatrice, who greedily snatched it, ready to lose herself in the distraction of a fast paced game. Beatrice set up her own profile in the matter of seconds, with an appropriate name of ‘BB’, while Annette got herself comfortable and pulled Beatrice on her lap, “There we go,” Beatrice, after a second of hesitation, laid back, relaxing on Annette’s chest, having to admit to herself that she’s had worse seats, though the diaper acting as a pillow on the girl’s boney legs certainly helped. The screen went dark as production studios’ names flashed across the television, Annette turning the lights of the room off with a remote, and Beatrice was grateful that she was no longer able to see herself, able to imagine herself on a pillow, no weird baby things on her at all, until the nipple was plunged into her mouth.   The rich, sweet taste of fermented grapes coated Beatrice’s tongue as her game started, she was unable to completely escape into the setting, with Annette cooing at her, “Good girl, make your baba allll gone! Oh, Bea-Bea is sooo thirsty.” The cooing made Beatrice feel rather awkward, until the praise and comments became about what she was doing in game, “Oh, nice headshot, baby. You’re so good at this!” Between that and the buzz of the alcohol creeping into her head, Beatrice was becoming accustomed to the feeling. “I’m so proud of you baby.” The last one feeling less strange as time went by, and not only becoming used to someone holding the bottle for her, but starting to enjoy it too.   It must’ve been an hour after Beatrice had started the game, and a refill of the bottle, her head swimming, when she felt a pressure in her bladder. “Oh, I gotta pee-” She said, moving to get up, just to feel a pair of arms wrapped around her tight.   “Oh no, baby,” Annette whispered softly into her ear, “You owe me one change of pants, remember?”   “What? But-”   “Just sit back and enjoy your game, Bea-Bea, Nanny Annette will get you fixed up in a jiffy,” The girl said softly, starting to rub Beatrice’s belly through the stiff fabric of the new dress.   “Wait, you’re going too har-” Beatrice gasped as a loud trumpet came from her rear, the hot gas from her fart with little place to go but the tight space in her diaper, the smell slowly seeping through the waistline and leg holes and mixing with the scent of baby powder. Beatrice let out a little moan, positively mortified, half certain that Annette was about to throw her down in disgust.   “Looks like someone’s a little gassy, that’s alright, Nanny knows babies can’t help it, can they? Good girl.” She said as she kept rubbing Beatrice’s tummy.   Oh, the humiliation, not only passing gas in front of her employer, but right on top of her, and to add insult to injury she was getting praised by it. Beatrice was ready to call all of this off, throw in the towel and run away, pretend none of this had ever happen when-   There was a tiny trickle escaping from her, getting wicked away, seeping into the absorbent padding around Beatrice’s crotch. For a second, she thought she could pretend nothing was happening, but she should’ve known better than that.   With the older woman’s crotch right on top of her lap, possibly by design, Annette was quick to realize what was happening, “Is my li’l Bea-Bea using her nappy like a good girl? Yes she is!”   Annette reached down and rubbed the front of the diaper, probably just to feel the warmth and feeling as it filled up, but another outcome came from it.   Beatrice let out a moan.   The hot plush pushed up against her in such a way that thrilled her to no end, and all air escaped her lungs and she leaned back, and pushed her hips into the touch before finally coming to her senses. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t m-”   The touching stopped, one hand retrieving the bottle and depositing it into Beatrice’s agape mouth, Annette’s other hand reaching up and pulling Beatrice’s hair free from the tight bun. “I wasn’t quite expecting baby Bea-Bea to like that so much- I can work with that. Nanny wants a happy girl, yes?” Holding the bottle, Annette reached down and started to play with Beatrice, the woman at first aghast with what was happening, her reservations quickly vanishing as she leaned into it:   “Mmmm!” She moaned through the bottle, losing herself to pleasure and inebriation, bucking her hips surrounded by thick, pleasantly warmed padding.   The first orgasm that rocketed through her body came quickly, her body stiffening then relaxing in the throes of ecstasy, the next, her body made her and her new Nanny work harder for. Beatrice, barely thinking, grasped and searched for the controller that had fallen from her hand during her first pulse of pleasure, pressed it as deep as it would go into the bottom of the diaper, jostling it like a vibrator, firing off a round in the game and letting the controller whir to life in her hand and against her crotch until all ammo was gone, and another orgasm sprang from her loin, her sounds of pleasure escaping her mouth, the nipple of the bottle falling from her lips, a trickle of red wine creeping down the corner of her mouth as she fell back into Annette’s chest.   “That was- Good,” Beatrice breathed out, satisfied and exhausted, not to mention a little confused and completely soaked at the bottom.   “Bea-Bea is happy?” Annette asked, bringing the bottle away, playing with her once-caretaker’s hair as the woman nestled into her chest.   Breathlessly, Beatrice agreed, “Bea-Bea happy,” She squirmed in the girl’s lap, the squish of the wet diaper starting grow on her as she became accustomed to it.   “Well then, I suppose my little one is ready for a change,” Annette asked, but Beatrice had already adjusted herself in Annette’s lap, turning Doomshooter 4 off and going to the Witcher 4.   “In a little bit,” Beatrice said, her voice whining a little more than she meant to. “I haven’t played this yet.”   “You don’t mind being a little wet?”   “It’s fine,” Beatrice said as the screen turned black as the next game started up, “It’s a thick diaper, it’s not gonna leak, soon anyways.”   “Mmm, ok… So does Bea-Bea like being Nanny’s baby?”   There was a pause in the air as Beatrice scrolled through a menu, the prologue of the game starting. “Ask me in the morning.”   Annette chuckled, Beatrice noticing out of the corner of her eye the girl pulling out her phone and scrolling through a store, dropping new adult baby outfits and gear into the cart, but not voicing any objection. She wriggled her butt into her Nanny’s lap, already comfy but enjoying the squish, “Baba, please,” And almost instantly had a nipple in her mouth, thinking to herself:   I can get used to this.

I have no idea what the OP is talking about, nor what's the intent of the question.