quietlyhumiliated Posted April 17, 2022 Author Share Posted April 17, 2022 Eight: Nursery “It smells like paint,” she said. “Is that the project? Are you repainting the store?” “Not all of it.” The back door closed behind him and he flipped on the lights of the stockroom. Harper immediately turned her attention to the changing table, pulled out from the nursery. “Ah,” she said. “Is that what this is? Renovations for the Baby Room?” “I needed a distraction,” he said. “Once I’m done, I’m sure the room will go just as unused as it is now.” “Let’s see,” she said, walking into the room and turning on the light. “Okay, well I like the paint color. What other changes were you looking to make?” “I bought a mirror for the inside of the door. Maybe I’ll upgrade the changing table - get one of those custom-built fellas? I’ll stock the shelf in here with wipes, powder, etc. Maybe hang a mobile? Get some stuffed animals? I’m winging it.” “I’m not picturing it,” she said, stroking her chin. “So, like, where would the changing table go, ideally?” “Over in that corner. Opposite of the one it was in before, I think.” “That makes sense,” she said. “Could we put it there now? I just want to picture what it would look like.” “Yeah, sure,” he said with a shrug. It was probably easy enough to move with just one person - he had gotten it out of the room by himself earlier - but it was even easier with two. They carried it into the room and placed it down. Harper stepped back and tilted her head, seeming to try and see what the finished project would look like. “Yeah, okay. I’m seeing it now. With that wall color? And the changing table here? I think that makes more sense.” “Alright, good,” he said, letting out a sigh of relief. She had always been the better decorator and her approval carried a lot of weight. “Actually,” she said, “maybe the placement of the changing table isn’t perfect.” “No?” “I don’t know. It’s hard to say without seeing a person on the table. Like, I feel like having a body on the table is going to change the aesthetics a little. That’s an important thing to consider.” “So, would it help if I, like, laid down on top of it?” “Oh, for sure. That would help a lot, actually.” He did so, climbing atop the converted bench, lying down on his back. It reminded him of a few days earlier, during the night spent at the shop. But with her here, it reminded him of days long past. “Does that help?” he asked. She laughed, and he laughed in response. “No, not really.” “No? Why not?” “I mean, I just see a fully dressed man laying on a table in what I’m supposed to imagine is a nursery of some sort. It’s not working for me.” “Okay, so what would help?” “If I’m supposed to imagine a baby laying on this table, then I think I need to see a baby.” “Interesting,” said Layne. “Should I go...find one?” “No, no,” she replied. “Not at this hour of the night, anyways. We’ll have to do with what we have.” “So…” “So, take off your pants, big boy. We need to make sure this room is going to look alright with a baby in it.” This suggestion itself was a surprise to neither - both knew where this was going when Layne had first suggested that they take a drive. The surprise was just how into it both were. Both had suspected the other would be hesitant or wary of actually going through with this. He unfastened his pants and pushed them down his legs, boxer briefs included. She stood near the other end of the table, catching the crumpled mass of cloth and helping lead them down the remainder of his legs. Just like old times. Just like riding a bike. Just like taking the pants off of your husband so you could put him in a diaper. It had been a while since she had last seen his cock. If it hadn’t been two years, it had to have been incredibly close. It hung to the side, semi-inflated - as if waiting for the go-ahead to fully stand at attention. She didn’t give that permission. Not yet. “Choice of diaper?” she asked. “There’s an open pack of Carnivals in the stock room,” he said. “Or, whatever, lady’s choice.” “I’ll take a look around. Be right back - don’t go anywhere.” “Wouldn’t dream of it.” True to her word, she wasn’t gone all that long. She rummaged around the shelves quickly before tearing open a plastic package, drawing a single diaper from it. “The Peach Bottoms,” he said, seeing the peach-colored diaper in her hand as she returned to the nursery. Undersellers, though a style he had always been a fan of himself. “Legs up,” she said. She probably didn’t even have to say anything, his legs were already in motion as the words came from her mouth. She slid the diaper under him, and he automatically knew when to lower himself atop it. She pulled it through his legs, taping the sides and sealing him into it. She even gave him a playful pat on the padded bottom before stepping back. “Okay,” he said. “How about now? Does this help you picture the finished Nursery better?” “Hmm,” she mused, stroking her chin. “We’re getting closer. I think you need to look...smaller. More babyish.” “More? Any suggestions?” “You’ll need to lose the shirt, for starters.” She unbuttoned his shirt before helping him to wiggle his way from it and the black tee underneath. They were added to the pile with his pants on the ground. Then, catching a spot she missed before, she pulled his socks from off of his feet. “Now we’re talking,” she said. “Baby Puddles, in just his little diaper.” That name was another blast from the past. Up until now this had been cute. A fun diversion from the soul-crushing despair of the future. But the deeper into this game they had gotten, the more he could feel itches getting scratched that hadn’t been for some time. More than that - it was getting reacquainted with an old friend he had seen in years. One of those old friends he thought it would be super-awkward to try and converse with all these years later. Yet, within seconds, they were carrying on as if no time had passed. Hello, Baby Puddles. I’ve missed you. “Is somebody feeling very little?” cooed Harper, looking down at him as he stretched out in the changing table - her words broken down into musical syllables. Her fingers playfully danced up his chest. “I can tell.” He wanted, badly, to say something snarky or sarcastic. Something very Layne. But there was nothing that could be said that wouldn’t ruin this moment, and he wanted this moment to last for as long as possible. “I know a thing or two about this little baby boy,” she said softly. “I know the things he likes. Well, I knew what he used to like. But I bet that he still has the same, uh, tastes now. Is that right?” He nodded immediately, not even certain that he knew what she was referring to. But as she began to pull off her top, his eyes lit up with comprehension. His mouth watered. She didn’t remove her bra, she had just pulled her left breast from it, letting it hang openly before her. “Yes?” she asked, watching his face grow more and more excited. “Would you like this? Do you want to be fed, little one?” He stopped just short of thrusting his head up to bite at her chest like he was some sort of diapered piranha. There had been a lot of things that he missed about ‘the good old days,’ but most of those things could be reproduced in some way by himself - wearing diapers, crawling around, etc. But this was an experience he truly believed he’d just never get to have again. She lowered her chest down to his face slowly, until he could just barely reach it when he strained his neck. It didn’t stop him - he would’ve turned his head round 180 degrees if it meant he could taste her nipple again. That perfect teardrop shape with the flesh button on the end, how he missed it. His lips enveloped it, suckling on it loudly. They both moaned. Her hand reached between his legs, grasping the firming lump in the front of the diaper. Permission granted. He was hard as a rock and throbbing in her hand as she stroked him through the bulky padding. “Does the little baby like this?” He unleashed a groan that could only be described as positive-sounding. “Do you remember when we used to do this all the time?” He nodded. “Come,” she said. “Sit with me.” She stood up, pulling her breast from his mouth. His lips made a final weak attempt to reach up and grasp her nipple, but it was already too far away. She left her shirt off, and left the nursery, unfastening her bra and letting it fall to the ground as she did. He quickly sat up on the table, swinging his legs off the side before sliding off to follow. But he didn’t walk to her. He could’ve - and she certainly hadn’t asked him to do anything else - but he could remember the way that this used to go. When she summoned her baby, her baby crawled. And so he crawled from the nursery, across the stockroom, and to where Harper had taken a seat along the far wall. Her legs were splayed open, a welcome invitation to return to a figurative-womb. He spun himself around, sitting between her legs with his back to her, letting her wrap her arms around him and pull him in close. There was a momentary thought about how often Effie swept the floor like he had once asked her too, but that faded away quickly, making more room for Baby Layne to be present. “Isn’t this nice?” she asked. He offered some sort of content moan. “I missed this.” Her hands slowly slid down his bare chest and stomach - a few extra pounds of soft baby fat since the last time she had probably done something like this - until they had reached his diaper. She gently squeezed at it, feeling the padding squish beneath her fingers. There was something about diapers - the psychological expectation of diapers - that had embedded itself in his psyche just as much as potty training had. While outside of diapers, he had all the control he could ever need. In diapers, his body knew what the end result was going to be and it was well-trained to make it happen. So he wet himself while her hands were on his diaper. “Oh gosh, Baby Puddles. Are you actually…” Another affirmative moan. “It’s so warm,” she said softly into his ear. “Keep going. Really fill that diaper and live up to your name.” It was out of his control now, but she was going to get exactly what she wanted. “Do you remember Lake George?” she asked. She didn’t wait for a response. “We thought we were the only ones at the campsite for days. We could go anywhere and do anything we wanted, and there didn’t seem to be a soul there to see it.” He nodded. “And there was that rec center there, with the pool table and the arcade games and the jukebox. And you played that Stone Temple Pilots song like 18 times in a row.” “Plush,” he said with a laugh, further melting into her hands as she rubbed his diaper. “I dared you to take your pants off and keep them off, right? For the rest of the week. Just you and your diaper. And you did it. Because you were such a good baby. And you waddled around in your sagging diaper? Mommy had to keep changing you because you couldn’t keep a diaper dry for more than an hour at a time.” There was a lot more that she could probably have said, but he knew the stories just as well. In the silence that followed, he was transported back to that final full day of camping. Three or four days of almost exclusively using diapers in the woods had finally become second nature and little thought had been given about concealing it. They had returned to the rec center for a last game, or five, of pool. He hadn’t just emptied his bowels into his diaper - he had been rather belligerent about it too, making an entire production out of bending over and loudly filling his pants. All fun and games, of course, until he learned - moments too late - that another couple had finally shown up to the campground and had thought to stop in the rec center at that exact moment. He thought of this as a very good memory. “You can still be my baby,” she said at last. He considered these words carefully, as their meaning wasn’t immediately discernible. He could interpret them as meaning that she had stopped wanting him to be her baby, and that she had since changed her mind and decided to allow for it again. Or, he could still be her baby - after whatever came next. That was it, he realized. Finality. An end loomed in the distance, and they were now talking about after. “Will you have other babies?” he asked. “Oh, maybe. If they want to be.” “Syd?” “Hmm, yes. I think so,” she said. “Really?” “I think they’re curious. Maybe it’s just because they think it would please me if they tried - and they’re right. But I wouldn’t doubt their own curiosity.” “Take some diapers home,” he said. “No, I don’t think so.” “No?” “Well, I mean, that was my original thought too. But maybe we get that nursery finished and I bring them here?” He laughed. “Yes, please. Let’s bring some purpose to that closet before Effie convinces me to make it a break room.” “What about you?” she asked. “No special ladies on the horizon that you want to change your diaper?” “I’ve got a little project I’m working on,” he said. “Though I don’t think she’ll be the Mommy type.” “No?” He shrugged. “We’ll see. But...if you and I can stay on good terms, maybe I can get your help?” She laughed at this, not even able to imagine what he had in mind. “When you need me, let me know. For now? What if we do something about this diaper?” “No,” he said. “It can hold more.” “So we’re going to sit here all night and wait until you think it’s full enough to change?” He shrugged. “What about this?” she said. “I’ll help you finish painting the Nursery. Then? You get a diaper change. And then we go home.” “Seems fair.” “So until we’re done painting,” she said, “do your worst.” She gave his diaper another squeeze, this time catching the tip of his firm shaft within. “Oh. I almost forgot about this.” “It’s not really your responsibility. I mean...you certainly don’t owe me any…” “Always such a chatty little boy,” she taunted. She reached around him with her left hand, pressing a thumb against his lips until he opened his mouth and let in. Her right hand slipped into the front of his diaper, grasping his shaft before gently stroking it. “Yow thon’t haff tah…” “When a thumb is in your mouth, Baby, you just suck on it. It means no more talking. Just let Mommy take care of you.” And when he finally came in his diaper, that was when they finished painting the nursery. He was absolutely sure that he’d never walk into that room again without thinking about this night. 10 Link to comment
maly Posted April 19, 2022 Share Posted April 19, 2022 You are a refreshingly original author and i love it. Please keep it going. Maly. 1 Link to comment
aldl4811 Posted April 20, 2022 Share Posted April 20, 2022 I loved that last chapter!! 1 Link to comment
quietlyhumiliated Posted April 25, 2022 Author Share Posted April 25, 2022 Nine: Around Effie preferred spending her days off alone. She could be a social creature at times; when she needed to be. And it wasn’t like she was getting overloaded with human interaction while at the store. She just liked being home, surrounded by her things. No diapers, just books. No cardboard shipping boxes, just the warm glow of her TV. But she was not home today - already a strike against it. She knocked on the strange new door in her life. There had been times in the day or two leading up to this moment, where she had been overwhelmingly anxious. Others where she was curiously optimistic. And the rest were spent wishing she had never agreed to any of this. It’s not my fucking store. The door opened and Margaret was there to greet her. “Punctual, I see. I like that.” Effie was punctual when she knew she had to be. Work was not one of those times. But she wasn’t able to disrespect Margaret McCrea. “Euphemia,” Margaret said as she closed the door behind Effie. “I’m sorry?” “It’s a Greek name. It is from where your name, Effie, is derived. You told me the other day that your name wasn’t short for anything.” “Oh. Well…I can assure you that my name is ‘Effie’ on my birth certificate.” Margaret laughed, walking into her kitchen with Effie trailing behind. “The Greek have a wonderful language. Like...pána.” “Pána?” “Greek for ‘diaper,’ I believe. More of an infant’s diaper, I think. Still seems fitting though.” Effie had no clue if this was accurate or not, but she liked how worldy it made Margaret sound. “May I get you something?” Margaret asked. “Coffee? A warm bottle of milk?” Effie wondered how Layne would’ve reacted to a question like that. Would a question about a bottle of milk get his heart racing? Would he salivate uncontrollably? It did nothing for her. She had never experienced a longing for something so infantile. “Maybe just some water?” “I actually have some hot water on the stove - I was about to have a cup of tea. Perhaps I could make you a cup? I have a cranberry pomegranate herbal.” She wasn’t incredibly interested in tea either. She didn’t dislike it, but it often seemed so boring. Effie felt the same way about cans of flavored seltzer water where the flavor had to have been added by someone waving a single piece of fruit around in a warehouse. “Yes, that would be nice,” she said, just to be polite. “Let’s get business out of the way first,” Margaret said as she tipped the steaming silver kettle to pour hot water into two cups. “You have my word that Hamish Bellencourt will help set the council straight on whatever fire this group tries to light.” “I appreciate you saying so,” Effie said. “I suppose I’m a little nervous that there’s still a possibility that he could change his mind and…” “I’m going to assume you haven’t met Mrs. Bellencourt.” “No, ma’am.” “An absolutely abysmal woman. Rude, snooty, and a broomstick shoved so far up her bottom that… Well, you get the idea.” Effie nodded, understanding it enough. “They have a relationship built on a foundation of need. She is the head of a major nonprofit. He is, well, a councilman. The status of each only empowers the other. And that is exactly where their relationship ends. There is no romance. There is no sex. And if he were to mutter the words ‘diaper me’ to her, she’d likely burn the entire city down as to eradicate any record of him having said it. In other words - Hammy needs me, and he cannot live without me. If I told him to go to a council meeting and tell them that the sky was green, he would do it - all the while daydreaming of getting his next dirty diaper changed.” This was enough of a convincing argument for Effie. Margaret placed the cup of tea down in front of her. “I have to say, I’m very happy that you’re here and that you’ve come around. Now then. I’m thinking that we’d start with you pulling your pants down and then crawling over my lap so that I could paddle you.” -- “So how off base would I be if I asked you where you were last night?” Even though Syd had seemed pleasant and in good spirits when they first came by the house this morning, Harper could tell that something was off. They seemed bothered or annoyed. Harper was tempted to pry a little - as she would’ve if it had been Layne with a little pout on his face. But she thought she’d give them some space. Let them come to her with the issue if they needed to. And they had, as it turned out. Within minutes of arriving at the house, Syd had launched into the bee in their bonnet. “Are you...jealous? Suspicious? Help me out here.” Syd stroked their hair - the meaning of which was still a mystery to Harper. “Sorry, I don’t want to sound crazy. I just texted you a few times last night and I didn’t hear from you. And I guess I… No, no, this is on me. I think I’ve just had bad experiences in the past. I don’t want to accuse you of doing something wrong.” “I was with Layne last night,” Harper said. Syd seemed unsure how to react to that, which made sense to Harper. In the relatively short time they’ve known each other, she had never really spent any time with Layne. “Oh,” they finally said. “We got to talking, and then we ended up taking a trip to the store so I could help with a project there.” “I’m so sorry,” Syd said. “Here I am, practically accusing you of cheating on me with...your husband. God, I feel terrible.” Harper sighed. There was obviously more to the story, and now she was the one who was feeling terrible. “Actually, no. I think I need to tell you everything.” “Everything?” “It’s not...bad. Per se.” “Per se,” Syd repeated, clearly not liking the sound of that. “Layne and I, we have - we had? - this special kind of relationship for a long time. One that, you know, kind of turned into a business.” “The diapers and all that?” “Right. And, I don’t know, you and I had talked about it the other day. And then Layne and I were talking last night and I think we both just got hit with this wave of nostalgia. We wanted this...thing. This little ritual that we used to share.” “So you guys did that sort of stuff? Diapers and baby-things?” Harper sighed and nodded. Syd didn’t seem to know what to make of that. They stood there in silence for a few moments while they stared off into space. There were a few times that Harper wanted to say something - chime in with more details. As if there was a way to make ‘I made my separated husband come inside of a diaper last night’ sound non-threatening. “What does this mean? Are you two getting back together? Like, what am I supposed to do with that?” “Syd, I know this doesn’t make an especially compelling argument for the fact that our marriage is over, but...I think I know more than ever how sure I am about that.” Syd scoffed. “I honestly have no clue what I’m supposed to think right now. I’m hearing: ‘Yeah, after putting my hands all over my ex-husband - while participating in our very intimate mutual kink - I realized that I didn’t want to be with him anymore?’” “It sounds kind of crazy when you say it out loud,” Harper said, scratching her head. “But yeah.” They threw their arms up in an exaggerated shrug. “I want to live in a world where - even after our divorce - we’re still friends,” she said. “Friends with...strange benefits, I guess. Is that asking too much?” She watched Syd process what she said, before finally exhaling slowly - releasing some built--up pressure within. “I guess it’d be a strange new world for all of us. But it means a lot to me that you’re saying this now, as opposed to months down the road.” “I think honesty is pretty cool,” Harper said. “Is Layne on the same page?” “I gave him the book. Whether or not he read it is up to him.” Syd laughed, seeming to lose some of the flustered edge they had before. This came as a relief to Harper. “You know...if it’s a matter of wanting to, uh, be in a particular role...I’m game.” Harper’s eyebrows raised. “I don’t want that to come off wrong,” Syd quickly added. “I’m not saying that I want you to replace Layne with me. Or that you can’t have...whatever it is with him too. But. If it’s important to you, it’s important to me. And I’m curious.” “Genuinely curious?” “Genuinely curious.” “That makes me happy,” Harper said. “So. When do you think we’ll get around to it?” asked Syd. “Soon?” -- He was conflicted on how he felt about the days he was running the store by himself. He had done it for so long, pre-Effie, that it wasn’t an especially difficult thing. But he did like the company. Even - though he likely wouldn’t ever say it to her - Effie’s company. But these were also days for quiet contemplation, singing out loud to the radio without judgment, and ordering something ridiculous for lunch. These were also days he had to answer the phone. “Yeah, uh, do you like, uhm, sell...adult diapers? But, like, uhm, for...adult babies? With, like, colorful designs and stuff” “What is the absorbency of the Mermaid Girls versus the Carnivals?” “What kind of diaper should I get if I want to poop my pants?” It was days like these he felt bad for Effie having to field these questions on the days she was here. He wondered how she answered them, or if she answered them at all. “Mr. Stanlan?” He had answered the phone in a sleepy deadpan, not expecting to recognize the voice on the other end. “Grace?” “I hope I’m not bothering you.” “You bother me by calling me Mr. Stanlan instead of just Layne. Otherwise, you’re not a bother.” “If I could just have a moment of your time.” He looked around the quiet store. “You may have as many moments as you’d like.” “I was doing some...research.” He laughed, being reminded of what he had given her when she was last at the store - and the guise under which he had given it to her. “And how is that going?” “I don’t think I’m very good at it,” she said, sounding exasperated. She almost seemed out of breath, speaking on the phone now just after having exerted herself in some way. “I’m not sure if it’s the sort of thing you can be bad at,” Layne said. “We’re talking about the diaper, right? You can say ‘diaper.’ But if that is what we’re talking about, I’d say the only way that you could do it wrong would be if it was on your head. And even then...I’ve been there before, and it wasn’t that bad.” “These tapes are all crooked,” she said. “The whole thing looks lopsided. It’s not on very tight, either, I feel like it could fall off at any moment. And I had tried to adjust one of the tapes, but I guess it’s pretty sticky and it just ended up pulling a little hole in the diaper as I pulled at it. The whole thing is kind of a mess, really.” “Okay, well, none of those things seem that important.” “No?” “All possible user-errors aside, do you like it? Do you like how it feels on you? Do you like how it makes you feel?” She sighed, a little bit of a hum mixed in for good measure. “Do I have to say?” “No, I guess not. I mean, I’d love to know the answer. But it’s probably more important that at least you know the answer.” “Hmm.” “I don’t really know what you, or CALM, think it is that our store does, but I hope this is a small glimpse into the truth. We’re not dangerous predators, nor are we encouraging shady behavior. I’m selling escape. From adulthood. From reality. Do you feel like you’re escaping right now?” “Escaping my sanity, maybe,” Grace quipped. “Sure, sure. It’s all very silly and weird.” “I fear that I’m not doing it right,” she said again. “But I don’t dislike it.” “That makes me incredibly happy to hear.” “I thought you would. If you’re going to go and touch yourself now while thinking about me wearing a diaper, I don’t want you to tell me.” “Ms. Vander-frog, do you have reason to believe that I would be attracted to such a thing? To you?” “Well…” “Or, is it that you have thought about me wearing a diaper?” “I don’t have to answer that.” “Your silence is incriminating. Surely that must come up once in a while in your profession.” She laughed, a nervous and uncertain laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. “Guilty as charged.” “So, you don’t have to give me an answer right away - maybe think this over a little bit. But, if you really want to, uh, research this subject, I think I could arrange for you to get some real hands-on experience. We’re talking a guided one-on-one tour of all things regression. You’d be diapered and swaddled by the very best in the business.” “The very best? You’re not very modest, are you?” “Oh, I’m not talking about me.” “No?” “But she’s an exceptional Mommy. And I feel the odds are good that she’d be willing to show a new baby the ropes.” “Just days ago,” she said, “I stormed into your store and suggested that it be obliterated from the city. And today you’re trying to convince me to be treated like a baby at the hands of a stranger?” “Yes?” “I’ll think about it.” “Please do. Feel free to call back whenever you’d like. I’ll be around.” -- “You have [ONE] new voice mail message.” “10:47 PM: Uh, hi. This message is for Mr. Stanlan? Er, Layne? This is Grace Vanderhoeffen, following up on a conversation we had earlier today. The answer is yes. I am interested in taking you up on your offer.” “There are no new voice mail messages in your voice mail box.” 8 Link to comment
kerry Posted April 25, 2022 Share Posted April 25, 2022 Maybe Effie's day with Margaret isn't even necessary? 1 Link to comment
Bluebird67 Posted April 25, 2022 Share Posted April 25, 2022 32 minutes ago, kerry said: Maybe Effie's day with Margaret isn't even necessary? And how annoyed will she be when she finds that out? I love how the main theme of this story seems to be situations not being nearly as bad as they appear at first sight. But I do hope Effie isn’t lastingly upset by her experience. 1 Link to comment
maly Posted April 25, 2022 Share Posted April 25, 2022 Thanks for the update. Maly. 1 Link to comment
quietlyhumiliated Posted April 29, 2022 Author Share Posted April 29, 2022 Ten: Buttercup Spanking wasn’t entirely new to Effie. Her grandmother had been the paddling type - one of the very last of her kind, she suspected. Eleven years old felt like a very very long time ago, but in the scheme of things - and in consideration of her current age - it really wasn’t that long ago at all. She might as well have been paddled a week ago. Much more recently, in the minutes prior to when Effie had knocked on Margaret McCrea’s front door, Effie needed to come to terms with a hard truth: If she was going to do this for Layne and the store - and if she was going to come to this house at all - she had to be ready to fully commit. No matter what it was that this crazy lady wanted, it would be worth it if Hamish Bellencourt was on their side. And so, no, she wasn’t thrilled about taking off her short black skirt. Or her violet satin panties. She wasn’t at all eager for this woman, easily 20 years her senior, to see her nude from the waist down. “You promise?” Effie asked again. “What happens here stays here? No photos? No videos? No expectation that I will come back here again? No showing up in the store in the future and commenting on the things that happened here?” “What sort of monster do you take me as?” responded Margaret, clutching her chest as if greatly offended. “I just need to know that,” Effie said. “Because if you give me your word, I promise that I’ll do whatever wacky thing you want me to do.” “You have my word,” Margaret said, one hand on her chest and one hand raised as if being sworn in at court. “And my appreciation for being so open-minded.” “Okay,” Effie said. “Thank you. That means a lot to me, because…” “That’ll be enough talking, young lady.” Margaret’s voice had taken an abrupt swerve into stern and commanding. It stopped Effie in her tracks. More than that - it had immediately defined their roles. Margaret was in charge, and she would be respected. “Now then,” Margaret continued, after giving Effie a moment to let her authority sink in, “up on my lap. It’s time for your spanking, young lady.” As awkward as it was, and there was plenty of that, it could’ve been worse. After all, it hadn’t been that long ago since the last time she had been in this position. And she hadn’t forgotten it. Effie crawled over Margaret’s lap as she sat in a simple wooden dining room chair that she had pulled out from the table. Her midsection balanced on the top of the woman’s thighs, while her buttocks sat poised off the edge of her lap - the perfect position. She half-expected to hear something like “This will hurt me more than it will hurt you.” There was no such sentiment offered. She had still been in the process of nestling into Margaret’s lap when the first swat came in, stinging her bottom like a giant flat bee. She yelped louder than she thought she would’ve, or could’ve. She blushed, unprepared for having to sacrifice so much dignity so soon. The next four or five came at a steady rhythm - a firm slap, a pause, and then the next. Margaret had varied the force of her impact with each, making the next feel unpredictable in where - and how hard - it would land. Each eked out another short burst of noise from Effie’s mouth. “It is unfortunate for you that I know your type,” Margaret said. “All too well, in fact. I was once a little Effie. And I could have definitely used a firm paddling to keep me in my place” Effie heard the words, but hadn’t quite absorbed them. There were too many stimuli to focus on any one - and the most obvious were smacking her in the ass. “Six,” announced Margaret, tallying the number of swats so far. “Seven. Eight.” She could feel something happening, but it was hard to say what it was. It was an embrace of submission, for sure, but it was more. She was eleven years old again and she had just pushed her cousin into the lake. She was eight years old again and she had just thrown the bowl of lima beans into the trash can. She was five years old again and she had just wet her pants at the county fair. “Eleven. Twelve.” Effie had once begged an ex named Vincent to give her ass a few good cracks. He gave it a half-assed attempt - as he did with most things in their relationship. Now that she was getting to experience the real thing, she’d need more. It’d be a requirement of men, and women, moving forward. Or, she could just date Margaret. Very tempting. “Is that enough?” Margaret asked. Effie offered only a sheepish nod in response. “Then we best get you a few more, to make sure you don’t forget this anytime soon.” Fourteen, fifteen and sixteen landed in quick succession, targeting areas that had already turned red and throbbing. Whatever it was she had been thinking about - it was gone now. Effie had been driven to a blank numbness. The world faded and then blurred. She knew only two things now: her ass was absolutely killing her... “There. All done now, baby. Promise.” ...and she’d do anything to be called ‘baby’ by Margaret again. Margaret slowly and methodically rubbed Effie’s bruised and inflamed ass. The same palm and fingers that had caused such damage seconds ago now gently caressed her skin. It was a long ways from complete relief, but peace was being restored. “I know that’s not the most fun way to start our day off together. But I think it helped, don’t you? You seem so much more...supple now.” Effie agreed with this assessment. “We’ve got you feeling the part, but now we need to get you looking the part too. Come with me.” She had no resistance or hesitation in taking Margaret’s hand so that she could follow the woman through the house, up the stairs and towards another room. The paddling had warmed her bottom well enough that she hadn’t even considered the fact that she wasn’t wearing pants until they walked up the stairs. Before Margaret had opened the door, Effie imagined a nursery - not like the weird pseudo-closet that Layne worked on when he was in a mood, but the real thing. The place that the big babies who shopped at Bottoms Up either had or dreamed about owning. The door opened to reveal a pretty plain-looking guest room. Just a spare bed, some furniture, and some boxes that looked like they just had nowhere else to go. But there was no time to be disappointed. Sitting atop that bed was a small pile of folded diapers, just waiting for them. “I hope you don’t mind,” Margaret said, pointing to the diapers. “I made the selection myself.” “Buttercups,” Effie said softly. They were a cute style of diaper that Bottoms Up sold: Mostly pastel yellow with light blue flower shapes printed across it. “Shall we get these on you?” Effie nodded. “You must know what I need from you then, yes?” Effie might not have ever considered herself to be any sort of AB or DL, but she had absorbed a good amount of basic knowledge from just standing inside Bottoms Up. Stories people told. Discussions. Connecting dots when reading product descriptions. Observing the comments and conversations shared in the comments of social media. She knew how this worked - she knew the motions. But for the first time ever, she also had the honest-to-goodness passion to experience it for herself. She practically threw herself down on the bed, landing on her back. She knew where her legs would need to be, but she lacked the boldness needed to just stick them up in the air. Margaret, on the other hand, had no qualms about modesty or the quantity of boldness. She grasped Effie’s legs and lifted them straight into the air. For Effie, she felt more vulnerable now than she had while over Margaret’s lap. “What a good girl,” Margaret cooed, admiring the underside of Effie as if a car had just been lifted on hydraulics. “Shaved clean. You saved me the trouble of having to do that myself.” Effie blushed, imagining Margaret lathering her pussy before running a razor between her legs. She wished she knew that had been on the table. Next time. And then: What the hell am I thinking? There’s not going to be a next time. “You have to forgive me,” Margaret said, laughing awkwardly, as she longingly stared under Effie’s lifted legs. “It has been a while since I’ve been in the company of a little girl. Well - ahem - a young woman. I care for plenty of little girls. Though I’m usually the one reminding them that they’re little girls.” Did Margaret seem flustered herself? “Is...this okay?” Effie asked. She wasn’t entirely sure, herself, what this was, but it seemed to be the polite thing to ask. “This is more than okay,” Margaret said. “But be careful, little one. I could just eat you up. Absolutely devour you.” Effie’s cheeks flared with warmth. She had opened her mouth so that she could tell Margaret to have a taste, but she had stopped herself at the last moment. Maybe, for now, it’d best to let things take their course. If she wanted more she could think about it later when she wasn’t paddle-drunk. The Buttercup was unfolded and slid under Effie’s lifted bottom. For Effie, the world suddenly seemed to be lurching into hyperspeed. With a practiced and experienced handling of the diaper, Margaret made it ridiculously simple. Effie was reminded, briefly, of watching cooking videos on YouTube. They stir some pre-measured ingredients into a bowl and then flip it around in a hot pan to make the most delicious looking dish. Meanwhile, Effie would watch/stop/rewind/play/stop/rewind/play/stop nearly every 10 seconds and still end up with a dish that looked nothing like the one in the video. By the time she had finished thinking about cooking videos, she was wearing a diaper. So this is what it’s like, huh? She had seen so many big babies before - waddling escapists with at least one foot lodged in a world that she hadn’t been privy to. Their thick diapers sticking out of their pants, or at least being well defined within their too-tight clothing. It was weird to see until it had just become the norm. And, as the figurative anthropologist she sometimes pretended to be, there was little else to do but to monitor them from behind a counter. And now, she understood it. Perhaps not all of it - there were so many deeper holes that could be explored. But just feeling the bulk of the thick diaper between her legs seemed to answer questions she never knew she had. Like: How does a diaper make you feel safe and secure, yet also so exposed and vulnerable? Well, it just does - and it was the sort of thing that you didn’t question. “Do you like the way that makes you feel?” asked Margaret. “Uhm…” “A prideful little girl, yes? Did you think yourself above the other little babies in your shop? Did you never think you’d be one of them?” Effie, as far as she could recall, had never specifically said to herself that she believed she was above those babies. But with her sore bottom sealed into a diaper of her own, she recognized the creeping humiliation that was consuming her as the realization that she was really not that much different from the baby-men who prattled on at the counter of the store. “I like it,” Effie said finally. “I like how it makes me feel.” She said it to herself more-so than she had said it to Margaret. She needed to say it aloud to make it feel real and official. “Sit up, dear,” Margaret said, opening a closet. “We’ll need to complete the look.” The closet door slid open to reveal colors. Clothes hung from hangers. Toys and bins and boxes stored below. Stockpiles of colorful diapers in all prints and sizes. It was as if the entire store had been crammed into a small closet. Margaret selected a dress from a hanger. It seemed kind of small to Effie, but that also seemed like the point. It’s soft creamy-green color reminded her of spreading avocado on a piece of toast. A strange color for a baby dress - but one that seemed to make sense with her yellow diaper. “You shall be my little Buttercup,” Margaret announced. Effie nodded to agree - she had already seen that statement coming. She raised her arms into the air before she even realized she was doing it - allowing Margaret to pull the dress down over her. Once on, Effie could see that she had misjudged the dress’s size - albeit, only slightly. The top of the dress was an almost perfect fit for her. It was just the bottom that ended up being comically short. Intentionally so. Bottoms Up sold dresses much like this one - perhaps even this one. Effie imagined that she may well have been the one who hung it in the store in the first place - no idea that she’d one day be wearing it herself. Still, she knew as she sat there that this dress would do nothing to conceal the diaper. If anything, it highlighted it. It pointed it out with thick soft-green fingers. “Oh and we’re missing something,” Margaret said, a light-bulb almost having appeared above her head. She reached back into the closet and rummaged around until she found what she wanted. A yellow bonnet - a little brighter than the diaper, but close enough that it did make for a fitting cap to the ensemble. Margaret carefully positioned it over Effie’s head, tucking her hair into the back of it before tying it on under Effie’s chin. “There!” Margaret proclaimed. “You have to look at this.” She pointed to a full-length mirror on the back of the door to the room. From her angle, Effie couldn’t see herself, and so she slid from the bed, taking her first few cautious steps as a new baby. The mobility both was and wasn’t everything she had expected. The bulk between her legs forced each leg to make slow and exaggerated strides forward - that classic telltale diaper waddle. But she had been wrong to think that this was an awkward way of walking. On the contrary, this already felt natural and expected. There was the little girl in the mirror. Little Buttercup, her yellow diaper hanging well below where the dress ended. The yellow bonnet, meanwhile, contrasted with her paler face. She looked younger. Smaller. Fitting, because that was exactly how she felt. “You may be tempted to fight what you’re feeling,” Margaret said from behind her as she stared into the mirror. “You may think that this is just temporary. Sooner than later, you’ll return to your big girl clothes and you can leave this house thinking that you’ve done your party and that it’s over. And I won’t fault you for thinking those things. But, I’d implore you to savor this moment now, while you can. While you’re unjudged and free to explore this as much as you’d like to.” It was true - Effie knew there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Reaching it would be the point in which she said to herself” “Well, that was quite the day, wasn’t it?” But she was in no rush to reach the end of the tunnel. Margaret was right - this was certainly a moment worth pausing on and savoring. She imagined it being harder than this - like she would need to spend a half-hour convincing her body to just accept what she wanted. But no, it had been no harder than sitting on a toilet. As she stared at the baby in the mirror, she wet the diaper, feeling thick layers of padding wick away the moisture as quickly as it could. A losing battle - the diaper was overwhelmed by the steady stream, and until the padding could catch up, a small pool had formed in the bottom of the diaper. In the seconds that passed, every drop found its place within the diaper. The diaper was different now. Obviously; but it amazed her at just how much it had changed everything. She was no longer wearing a fluffy cloud, she was wearing a handful of wet bathing suit bottoms, and they hung between her legs shamefully. “My goodness,” said Margaret. “I’ve never seen a baby soil a fresh diaper so quickly. And this is your first? You barely got to experience it while dry.” “I...I think I like it better this way,” Effie replied. “Is that so? I have to say, this comes as a little bit of a surprise to me,” Margaret said. “It does?” “I had you pegged as a dainty little girl. A little princess, allowing yourself to be cute and doted on - perhaps the opposite of who I thought you are as a big girl. But...it seems to me that you’re actually a dirty little girl. A baby in filthy diapers who probably wouldn’t come to me to ask for a change.” Effie was unsure as to whether or not that was accurate - she had been a baby for less than 10 minutes. But it sounded right. “So you like your wet diaper?” Margaret asked. “Yes.” “Do you think you’d like it if it were...dirtier?” Effie immediately thought of Hanson, squatting down in the middle of the store and pushing a smelly mess into his diaper. She had been so mad and disgusted at him at that moment. But she could now sense another emotion lingering under that negativity. Jealousy? Was she jealous? Jealous that he felt he had the freedom to do something so disgusting and self-pleasing in public? Jealous that he had gotten the exact reaction he likely wanted before being able to go home and pleasure himself to those memories? “I would,” she said, her face hanging so that she couldn’t see her own cheeks in the mirror. “I can arrange that,” Margaret said. “How?” It was a silly question - she helped to sell some of the methods a baby might use to make a clean diaper dirty. “We’ll use this,” Margaret said, pulling an enema bag out from the closet. What an amazing closet, Effie thought. Margaret quickly added: “If you’d like, that is. I don’t wish to force anything on you.” “Yes,” Effie said. “I want that.” She might have zoned out there, or perhaps her brain just expunged the unnecessary details of what transpired between agreeing to an enema and lying on her belly, ass propped up in the air by her knees. Because there she was, having a plastic tube pressed into her bottom as her soggy diaper was pulled down enough to give Margaret access. If Effie thought about - really thought about it - she may have rejected this moment. Margaret was a stranger, and a stranger with a lot of power for as long as she could influence Hamish. And now she was about to give Effie an enema - something Effie probably wouldn't have even agreed to had her family physician suggested it. The world beyond Effie was blurred. There was no Margaret, and she was not at Margaret’s house. She was in her own space, and she was the only one there. It was just Baby Buttercup - a name that had an incredibly alluring ring to it - diaper pulled down and getting an enema. It didn’t matter how it was happening, just that it was. With the nozzle completely inserted, Margaret’s fingers caressed Effie’s damp backside for a moment. A reminder that she was still there, perhaps. “This may feel strange,” Margaret said. “But just let the enema do its work.” Effie’s first thought was curiosity as to whether or not Margaret had ever experienced an enema - or a diaper, for that matter - herself. But that thought was immediately eradicated from her mind as the water was released from the enema bag. Just as the warm water was to clean out her bowels, it had cleaned everything from her consciousness too. Effie moaned softly as she felt herself fill. It could’ve been two minutes, or it could’ve been ten. Eventually the water stopped, and it was unclear if that was just all that was in the enema bag, or if Margaret had determined that Effie had taken enough of it inside her. “I’m going to pull the nozzle from you slowly,” Margaret said. “There’s a lot of foul things that want to come out of your body now. Were you a baby who was in my care more frequently, I’d ask you to hold it a bit longer or until I’ve given permission for you to release it. But, seeing as how this is our first time, there’ll be no such request from me. Hold it until you can’t.” Effie wanted to hold it. She wanted to feel that immense pressure that she was already feeling build within her. She wanted the moment of release to feel as much like an accident as she possibly could. The plastic nozzle was pulled from Effie and the diaper was hoisted back up into place. Just in time, too, as this was exactly how long Effie could hold it. In hindsight, Effie would believe that there was no amount of effort on her part that would’ve allowed for her to hold the enema any longer. The decision was out of her hands almost immediately. Margaret’s hands were probably still on the diaper, shifting it into place, as Effie’s little anus gave out. The moment was unlike any that Effie had experienced in her life. It was more than just the immediate and violent rejection of everything in Effie’s bowels into a diaper - though it was a bit of that too. It was complete surrender of every part of her body. She was a baby now, not even able to stand on her own at the moment - just lying there with her ass in the air as she loaded the diaper. Little dummy baby. Stupid little girl. A pathetic little pants-filler who was completely overwhelmed by how much she liked the feeling of a disgusting pile of shame in her diaper. “Oh my,” Margaret finally said, her hand sliding down the back of the diaper to feel the new weight of what had been added. The diaper had, miraculously, stayed in place - likely on account of the angle in which Effie’s ass was positioned, with her bent legs tucked beneath her. Had she been standing, the diaper could very well have slid down her legs like a mud-filled bomb. “In every way possible,” Margaret said, “you have surprised me. Shall we get you cleaned up now?” “N-no,” Effie said. She wasn’t even sure if she was actually saying the words or not. “No? For just how long do you intend to stay like this?” Margaret asked. “For as cute as you look, you smell absolutely dreadful.” Effie knew what she needed. She thought, maybe, she was just saying the words in her head - but she was actually saying them out loud: “I need to come in my dirty diaper.” Margaret laughed. “Well, of course. That can be arranged.” 10 1 Link to comment
Bluebird67 Posted April 29, 2022 Share Posted April 29, 2022 That chapter was at the same time ridiculously implausible and shamefully enjoyable. It also fit well in the story and advanced the plot. Congratulations! 1 Link to comment
quietlyhumiliated Posted April 30, 2022 Author Share Posted April 30, 2022 22 hours ago, Bluebird67 said: That chapter was at the same time ridiculously implausible and shamefully enjoyable. It also fit well in the story and advanced the plot. Congratulations! That's what I like to hear. 1 Link to comment
kerry Posted April 30, 2022 Share Posted April 30, 2022 I'm not altogether sure that it is true to the character of Effie that we have seen until now, but it's very well written. 1 Link to comment
puffy_bottom Posted April 30, 2022 Share Posted April 30, 2022 Not only is this story wild and wonderful, but I now very much want Buttercup diapers 1 Link to comment
quietlyhumiliated Posted May 6, 2022 Author Share Posted May 6, 2022 Eleven: Whatshername “You’re still here?” Effie asked incredulously. Layne shoved some styrofoam blocks into the trash compactor. “Yeah, yeah. I don’t want to hear about it.” “Sorry, I’m not used to seeing you here this late. Still working on that nursery?” “It’s done. Do you want to see?” “Not really.” Layne snort-laughed. “Fine.” “I’ll look at it tomorrow when I come in,” she said with a blasé shrug. “Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll see a baby-man lying on the table again.” Layne’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?” “Which part of what I had just said confused you?” Effie asked, her patented smart-ass smile stretched across her face. “All of it,” Layne said. “You’ve been awfully...peppy the last few days. Cockier than usual.” “Am I not allowed to be?” “I don’t trust it. And ‘baby-man?’ Where did you get that from?” “Oh...does that mean something to you?” “You can’t kid a kidder, Effie. Someone said something to you.” Another playful shrug. “It was Kiri, wasn’t it? She was in here again and she told you to tell me that.” “How are you only the world’s greatest detective when it comes to someone making fun of you?” “But she was here, right? Again?” “She didn’t leave a phone number for you, if that’s what you’re asking for.” “Then what was the point of her coming in again?” “I think she was hoping to run into you.” “Is she…” “Coming back? Maybe. But I wouldn’t know when. Or why, if I’m being honest. She’s, like, some sort of crush? Future disappointed-lover?” “She’s a...person of interest.” The words didn’t sound right coming out of his mouth, but he didn’t bother looking for alternatives. “But, really though, it’s weird seeing that you’re still here while I’m locking up the store for the day.” “You know what? It’s not just your pep that bothers me. It’s how chatty you’ve been. C’mon, what’s up with you? Are you seeing someone now? Are you, uh, getting laid or something?” “I’m almost positive that you’re not allowed to ask an employee that.” “Should I get Human Resources on the line?” Effie laughed. “Actually, that’s a good idea. I have a number of complaints about my boss.” “Best of luck. I’ve been trying to get rid of that guy for years,” he said as he walked back to the nursery. Layne had spent the last few days in ‘the zone’ - that metaphysical plane where you’re so hyper-focused on a task that you often forget why you were doing it in the first place. He’d occasionally dip out from the zone for little breaks. He’d look at the shelves he just hung or the colorful foam tiles laid out on the floor of the Nursery and wonder if he had been making a mistake or not. No, probably not, he thought. Hopefully not. There was an endgame afoot. Calls had been made. A hesitant woman was willing to take on the role of Mommy. An even more hesitant woman was willing to take on the role of baby. The nursery was far from perfect, but it would do. It looked good. Or, at least, finished. It looked like a room you might call a Nursery. He had bigger plans for it - knock down a wall and expand the room; custom furniture; a window that looked into the salesfloor. “That city council thing is coming up,” Effie said to him. She had a suspiciously smug tone. “Uh huh.” “You, uh, nervous about it?” “Out of sight, out of mind,” Layne said with a shrug. -- Effie was torn on whether or not she’d tell Layne about her recent dealings that had ensured the favor of Mr. Hamish Bellencourt. In most instances, she preferred keeping it to herself as to not have to field any questions about her experiences. But she also wanted Layne to know. Weeks, months, years later, she wanted Layne to think about the fact that it was Effie - living, dead, or just unemployed at that time - who had saved the store. And, so, she found his lackadaisical ‘out of sight, out mind’ attitude absolutely infuriating. He seemed to give no fucks about defending the store from this group of loudmouthed locals. The work he was putting into the nursery felt like transference - a means for him to do something with his built up anxiety. And what was his relationship with this Grace woman, anyways? This was the most infuriating thing of all. The more opportunities he had to talk to her, the more likely he was to say something so incredibly stupid and off-putting that Grace wouldn’t just go to the city council - she’d gather an angry mob to burn down the diaper store. Thank goodness for me, she thought. The only one with common sense around here. -- Mid-sandwich, Harper had warned Syd that what she was about to say could very well be the strangest thing Syd had ever heard. Syd said they didn’t believe that. “There’s a woman going to the city council in an effort to shut down Bottoms Up. Layne’s plan to avoid this is for me to put the woman in a diaper and treat her like a baby.” “He knows that kidnapping is illegal, right?” “He swears that she’s consenting to this.” “If she’s consenting - why is there talk of her going to the city council?” “I’m certain that I’m missing details.” “But you’re going to go along with this?” Harper sighed, replacing her sandwich-half with her vape before taking a drag. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. That’d be a weird thing for me to agree to, right?” Syd shrugged. “Yes. But...I suspect you already agreed to do this?” “I might have said that I might help. Maybe.” “I gotta say,” Syd said, trying to subtly sniff at the air - she was fond of the many scents of Harper’s vape, “that is certainly one of the strangest things I’ve ever heard.” “But, I was also thinking…” Syd took a cautious breath. “...maybe you’d like to go?” “Why do you think that I would like to go to see that?” “Well...I was just thinking, you know, that you were curious about the whole diaper-thing. So maybe you’d want to see it in action?” “Maybe.” “Or…” “Or?” “We make it a, uh, two-for-one. If you want.” “Two-for-one? I’m not sure I know what you mean by that.” “Like, you know, she wouldn’t be the only first-time baby in the room. If you wanted to see what it was like.” “That’s a lot at once…” “I know.” “So, it’s you, your soon-to-be-ex-I-think, some random woman who might want to ruin your husband’s business, and then me? And I’m going to be put into a diaper in front of them?” “Alright, well now it’s not sounding like that hot of an idea.” “I’m in.” “Look, it’s not that big of a deal,” Harper said with a shrug - perhaps not fully paying attention. “The whole thing is weird as hell. You certainly don’t need to be there. And maybe I should think more about whether or not I even want to commit to this too, you know? I mean, what if…” “I said: I’m in.” “Oh. Wait, are you serious?” “I trust you. A lot. Do I tell you that enough?” “I mean, you’ve never had to.” “I don’t talk about being nonbinary a lot. But it was my decision to live this way, you know? So any hardships are ones I’ve brought upon myself. But that doesn’t mean that it’s not hard. I tell people who, and what, I am and they balk. As if I couldn’t exist on account of the fact that they can’t relate to it themselves. But you’ve never once treated me like that. You’re one of the few people in my life who’ve just always accepted me for who I am. Anytime I’ve told you something about me, you just accepted it without question. So, I dunno, maybe I owe you the same. Is this the craziest fucking thing I’ve ever heard of? Do you and Layne live in a weird world that seems alien to me? Yeah, you do. But you’ve never once flinched at anything I’ve told you. So if you’re going to have a fucking baby party with a stranger - and because I know you wouldn’t invite me to something you think I’d get hurt from - I’m willing to just say: Okay. Let’s fucking do it. Make me into a baby.” “Jesus Christ,” Harper said, looking exasperated. “What?” “I’m so fucking attracted to you right now. C’mon. We need to go back to the bedroom.” “But I’m eating a sandwich!” “Put down the sandwich and come fuck me, dammit” -- “Okay, but I’m really leaving now,” Effie said, summoning Layne from the Nursery. “Okay,” he said with a shrug. “But you’re still here?” “I, uh, have some stuff to do here.” “Stuff? What stuff? You said you finished the nursery.” “What’s with the third degree? This is my store. If I want to stay here until midnight, I’ll stay here until midnight.” “Is Kiri coming over, is that what this is all about? Are you trying to woo her into your nursery?” He laughed, enjoying the mental image that conjured. “N-no. Just working on a little project tonight. Something personal.” “Ugh, I hate that I’m curious.” “I can’t tell you.” “It’s a secret? Well shit. Now I need to know.” “Look, I’m sorry, Effie. But this is bigger than me and…” The back door opened, and both Effie and Layne knew who it was before anyone stepped through the door. Only one other person had a key. “Oh shit,” said Effie, glancing back to Layne. “You and Harper?” Harper came through the door first, the classic diaper bag hanging off her shoulder. Black with little white and red flowers printed on it, it was a relic of days gone by - though only Layne would’ve known about them. Seeing its return brought a feeling of comfort over him. Syd was next through the door - a surprise to Layne and Effie alike. “Wait, what the hell is going on here tonight?” Effie asked. “This is, uh, more participants than I was expecting,” Layne said, nervously scratching at his hair. “I’ve acquired another baby,” Harper said. “I hope that’s okay.” “I mean...well…” “Good enough for me,” Harper replied. She turned to Effie, the two of them embracing. “Have you met Syd?” “No, I don’t think I have,” Effie said, her tone rising to an excited pitch that Layne had only ever heard when she was talking to Harper. “A pleasure,” said Syd, holding out their hand. Effie grasped it and shook it with a goofy smile. Layne noticed the slightest of twinkles in Effie’s eyes. He had become a bit of an accidental expert in decoding his co-worker. Right now? She was digging this androgynous stranger. “So, really now,” Effie repeated. “What exactly is going on here?” “A christening of the new nursery,” Harper said. “Some lucky babies are getting pampered tonight.” “Quite literally,” Syd said. It sounded as if they wanted to be bolder, but was still kind of uncertain about everything herself. “Oh, well, first and foremost,” said Harper, “I think we owe a first-time customer a little tour around the store. Show ‘em what the big babies wear and such.” “Please!” exclaimed Syd. The two linked arms and Harper led them through the swinging doors into the salesfloor. “I could stick around,” Effie said with a shrug. “Oh no you don’t,” Layne said. “You have to get out of here.” “Am I cramping your style? Are you actually thinking that you’re going to, like, score a threesome with those two?” “No, no. Don’t worry about it. We just have some...things planned and I don’t need any extra distractions around. Or, in your case, distracting pains in the ass.” “Some ointment would clear that right up, you know. I’m sure Harper could work that into the routine tonight, Baby-Man.” “Well now you’re just being mean, and I definitely don’t appreciate…” From the front of the store, Harper yelled back: “Hey, do you mind if I unlock the front door for a moment? There’s someone else here. Your friend, I think.” Layne cringed as he turned to face Effie again. “More? Who all is coming to this little party tonight? And you couldn’t have even mentioned it to me?” “Effie, really, maybe it’s best if you don’t get involved and…” It was too late. Effie walked up to the windows in the swinging doors and looked out into the salesfloor. “Is that....whatshername? Grace? From the group? From, uh, CLAM?” “CALM,” Layne said with a sigh. “And...yes.” Effie’s face was a brilliant red - a shade Layne had never seen before. And while he had seen this situation as plenty awkward and embarrassing for most parties involved, he failed to understand how Effie could possibly be so upset about this. “Is she...putting a diaper on too?” “Well...maybe. You know, if she wants.” “This place,” Effie said, throwing her arms up in the air as she looked around the stockroom in frustration. “This fucking place.” “Are you...mad?” “Consider this my two week’s notice for my resignation,” Effie finally said. And she stormed out the back door with her nose held high in the air. Note from the author: Content focusing on trans and nonbinary characters is something I'd like to do more of. Because content of this nature is slightly outside of my own experiences, I encourage feedback from anyone who has a perspective on this. 3 Link to comment
Bluebird67 Posted May 6, 2022 Share Posted May 6, 2022 That is so not how I expected Effie to be affected by all this. But it’s probably the most plausible thing so far: she puts her backside on the line to save the store, finds she can’t tell the boss she’s done that and then suspects it won’t make a difference. Of course she’s going to quit the job. Can’t wait to see how this turns out! 1 Link to comment
Babytom948 Posted May 7, 2022 Share Posted May 7, 2022 6 hours ago, Bluebird67 said: That is so not how I expected Effie to be affected by all this. But it’s probably the most plausible thing so far: she puts her backside on the line to save the store, finds she can’t tell the boss she’s done that and then suspects it won’t make a difference. Of course she’s going to quit the job. Can’t wait to see how this turns out! I thought she enjoyed the outing,not sure why she'd be frazzled. 1 Link to comment
kerry Posted May 7, 2022 Share Posted May 7, 2022 9 hours ago, quietlyhumiliated said: was still kind of uncertain about everything herself should be "themself" Link to comment
kirababy Posted May 7, 2022 Share Posted May 7, 2022 Really enjoying this story, lots to think about. Looking forward to all that is coming our way 1 Link to comment
Bluebird67 Posted May 7, 2022 Share Posted May 7, 2022 13 hours ago, Babytom948 said: thought she enjoyed the outing,not sure why she'd be frazzled. Yes, she found she enjoyed it, and maybe that made it harder to claim the credit she would feel she was due, but now her heroic gesture is never going to get recognised. After that much emotional investment, she is going to be upset. 1 Link to comment
quietlyhumiliated Posted May 8, 2022 Author Share Posted May 8, 2022 On 5/7/2022 at 12:41 PM, Bluebird67 said: Yes, she found she enjoyed it, and maybe that made it harder to claim the credit she would feel she was due, but now her heroic gesture is never going to get recognised. After that much emotional investment, she is going to be upset. I would say that this is a very good way of looking at it. Link to comment
quietlyhumiliated Posted May 13, 2022 Author Share Posted May 13, 2022 Twelve: Gin Somewhere else, Effie was imagining herself tightly wrapping a diaper around Layne’s face until he was no longer able to breathe. But the truth was that she was a little more upset at herself. She felt like a fool. It could’ve been worse - at least she was the only one who knew she was a fool - but that didn’t make her feel much better about it. She had sacrificed and made herself incredibly vulnerable for the sake of Layne and the store. And how could she not have seen this coming? Of course Layne would stumble into an answer on his own. Such was the Layne Stanlan Story. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything to Layne as she stormed from the store. She probably didn’t actually want to have to look for a new job. And so that meant calling Layne back tomorrow and apologizing. Her imagined diaper-strangulation intensified. She needed someone to talk to. But someone who could understand where she was coming from. Someone who wouldn’t divert the conversation the moment that Effie brought up the fact that she had expelled an enema into a diaper. And there was only one person that she could call. -- The fact that she had crumbled so easily suggested that she never had that tight of a grasp in her beliefs in the first place. When she traced back through her relatively short tenure with CALM, she saw herself rising to the role of spokesperson only on account of the fact that nobody else wanted it. CALM hadn’t been about action previously - it had been a breeding ground for frustration and contempt. Someone would complain about something, rile everybody up, and then they’d start showing up in local government assemblies. For a while, it made complete sense to Grace because she was caught in the echo chamber. But, wouldn’t you know it, this guy - who she once referred to as a diaper-peddler - would crack open the lid to the echo chamber by just asking a few basic questions. It was just a little personal crisis. Who am I? What do I believe in? Etc. And there she was, once again in the parking lot of Bottoms Up. It’d be the third time she’d walk into that store. She’d never admit aloud how many more times she had just sat in the parking lot after hours, staring up at the building. It was a strange temple that hosted a group of people who were willing and ready to sacrifice all of their adult-ly agencies for the sake of feeling things that society strongly discourages. That certainly didn’t seem so bad. If there were creeps and monsters who bought things in Bottoms Up, she figured the ratio was no different than the number of creeps who were shopping at the local grocery store or, hell, an ice cream stand. All that to say - she had wet herself while wearing a diaper and she was rather fond of it. This wasn’t completely unexpected. The night after her lunch with Layne at The Schoolhouse, she fell down a wine-fueled rabbit hole of videos and stories. And for as much as it pained her to admit it, she didn’t hate what she saw. The moment she had gone into Bottoms Up and mentioned the word ‘research’ to Layne, she could see what would happen next. And she was right - she came home with a diaper. She put on the diaper - poorly, but she still did it. She wet the diaper. She...really enjoyed that diaper. And now for the return to that temple. She had been telling herself, most of the day, that this would still be research. She was still tallying up positives and negatives, as if it mattered when she picked the arbitrary moment when ‘research’ ended. This wasn’t research anymore. She didn’t know what it was, but it probably didn’t matter. The first thing she observed, as she walked to the front door of the shop, was that there were two people on the salesfloor - neither of which she knew. She could deduce that one was the supposed ‘Mommy’ promised by Layne, but the other was a complete unknown. It made her a little nervous. Was this not the private introduction to babyhood she thought she was getting? The woman inside yelled something back to the stockroom before charging forward to unlock the front door. “Hi, you must be Layne’s friend?” the woman asked. “Is that how he’s described me?” responded Grace. “I might be putting words in his mouth. But we wouldn’t be here if he didn’t like you.” “I’m Grace, by the way.” “Hi Grace. I’m Harper, I’m Layne’s...uh…” “She’s his wife,” said the other person, the one with the semi-purpled hair. “And we all agree that it’s weird, but it probably won’t be the weirdest thing that happens today.” “Oh,” Grace said, feeling a wave of uncertainty wash over her. “I had no idea that…” “Seperated,” Harper said. “But friendly. At least for the past week we have been. Oh, and behind me, here, is Syd. They’re my current partner.” Syd looked to be blushing a little. Swooning too, Grace thought - but that was just speculation. “That was the first time you called me that,” they said. “Is it?” The two squealed in glee. In the back of the room, at the window in the swinging doors that lead back to the stockroom, there’s another feminine face - the other employee of the store. Her cheeks look excessively red - though it’s hard to say if she actually saw that or not in the moment the face is there. The face is gone as quickly as Grace sees it. “How many people are actually going to be here?” she asks the other two. “Just you and me,” Harper says. “And Syd. And Layne.” “Effie isn’t staying?” Syd asked. “I doubt it,” Harper said. “She’s not really into this stuff at all.” “I guess that’s already more people than I anticipated,” Grace said, almost feeling bad that she was interrupting the banter between Syd and Harper. “Layne will not be an active participant,” Harper said. “In fact, I’m going to ask him to go get us some dinner later so that he’s out of our way. Do you like Indian?” Grace just nodded politely, for lack of desire in getting too off topic in a discussion about the Indian meals she did and didn’t like. “Oh, and there’s me,” Syd said, seeming to remember that they had yet to reveal how they played into this. “I’m, uh, also getting indoctrinated into the baby cult tonight.” “So you’re not alone,” Harper quickly added, as if swallowing up any potential silence would prevent Grace from second-guessing herself. “That sounds nice, actually.” “Yeah? Are you sure?” Harper asked. Grace nodded again. The swinging doors opened, and Layne entered the salesfloor. Everyone else - in various stages of knowing him at all - could tell that he was trying to look happier than he was actually feeling. “Ladies and gentleman,” Harper said, playing a drum roll on her air-drums, “our sponsor for this evening.” “Our figurative Daddy to your Mommy?” Syd asked. “No,” Harper quickly said. “He’s no Daddy. He’s just a…” “Can I get y’all anything to drink?” Layne asked. “I have some water in the back. Maybe soda? I definitely have at least half a bottle of gin. But it’s cheap gin, so don’t get too excited.” “Alcohol?” Harper asked Syd and Grace. “Would that help?” “Probably,” said Syd. Grace just nodded. “We’ll take three glasses of your finest gin, my good man.” “I have two coffee mugs…” “Just bring out the damn bottle. We’ll share.” -- Somewhere else, Effie had placed a call. “You know, I was spending some time with Baby Hammy this morning. And I was very clear about the stances he’d need to take in his upcoming council meetings. He was, I must say, very receptive to them.” “Oh?” Effie couldn’t bring herself to tell Margaret the truth. And even if she could’ve, she still might not have. “It was easier than I thought it’d be,” Margaret said. “I simply dangled the key to his chastity cage over the toilet.” “When can I see you again?” Effie asked. Margaret offered a single shrill “Ha!” in response. And for a moment or two, that was it. She eventually followed it with: “I knew that you enjoyed it - it was quite obvious. But I didn’t think I was going to be hearing from you again.” “No?” “You’re prideful. Well, when you’re not in a diaper, at least. We had completed our transaction, and regardless of how much you liked it, I suspected that I wouldn’t hear from you again.” “I want to see you again,” Effie said. Margaret hadn’t been wrong about anything she had just said. She had convinced herself that she probably wasn’t going to call Margaret again. But that was before her little explosion at the shop. “You do realize I charge my little babies for my time, yes?” “Do I need to pay to see you again? Because…I would.” “No, my darling Buttercup. I wouldn’t charge you a penny.” -- “The thing about hypnosis is that the recipient has to want the effects of it, right? You will never be hypnotized if you stubbornly reject it. The more you allow yourself to be affected by it, the more you’ll get out of it.” “Are you a hypnotist too?” asked Syd. “It’s somewhere on my kink bucket list,” Harper said with a shrug. “But I may have spent time with a hypnotist once or twice. The point I’m trying to make is that this really isn’t that different. You get out of this what you put into it. If you go into it thinking that you’re going to hate it, you’re probably going to hate it. I can’t magically make you embrace diapers if you don’t want to.” Syd and Grace both nodded. The bottle of gin had made its way around their little circle a few times. It was just as bad as Layne had warned them it would be. But the stinging warmth in their bellies was also a little comforting. It was a shared stinging warmth. “This might all be pretty obvious, but let’s just get the important stuff out of the way. We can all agree that whatever happens here stays here? Between us?” “Yes,” said Grace. “Of course,” said Syd. “And, look, we’re going to be getting pretty, uh, intimate with each other. Clothes are coming off. I’m going to see all your bits. And, you know, I’ve seen some of the bits in this room. Some I have not. I just want to make sure we’re all good with that.” “I’m good with that,” Syd said. “I’ll take off my pants right now if you want me to.” “Grace?” Grace sighed before shrugging and laughing. “You know…I’m already here. I’m already...invested. So, yeah. Whatever you need from me.” “Any questions before we get started?” Syd turned to Grace. “Care to make a friendly bet?” “A bet?” “We see who uses their diaper first?” Grace laughed again, blushing a little. “When you say ‘use’ you mean…” “Well, pissing yourself, I think,” Syd said. “But, I mean, bonus points for making a truly epic mess for Harper to clean up.” “Nothing I haven’t seen before,” Harper said. “I don’t think I’m quite there yet,” Grace said. “Though, when you say ‘uses their diaper first,’ is that person the winner or the loser?” “Uh, winner,” Syd said. Grace blushed a little while nodding at these terms, though not entirely believing that being first made anyone a ‘winner’ or ‘loser.’ “Look,” Harper said, clapping her hands together. “Anything in the store. Anything you want. Onesies. Dresses. Pacifiers. Particular diaper style. Whatever you want to try, we’ll try it. We good? We ready to go?” She was met with mostly-assured nods. Which was good enough. -- Somewhere else, Layne was watching alt-rock music videos from his youth on his phone while he ate cookies at his desk in the stockroom. He didn’t actually believe he’d get to be up close and personal to the action, but he didn’t think that he’d be dismissed. Now he just waited until they needed something. He wasn’t really watching the videos though, they were just distracting noises and lights. His cock was throbbing, thinking of Harper babying the two guests. He was jealous. Jealous that he wasn’t right there with them. He was so close - he could hear the murmur of their conversations. Really, he was jealous that he might not get to see the end results. -- “Who’s first?” asked Harper. “You?” asked Grace, finger pointed to Syd. “Yeah, me, I guess,” replied Syd with a shrug. “I think there are some diapers in the Nursery already,” Harper said. “But if there’s anything special you want we could go and grab some.” “No, that’s okay,” Syd said. “I’m not sure that I care much about aesthetics right now.” “Suit yourself. C’mon, baby.” Syd blushed, and then Grace blushed - a second-hand blush from the knowledge that she’d be ‘baby’ next. Syd followed Grace into the small room and the door closed behind them. Grace was tempted to meander across the stockroom to talk to Layne, but she stopped herself. She was here for, if not ‘research,’ herself. She liked Layne. Liked? Well, she felt some sort of way about him. But she also wondered if she felt the same way about Layne as she felt about a fast food hamburger on a day where she had somehow been too busy for breakfast and lunch. It was probably the most appetizing thing in the world, as anything else would’ve been if she looked a little more. She had been single for a long time. So long, in fact, that this was just The Way it Was. She worked a lot, and when she wasn’t working, she was volunteering. Or taking care of her mother. Or neglecting herself. Usually at the same time. The concept of romance sounded nice, but it also felt like a lot of work. Dates and texting etiquettes and whatnot. And here was the diaper-peddler, plopping right into her lap. And he had been, mostly, nice to her. Patient, at the very least. Grace wondered what would’ve happened if her band of angry citizens had targeted a store that sold costumes to those people who dressed up like animals and had sex with each other...or whatever it was that they did. Would she have developed a crush on a guy who dressed like a bobcat at night? Would she be waiting for his wife to put a dog mask on her? No, diapers seemed good. Somewhere in her skull there were reasons for that. Old memories and triggered nerves that made the concept of diapers resonate more. Someday she’d dig into that a little, but the reasons seemed unimportant now. She tried to imagine what it was like on the other side of the closed door. It made her excited. It made her wet in a way nothing had in a while. She even, briefly, contemplated, fleeing the building and getting back into her car to drive away. The obvious stimulation was a heavy weight on her, and she feared that Harper wouldn’t like what she saw. Cooler heads prevailed, and she let out some tension with a nice long sigh. Harper probably knew damn well what to expect. Time passed, and she stared into space while her brain flipped through the channels. She imagined herself getting put into a diaper. She imagined herself wearing the diaper. She imagined what it would be like to squat down and force a poo into the back of her diaper. She imagined needing to stand before CALM to explain why she not only thought that they should drop their protest of Bottoms Up, but that she’d also be stepping away from the group - all while she wore a diaper under her slacks - slowly and steadily wetting them as she talked to everyone. The door opened and Syd emerged. Near nude, save for a white undershirt and the thick space-themed diaper around her midsection. “You’re up,” they said with a smile. “Don’t keep Mommy waiting.” She smiled and nodded politely as she stepped towards the now-open door. “Are you ready?” asked Harper, stepping out from within the nursery. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” “Come on in.” The room looked bigger than she remembered it looking before, in the half-completed state she observed a few days prior. Odd considering that there seemed to be more things in the room now - two people included. With little context for what a proper adult-baby nursery would look like, this seemed to be just about what she had expected. There was the changing table. A well-stocked shelf of diapers, wipes, and other assorted bottles and tubes. The colorful foam flooring. The pastel walls with floating shelves holding things like stuffed animals and pacifiers. Grace immediately began shimmying out of her pants and panties, letting them slide down her slender legs. “Oh, we’re not going to waste any time, I see,” said Harper. “I’m worried that if I give myself a moment to think about it, I’ll freeze up.” “Fair enough. But we can’t go any further until I look at these.” Harper bent down and plucked Grace’s panties off the ground. A bold royal blue with yellow trim, they featured a single cartoon rubber-ducky on the front of them. “These are very cute. Did you wear these especially for tonight?” “I...don’t really own many ‘cute’ things,” Grace said. “I had to go buy these at the store today.” “All that just for them to be replaced by a diaper.” “I bought them from the, uh, kids section. Honestly, it was the biggest size in that department - which I don’t think is far off from my usual size.” “Very cute,” said Harper. “I just thought that…maybe I’d try wearing something more juvenile.” “I almost hate to see the panties go to waste then. Alas, you’re wearing diapers tonight, because you’re too small for actual panties. Even if that might not actually be too far from the truth.” This was exactly what Grace wanted - needed - to hear. “Lie down on the changing table, baby.” A small “muh” escaped Grace’s lips - an infantile muttering that she didn’t know she was capable of. She stepped atop a small folding stool at the end of the table and climbed onto it, sprawling out onto her back. She had reservations on what the comfort of this table would be, and was pleasantly surprised by the feeling of the thick padding beneath her body as she lay there. “Someone is very excited to get their first diaper, huh?” asked Harper, looking down between Grace’s legs. “It would be my...second.” “Oh?” “Layne...he gave me one the other day.” “Ah, I see,” Harper said with a smile. “And you liked it so much that you needed more?” “I...wasn’t sure if I did it right.” “I’m not sure that there’s a wrong way to use a diaper.” Harper put her hand on Grace’s thigh, slowly grazing it across her flesh, slowly sinking into her inner-thigh. Harper watched as Grace started to moan, before biting her lip. “It made you feel good, right?” Harper asked. Grace nodded. “It made you feel so good that you can’t help yourself from dripping all over the changing table now, yes?” Grace nodded. “Then I don’t think you did anything wrong. But I do think we can do it better now. Would you like that?” “Uh huh,” more of a soft moan formed into the shape of words than they were actual words. Harper’s hand had reached the wetness between Grace’s legs. She carefully ran her fingers up Grace’s labia, catching the moisture on her fingertips. “Do you see?” asked Harper, showing Grace her glistening fingertips. “This is what being a little baby does to you.” Grace found her hands reaching up into the air, trying to grasp Harper’s hand. When she grabbed it, she pulled it towards her mouth, licking the fingers clean. “Well damn,” Harper said. “I can see you’re going to be trouble. Maybe you need some extra reminders of how small you are now.” Grace cocked her head to the side in curiosity as Harper bent down to the floor. When she popped back up again, she was holding Grace’s little ducky panties. Grace’s eyes grew big, nervous about what Harper was going to do with those. They barely fit her as it was - they wouldn’t fit over the diaper. Without a word, Harper shoved the panties down the front of Grace’s diaper, tucking it all the way down to the bottom, between her legs. “There we go, that’s much better. I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to keep your panties dry. It’s a good thing you’re in diapers.” 9 1 Link to comment
Bluebird67 Posted May 13, 2022 Share Posted May 13, 2022 Very silly! Each person is behaving more or less rationally and believably but the whole thing is taking on the shape of a classic farce. 1 Link to comment
kirababy Posted May 14, 2022 Share Posted May 14, 2022 Really enjoy how this is unfolding, a fun ride. 1 Link to comment
quietlyhumiliated Posted May 16, 2022 Author Share Posted May 16, 2022 On 5/13/2022 at 4:54 PM, Bluebird67 said: Very silly! Each person is behaving more or less rationally and believably but the whole thing is taking on the shape of a classic farce. It's...preposterous. I can't even deny that. Link to comment
dmavn Posted May 21, 2022 Share Posted May 21, 2022 Reading this I can’t help but think of Tykables. keep up the good work. Link to comment
Babyqtboy Posted May 25, 2022 Share Posted May 25, 2022 Well written diaper humor story that reads a lot like Christopher Moore or Carl Hiasaan, highest praise I can think of. Hopefully this gets finished Link to comment
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