Sissy Room

the last order I had from them was bad and not made right. that was my last order I placed with them.

(WARNING: This story has one scene of non-kinky violence, heavy themes of loss, and worst of all, a sad ending (or maybe happy.. in a way.) Also some diaper and bondage stuff, probably.) (FEELINGS WARNING: I wrote this story when I was feeling particularly sad, and it's a bit of an... emotional gut punch, to put it lightly. I honestly couldn't stop crying while writing it. More in the post-word, but... this one's gonna hurt before it gets better, baby.) (ALSO: This story's a bit more... artsy, than my usual works. Not a ton of fetish focus here, but of course, kinky themes. Beware of Staccato sentences.) ---   There it is. You thought you’d used them all up months ago. You cried the last time you threw one out. But no. There’s one left. Tucked away deep under your bed, in the corner you always missed when you were little. One last diaper. Your shaking hand reaches under, to pull it out, careful as if it might fall to dust at any moment. A Rearz. Big. Poofy. Crinkly. Like the old days. Before it all happened. It is pink. You liked pink, at one point. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen it this vibrant. You almost don’t want to. You want to leave it there, and never touch it again. But… You look out the window. They were coming. Coming for you. Coming for it. And this time, you couldn’t stop them. You need to be quick. You gently remove your tattered undergarments, and lay out the precious padding. You sit. Heaven. The softness. The comfort. You never thought you’d feel this safety again. You tape it up, a faint memory resurfacing. — “...diapers?” “...yeah.” She says. Her eyes are locked on the package. “I thought… you know… you could…” “I… kind of thought you were joking.” “I…” She hiccups. “No. No, it’s stupid. I’ll throw them-” “No! No no no, sweetie, honey…” You reach out and clasp her hands, over the thick, bulky packaging. “They’re… perfect.” She looks up, eyes wet. “You… you’re not just saying that?” “I’m not. I’ve been looking things up since you tried it and… I kinda… wouldn’t mind it.” “You wouldn’t?” Her face lights up like Christmas day. “Yeah. Who knows? It might even be fun.” “Oh, you won’t say that after I spank you the first time.” You both laugh, as she begins to unwrap the package with shaking hands. “...you’re joking, right?” Her smile says everything. — Her smile. You look down at the padding numbly. How long had it been since you’d seen her smile. You’d seen her. Walking the streets. Stumbling around, as if drunken. Only on occasion. She didn’t often come to this part of the neighborhood any more. You’d made sure of that. Them, though… You hear Them knocking. You shake your head. You gently massage the front of your padding. You’re not sure you have the strength to orgasm any more. But you can try. You push a number of fingers inside your diaper, closing your eyes. Number. — “Oh, wow, you… did a number.” Your face is hot. “Sorry. I… ate a lot.” “No! No, baby, sweetie, this is… you did this for me?” “I mean… I know you were interested in… this sort of thing and…” She looks to you intently, as she has begun to wipe, the cool sensation gliding across your undercarriage. “...and you didn’t mind?” “I mean… it was gross. And… smelly. But… I dunno. It felt… freeing? Like a weight was lifted from my shoulders.” “Or somewhere else.” She smirks, poking your navel. “Hey now.” “Oh, you know I’m just teasing.” She smiles softly, cheeks dimpling, as she puts your next diaper under you. You wait for her to tape it up… but your face lights up red again as you feel her hands worming their way to your most sensitive spot. She just smiles, and winks, as you arch your back, letting loose the barest of whimpers. “My sweet baby…” Her hair glimmers in the evening light, as she ushers you to… Towards… — Her hair. What color was her hair. You clutch your head, breathing heavily. It feels like your spine is fighting you. Your chest feels like it’s compressed with rocks. She… her hair… you couldn’t remember… her hair… her hair… it… her hair… The room goes dark, breathing heavy, the knocks getting louder and louder, you can almost hear them- Autumn. …She was an autumn. Your body relaxes, as you imagine her hands around your waist. You reach down to hold them, but they are lost like the wind. Her hands… — “Do you take this woman, hand in hand, to be your lawfully wedded wife.” You have the biggest smile on your face, the sunlight streaming down over the two of you like heaven itself has given its blessing. “I do.” “And do you, ma’am, take this-” “I do! I do, I do, a thousand times I do!” She is far too eager, throwing up her hands, visibly bouncing. Her eyes gleam with the sparkle of hope for the future. “Then you may now kiss the-” She doesn’t even wait. She throws her arms around you, and locks you in a deep, passionate kiss that shakes you to your soul. She bends one knee back, foot out behind her under her wedding dress, leaning on you. You’re tempted to do the same. She only pulls back after what feels like hours. “God… I… I love you.” She says, face inches from yours. “And I love you.” You begin to walk with her down the aisle. Confetti rains down, you hear people cheering, but you only have eyes for your wife. She tsks, softly. “Your parents still aren’t here?” She asks quietly. You look down. “I… didn’t invite them.” “I thought you liked them.” “I did, but…” You pat your outfit… and the padding underneath. “They didn’t approve of… this.” “...right.” She says softly. “Well… fuck ‘em.” You bark out a short laugh, as you begin down the steps towards your waiting car. No limos, not on your budget. Just a honeymoon to the nearby lake, and a reception at home. “Babe, it’s our wedding. Language.” “Oh, all right. No foul language in front of the baby.” she smirks, winking to you. “Besides… ‘babe’? Really?” “Too much?” “No, it’s just…” She leans in, with a breathy whisper. “I thought I told you to call me mommy.” Your heart skips a beat. “You’ll pay for that on the honeymoon~” Your smile somehow grows even wider, as you help your mommy into the car… — Mommy… How long had it been since you said that out loud? Mommy. Your lips try to form the word. “M… muh..” Your throat is dry and cracked. You hadn’t spoken in weeks. “Muuhhh mom…” You feel like an infant saying their first word. “M…mommy…” The instant the word is out, your throat clogs up, and you cry tears you didn’t know you still had after all these months. “Mommy. I… want my mommy…” You bury your face in your hands. Not screaming. Not begging. Whispering. “I… need… my mommy…” Mommy… — “Don’t you ever want kids, mommy?” “...no. Why would I? I’ve got you.” She holds you tight, her nude form divinity incarnate. You glance at the TV. “Mommy… don’t you worry it’s gonna reach us?” “Babe… relax. It’s not even on the mainland yet.” You cuddle close to her bare breast as you look at the screen of the TV in front of you. Men in hazmat gear, carrying stretchers with familiar black bags you’d only seen in movies (those scary movies your mommy let you watch when you were good, the ones that sent you crying into her arms and her bed.) Men in army fatigues. Warnings to stay at home. Them. “Don’t look baby.” She clicks her remote, and you see a familiar dinosaur from your youth, singing the alphabet. “See? This one is still running.” “What about my favorite channel?” She turns away. “They… went off the air. Their broadcasting station was-” “All right.” You say. You’d heard enough. You cuddle closer to her, face buried in her shoulder. “What if they get me, mommy.” Mommy holds you tight. “They won’t. The CDC closed all borders. No one in or out. There’s no chance of an outbreak. Not here. Not in this safe little town.” You kiss her breast, your bare form against hers, clenching your legs in her diaper. “...what if… they get you.” She stares at the dancing dinosaur, as the broadcast flickers. She smiles. “Like Hell.” “Language… in front of the baby.” — Hell. This was Hell. You stand. You dare to take a look outside once more. You pry off the wooden board over the window, looking down from the second story. There they were. Them. Still clawing. Still insistent. Moaning. Drooling. Gnashing. Their rotted hands scrape across the barricades of your house. Too many hands. Too few barricades. You quietly take Her revolver and load your last bullets. You aim wordlessly, and put a clean shot through what might have once been a man, who almost had entered the house. One bullet gone. Four left. Not enough for all of them. But maybe enough… for Her. Her… — Her eyes bore into you, as she holds your cheeks. “Look at me. Look at mommy, baby.” “Mommy… I’m so scared.” You say. You feel your bladder emptying into your diaper. “I don’t want to die.” “You’re not gonna die, baby. You’re not gonna.” She says. “When I say go… we go.” “But-” “That’s an order. Or do you want another spanking?” You choke out a laugh. Or maybe a sob. She takes your hand, looking out from behind the mall dumpster. “Go.” You fly. She flies faster. She always did. Your car is fifty feet away. One between you and the vehicle. She runs straight for it. You scream, despite yourself. She whips out her taser from her belt. “Piece of shit.” She says firmly, in the tone she used to discipline you, as she digs it into the former woman’s waist. “Language.” You think to yourself, even as you run towards her. Electricity cracks. It doesn’t flinch. Its maw yawns open wide, saliva stringing between its jaws, leaning forwards. “...fuck.” She whispers. Mommy is in danger. With speed you never knew you had, you SOAR. You and It crash to the ground. There. A rock. You take it and smash its head. It moans. You bash it again. It twitches. Bash. A sputtering gurgle. Bash. Its hand jerks, ring still on its finger. Bash. Bash. Bash. Stillness. Bash. Bash. Bash. Bash. Bash- “Baby! Baby!” Her arms wrap around you, pulling you away. You look down, numbly. “...red paint.” You mumble, your body sticky. “...I think you got it, baby.” she says. “First point goes to you…” You choke a sob. “...bad timing. Come on, honey, we’re almost home.” She helps you to the car before They catch up. You don’t even register she’s putting you in the back seat. In that oversized car seat you loved so much. So much red. She buckles you in with the bunny-patterned seat belt, before she quickly moves to the front seat, getting in. “Are you set?” You let loose a helpless murmur, as she starts the car. “Knew I shoulda filled up.” she says, tapping the dashboard. A clunk against your window. You don’t look. She peels out. You ride along in silence, looking at the mobile above your crib. Dancing elephants. For a moment, you think it looks stupid. Then you reel back, and apologize to every elephant in turn. Joffrey. James. Juniper. Jeremiah. Those four had been there when she first got this car with the last of your savings. Been there for every night back from being tied up in all sorts of painful, wonderful ways. Been there for every mess while stuck in traffic. They didn’t deserve this. You wouldn’t get to see them much longer. Your eyes grow tired. “By the way, you did such a good job back there… Mommy’s so proud of her…” Her voice goes fuzzy. Your head droops. “...baby…” Baby… — Baby. You squeeze the trigger. The muzzle flash blinds you. What looks like it might almost be a woman crumples to the ground. Not Her. Not yet. Not- Her. There. The edge of the crowd. Fighting like hell. Pushing the others. Shoving them. Tearing them. Like she knows her baby’s in there. Like a mama bear returning to the cave. Like she knows it’s almost over. You raise your revolver. Revolver… — “I never knew you owned a revolver.” “You didn’t know a lot of things about me, baby.” She says, tucking it into her holster. “...do you have to go?” “...it’s my family, baby. I love them.” “...more than you-” “Don’t. Please don’t. You know that’s not true.” She puts her arms around you. “I’ll be back soon. I promise. I just… I need to know. I need to make sure.” “Sure.” “...don’t do that.” “What?” “That pouting face. You know I can’t resist it.” “I’m not doing it.” She smiles. God, her fucking smile. “Baby. You know you can’t stop me.” “...I know. Never could.” “That’s not true.” She pecks you on the forehead. “I’ll be back for you. I promise.” Promise. Her hand brushes the doorknob. A whimper. Sudden, jerking from your throat. As if knowing what would happen. She pauses. And unholsters Her revolver. You aren’t afraid. She hands it to you, handle first. “Take it.” “No.” “That’s an order. I’ll spank you till you cry.” “I don’t give a-” “Language in front of the baby.” “I’m the baby!” You cry out, desperate, longing. “...no. You’re not.” She touches her stomach. “Not the only one.” You blink. Your mouth goes dry. “How long?” “A few weeks.” “You… we can’t - not with-” “I’m…” She sighs. “...We’ll figure something out. We always have. We always will.” You look down at Her revolver. Blunt iron. One hell of a baby toy. “...you-” “A mommy needs to protect her babies.” She says. “All of them.” Your hand grips the revolver. Tighter. You don’t want to. “It’s okay, baby.” You take it. It’s so heavy. “You remember where the stash is?” “Uh huh.” “And your training?” You nod, a lump in your throat. “Good boy.” She ruffles your hair. “Your favorite’s in the fridge.” You perk up. “I thought we were all out.” “I… made some more.” She hefts her chest. “First time in a while.” You blush. “Enjoy, baby. I promise, I’ll be back. I love you.” She says, as her hand touches the doorknob once more. Love.. — Love. You love her. You can’t see. Too much water. The revolver barks. It digs into the sodden earth. Damn. …language. It’s okay. Two left. You only need two. One for you. And one for… Your throat lumps up. You aim. Tighter. Tighter. In your sights. Her beautiful hair. Grey. It wasn’t always grey. It was the most beautiful shade of- Another bark. It grazes her locks, cutting just a few hairs short. You can count your heartbeats. One. One left. That’s okay. It’s for her. As long as she… She… — She should have been back by now. Your eyes scan the outside, despite her warnings. They are there. Shambling. Unfocused. There. Her clothes, pink. She always loved pink. She’s- No. No, it’s… it’s not her. Not her at all. It couldn’t be Her. It. It. It. You fall to the ground. Your mouth opens, but you don’t hear it. Your fist slams against the floor. Over and over. Red. You wail. Wail that you should have gone with her. Wail that you should have convinced her. Wail like an infant who had just learned to breathe. Wail. Wailing. Numb. — Numb. Your fingers are numb from squeezing the trigger so long. The revolver dips further. Then it lowers. No. This could only end one way. Like it could have any other. You see her now. Clawing against the front door. As if begging for you to let her in, after you pranked her to watch cartoons. Your butt still stung from that one. Your hand darts to the end table. Her phone. How could you let her forget this. Focus. You press the power button. It begins to boot. Not enough juice. Enough for this. The screen lights. You type her birthday on the unlock screen. Your finger slips. Red. Damn it. You do it again. Got it. Like you could ever forget breakfast in bed. You don’t look at her wallpaper. You don’t look at the photo app. You’ll break if you do. You flick screens, to one app. The only one you needed. The one she’d used to keep an eye on you, when it mattered. You look one down one more time. She’s there. Pressed. Hands against the door as if praying to it. You press the button. FRONT DOOR UNLOCKING. The sputtering generator in the basement gives a hollow wheeze. The front door opens. She falls in. The others stumble, not expecting Her absence. Your finger flicks. FRONT DOOR LOCKED. The house wasn’t for Them. You heard her now. Stumbling in the antechamber. Around the corner, Mommy, to the steps. That’s it. You grab your favorite stuffy. Worn and tattered, from when you were an actual child. She’d offered to have it restored. You told her when you had the money. The paycheck never arrived. You clutch the stuffy close to your chest. She’s reached the stairs. Heavy. Clumsy. Like you, when you first tried bondage. You pet your stuffy. Jimothy. That was the name. You clutch the stuffy tighter, revolver still in one hand. Jimothy. Poor Jimothy. Did her name start with… She’s upstairs now. You hug Jimothy one last time. No tears. This was a happy day. You tuck him under the crib. He shouldn’t see this. She’s at the door. Knocking, not like before. Gently. “Can I come in?” Her words echo in your mind. “I’m in here, mommy!” You call aloud, smiling brightly. “Ohhh, where could my baby be…” It wasn’t her of course. Couldn’t be her. But you’d always liked playing pretend. The door is open now. She was always so strong. Strong enough to lift you. To lift anything. To lift the world on her shoulders and never let it down. She’s here now. Haggard. Stumbling. Her pink jacket, gone. Her shirt, torn. Her neck, red. But it was her. God, it was Her. “There you are! Silly baby was hiding in their room, just like always… oooh, is that a messy diaper I smell!” “No, mommy!” You say. “Not yet!” “Ohhh, Mommy’s so proud of you!” Her jaw hangs slack. She takes a step forwards. “Come here, you’ve earned a big hug.” “Yes mommy.” You say. You lean forwards to crawl. A clunk on the floor. You look down to the revolver. Still in your hand. This isn’t a baby toy. You flick your thumb. The chamber splits. You empty the last, lonely bullet, and slide it off, skittering across the old carpet, under the crib. You don’t need it, anymore. You crawl to her. Your knee digs into the bullet. You don’t even notice. She doesn’t advance. Her arms are open. “Good baby… such a good baby…” The smell. Your diaper. Maybe. …maybe. You ‘re halfway across the room. You feel like your life should flash before your eyes. But all that you see is Her. She looms over you. Big. So big. She’s just… waiting. Waiting for her baby. “Such a good crawler! Mommy’s so proud. Mommy loves you so much.” You stumble. You’re weaker than you remember. Growing babies need milk, after all. Finally here. At her feet. You kneel up, balancing. Your legs ache. Your heart is full. She kneels to greet you. Eyes vacant. But arms open. Your watering eyes clear, just enough for you to finally read what’s on her shirt, in crude, hasty sharpie. ‘I’ll always love my baby.’ You fall into her arms. She wraps hers around you. You feel her lips on your neck. You close your eyes. You don’t even feel it happen. All you feel is her arms around you, and her hair against your cheek. Mommy is home. --- ...Mirriam-webster defines a Tragedy as- Ok, ok, I'll stop. Yeahhhhh, I was in a very dark, lonely place when I wrote this. Have been for a while.  I dunno, it all laid itself out before me and I had to put it to text before I forgot it like always. I apologize if it felt a little... cheap, at times. Sometimes I just write things in as I go, and it gets out of hand (hence my verbosity.) With that said, I feel this is the closest any of my recent pieces have gotten, or could get, to true art or poetry. Or at least, something resembling true art, as much as I can make it. Like putting a soiled diaper in a gilded frame and calling it the Mona Lisa. I am proud of this piece, in a twisted way. I don't think I could have ever written something like this while I was happy, and I'm kind of proud of it. Almost. As close as I can get. This story was a bit of a self-challenge, with some novelties for me.  -To write in a gender neutral perspective. -To write characters that weren't self inserts (debatable) -To write something less smutty. -To never use names. -To never use hard descriptions (bent or broken in final scene, admittedly). -To have a sad, or at least bittersweet, ending. -and, finally, to avoid using words like "zombie" or "undead" in what was ultimately a zombie story. If I failed to achieve any of these goals, feel free to let me know, but I think I did a decent enough job for the most part. I hope this story evoked even a semblance of the feelings for the reader, as it did for me. Obviously I don't wish them true sadness, but... empathy, is all I hope for. Happiness where it counts, and maybe a little bit of arousal too. I was gonna subtitle it a "tragic diaper one shot" but that sounded pretentious and kinda silly. May change it later, who knows. I sincerely hope you all enjoy - I can write more one shots, hopefully less sad, but these two, I think I'm content to leave in their own. ...I may write an alternate ending that rather crashes the tone of the story, if enough people want it. It would be a little closer to my usual, silly fare. Anyways, new chapters of my DD story to come soon, and I'm working on a new, lengthy episodic story that I hope people will enjoy.  For now, though, I need to go out in the sun.

It will be a Daily Diapers exclusive for awhile. If it does go to Youtube, I want some other stuff I can post there too. Other stuff that I am working on now, but like this, will take awhile. Of course, everything I make that is ABDL related gets posted here first! This place really helped open me up to ABDL and meet so many like-minded and wonderful people. ❤️🧷🍼

You know, I really would like to see a high capacity, premium diaper, with a shell as soft as Tranquility. But also with a really soft inner acquisition layer, and padding that is just as equally soft. Nobody makes a diaper like that. It's either a soft interior and a hard landing zone on the shell like PTD or little troubles. Or they make an inferion interior with a super soft exterior like Tranquality ATN. @NorthShoreAdam. This might be a good idea to go with, if you ever want to make a truly ABDL diaper. It's would certainly fill the current gap, and be a diaper everybody wants but nobody has.

I wish commercials made more sense and would just go back to saying what their product is and why you should buy it. Today, it all has to be a gimmic. They drawing your attention with sex or some stupid gimmic that's supposed to be funny (but isn't). They use annoying or loud sounds, which only makes you want to change the channel. Or they show you something completely unrelated for 29 seconds, then barely flash their product the last 1 second.  It's gotten to the point where I now refuse to be subjected to any more of this crap. Any time a commercial comes on now, I just mute the sound and refocus my attention elsewhere.