The Seven Deadly Sins

[MellowSadistic]

An anthology of very short infantilisation/mental regression stories, each themed around one of the seven deadly sins.

***

Pride

Nancy walked over to her shelf, trying to ignore the noisy crinkling coming from between her legs, and placed her newest trophy alongside the others. It was a prestigious award for exceptional journalism – an impressive achievement, especially for a woman still in her twenties. The highlight of her career. She ought to feel thrilled, she knew. In fact, she would have been only a month ago. But over the last few weeks, her life had become nothing but an endless series of humiliations, ever since she’d received that damned letter. Even now, remembering its words sent a shiver down her spine.

I know you lied in your last article, Nancy. I have proof. Unless you want your reputation destroyed, you’re going to be a good girl for me.

For a week she’d been left wondering what the blackmailer wanted from her. Money? Nancy wasn’t absurdly rich, but she had enough to pay for a high-rise apartment and a fairly luxurious lifestyle. Or would he want lewd pictures? Nancy was an attractive young woman after all, even if she did normally keep her impressive figure hidden beneath a smart, dignified suit. But no. The blackmailer had wanted something else. Something much, much worse.

Nancy turned to look at herself in the mirror, and felt the now-familiar heat rushing to her face. Your articles are always dripping with scorn. It’s clear to me that you think you’re so much better than everyone else. You need a lesson in humility, Nancy. And I know just the thing to help you learn.

Nancy trembled with shame and anger as she took in her appearance. On her head, she wore a white baby bonnet. The blackmailer’s rules stated that she had to wear it whenever she was alone. It was bad enough putting the ridiculous thing on when she was in her own home, but it was even worse having to wear it in her private office, trying to do her work as a serious journalist when the edges of her vision were framed with frilly lace, and she was constantly worried someone would walk in and see her. But there was no avoiding it, not when she had to set up cameras to monitor herself wherever she went. So I know you’re being a good girl.

A large pink pacifier sat between her lips. She had to have that in her mouth whenever she was alone as well. Sometimes her blackmailer gave her instructions, telling her to suckle and slurp on her soother for an hour or so, making sure to dribble all over herself. Then he would refuse to let her clean herself up, insisting instead that she go out, even in public, with her chin still slick with drool. Nancy hated him. She hated all of this! At work, her dummy was clipped to the front of her suit – but at home, that was impossible. When she was in her apartment, Nancy wore absolutely nothing else on her top half, unless you counted the bibs she had to tie around her chin at mealtimes. Her sizeable breasts were left completely bare, free to wobble and jiggle about on her chest as she went about her business, cringing at the thought of some pervert leering at her tits from behind the many cameras she’d been forced to set up around the flat.

But worse than the bonnet and the pacifier, worse than walking around bare-titted, was what Nancy had to wear around her waist. The award-winning journalist seethed with fury as her eyes travelled down her tummy and over the massive disposable diaper sagging heavily from her hips. It was clearly full to the brim with pee-pee. She shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, as if trying to get away from the disgusting, infantile thing. But her wet nappy just squelched unpleasantly between her thighs, swinging like a pendulum. She’d been wearing it all day, praying none of her coworkers noticed the pissy smell that surrounded her, and she desperately needed a change. But there was something Nancy had to do before she was allowed one. Not content to force her into ludicrous adult diapers and make her piss her pants like a two-year-old, her blackmailer had some additional rules – like how she wasn’t allowed a change until her nappy was totally full. And for him, that meant poopy.

Nancy shot a look of utter hatred at the nearest camera, even knowing that with the bonnet framing her face and the pacifier between her lips, it would surely only make her look even more laughable. She wished desperately that she could get her revenge. She was a top-class reporter! She was rich and successful and beautiful, and she was too good for bibs and bonnets and stupid, stinky diapers! But who was he?! Someone she knew? Someone she’d offended in one of her scathing articles? Even with all the letters, and the cameras that had to be broadcasting to somewhere, all Nancy had found where dead ends. That had been another blow to her ego. Investigating was what she was best at, and she hadn’t managed to find anything out about her blackmailer at all! Worse, he’d found out what she’d been up to. Stop digging, she remembered. Or you’ll get an even worse punishment next time. She’d been instructed to spank herself until her poor little bottom was bright red that day, then stand in the corner for the whole afternoon. She hadn’t been able to sit down for a week after that.

Nancy’s bottom lip trembled behind her dummy, and her face turned an even darker shade of red as she got into position right in front of the mirror. I want you to see exactly what you are, Nancy. With one last look of loathing at the camera, the ace reporter scrunched up her face, grunted loudly to herself, and, on what should have been the proudest day of her life, she squatted down and started filling her nappy with a big, yucky mess.

“Uh-oh!” she squealed, just like she’d been ordered to do. Her face burned with humiliation. “The big, tough wepowter’s making a stinky! I guess I’m not so gweat after all!”

 

 

Greed

“Oh, and don’t forget to check Gabrielle before you put her to bed,” Mrs Jones said as she put on her coat and opened the front door. “I swear, she always widdles right as I’m tucking her in!”

“Yes, Mrs Jones,” Nevaeh chirped, doing her best impression of a polite, dependable babysitter. “Don’t worry, I’ve taken care of plenty of sweet girls like Gabrielle before.” It was a total lie, of course. She’d never babysat for a special needs person before. She’d never even babysat an actual child, at least not for longer than she needed to grab the valuables and move on to the next town. And she had absolutely no intention of changing some adult toddler’s pissy nappy. She fought hard to keep a look of revulsion from passing over her face.

Mrs Jones beamed at her. “Then I’ll see you when I get back. Feel free to help yourself to anything from the fridge.”

“Thank you, Mrs Jones. Enjoy your dinner at the restaurant!”

Once the front door had closed, Nevaeh’s cheerful smile vanished from her face. Stupid woman, she thought. She turned around and headed back to the living room where Gabrielle was sitting in her playpen. It was generally best not to act right away, just in case the parents came back to get something they’d forgotten.

She couldn’t help but stare at the overgrown baby woman. Gabrielle must have been in her early twenties, no older than Nevaeh was herself, and it was almost unnerving to see her sitting in a toddler’s playpen wearing nothing but a thick disposable diaper, with her blonde hair in pigtails and her bare breasts on display. Her tits weren’t nearly as large as Neveah’s own (she’d always been proud of her ability to make any guy do whatever she wanted just by bending down and flashing her cleavage), but she still felt it was wrong for her mother to let her toddle about the house with anything to cover them up. She shook her head impatiently. What did she care about this stupid oversized infant’s dignity? It wasn’t as though Gabrielle had any modesty anymore, not since the accident her mother had talked about.

Nevaeh squatted down next to the baby woman while she shook her rattle and babbled nonsensically behind her dummy, and ran her fingers through the girl’s hair. She’d expected to see a great big scar across her head or something, but there didn’t seem to be anything visible. Gabrielle would have looked like a normal, particularly pretty young woman if it wasn’t for what she was wearing, and for the vacant, dim-witted expression on her face.

“Poor little freak,” Nevaeh cooed as Gabrielle looked up at her and grinned stupidly around her pacifier. Her chin was slick with drool. “I think I’d rather die than end up as a big, pants-filling baby like you. You might have to be alone for a bit, diaper butt, but don’t worry, I’m sure your Mummy will be back to take care of you soon. And by that time, I’ll be long gone, along with all your Mummy’s jewellery. Yes I will! Yes I will!”

Gabrielle giggled at her sweet, syrupy tone and bounced up and down happily on her padded bottom.

Nevaeh laughed. “You’d be cute if you didn’t look so ridiculous,” she said. Then she suddenly became aware of something. There was faint music filling the room. She looked around, trying to locate the source. Had that always been playing, or had it only just started? It was soft and tinkling, like a nursery rhyme. Maybe Mrs Jones had put it on earlier to keep Gabrielle calm. To help keep her sweet and happy. Nevaeh realised she was nodding along with her own thoughts. Sweet and happy, that was right. That made sense. She certainly felt sweet and happy. It was like the music was working its way inside her head, filling it up with cotton candy. Nevaeh grinned. She liked cotton candy.

Gabrielle grinned back at her, and Nevaeh felt something stir in the back of her mind. Was this right? Should she be getting all sweet and happy because of music that was meant for the baby? But then, the baby was the same age as her. And wasn’t that funny? Wasn’t that so silly? A baby in her twenties. Neveah’s hand crept up to her mouth, and she bit the nail of her thumb. Because there was something a little scary about that too, the thought of being a big baby, using her pants as a potty, having her boobies out all the time. Her thumb slipped between her lips and she sucked on it nervously. She didn’t want to end up like that. She was a big girl, not a silly baby. The music continued to play, soft and lilting.

Nevaeh didn’t even hear it when the front door opened and closed a few minutes later. Her head was full of cotton candy. But when Mrs Jones walked into the room, she turned around, still sucking her thumb vacantly, and smiled dimly around her soggy digit.

Mrs Jones laughed. “That’s better,” she said. “You’re much sweeter now, aren’t you baby? Such a silly thing. Didn’t you think I might be watching and listening on a nanny cam?” She pointed at the fluffy teddy bear sitting in the corner of the playpen.

Nevaeh just giggled at Mummy’s happy tone.

Mrs Jones chuckled along with her, and got to work stripping the would-be-thief’s clothes off her voluptuous body. “I’m betting that no one knows you’re here, do they sweetheart?” she asked and she slid Neveah’s jeans down her legs and pulled off her shoes and socks. “Since you were planning on pulling off a little heist.” She lifted the girl’s shirt up and over her head, leaving her in nothing but her bra and panties. “Is Nevaeh even your real name?” she asked teasingly. Then she shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It’s your name now. ‘Cause you’re Mummy’s little angel, aren’t you baby? Heaven sent.” She reached out and tickled Nevaeh’s exposed tummy, making the girl shriek with laughter. “Coochie-coochie-coo! I’d just been wishing that Gabrielle could have a sister, and now another naughty little girl’s fallen right into my hands, just perfect to turn into an adorable baby.”

Mrs Jones tugged Neveah’s underwear down her legs and threw them to one side with a smirk. They were a little black lacy number. Hopefully the girl had enjoyed wearing her last ever pair of panties, she thought, as she fished out one of Gabrielle’s adult-sized Pampers from a box in the corner.

“Stand still for Mummy, Nevaeh,” she cooed as she slipped the bulky diaper between the grown woman’s legs and started taping it into place. “I’m lucky you haven’t made wee-wees yet. When I used the special music on Gabrielle, she went tinkle all over the floor before I could get her nappy on!” Mrs Jones patted the front of Neveah’s nappy when she’d finished and stood back to admire her handiwork, savouring the sight of the thick baby pants pushing apart the gorgeous young woman’s thighs. There was something so satisfying about reducing a grown woman to this, taking a naughty lady and turning her into a sweet, happy baby. Neveah just giggled down at the huge nappy wrapped around her bottom and shifted from foot to foot, enjoying the crinkling sound.

“Let’s get that bra off you too, pumpkin,” Mrs Jones said, reaching around to unhook the lacy lingerie containing Nevaeh’s generous breasts and allowing them to spill out freely. She tittered at the sight of the girl’s melons wobbling on her chest. “My goodness,” she laughed, “what big boobies you have, baby! I can tell you’re going to be very popular when Mummy takes you to the park. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure nobody gets too close. No more icky boys for you, little one!”

Neveah babbled nonsensically as Mrs Jones pulled her into a big hug. A moment later, the girl’s bladder released, and a rush of warmth flooded her pants. Mrs Jones just chuckled as the faint sound of hissing reached her, and when the strong smell of pee reached her nose a second after. She slipped a hand down to Neveah’s now sopping wet nappy and squeezed the front. “That’s a good girl,” she crooned, with the hint of a taunt in her voice. “Just a little pants-filler, aren’t you baby? Isn’t that what you called my Gabrielle? But I suppose you’re right. She’s always wetting and messing herself! And now you’ll be just the same.” She planted a big kiss on the side of Nevaeh’s head. “Mummy’s special baby for the rest of your days. Aren’t you a lucky girl?”

 

 

Wrath

“No! No! No!” Lisa screeched, pumping her fists impotently and stomping her feet like a petulant toddler. A thick disposable diaper crinkled noisily between her legs. “I’m not gonna wear them anymore! I’m not! You can’t do this to me! “I need the toilet now, so get out of my way! I’m a CEO! I’m your boss!”

“Not anymore, Lisa,” said her former assistant. His eyes sparkled with satisfaction as he took in the sight of his nightmare of an ex-boss throwing an absurd tantrum, her usual expensive suit swapped for a bulky adult nappy and nothing else.  “You lost your position, remember? Now you’re just my little dependent. And I’ve decided that you need regular discipline. I know from experience that nappies are the best way. My mum used diaper discipline on my older sister when we were growing up, and nothing sweetened her attitude more than having to go uh-oh in her undies and ask for changes.”

“You can’t discipline me!” Lisa screamed. “I’m an adult! I don’t need to be disciplined!”

“Oh yes you do, little girl,” her ex-assistant said sternly. “You’ve proved you’re far too immature to be treated like an adult, Lisa. Anyone could see you don’t have the mental capacity to take care of yourself anymore, not since these tantrums of yours started getting out of control. Well, more out of control than they used to be, anyway. Personally, I’ve always thought you were just an overgrown little brat who needs a firm hand, and I’m legally your caregiver now, so it’s up to me whether you get disciplined or not.”

Lisa let out an ear-piercing shriek. “NO! NO! NO! NO! I’m an adult! I’m thirty! I don’t wanna be treated like a stupid toddler anymore!”

“Then stop throwing silly little temper tantrums like one, sweetie.”

“But I can’t!” Lisa wailed furiously. “You did something to me! You put something in my coffee, I know it! Before I drank it, I was fine! But now I can’t… I can’t…”

“You can’t control your emotions anymore?” he asked with a smirk.

Lisa burst into tears and started jumping up and down in anger. This wasn’t fair! She knew she looked utterly stupid, bouncing on the spot with her breasts jiggling about, wearing nothing but a nappy, she there was nothing she could do. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t control herself! She’d been declared mentally incompetent after a series of toddler-style meltdowns in the boardroom, ever since her assistant had given her that cup of coffee with that dark smile on his face, and he had been delighted to take her in. The worst thing was that nobody even seemed very surprised. She’d had a reputation for exploding with anger at her employees, and all of them seemed to think she was getting exactly what she deserved.

Suddenly, Lisa let out a gasp. Her bladder, which she had been clamping down on desperately while she tried to get past her new Daddy, finally gave in, and she felt a horrible warmth spreading across her crotch, soaking into the thirsty padding of her baby pants.

“Noooooo!” she whined pathetically, clutching between her legs.

“Awww,” her Daddy taunted cooingly. “Did baby have a widdle accident?”

“You made me!” Lisa cried, screwing up her face in disgust as she felt pee sloshing around in her pants. She hopped from foot to foot as if she were trying to get away from the icky feeling, but her diaper just swung pendulously between her legs and squished against her thighs. “Ew! Ew! Ew!”

“You’ll get used to it, little one,” her ex-assistant mocked. “In fact, after a while you won’t even be able to control yourself anymore! Won’t that be the cutest thing? The big bad boss turned into a helpless little pants-wetter. Only, I don’t think there are going to be any pairs of big girl pants in your future, Lisa. Just an awful lot of diapers.”

Lisa fought as hard as she could to stop herself from breaking down again, scowling furiously up at the man who’d turned her into a joke.

But he just chuckled. “You’re not scary anymore, silly baby. What are you going to do to me? Oh wait… I think I already know.” He grinned. “Go on, sweetie. Be a good little girl and show Daddy. You used to think you were real tough when you were the boss, but now you’re just a dumb baby in a wet nappy. So what’s the worst you can do?”

Lisa couldn’t stop herself. She showed him. She fell to the floor and started wailing at the top of her lungs, kicking her legs and pounding the carpet. Tears poured down her cheeks, and her pissy diaper squelched against her privates, and she did the only thing she could do when she got angry, the thing she’d never be able to stop herself from doing ever again – she threw the loudest, fussiest temper tantrum she could.

And when Daddy dragged her over to the corner and spanked her bottom and told her she wouldn’t be getting a nappy change until bedtime, all she could do was cry.

[Babypants]

Really enjoyed this.  It's far removed from the same old, same old, and your writing is first class.  Hope to see a lot more from you in the future. 

[MellowSadistic]

Envy

“Dr Smith!” Jennie’s mother shouted furiously as she marched into the therapist’s empty waiting room, dragging her daughter along by the hand. It was after hours, and even the blonde bimbo secretary was gone from her place behind reception. “I know you’re here! Come out and explain yourself!”

Before she could reach the office door, Dr Smith had emerged, hands in his pockets, smiling politely. “Mrs Brown! And Jennie too. How nice to see you. What seems to be the matter?”

“What seems to be the matter?!” Mrs Brown raged. “What do you mean what seems to be the matter? What the hell have you done to my daughter?!”

Dr Smith’s eyes drifted over Jennie, and the faintest smirk twitched at his lips. The outline of a thick adult nappy was visible through her tight jeans, and an inch or so of the plastic waistband was sticking out of the top, leaving no doubt about what the twenty-one-year-old woman was wearing. Her thumb was planted firmly in her mouth and she was sucking on it rhythmically, but when their eyes met, she yanked it out, her mouth wet with drool, and shouted, “You makin’ me act wike a dumb baby! I can’t stop… can’t stop copying my wittle sister! Whatever she does, I hafta act wike dat too!”

Dr Smith chuckled. “I was only helping you with your little problem, Jennie. I’m sure it was hard growing up as an only child all your life, only for your mother to suddenly have another baby. You were telling me how jealous you were of your baby sister and all the attention she was getting. Well, this seems like a perfect solution to me. If you act like her, you’re bound to get just as much attention, if not more!”

“You’re crazy!” Mrs Brown shouted. “Just fix it! Undo it now or I swear to God I will sue you until you’ve got nothing left!”

“Don’t worry, Mrs Brown,” said Dr Smith calmly. He walked over to them, taking his hands out his pockets as he went. “I think this should explain everything.” He held his phone up to her eyes, and at once Mrs Brown’s face went slack.

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong, you see. Jennie’s just being silly, as usual. You know how immature she is. She’s jealous of her baby sister, so she’s acting out for attention.”

“Mummy, stop!” Jennie cried, looking at her mother’s blank expression in panic. “Don’t wook, Mummy!”

“Hush Jennie,” said Dr Smith sternly, and Jennie’s mouth closed at once. “The grown-ups are trying to have a conversation. Go stand in the corner and poop your pants while I talk to your Mummy.”

A whine bubbled up in Jennie’s throat, but she couldn’t stop her body obeying. She fought to put her feet back under her control, but it was useless. She walked over to the corner, facing it like a naughty child. Then she bent her knees slightly and started grunting. She could still hear Dr Smith’s voice behind her.

“During our sessions, Jennie told me all about her plans to start acting like a toddler. She told me she was going to watch what her baby sister did and start copying those behaviours. So if her little sister sucked her thumb, she’d start sucking her thumb. If her little sister made a mess with her food, that’s what she’d be doing every meal as well. And if her little sister wasn’t potty trained, then she wouldn’t be using toilets either. I tried to tell her not to, but she was insistent.”

There was an especially loud grunt from the corner, and Jennie felt a yucky mess begin to fill the back of her nappy. “Nooo….” she whined softly. “Dat’s not twue…” Her face was bright red with shame, but there was nothing she could do to stop herself straining to make a dirty diaper. A strong rush of pee flooded her nappy as well, and it began to sag inside her jeans.

“Of course, it’s totally ridiculous for an adult woman to act this way,” Dr Smith continued. “But my advice is to give her exactly what she wants. If she’s going to act like a baby, then treat her like one. That ought to teach her a lesson.”

Jennie was still facing the corner, and her face was scrunched up with the effort of messing her nappy like an overgrown two-year-old, but she could just picture her mother nodding blankly along with Dr Smith’s words.

“If she wants to embarrass herself by acting like this, then you might as well make sure she goes all the way. Dress her up in onesies and tutus and pink, frilly bonnets – or just let her run around in nothing but her nappy. Feed her baby food and formula. Change her Pampers in the public park. Invite her friends to babysit. And of course, make sure she gets plenty of strict discipline. Maybe that will persuade her to start acting her age.”

Jennie finally finished pooping herself, and she whined again in disgust at the heavy, yucky load in the back of her pants, and in fear at Dr Smith’s words. She looked anxiously over her shoulder, and felt a horrible shiver run down her spine. The doctor was putting away his phone, and her mother was standing there looking perfectly satisfied.

“Thank you very much,” her mother said. “I’m so grateful to have your advice. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

“Not at all, Mrs Brown,” Dr Smith said graciously. “I know little girls can be a handful sometimes.”

“Oh they certainly can,” Jennie’s mother agreed, looking over at her panic-stricken daughter sternly. “Come along, Jennie. It’s time to go home. You can finish your corner time when we get back, after you’ve had a spanking.”

Jennie burst into tears. “Mummy, no!” she wailed. “This isn’t wight!”

But her mother strode over to her, grabbed her by the arm, and started dragging her out of the room. “It certainly isn’t! Twenty-one-year-olds shouldn’t need spankings and corner times. And they certainly shouldn’t need nappies.” Mrs Brown paused for a moment, then she reached down and quickly tugged Jennie’s jeans down her legs and over her feet, leaving her in nothing but a sagging diaper and her socks and shoes below the waist. “There. If you’re going to wear nappies like a baby, then everyone’s going to know it. Plus it will be easier for me to tell when you need changing.”

“Stob it, Mummy!” Jennie sobbed. “It’s Dr Smith! He hyp… hypno… he did something to you too!” She looked back at Dr Smith. There was a wide grin on his face, and his eyes were sparkling malevolently.

“Don’t be silly, Jennie,” said Mrs Brown impatiently, pulling her daughter over to the door and dumping her jeans in the bin beside it as she passed. “Dr Smith is a wonderful man who’s only trying to help us. You’re just a naughty girl who’s acting out for attention because you’re jealous of your baby sister. Now stop struggling, or you’ll be getting a spanking every night this week!”

“Waaaaaaaah!”

 

 

Lust

“Planning to sleep with someone else’s boyfriend again tonight?” a sneering voice asked.

Eden turned around. She was standing on the front step to the apartment building where her friend Becca lived. The muted sounds of loud techno music were thumping out from the raucous house party within, and bright disco lights flashed behind the curtains of the first three floors. It could only be assumed that their neighbours above had been plied with a suitable amount of gin and whiskey to keep them from complaining.

“What do you want?” Eden asked contemptuously when she saw who it was that had spoken. She rested a hand on her hip and swept her long, dirty blonde hair back. Morgan was in her Comparative Literature class, and she hadn’t taken kindly at all to the way Eden had seduced her boyfriend at a party a few days before. But really, what as a hot guy like Dan doing going out with a mousey girl like Morgan when he could be sleeping with her instead?

Morgan pointed a finger at her, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Eden waited a few moments for her to say something, but the dumb girl just stood there, pointing. Eden laughed. But at that moment that she realised something – she couldn’t move. Her body was frozen in place on the doorstep, hand on her hip, chest thrust forward, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t move it an inch.

“What the… What’s going… What have you done?” she asked, her voice growing increasingly panicky. “Why can’t I move?!”

“Because I don’t want you running off while I work on you,” said Morgan, smirking. She lowered her finger, but Eden found that she still couldn’t move a muscle.

“How are you doing this?” Eden demanded fearfully.

“I’m a witch, stupid,” said Morgan. “God, I can’t believe Dan let himself get drawn in by such an airhead. Maybe I ought to turn you into a bimbo – that would be fitting. But no… Enhancing your sex appeal isn’t really what I want to go for, and in any case, I already have just the thing to put you in your place. Didn’t your Mummy ever tell you not to steal other people’s toys, you silly girl? I guess not. But since you acted like a selfish little baby…”

Morgan snapped her fingers, and at once Eden felt her lacy panties thicken between her legs. She gasped with shock as her underwear expanded outwards beneath her skin-tight leggings, turning white and puffy and crinkly, until at last they stopped growing, and there was an unmistakable diaper bulge around her waist, clashing ridiculously with her skimpy party-girl outfit.

“What the fuck!” she shrieked. “Is that a… Get it off! Get it off, get it off, get it off!”

“What are you talking about, silly girl?” Morgan tittered. “You can’t go without your nappies! Especially since I’m about to take away your potty training.”

“My…” Eden’s eyes widened in horror. “No! Please! Oh God, please! Please don’t make me incontinent! I can’t be incontinent! That would be so… so…”

“Disgusting?” Morgan finished for her, grinning. “Yes, I suppose it would,” she went on, thoughtfully. “It does sound pretty yucky, doesn’t it? I’m sure it will be difficult for a hottie like you to get used to peeing and pooping in her own pants.” She shrugged. “But I guess that’s too bad!”

She snapped her fingers again, and Eden’s bladder and bowel control vanished permanently. A rush of pee streamed into her nappy an instant later, soaking into the bulky padding.

“Ewwww!” Eden cried, still frozen in place, unable to do anything but stand there and feel the stream of wee-wee flood her baby pants. “Please don’t do this to me! It feels so gross! Dan’s the one who cheated on you! Why don’t you take revenge on him?!”

“Oh I have,” said Morgan, darkly, “Believe me. But hey, if you ever decide to shack up with him again, the two of you could probably save a lot of money buying nappies in bulk! Although he might not be up for it now, on account of how he’s back living with his Mummy with the mind of a two-year-old. But I’ve got something a little different in mind for you…”

She snapped her fingers once more. Eden felt her body unfreeze, and her hands immediately shot to her nappy, pressing against the sodden, crinkly padding as if she still couldn’t believe it was really there. She was about to rip it off and make a run for it, when a sudden, powerful wave of arousal washed over her. Her knees bent inwards, and she had to bite her lip to keep herself from moaning out loud. She was wearing a nappy. A wet nappy. Like some kind of big, dumb baby. Her pussy pulsed with pleasure, and this time she couldn’t stop the soft, slutty moan escaping her lips.

“Ughh… What have you… Mmmmm… What have you done to me?”

“What do you mean, Eden?” Morgan asked innocently, but there was a wicked grin on her face. “I already told you.”

“No, I don’t mean… incontinent…” Eden doubled over, pressing down hard on her pussy through her thick, wet Pampers. She moaned like a whore. “Ughhhhh….. I’m incontinent!” she squealed with a mixture of arousal and horror. “I’ll never use a toilet again!” Her pussy ached. Morgan had turned her into some kind of pervert! She toddled awkwardly off the doorstep, heading for the street as fast as she could with her nappy pushing her legs apart and her hands pressing between them. She knew she must look like a little girl desperate for the potty. A stupid, overgrown baby about to have an accident. But she’d already had an accident. And she was far too little for potties. She groaned lustily.

“Where are you going, silly?” Morgan giggled. “The party’s that way!” she pointed to the door. “Don’t you want to see all your friends? And I bet there will be lots of cute boys inside. Although I don’t know if they’ll find you quite so sexy with a used diaper hanging off your ass.”

“Please,” Eden panted, coming to a halt and rubbing a hand needily against her crotch. “Please… Don’t make me…”

“I’m not going to make you do anything, potty-pants,” said Morgan happily. “I think you’re going to go in all by yourself.”

Eden moaned at the use of the name. Potty-pants. That was her. Little Miss Potty-Pants. She looked over at the door. Becca was in there, and all her friends. And a lot of cute guys. What would they say if they saw her like this? Would they tease her? Would they laugh at her? Would everyone make fun of the stupid little diaper dork? The dumb baby who thought she could be a grown-up.

Eden couldn’t stop herself. She started waddling back over to the door, her wet nappy squishing between her thighs. The rational part of her mind told her she had to go home, that she couldn’t let everyone see her like this. But she was so, so horny. She opened the door and went inside, Morgan following along behind with a Cheshire cat grin on her face.

It didn’t take long to find her friends. The popular clique, and all their hangers-on. “Eden!” Becca squealed tipsily, a brightly coloured cocktail in her hand. People were dancing and drinking all around them. “Glad you could make it, girl! I… What are you wearing?”

“I… I… I’m wearing my nappy!” Eden blurted out loudly. Her face was crimson. She could see dozens of people look at her, some whispering to each other, others smirking, but she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t stop now. She grabbed the waistband of her leggings and yanked them down over her bottom, fully exposing her soggy diaper to everyone in the room. “I’m too dumb for the potty!”

A lot of people burst into uncontrollable laughter, while others simply stared dumbfounded at her, one of the hottest girls on campus, as she made a totally ridiculous spectacle of herself. But if there was any doubt in anyone’s mind that this was just some kind of weird joke, Eden removed it. She knew what she had to do.

While Morgan watched with delight from the background, Eden bent her knees, screwed up her pretty face, and started grunting and straining as hard as she could to push a messy load into her nappy. “Uh-oh!” she sang between her grunts. “I doing a poo-poo!”

Everyone was laughing now. Even Eden’s so-called friends couldn’t stop themselves shrieking with mirth as the gorgeous college student pooped her pants like a two-year-old in front of them. They laughed about it for the rest of the party, as they would for weeks and months and years afterwards, while Eden was left to toddle home, tears of shame pouring down her face, her reputation ruined forever, with one hand shoved firmly down the front of her nappy all the way.

 

 

Gluttony

Mary banged the tray of her highchair angrily with her fists. “No! I’m not eating that! I’m not!” She was practically bouncing up and down in her seat. Her breasts, barely concealed by her pink, princess-themed bib, bounced along with her, and her enormous adult nappy crinkled loudly.

“Oh yes you are, missy,” her mother said sternly, placing down a bowl of baby food in front of her fussy, thirty-year-old daughter and putting her hands on her hips. “You might have been a fussy food critic back when you were still a grown-up, but that’s over now. You’ll eat your num-nums like a good girl or else you’ll go to bed with a red bottom tonight! Or maybe I just won’t change your diaper all day. Would you like that? You’ll probably make a big poo-poo in your pants not long after you finish your lunchies. Do you really want to spend the rest of the day waddling around in a messy nappy?”

Mary’s face went scarlet. “You can’t treat me like this!” she cried furiously. “I’m a grown woman! You can’t talk to me this way!”

“I certainly can, little lady,” her mother said mildly. “The courts made it clear that you have to spend the next three years as a baby, and that means eating like one too. Really, it’s no more than you deserve after all those horrible reviews you wrote about those poor little family restaurants. And to think, all those things you said weren’t even true! Personally, I think it’s a good thing their lawyers tore you apart and got you sent back to Pampers. I clearly went wrong raising you somewhere, so this will be the perfect chance to give it another go.” She dipped a plastic spoon into the bowl of baby mush and lifted it to her daughter’s pouting lips. “Now say aah!”

Mary didn’t open her mouth, but her mother pressed the spoon forward all the same, smearing her lips with baby food. It was some kind of strained carrots mixture, and to Mary’s refined pallet, it tasted utterly disgusting. She was used to dining in fine restaurants, dressed up to the nines and being served by handsome waiters. To have all of that taken away, to be sent back to live with her mother, strapped into an oversized highchair being force-fed infant food, it was almost more than she could handle. But the truth was, she was hungry. And she really didn’t want to be stuck in a dirty diaper until bedtime. Hesitantly, she opened her mouth for the second spoonful.

“Good baby!” her mother cooed. Most of the food went into her daughter’s mouth this time, but she made sure to spill a little down her chin. Her daughter was just so cute with a mucky face!

Mary wrinkled her nose in disgust as she swallowed the carrot purée, but obediently opened her mouth for another bite. She might as well get it over with quickly, she decided. But her mother had every intention of savouring the experience. For the rest of the meal, she waved around the spoon like an aeroplane (“Open up the hanger for Mummy! That’s a good girl!”) or making chugging sounds like a train (“Choo-choo! The train’s coming up to the tunnel! Open wide, baby!”) while Mary sat there, blushing and feeling totally stupid, and by the time she’d finished the bowl, her lower face and bib were covered in baby food.

Her mother dropped the spoon into the plastic bowl with a clatter and whipped out her phone. Mary’s eyed widened, but before she could raise her hands to cover her face, her mother had snapped a picture of her.

“This one’s going straight onto Facebook,” her mother said happily to herself, looking down at the picture with adoring eyes. She was clearly thrilled her have her baby back.

“Stop it, Mum!” Mary wailed. “It’s bad enough that I have to do this at all! I don’t want everyone else to see! Please!”

“Oh hush, baby,” her mother said, taking a cloth and getting to work wiping her daughter’s messy face. “There’ll be no hiding this, so you might as well get used to people knowing. Not that I’d want to keep my adorable little girl a secret from anyone! Now come along, sweetie.” Mary found herself being lifted up out of her highchair and hoisted into her mother’s arms, her bottom resting on her hip. “Time to go into the living room. You’re not quite done feeding yet!”

“What?” Mary asked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“You haven’t had anything to drink yet, silly!” her mother chuckled, but that made Mary frown. Why were they leaving the kitchen then?

Her mother went through to the room next door and took a seat on the sofa, laying Mary down against her, her head resting against her chest. With a plummeting sensation in her stomach, Mary realised that she was probably about to be bottle-fed. But her mother didn’t seem to have one with her… Then she lifted up her shirt, and Mary saw the maternity bra beneath.

“No!” she shrieked. “No way! I’m not doing that! I’m not!” She tried to get up, but her mother held her down.

“You will if you want a nappy change anytime today, sweetheart.” And with that, she shoved the nipple of her breast into her daughter’s mouth, and held her head against her.

Mary looked up into her mother’s eyes desperately, silently pleading with her, but her mother just looked back warningly.

For a few moments, Mary didn’t move. She just lay there, her cheeks bright red with shame, her lips clamped around her mother’s breast. And then, with a low, embarrassed whine, she started to suck. Thick, rich breastmilk poured down her throat at once, warm and sweet and horrible. But once she’d started, the milk flowed into her mouth, and it was difficult to stop.

“That’s my good girl,” her mother crooned softly, brushing Mary’s hair. “It’s so lovely to do this again. It’s such a good bonding experience for Mummy and baby. After you got sentenced, the courts recommended a doctor I could speak to, and I was amazed at how quickly he said he could induce lactation. There’s a very special drug he gave me that helped me start doing it almost straight away! And the best part is, the doctors said the milk it produces is addictive! Isn’t that amazing? Just think, after a few weeks back on the breast, you’ll start to crave it. I can’t wait to see you tug on my skirts in public and beg for a breastfeed!”

Mary squealed with horror around the nipple in her mouth, but her mother barely noticed. She was too busy giggling at the thought of her adult daughter pleading for a suckle in front of her friends. “It’ll be so adorable! And just think, when your Regression Sentence ends, I’ll actually have to wean you off my boobs!”

Mary cringed with shame and clenched her eyes tightly shut, still continuing to guzzle down her mother’s breastmilk at a steady pace. She was starting to feel bloated, and for the first time she wondered, with a pang of fear, whether her slim, sexy figure would survive two years of baby food and breastmilk. She was very proud of her tight, toned stomach, but now the vision of herself with a slightly pudgy belly appeared in her mind. Just a little bit of baby fat, but enough to turn her from sexy to cute. She could just picture her mother and her friends pinching her cheeks and blowing raspberries on her tummy, and the thought made her want to sink into the sofa and disappear.

At last, her mother gently pulled her head away from her chest, and her nipple popped free. Mary groaned. She was feeling very full.

“Well done, baby girl,” her mother cooed. “That’s one down. Only one more to go!”

Mary whimpered. She was about to complain that she’d had enough, when she was distracted by a sudden pressure in her bladder. She gasped. She didn’t know if it had been something in the food, or another quality of her mother’s special breastmilk, or if it was something else entirely, but the need to pee had arisen so quickly and powerfully that she barely had time to react. Her hands clutched at the front of her nappy, her eyes went wide and, while her mother looked down at her with a grin, she started to wet.

“No!” she squealed, and her mother tittered.

“Uh-oh! Looks like it’s tinkle-time for Mummy’s wittle princess! There’s no need to look so scared, sweetie. That’s what your nappy’s for!”

Mary just lay there in shock, trying in vain to stop the flow of the warm rush of pee as it soaked her diaper. Worse, she could feel a rumbling in her tummy that let her know that it wouldn’t be long before she was doing something even yuckier in it.

“Mummy promises you’ll get used to all of this, darling,” her mother went on gently. “Yummy baby food, yucky nappies, and of course, plenty of time snuggled up with Mama, drinking from her breasts. We’ll be doing it all every day for the next two years – even out in public!”

At that, Mary started to cry, but her mother just shushed her gently and guided her other breast into the woman’s waiting mouth. She was sure her daughter would feel much better with a full tummy.

 

 

Sloth

Sarah’s eyes fluttered open and she looked around blearily. Where was she? This wasn’t the room she’d been in when the doctor had administered the anaesthetic. It still looked like a hospital though. Her bed was a hospital bed, the walls, ceiling, and floor around her were all white, and the faint smell of antiseptic was in the air. She groaned and turned her head a little. Sure enough, there was a bedside cabinet besides her, and a drip stand. But there were no other beds in the long room. She was alone. She moved one hand down to her side, expecting to find bandages and soreness above the spot where her appendix used to be, but there was nothing there. No wound at all. Had they abandoned the surgery for some reason? Her fingers felt awkward though, and she hadn’t been able to do more than brush feebly against her skin. There was an ache in her arms, particularly her hands, and her legs felt much the same.

“Oh! You’re, like, awake!” came a breathy, high-pitched voice. It giggled.

All of a sudden, a woman was bending over her, and Sarah felt her full awareness come back to her at once. The woman was dressed like a nurse, but not a real one. It looked more like a sexy Halloween costume with its cheap, plasticky-looking texture, and top that was so low-cut the woman’s breasts were practically spilling out.

“Who are you?” asked Sarah, with a slight edge to her voice. Surely this slut wasn’t a real employee? She tried to sit up, but her body must still be recovering from the anaesthetic, because she could barely raise her head before it slumped back against the pillows.

“I’m Barbie! I’ll, like, go get the doctor!” said the bimbo, with another giggle. Her boobs disappeared from Sarah’s field of vision.

Sarah could hear her shoes clacking against the bright, polished floor as she walked away, and barely a minute later they returned with another set of footsteps. This time a middle-aged man stood over her, plain-looking, with greying hair and glasses, and Sarah was relieved to recognise him as the doctor who’d been overseeing her surgery.

“How are you feeling, dear?” he asked kindly.

“Fine,” said Sarah. “But I can hardly sit up. Why isn’t my appendix out? Did something go wrong?”

The man chuckled. “Oh no, sweetie. Nothing went wrong. You see, your appendix didn’t really need to come out.”

“What?” Sarah frowned. “But you said-”

“I’m afraid I told a little lie, Sarah.”

“A lie?” she repeated angrily. If there was some medical malpractice going on here she was going to sue this pants of this old man. The money from a lawsuit would suit her nicely. Her husband was always complaining about how she kept burning through all his credit cards on clothes, and it might even get him to shut up about how she ‘never did enough around the house’.

“That’s right,” the man said brightly, nodding his head. “We needed to put you under anaesthetic to bring you here, but we didn’t want you putting up a fuss, you see, so I said all that nonsense about how your check-up revealed you needed your appendix out pronto.”

Sarah’s anger started to give way to fear. She hadn’t needed her appendix out? Was he saying he’d kidnapped her? “Where are we?” she asked, trying to sound braver than she felt. “Why have you brought me here? My husband is a very powerful man. When he finds out about this he-”

“Slow down, little lady!” the man laughed, cutting across her. “One thing at a time. Firstly, you’re at a little private clinic of mine. As to why you’re here, well, as it happens that involves your husband. You see, he’s the one who arranged for you to be taken here in order that I can give you a little… transformation.”

“Henry did this?!” Sarah raged. She tried once again to get up, but her arms were too weak to support her. Something crinkled under the blankets. “Where is he?! I swear if there isn’t a good reason for this I’m going to divorce him and… wait, what do you mean transformation?” Sarah thought of the bimbo nurse and a thought occurred to her. “If Henry’s brought me here because he wants me to get implants or something like that then he’s got another thing coming because I am not going to look like that ditzy whore!” The nurse was standing on the other side of the bed, twisting a lock of blonde hair around her finger and looking vapid.

“Oh no,” the doctor said, smiling. “Barbie’s the result of another one of my projects. It’s quite popular among men with misbehaving wives, but your husband wanted something a bit different for you. You see, he’s very disappointed in the way you’ve been behaving, Sarah. When you got married, it was under the assumption that he’d be working, and you’d be taking care of the house. But you haven’t been fulfilling your wifely duties, have you? You’ve spent your time shopping and partying and lazing about at home. No cleaning, no doing the laundry, no making dinner for him when he comes home…”

“I married a rich man so I could live a life of leisure!” Sarah spat. “There’s nothing wrong with that! His reward is that he gets to have me, but I’m not going to be some fucking maid!”

“Well,” said the doctor, “you’ll be relieved to know you won’t have to be. Your husband decided that you ought to have a life that fits a spoiled, pampered, lazy little thing like you. You might be a bit of a brat, but he’s very fond of you. If you can’t be a proper wife, then you’ll be his baby girl instead.”

“What?! What the fuck are you talking about?!”

“A little surgery is all that’s required,” the doctor said airily, and Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She became very aware of how helpless she was again. She made another futile attempt to get up, but her body just couldn’t manage it. There was another crinkle. Was that the bedsheets? “A few snips here and there, some injections into certain muscles and tendons, and you’ll find that your arms and legs become near useless.” His smile widened, and Sarah looked up at him in horror. He was talking about crippling her! Turning her into an invalid! “Then we do a little bit of tinkering in your bladder, and take away your ability to told your urine, and we can make it so you have hardly any ability to control your bowels too, making nappies a necessity.”

“N-nappies?!” Sarah stammered. “No! You can’t! That’s disgusting!”

The doctor looked down at her, his expression slightly stern. “If you can’t even clean the house, there’s no reason you should be allowed to clean your own bottom, Sarah. That’ll be a job for your new Nanny. That and feeding you, bathing you, pushing you around in your pram…”

Sarah’s eyes widened and she started to struggle as hard as she could to get up, but all she managed to accomplish was a desperate sort of wiggle on the bed. “No!” she shrieked. “You can’t! You can’t do that to me! Please! Oh God, I don’t want to be incontinent! You can’t! I’m not going to let that happen!”

The doctor cocked his head, looking bemused. “Not going to let it happen? Silly girl… it’s already happened.”

Sarah felt like her heart had dropped into her stomach. “What…?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

“The surgery’s over. I did it all before you woke up, and I can assure you the results are totally permanent.”

Sarah felt panic rising up inside her. Her hands, her legs, the reason she couldn’t get up. Her bladder, her bowels!

The doctor took hold of her bedsheets and pulled them off her, and Sarah saw the enormous disposable diaper taped around her bottom. Even as she stared, aghast, at her oversized infantile underwear, she felt a warmth around her crotch. She was peeing herself. She let out an ear-piecing scream. “NO!” she shrieked. “NO! NO! NO! You can’t get away with this! I’ll tell everyone what you did! You and Henry are going to rot in a fucking prison cell!”

“Ah,” said the doctor, his eyes glittering mischievously. “Well, that brings us to the last part of the procedure. I find messing around with surgery on tongues and vocal chords to be a bit inelegant, so I’ve devised a much better solution for our purposes.”

Sarah screamed again, but the doctor was able to slip a large, yellow lozenge into her mouth and hold her jaws tightly shut. The tablet started to froth on her tongue. At first Sarah thought of acid, and her eyes went wide and she wiggled desperately, but there was no pain. Nothing seemed to be happening to her tongue at all, in fact, at least that she could tell. The frothing tablet tasted faintly like citrus, as though it were nothing but an overlarge flavoured cough-drop, and Sarah had no choice but to swallow to stop herself from gagging. In no time at all, the lozenge had dissolved to nothing, and the doctor took his hands away.

Sarah screamed again the moment her mouth was free. She tried to yell what the fuck was that?! But what came out was “Buh buh ba ba goo ga!” She gasped and went pale. What had the doctor done to her?!

“Sorry, sweetie,” he said, smiling. “You’re too little to talk. That special lozenge works deep into the muscles of your mouth, and down into your throat, taking away the ability to form any sounds more complex than the prattle of an infant. You’ll have to scream and cry to get what you want from now on.”

Sarah stared at him in horror, her mouth hanging open. This couldn’t be happening to her!

There was suddenly a knock at the door.

“Ah!” said the doctor happily. “That’ll be your Daddy! Barbie, go invite our guest in.”

“Like, yes doctor!” said Barbie, brightening up. She’d been watching Sarah’s panicked writhing with a confused and vaguely concerned look on her face. She strutted off and came back a few seconds later with Henry by her side.

“Hi, baby!” he cooed. His eyes ran down her body, and came to rest on the bulky, wet nappy between his wife’s legs. He grinned. “Oh she’s perfect,” he said to the doctor. “I can’t thank you enough for your help, and for your discretion.”

“Just doing my job!” the doctor replied courteously. “Are you ready to take her home now?”

“Yes, if she’s ready.”

“Certainly, certainly. Would you like me to have her wheeled out to your car?”

“No, thank you. I’ll carry her. I’d better get used to picking her up, since she won’t be walking anytime soon!”

The two men laughed, and Sarah just stared at them, caught somewhere between shock and terror. But then Henry reached down and scooped her up out of the bed, cradling her in his arms like she was a newborn. Her eyes met his, and she did her best to channel all her hatred into them. She tried to shout, but all that came out was baby babble. “Ah goo goo ga ba ba boo!” she spluttered furiously, dribbling a little down her chin. “Uh gu gu goo!”

“That’s right, sweetie,” her husband said, taking his leave of the doctor’s clinic and carrying her out, towards her new life. “We’re going home! A life of leisure, you said you wanted. Well now you’re getting it. I’m going to feed you bottles, and wash you in a special little bathtub. You’re going to lie on the floor on your tummy all day, watching silly cartoons. Daddy will dress you in the prettiest onesies and rompers. And you’ll have a lovely nanny to take care of all your needs while I’m at work. You won’t have to get up for anything. Not even the potty!”

Sarah’s incontinent bladder released again, soaking the thirsty padding between her thighs, and she could feel an ominous rumbling in her bowels. This couldn’t be her life! It couldn’t! “Goo goo ga ga!” she cried. “Waaaaaah!”

[littlebopeeper]

Absolutely terrific set of short stories.  Are you going to tackle The Ten Commandments next?

[dirtydingus84]

What a great concept 7 individual stories that are all different, but all had the same theme. I loved it.  

[MellowSadistic]

@littlebopeeperHaha maybe I should - commandments like "You shall not commit adultery" or "Honour your father and your mother" would fit well, but "Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy" might be a little difficult. I was considering doing the Seven Capital Virtues (chastity, temperence, charity, diligence, patience, kindess, and humility), but only time will tell. I suffer from the sin of Sloth.

[littlebopeeper]

1 hour ago, MellowSadistic said:

@littlebopeeperHaha maybe I should - commandments like "You shall not commit adultery" or "Honour your father and your mother" would fit well, but "Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy" might be a little difficult. I was considering doing the Seven Capital Virtues (chastity, temperence, charity, diligence, patience, kindess, and humility), but only time will tell. I suffer from the sin of Sloth.

 

People who violate the Sabbath have been known to expiate their sin in unusual ways.  And what, pray tell, should one do to pay for being slothful?

[holekine]

very interesting stories I think my personal favorite is gluttony I'm not a fan of Regression stories personally But I would almost be curious To see an actual story just based on the previous of Like her mommy taking her out in public but her not regressing.

 

Envy would be my second favorite Again how is the doctor doing this Is it just hypnosis ? Just my thoughts but I think you have An actual solid story with Glutney and envy I don't know if you just can't want to make these a one and done but.

I think you could actually make both of those into their own individual story Just my thoughts The only thing I would say if you're going to make a story on The background of blood knee I would take away the regression Aspect cause I think you could get more out of the characters if not Progressing like how does facebook interact.

How will her friends and coworkers react Very interesting stuff there just my thoughts.

[diaprbayb]

I don't know how I missed these

But I love them