Been Looking For A Story About A Girl Named Candi(Y)

[DDude25]

And I can't find it anywhere.

about a girl named Candi(y?) who had a couple of accidents, and then her parents forced her into diapers....can't find it anywhere.

[lil_baby_wet_n_squishy]

Candi's Dilemma

The following is fiction, just for fun folks.

Day 1:

My name is Candi. I had a terrible day today at Saint Martin High School, where I am a sophomore. I'll tell you about it.

During mid-morning break, I went to the school bathrooms in the corridor between her classes. I had stomach cramps and knew that I had to poop BAD.

I have always hated to poop anywhere but at home in my own toilet with nobody around to hear the noises and smell the smells. But this time I knew I couldn't hold it any

longer. So I chose the last stall on the left, pulled down my cotton panties, and sat down to do the deed.

It all would have been ok, except that while I was straining to relieve my aching bowels, Susie White, the most popular girl in school, walked in on me! The door latch was

broken, but, geez, she could have just looked under the door. Anyway, she didn't, and the rest is history. I turned beet red and farted loudly in my shock, and Susie

laughed her ass off, pinching her nose and pointing me out to all the other girls in the bathroom. It was mortifying!

So now I'm home, and I'm so glad. I don't know if I'll ever live down the embarrassment. I'll bet Susie told all of the popular girls at school, and I'll be a laughing stock. Being

a teenager sucks!

Day 2:

I'm dreading school today. Mom is very strict, though, about missing school. Unless I have a fever, forget about it. And believe me, she checks. So off I go, but not without

fortifying myself with some shredded wheat.

I walk into my first class with my eyes downcast. I do not want to see Susie gloating at me about yesterday. I slink over to my chair and hope nobody will notice me.

Naturally, this is not to be. Susie walks in just after I do and asks in a VERY loud voice, "Does Candi have to poop? Candi makes stinky poopies!" The whole class

laughed. I just wanted to die.

An hour later, I entered my second class--algebra, yuck. At least Susie White is not in this one. As I sit there listening to Mr. Stahl drone on and on about X's and Y's and

equations, equations, equations, my tummy starts to rumble. Oh, no! Not again!

Day 2, continued:

No way was I going to poop at school again, no way! By ignoring the rumbling in my stomach for the next half hour, I was able to curb the urge. I still felt I COULD go, but

didn't have to.

That lasted through lunch. Then I had 2 more classes to go. Periodically, my stomach would cramp up, I'd begin to sweat a little bit. Then it would go away, to my relief.

The cramps became stronger and stronger and the period between them shorter and shorter. The last fifteen minutes of my last class was agony.

Now all I had to do was make it home. And I very nearly did. I had to stop walking every so often and stay very still, which increased the amount of time my walk took from

the normal fifteen minutes to about twenty-five. At last I was on my block. Just as my house came into view, a severe cramp seized me and as hard as I tried to squeeze

my butt shut, the poop oozed out into my panties. It was very soft, having churned around all day inside of me, and it spread out in my panties from back to front, though

must of it was in a giant mushy lump behind and underneath me. My jeans weren't exactly tight, but they weren't loose enough for all that poop either. So I waddled quite a

bit as I walked the last fifty feet or so to my house. I could smell myself and could not escape the feeling of poop rubbing all over me inside my soiled panties.

What was I going to tell my mother? I just prayed that she would be all the way in back of the house in the kitchen when I walked in. Maybe I could slide in and go up the

stairs before she had a chance to see or smell me. I was so embarrassed! I couldn't remember the last time I'd pooped myself. I was potty trained at 2 and couldn't

remember ever being in diapers or having an accident.

No luck for me today. Mom was standing right by the front door when I walked in. She immediately sniffed the air and asked what stunk, did I step in some dog doo? I said

no, and started to cry. "Please mom, just let me come in and close the door, it's not my shoes. I - - just - - couldn't - - help it, I sobbed. I had an accident. I'm really, really

sorry."

Mother wore a shocked expression. "You pooped in your pants?!! Are you sick?" she asked with a worried expression.

"Um, yeah, mom. I had these terrible cramps in my stomach all day."

"Well did you go at school? Why didn't you go to the nurse and have her call me to come pick you up?"

"I thought I'd be ok, mom, really. I just didn't know it would be so bad."

"Well, come upstairs and get cleaned up. What a mess! Leave your panties and jeans outside the bathroom door and I'll see if I can clean them."

"Thanks mom," I swallowed, still mortified.

The stench was unbelievable when I peeled off my jeans. Some poop had escaped from the panties onto the jeans, but most of it was like a pound weight in my panties. I

carefully stepped out of them and then jumped in the shower. What a relief!

I just couldn't put my soiled panties and jeans outside for my mother to see, I just couldn't! So I wrapped them in a plastic garbage bag and, once I was dressed again, took

them outside to the garbage pails.

My mother stopped me as I came back in the back door. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Um . . ., um . . .," I stammered. "I threw my clothes away mom. They were really a mess."

"Don't be ridiculous, Candi. Clothes don't grow on trees you know. They're not disposable. Go get them. I'll wash them out for you."

I was grossed out, but I knew arguing with my mother would get me nowhere. Once she made up her mind, forget it.

So I retrieved the bag in which I had wrapped my soiled clothes and handed it to my mother. She sighed. "I haven't had to clean up after a baby in a long time. You're sure

you feel all right? This is not going to happen again?"

"Oh, no, mother. I'm fine now, and it won't ever, ever happen again," I promised her.

"Fine," she said, and walked down to the basement carrying my clothes. I went upstairs to do my homework and watch some TV and then crashed. Boy was I relieved! My

mom could have been really mad and she could have really embarrassed me, but things went ok.

Days 3-5:

Resolved to never again be placed in the dilemma of pooping at school or in my pants, I tried to poop the next morning before leaving for school. I was somewhat

successful, thank goodness. The rest could wait until I got home. And it did. Whew!

The next day was much the same, but the day after that, disaster struck. I got up late, having pressed the snooze alarm one time too many while I was still asleep. I didn't

even have time for a shower. I just threw on some clothes, grabbed a pop tart, and ran out of the house. I didn't give my bowels another thought. At least until that afternoon

around lunchtime, when they made themselves known. It wasn't too bad, though, and I knew I could handle it and wait until I got home. I remained sure of that until last

period. Then I started squirming around in my seat, trying to ease the pressure against my bottom to let it all out. It was so bad that I decided I had better use the school

toilets before walking home.

As I walked down the corridor towards the bathroom, I saw Susie White go in ahead of me. Oh great. I wasn't about to go in while she was in there. So, gritting my teeth, I

waited. And waited, and waited, and waited . . . About ten minutes later, the janitor came by. She opened the door to the bathroom and a cloud of cigarette smoke billowed

out.

She started yelling in Spanish and broken English to the teens in there smoking in the bathroom. She promised she was going to get the principal, she was going to keep

them from using the girls' room as a smoking lounge. I could hear the girls inside giggle nervously. They tried to calm the janitor down, telling her it would never happen

again and that they were only experimenting. I knew better, of course, having seen them smoking out near the bushes behind the school many times. But I wasn't about to

say anything; I just wanted in that bathroom! I heard the janitor scold them again and tell them to leave and that she would call the principal if she ever caught them again. I

hid around the corner, waiting for the girls and the janitor to get out of there.

Finally, it was my chance. I heard the girls giggling and gossiping on their way out, and a little while later, the janitor's cart rolling away. I walked quickly around the corner,

homing in on the doorknob to the bathroom. Locked!!!!!! I had never before tried to use the bathrooms this long after school was out. I should have realized, though, that they

would be locked. Oh, cripes! Now I was in real trouble. If I just had to pee, which I also had to do, I'd find a tree somewhere on the way home. But how could I poop without

any toilet paper or place to sit? And what if somebody saw me? I had no choice but to try to make it home in time.

I failed. The pain was just too great. I had a huge mess to make and it was pressing against my bottom with unbelievable force. I finally just had to stop walking and push

with all of my might to unload into my pants. Because it was so much firmer this time, it was a little harder to do, but I HAD to get some relief. The fact that I was wearing

stretchy cotton pants made it a little bit easier. Of course, those pants also made it patently obvious to anyone that I had pooped in my pants. I had a huge lump sagging

behind me. Fortunately, I didn't see any neighbors out on the way home. It was a cool and overcast day, so people were staying inside.

Not MY mother, though. And not her sister, my aunt. They were standing on the patio together talking when I walked up. Both turned expectant smiles on me and started

to say hello. Then my mother noticed that I was walking funny and trying to keep just my front towards them.

"Candi? Is anything wrong?"

I gulped. "Uh . . . not really . . ."

Then my mother sniffed and I knew it was all over. "I can't believe it! You pooped in your pants again didn't you?" She turned to my aunt, "This is the second time this

week. Can you believe it? My teenage daughter can't seem to keep from messing her pants!"

I was mortified. I looked around quickly to see if anybody else had heard my mother's loud voice. No one was there, but that was small comfort. "Mother," I whined, "I'm

sorry. I'm really sorry. I can explain . . ."

But mother cut me off. "Maybe you can explain once, but twice? No ma'am. You get your messy bottom inside and your father and I'll deal with you later."

I still had to get by mother and my aunt to get in the front door. There was nothing else to do, so I waddled by them, clearly displaying the bulge in my pants. I heard my

aunt say, "Tsk, tsk. At her age. What are you going to do?" I didn't hear the response as I was running upstairs to get out of my soiled clothes again and into the shower.

Once I was clean, I came downstairs to talk to mother, to explain about the bathroom, that it wasn't my fault. But when mother saw me, she ordered me back to my room

until dinnertime.

I heard my father's car pull up in the driveway, and heard him walk through the door to be greeted by mother. Usually, he called up after he greeted her, "Hi Candi!" but he

didn't this time. I heard the two of them talking quietly for a while, but couldn't understand the words. I knew that she was telling my dad about my accidents, and I had no

idea how my father would react.

Later, mother called, "Candi, come down for dinner." I opened my door cautiously and headed down the stairs. Mom was putting food on the table and my Dad was already

helping himself. This was life as usual, but I knew something was coming. They made me wait until after dinner. I was so anxious that I didn't eat much, and I wasn't offered

dessert.

Dad pushed his chair back and told me to come into the living room. Mom followed. We all sat down, and my father began to speak. "Candi, your mother tells me that

you've been having accidents like a toddler in your pants."

I broke in, "I can explain! I couldn't go at school because they locked up the toilets, and . . ."

"Surely the toilets can't be closed during school," my mother said.

"Well, they aren't, but they're locked right after school and I couldn't get in"

"Enough," my father said. "Other teenagers manage somehow to use the toilet to relieve themselves. You're having a problem with that, and we're going to help you with it.

Two accidents is enough. If you're just being lazy then, well, you're going to be sorry about that. If you really can't help yourself, then this is the solution. Next week is

Spring break. Starting tomorrow, Saturday, you're going to be wearing diapers until you can show us that you've grown up enough to use the potty."

I gasped. They couldn't be serious. But they were both staring at me, giving me that, "you're in trouble and this is going to happen whether you like it or not" look. I

groaned, "You can't be serious."

We're dead serious, and to show you just how serious we are, we are going shopping tonight for your diapers. "Do I have to go?" I cried.

"Yes, you do," my mom responded. "We have to get the right product and size for you, so you have to be there. Besides, maybe the embarrassment of all this will help

cure your problem."

"No!" I screamed. I wasn't going to do this, and they couldn't make me. How wrong I was. My father picked me up like I was a little kid, threw me over his knee, and started

spanking me, HARD! "Dad!" I yelled. "Ouch! Ouch! What are you doing?"

"I'm doing what I obviously have not been doing enough of lately. You will do what your mother and I tell you to do without sassing back, or you will get spanked. Do you

understand?" he asked, all the while still spanking me.

I was in tears by now and just wanted the pain on my bottom to go away. "All right, all right!" I cried. "I'll do whatever you want!" Dad let me up. Tears were still falling from

my eyes and I was sniffling, rubbing my stinging bottom.

"Yes, you will. Now get in the car. The backseat, both your mother and I are going."

My head down, I walked out the door and got into the back seat of my mother's Buick. Not long after that, my parents joined me in the car and drove to a medical supply

store that I had never noticed before. My parents must have looked it up in the yellow pages while I was waiting in the car.

I relunctantly got out of the car. "Come on, Candi," my father said, and he grabbed ahold of my hand. He walked me like a little kid across the parking lot, with my mother

on my other side.

We walked straight to the front counter. "We need some diapers for my daughter here."

In a surypy sweet voice, the woman asked, "Are we just having problems with the bladder, or have we lost control of our bowels as well?" She smiled. "With the bowels,

you know, we need a thicker diaper."

My father replied, "Oh, yes. We need the thickest diaper you have."

"Well then," the woman chirped cheerfully, "Let's get you what you need dear." This she directed at me. I was trying to pretend that this was not really happening to me. I

know my face was ten shades of red.

My Dad was still holding my hand and he dragged me over to where the woman was leading us.

"We have a store brand that's quite good. It's thicker than any of the name brands, so not only are they less expensive, but they also need to be changed less often. A

much better value, if you ask me," she confided.

I finally looked up. I dreaded what I'd see, and I was not disappointed. On the box was a picture of a humungous diaper, showing all of its special features--the leg gathers,

the strong tapes, and the thickness. Oh! They must have been at least an inch thick.

The saleswoman continued, "Your little girl is quite small, about 5' tall, 100 pounds?"

"Yes," said my mother, "almost exactly."

"Then I think the best size for her will be the youth size. They're darling, too. They have little patterns around the top. A little juvenile," she chuckled, "but heck, she's

already wearing a diaper. It's kind of appropriate."

"I couldn't agree more," my Mom said. "How many boxes do you think we'll need for a week?"

"Hmmm. One box is probably fine for a week, but I'm certain you'll like these. Wouldn't you like a larger supply?"

My mother looked at me. I pleaded to her with my eyes, please, please Mom don't make it more than a week. She sighed, "No. Thank you, not for right now. We may be

back," she said, giving me a pointed look.

I looked back at the ground and my father dragged me up to the cash register to make our purchase. The drive home was quiet.

to be continued if people are interested

Day 5, continued:

I couldn't for the life of me think of anything to say in the car. The package containing my--MY--diapers was on the seat next to me. I knew they wouldn't have bought them

if they weren't serious about using them. I wouldn't call my parents cheap exactly, but they hate to waste money.

All too soon we were home again. I was glad that it was dark outside, so no one could see my father take the diapers inside. They were inside of a drugstore bag, but boy

was I ever paranoid.

My mother called me into the living room. "Lie down here, Candi."

"On the floor?! You can't be serious."

"I'm not asking again," my mother said. "Next time, you'll be spanked, and that last episode will feel like a tickle. Now lie down!"

I quickly complied. When mother grasped the buttom of my jeans and started to undress me, I looked away. I just didn't want to be there. But she kept calling my attention

back to what she was doing, saying things like "lift up now, honey, so I can slide your panties down. Oh my, look at these stains." I had farted nervously, though thank god

silently, in the drugstore while the saleswoman guided us over to the diapers. Apparently, it was a little more than just a fart. "It's a good thing we got you these diapers."

If I hadn't been so horrified about the thought of wearing a diaper, I might have noticed how soft and comfortable they were. That wouldn't come until later though. For now,

all I could do was cringe while my mother tightly taped up the waist and remarked on how cute the little designs around the top were. "They're ducks. How darling!"

"Candi, go look at yourself in the mirror," my mother ordered.

Getting up off the floor was not as easy as it used to be. The thick diaper prevented me from closing my legs all the way and it put me off balance. I managed, though, and

toddled over to the full length mirror in the hall. I started to cry. All I was wearing was a diaper and a T-shirt. "It's not fair! It's not fair that you're making me do this. I hate

you!" I screamed at my parents.

My father came up to me and grabbed my arm. "That's enough! You're the one who couldn't control herself. It wasn't your mother or I who pooped in your pants. You did.

You will take the consequences of that. And if I hear one more complaint out of you, I'm going to give you the spanking of a lifetime! You better behave yourself, or you'll be

wearing diapers for a lot longer than one week, young lady."

Hicupping, I said that I was sorry.

"There's a good girl," said my father. "You just needed a little reminder, didn't you?"

I didn't answer.

"Well," my mother said briskly, "time for bed." I opened my mouth to object that it was only 9:00, long before I usually went to bed on a Friday night, but the looks on my

parents faces warned me not to. "Come on, sweetheart." My mother led me by the wrist upstairs to my bedroom.

"Uh, Mom?" I said at the top of the stairs. "I have to go to the bathroom."

"No, no, Candi. For this week, you're wearing your bathroom. You're not allowed in the bathroom by yourself, do you hear me? The bathroom is going to be just that for

you--a room where you take baths."

"Mom," I whined, "I can't go like this. It hurts. I really have to go." I started to whimper.

"I guess you'll go when you really have to, then. Come on." My mother grabbed a pajama top from my dresser.

"What about the bottoms?" I asked.

"Never mind. I doubt they would fit over your diaper, and I have to be able to see when you need to be changed. Come on to bed." She led me over to my bed and pulled

down the covers. "Hop in."

I gave my mother a look of reproach, hoping she would relent. I really was uncomfortable, but there was no way I was going to wet a diaper. So I knew I'd be up all night.

Mother just made sure I was lying down and pulled the covers back over me.

Then she left, closing the door behind her. I lay there awake, feeling the bulk of the diaper between my thighs, the smooth plastic surrounding my bottom. My need to pee

got worse and worse. I thought about getting out of bed and sneaking to the bathroom, but knew that I'd be in BIG trouble if I got caught. At this point I knew that I couldn't

hold it all night. But I also couldn't pee lying down. So I stood up next to my bed. Still, nothing. Gosh it hurt! I walked around a bit, trying to ease the pain or relax enough to

just pee it out. Finally, I stopped still and imagined a waterfall cascading over my head. That did it. A strong stream of urine poured out of me into the thick diaper. It went

on for so long that I was certain the diaper would leak, but it held it all. The whole thing was warm now and my crotch and bottom felt wet. I didn't know what to do. I sure

as heck did not want to get back into bed with a wet diaper.

In the end, I decided that that would be worse than admitting to my parents that I had a wet diaper, so I opened my door and went downstairs. My parents were sitting on

the couch watching TV. I craned my head around the corner and said quietly, "Um, Mom?" She and my father looked up at me.

"What are you doing out of bed, Candi?" my mother asked me.

"I, uh, uh, uh . . . need . . . . um, I peed," I stuttered.

"Oh, is my little girl wet?" my mother crooned. "Well come on over, baby, let's check the little girl's diaper."

Reluctantly, I came all the way around the corner. "Yes, somebody made pee pee in their didees," my mother said in a childish tone. My father laughed. "Come on Candi,

all the way over here so mommy can check your didees."

Why did they have to humiliate me this way? The diaper was yellow, obviously wet. Why couldn't my mother just change me and get it over with?

Once I was standing in front of her on the couch, my mother put her finger in the leg hole of my diaper. "Little girl made wettums didn't she? Well, you're ok, baby, for

tonight. Go nite nites now and I'll change my wet little girl in the morning."

I couldn't believe it. All this and she wasn't even going to change me??!!! "Mom . . ." I began to plead.

But she interrupted me. "Candi, go to your room right now. It's way past your bedtime. Mommy will know when its time to change your diaper. You just go nite nite for

now."

Resigned, I turned around and waddled back upstairs. I noticed that the diaper was even thicker now that it was wet. I didn't think that I would sleep, couldn't possibly sleep

in a wet diaper, but I did.

Day 6:

The next morning, my mother shook me gently awake. "Candi, wake up," she said in a sing-songy voice.

When first I opened my eyes, I forgot all about the previous day's events. Then I felt the thick, wet diaper underneath me. And I smelled the stale pee. So did my mother.

"Baby Candi go pee pee in her didees, didn't she? Ok, mommy make all better. Come on, sweetheart, and I'll change you out of that wet diaper." She changed me right

there on the bed. She must have brought in the bag of diapers and baby wipes the night before while I slept. It felt so good to have that wet diaper taken off of me, I sighed

in relief. My mother cleaned me well with a wipe, rubbed baby lotion on my crotch and bottom, and then taped up a new, dry diaper. A little bit of baby powder on my legs

and it was over.

"Come on downstairs and have some breakfast."

"Like this?"

"Yes. You look cute, sweetheart. Come on now, toddlers wearing diapers aren't shy about it."

I thought to myself that I was NOT a toddler, but that hardly seemed convincing when my mother had just changed me out of a wet diaper and into a dry one, one with

ducks across the top, no less. So I waddled along behind my mother down the stairs.

"There's my baby," beamed my father. "Don't you just look darling. Come sit on my lap, honey." He patted his lap. I didn't move. "Candi," he said warningly. I got the hint. I

slowly waddled over to him and permitted him to place me on his knee. Since he is 6 foot 5, it was no strain on him.

My mother fed me oatmeal while I sat on my father's lap. How much worse is this going to get I wondered.

It got quite a bit worse. After breakfast, my mother bathed me in the big bathtub off the master suite. She wouldn't let me do anything for myself, and I practically died when

she washed my crotch and my bottom. "Let's get rid of these nasty old hairs," she said, and proceeded to shave my mound. "There, just like a three year old," she

declared. And she was right. I could see in the mirror over the sink that I had lost all of my grown up attributes. I'd always had small breasts. Now they somehow looked

even smaller, and my hairless vagina looked positively childlike. I just grit my teeth and told myself that all of this would be over soon. My hair would grow back and my life

would get back to normal.

Mother dried me with a huge towel and then diapered me again. I was almost getting used to the routine. I knew that nice dry diaper would be wet soon enough though.

Mother had forced enough juice down me at breakfast to drown an army. She added a T-shirt to my ensemble and left me to wander about the house like that. I never

thought I'd miss pants so much.

I wet several times over the next few hours. Mother was experimenting to see how much the diapers would hold, so she didn't change me until I leaked at about 4:00. I had

a feeling that it was going to, fortunately, so I was standing on the kitchen floor when it happened. I had to call my mother in to tell her what happened. "Well, now. I guess

we know how much those diapers can hold, don't we." She smiled up at me. "Let's get you cleaned up and into a new diaper."

The evening went pretty much the same as the one before. I didn't even try to get changed, though, when I wet my diaper about one hour after I'd been put to bed.

Day 7:

Candi awoke knowing, this time, that she was wearing diapers--wet ones, at that. She also awoke feeling a distinct cramping in her belly. "Oh no!" she thought, "I've

got to poop. How am I going to get out of these diapers and poop in the potty? Surely Mom and Dad don't want me to poop myself. Gross!"

She got out of bed and waddled towards the stairs. Her diaper was so wet that it sagged halfway to her knees. She could smell her mother cooking bacon

downstairs. "Mom!" she called. "I need help."

Her mother set the bacon aside and walked to the bottom of the stairs. "What is it sweetheart?" "Oh," she cooed, is baby wet? Mommy will change her wet little girl.

Wait just a minute while I finish up Daddy's breakfast."

She had already turned to go back to the kitchen when Candi said, "Wait. Mom, my stomach really hurts. I need to use the bathroom."

"No bathrooms for babies. I've already told you that. You bring me a clean diaper from your room and some wipes and I'll change you soon."

"Mom," Candi whined, "I'm serious. This is too much. I NEED to go to the bathroom."

"Candi! You march straight back into your room, NOW! You're being very naughty. Your father and I will deal with you after breakfast. Now go!"

Candi tried once more. "Mom, PLEASE," she begged.

Her mother started up the stairs with an angry look on her face. Candi forgot all about her bowels and raced into her room. She was relieved that her mother did not

follow her in there. Then Candi remembered that she was wearing a very soggy diaper. How much longer would it be until she could be changed? How could she

stop herself from pooping?

An hour went by. Then two. Candi's bottom was starting to itch from the constant contact with her wet diaper. Her stomach cramps were getting stronger. Finally, in

despair, she stood up in the center of her room and pushed out a large load of soft poop. She could feel it completely filling the seat of her diaper and oozing into her

crotch. The diaper felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. She did not want to sit in it, but knew she couldn't remain standing forever. She compromised by lying

down on her bed on her stomach. She still felt the pile of poop settle down on her bottom, and she grimaced. Would her mother ever return?

A few minutes later, both her mother and her father walked into Candi's bedroom. Her father sniffed the air. "Smells like somebody has a poopy diaper," he said,

almost jubilantly. He walked over to where Candi lay on her bed, looking mournful. He patted her obviously filled diaper. "Oh, my, and it's a big one," he remarked

to her mother. "Feel this."

Candi's mother walked over to Candi and pushed on her poop filled diaper. "Oh, yes, we have a messy little girl." She smirked.

Candi started to cry. Her mother's push had worked the poop further into her crotch, and she felt like she was coated all over with it. "Mommy, please, please,

change me. I promise to be good. I really will, I promise!"

"Shhhh," her mother soothed. "You've been a good girl. Mommy will change you out of your messy pants. You've been punished enough with your time out."

Candi sobbed in relief. Her mother fetched a clean diaper and a container of baby wipes. When she undid the tapes on Candi's diaper, she smiled and cooed, "Oh,

my, such a stinky baby. Who's a stinky baby now?"

Her mother had to use a lot of wipes. First, she wiped the poop out of Candi's crotch. It felt so good, Candi was confused. It shouldn't feel good to have her mother

wiping poop from her messy diaper, but it DID. As she wiped Candi's bottom, her mother noticed that Candi's skin was very red. "Oh, poor baby. You're getting a

diaper rash," she announced. Let's put you in the bathtub and give that poor bottom a break."

So into the tub went Candi. Again her mother did all of the cleaning, moving Candi's hands out of the way when she tried to wash herself. "There's my clean baby,"

she beamed, when she pulled Candi from the water. "Let's get you dressed."

This time, Candi noticed how soft the diaper felt under her bottom, and how soothing it was to have lotion wiped all over her. She felt safe when her mother pulled

up the diaper and taped it tightly. Even the baby powder felt nice on her legs, and it smelled nice too. Candi's mother dressed her in a dress that she had outgrown

years ago. It still fit around the top, but it was WAY too short. The bottom of the skirt just barely covered her diaper. It was pink, with yellow and blue flowers all

over it, and a yellow ribbon along the bottom. Candi's mother then put socks with lacy tops on Candi's feet and patent leather maryjane shoes. Finally, her mother

tied her hair up in pigtails with yellow ribbon that matched her dress. When Candi's mother announced that they were going out, Candi's heart went into overdrive.

Adrenaline poured into her blood. Surely they wouldn't, couldn't, take her OUTSIDE like this!!!!!!!!!

[TheMagicDragon]

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[DDude25]

wow thanks for posting it!