A Woman’s Place

[Fifers12]

BEFORE YOU READ

Author’s Note: 

Hey all! I know I’m working on my other story, ‘Madeline’ right now but I figured since I’ve already got that story complete and will be updating periodically, I’d post this one!

For the first time in a long while, this story is not in the Diaper Dimension! It’s based in a dystopian America where men rule and women are diapered. I’ve posted several one-shots recently in this universe and now have decided to turn it into a full story. The links to the other short stories are posted below! 

Disclaimer: 

This story is completely non-con!! It contains every warning you could possibly think of from domestic abuse, violence against women, normalized misogyny, sexist language, mental health issues. It also is SEXUAL so if this is not your scene then I suggest you SKIP this story!!

Additional stories: 

Curiosity Killed the Cat: 

https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/99582-curiosity-killed-the-cat/#comment-2250023 

An Hysterical Diapering: 

https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/99547-%E2%80%8B%E2%80%8B%E2%80%8B%E2%80%8B%E2%80%8B%E2%80%8B%E2%80%8Ban-hysterical-diapering/#comment-2249593 

Questions:

https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/99532-questions/#comment-2249380 

∞§∞

Synopsis: 

For ten years, Hannah has survived, trapped in a fallen society where women have been reduced to no more than diapered objects. However, when new neighbors move in next door, everything she had worked so hard to maintain slowly begins to fall apart. This leaves Hannah questioning everything she has been taught about a woman’s place in this world.

 

A Woman’s Place

Chapter 1: 

2026

The soft velvet of praise reached her ears. Low and soothing, her face filled with warmth, relieved to have done something right. Jack could be in such a foul mood, but it must have been a good day, because she might as well have been purring from the way he patted her head. 

Knelt in the same position he’d left her this morning, they found themselves in the kitchen. Or more accurately, Hannah at his feet, beside where he sat at the head of the table. They were silent except for the scrape of cutlery upon china. Her nose flared at the wafting scent of the dinner she’d spent the last hour preparing. 

It was his favorite: chicken cutlet with a side of mash and veg. It was the first dish she’d learned to make and thought it fair to say that she had nailed to perfection. 

Her pride only multiplied when his hand reached down. Dangling in front of her lips was a juicy slice of crusted meat.

“Go on,” he encouraged with a deep and hearty chuckle at the widening of her gaze. “You’ve been a good girl today.” 

“T-thank you!” Hannah breathed.

Leaning forward toward the offered food, she took it with her teeth. Relaxed against her husband’s leg, she sucked the lingering juices from his fingers, tongue swiping his skin in eager movements.

As if a dog desperate for a bone, Hannah Nicholas knew what she looked like - desperate and broken. This had been her life for the better half of the last decade. But it wasn’t so much of a brokenness than conditioned response. As a woman, Hannah knew what was expected of her. Men would see whatever they wanted to believe even in the form of plastic smiles and empty eyes. 

But that didn’t mean she was numb. In fact, it was quite the opposite. 

From where her husband sat, his voice washed over her. “I saw you completed all of your chores. I’m very proud of you. It was a long list.”

Her chin tucked into her chest in response, but it wasn’t enough to hide the blossoming blush. She hated the way she reacted. Humiliated and ashamed, yet her body’s sickening desire for his approval made her question how sane she truly was. 

Experts would call it Stockholm Syndrome because when you were dependent on the one person that had the power to take everything away, the little treats became everything.

And she’d never hated him more for it. 

Thanking him profusely, she all but mewled. She nuzzled her cheek into his open palm in a twisted act of affection. 

Afterall, obedience was a woman’s best friend. 

That was the first thing they learned in Reformation School. 

Obedience to the man. 

Obedience to the Patriarchy. 

What were once meaningless words became a lifeline —- tightening around your neck like a noose. It slowly stole your breath until you turned blue in the face in fit of submission.

Maybe it would loosen or maybe… you would die. 

In an already fractured society, only the fittest survived, and the weak were a disease nobody wanted to catch. 

The number one cause of a weak ruler was the failure to adapt — to admit when one was in over their head and concede when their time had come to an end. 

That was why it was no wonder the country fell apart so quickly. After a decade of disillusion, people needed someone to look up to, they needed something to believe in. 

But when only one part of humanity has a voice, where does the other half go?

For Hannah, that was North Carolina.

∞§∞

She knew he’d done it on purpose. Hannah was no fool. It was the same every time. Whether this was to test her level of obedience or just some sick way to fuck with her mind, she wouldn’t let him get to her. Men like her husband craved power. They needed it to breathe. But even in a world where they already held the upper hand, still, it was never enough.

And as a female in this patriarchal hellscape where the price of a woman was that of livestock, Hannah could not afford to fall apart. There were rules for a reason. Rules to uphold the Patriarchy and every person had a place.

Whatever it was, she had taken the oath of submission. Vowing to serve and protect the very system that sought to turn her into nothing… 

But Hannah would do anything if that’s what it took to survive. 

Even now as she scrubbed the toilet mercilessly on her hands and knees. It had taken nearly an hour to unclog and the odor clung to the walls like glue. 

Her eyes burned.

She’d have to clean the whole bathroom again because Jack was a very particular man. The slightest imperfections sent him up the wall and at the end of the day, she would be the one to face the consequence. 

Luckily today though, her list was short enough. 

With breakfast and lunch completed and the kitchen cleaned, all that was left was some light dusting, laundry and dinner tonight.

Hannah knew the amount of work but it kept her busy. That’s all she could be grateful for. Hannah had never been one to idle, always wanting more. However, according to the Patriarchy, a woman’s place was in the home. That’s why if she couldn’t work, this was the next best thing. 

But at the same time, there was an exhaustion that never seemed to fade. Etched into the lines of her face she was too young to have at only twenty-eight, Hannah was tired. 

As the young woman bent over the toilet on the cold tiled ground, her arms trembled from the exertion. For a moment, she thought that it wouldn’t hurt to take a break. Just a few seconds. If she closed her eyes and - 

“Pet?” 

Jerked out of her stupor, she could not react fast enough. Scrambling on all fours, she bowed her head to the ground at his feet. 

Jack stood at the door. Leaning against the frame with his hand on his hip, she watched him watch her. Cold and stony faced, her skin ignited in goosebumps.

Hannah wouldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t attractive. He was - in a conventional sort of way. Olive skinned with a head full thick hair, he had a bone structure so sharp it could cut stone. He stood at maybe a foot above her when she was on her feet and had the build of a soccer player - lean and muscular. His sharply upturned eyes were a mousy brown that kindled in intensity.

“Jack!” She exclaimed, unable to slow the hammering of her pulse. “I-I, uhm, I was just cleaning the bathroom-” 

Hannah struggled to explain over the rushing sound in her ears, angry at herself for how she hadn’t even heard his arrival. 

Instead of the reaction she’d expected, he lazily drawled, “Is my little wife tired?” 

Hannah knew better than to respond. 

A good wife was quiet. 

A good wife obeyed. 

“I don’t recall giving you a break. The house is far from clean.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Hannah murmured so softly, she barely heard her own voice. 

They’d had a late night. She could still feel the slap of his manhood plunging inside her quivering sex as he edged her to the point of delusion. Instinctively her thighs squeezed to together at the memory, knowing there was more where that came from - 

“Nuh-uh.” He snapped. 

Pulled back to the present, her face went ashen. She’d done it again. It was too easy to get lost in herself. Not only embarrassed at getting caught, it was even more so the lack of humility. 

“Such a needy thing… You know playtime is not allowed.” 

“Yes, sir.”

“Present yourself.” He commanded. 

Watching as his wife scurried to comply, she was desperate not to make the situation any worse. So she clambered to her feet and spread her legs. Hannah didn’t even react as his hands slipped between her thighs, testing the leak guard of her thickly diapered bottom. 

Hannah was used to this by now - the diaper checks, baby powder, and lack of modesty; never being able to ignore the friction against her itching cunt so far out of reach, and the constant smell of her own bodily waste trailing in her wake. 

She stiffened at the swipe to the folds of her womanhood as he announced, “dry.” Sighing then, he said, “this is not your fault. You can’t control your urges. You’re just a simple minded girl, aren't you?”

“Yes, sir.” Hannah responded slowly.

He was unaware of her internal debacle.

“This is just another example as to why you women need a strong man to keep you in line. It’s so you don’t get silly ideas about who owns your body.”

“Yes, sir.” 

The words were hollow but it’s what he wanted to hear.

Above her, he grinned down, patting her crinkling bottom in what could have been mistaken as affection. 

Unable to ignore the audible rustle of padding, there was no question where it was from.

Of course it was from her. 

It was always her. 

Her very sight exemplified everything that the United States had become: a totalitarian regime built on the ideals of a patriarchal system where women’s autonomy did not exist, and misogynistic incels wielded the power. 

Trapped in a world of humiliation, fear and masculinity… this was the Patriarchy. 

[ppbenn]

Fantastic writing. I'm definitely looking forward to reading more. Thank you for writing and sharing it here 

[Fifers12]

Chapter 2

Jack had a thing for blondes.

That was the first thing he told her when they met, despite the fact that she was the very opposite. 

Growing up everyone always mocked her for her vibrant head of red hair. Hannah could spend all day critiquing the way she looked from the way her skin was too pale to catch a tan to her lack of curves and hazy green eyes. 

Hannah had always stood out like a sore thumb, so that was why it was no surprise that the very first thing they did was make an appointment at the salon. A decade later, she didn't know life not as a blonde. Well, more a soft strawberry, it was as much part of her as her thickly padded bottom. 

It’s how she found herself that morning, smoothing the loose strands back behind her ears. Her hair was nearly at her waist just as he demanded. Jack preferred she kept her hair long. While, it was a pain to maintain, Hannah did not have the luxury to complain. 

A woman was to be neat and presentable for her husband. A man shouldn’t have to suffer all day at work only to come home to an even uglier sight. 

Oh, the wise words of the Patriarchy… 

There were many places a woman could be.

On her knees sucking cock, in the kitchen cooking dinner, or on her back being powdered and diapered. There were a lot of options, sometimes too many, and that’s when Hannah began to spiral.

To the Patriarchy, females were the products of their own creation. 

Dumb cows. 

Treacherous snakes.

Corrupt and slow… 

There was a reason the country had fallen apart. Distracted by the outcry of women's rights, more important matters were pushed to the side. The female species was a malleable gender steeped so high in immaturity that the only solution was to be curbed by the hand of male dominance. 

At least, that was the rhetoric and people bought into it. People believed it. They even died for it.

The Hudons’ were living proof of that.

Life on Fairfield Lane was not very exciting. The houses were all the same with the classic white picket fence and meticulously manicured lawns. There was the puppy here and there, and the wife to kiss her husband when he returned home. It was quite literally the American dream - domestic bliss - but even perfection had its cracks.

It was a calm summer evening at the end of the July when the raid came soundlessly. So uneventful, they would have missed it if not for the scraping tires against the pavement. A white van screeched to a halt outside of their house. They watched from behind closed curtains, as men clad in black stormed the home in a silent show of force. One after the other, loads of items were carted out in a steady stream. 

Everybody knew. How could they not? It didn’t matter what the Hudsons’ had done, only that they’d gone against the Patriarchy. 

People crossed the street, disappearing behind closed doors, or just continued on about their day as if nothing was happening. Suddenly neighbors that they’d known for years turned their backs in an icy wall of betrayal. It was as if they were strangers because it became as if the Hudsons’ had never existed. 

That was how powerful they were. They didn’t need to divide the people when they already did it themselves. 

“Those rebellious traitors got what they deserved. Two less criminals around.” 

Hannah nodded, sickly at the thought of the Hudsons’ fate. Perhaps out of them all, they’d seemed the most dedicated to the Patriarchy. It was apparent in the way Eloise worshipped her husband as if he was God himself, proudly displaying herself for diapering on their front porch for all to see. You could always hear the sound of nationalist anthems coming from their home.

That’s why it was simply unfathomable that the fifty-four year old couple could be accused of - well, they didn’t actually know - but to think they were capable of disloyalty was as ridiculous as it sounded. 

Yet again, one never could know anyone’s true intentions.

Hannah had never met a more hypocritical person in her entire life. The man her husband had once been golf buddies with, even encouraging Hannah to spend time with Eloise due to her good influence, had all but turned his back.

Despite the age difference, Hannah enjoyed Eloise Hudson’s company and even more her chocolate chip cookies. They commonly spoke, even having tea together every now and then. There’d been something so boringly normal about the older woman that Hannah hadn’t experienced in a long time. 

But everyone knew what happened to traitors.

As quick as it started, it was over. 

Within moments, a series of loud shots rang throughout the air. 

Pop - 

Silence. 

Pop - 

Crash!

Pop - 

In a flurry of commotion, Jack yanked her inside and the last thing they saw were the bloody bodies of the Hudsons’ dragged onto the front porch. 

That’s when the screaming began.

∞§∞

Often, it felt as if the world was breathing down her neck. Always watching, always waiting for the moment she would break, but if the years had taught Hannah anything, it was how to disconnect. 

After the raid, there was no time to panic and so Hannah did what she did best. She stuffed down every heavy feeling in her chest along with all of her other past trauma, and continued on with the day. So painfully dull, the only sign of before was the trembling of her hands. 

When finally the sky turned to dusk, Hannah never thought the day would end.

It seemed to move even slower, unable to get back into the rhythm of things which resulted in more than one spanking. 

And now with dinner finished, kitchen cleaned, teeth brushed and changed… they concluded the night as they always did. 

Hannah found Jack in the living room, settled on the leather couch with a glass of whisky and book in his hand. He was already dressed for the night in a loose shirt and tightly fitted boxers. 

Small and cozy with warm colored oak walls, the dark colored tones in shades of brown and black made up the interior of their home. It drowned in the suffocating scent of masculinity. 

“Finally,” he hummed without looking up. “I didn’t think you were coming back.”

“Sorry,” she murmured, padding the short distance from the stairs to where he sat.

 Stood before him, her toes curled into the rug and back straightened. 

He said, “let me see you.” 

When he glanced up, he smiled briefly. Jack reached forward to play with the lacy hem of her ruby satin slip. Her skin crawled at his leering gaze, desperate to meet his approval in baited silence.

“You’re wearing it.” He commented. 

“Do you like it?” She asked, her bottom lip slipping between her teeth. Anxiously peering up at him through her long lashes, she tucked a lock behind her ear and batted her eyes. 

“I bought it,” he smirked. “My beautiful little wife… turn for me.” 

She did as he bid, slowly and carefully. Every moment brought another audible rustle from her lower half. None of her clothes fit right, unable to squeeze over the bulky diaper, so like most other women, she walked around pantless. 

“Come on,” he wiggled his finger. “Your diaper is too dry.” 

The tools were already spread on the table in preparation for what had become their nightly routine.

That was how she found herself over his lap. Backside up, her bottom bared with a fresh nighttime diaper already spread beneath. 

Prepared. 

Ready. 

He gave no warning when suddenly - 

She jolted upright, breath hitched as a long tube impaled its way through her anus. She felt the way her sphincter formed around the foreign object and Jack’s hands as he spread her cheeks apart. 

Rubbing the small of her back, he cooed, “good girl. That’s the hardest part. You can relax now.” 

“Thank you.” She panted, knowing in part, that he was right. 

The initial insertion was the hardest part and the rest well… it was exactly how it sounded. Heart stuttering to life at the flush of cool saline into her insides, her belly began to fill.

“Enema’s are important for a multitude of reasons. Do you know why, darling?” 

“Yes Jack.”

Squirming slightly at the twinge in her abdomen, she droned monotonously, “a wet and messy diaper is the best way to make an obedient woman.” 

“What else? You know that’s not all.” he clicked his tongue. 

Just barely suppressing the urge to groan, she repeated her daily mantras. Meant to instill obedience and order, it was the same patriarchal jargon Hannah had been force fed throughout the years. Having said it so many times, it was imprinted into her mind. So she began:

1. A woman’s place is on her knees, obedient and silent 
2. A woman’s place is in the home, out of sight and out of mind 
3. A woman’s place is beneath her husband, needy and desperate
4. A woman’s place is in a diaper, dependent on His care
5. A woman’s place is on her back, grateful for His love
6. A woman’s place is not a place, but a state of mind carved into the fabric of her submission

∞§∞

Author’s Note: 

Hey all! Here is another chapter . I said that I would update weekly but I couldn’t wait any longer to post again! I’m not sure how many are reading but I appreciate those that are! As always, I love reviews because they inspire me to keep writing so stay tuned. There is definitely more to come!!

[ppbenn]

This is definitely an interesting premise. Thanks for writing and sharing. 

 

[Fifers12]

Chapter 3 

Sunday’s were Hannah’s favorite day of the week because it was her one day off. A reward for her good behavior, the weight behind it did not escape her notice. She made sure not to confuse Jack’s gesture with kindness. Knowing how quickly the tides could turn, still, she was grateful. 

How could she not be?

Waking up beside her husband to the warm glow of the morning light, it was nearly eight. He was still asleep, as usual, and for that Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment she watched on him with his back turned to her before her gaze drifted to the ceiling. He was unmoving, eerily still. 

Hannah loved the mornings. It was only time of day that the world collectively came to a pause, and she was truly alone. After the takeover, women’s rights were eradicated and there was little time for herself.

The changes came slowly but were swift in their execution that left no room for maneuver. Those who recognized the signs of the shifting democracy fled for other countries, while everyone else hummed and awed. So trustful in a constitution that had never guaranteed freedom, they did not even realize their own downfall. 

That’s when her world crumpled, piece by piece until she was left standing in the ruins. Perhaps what upset her the most was that she didn’t even have the chance to finish high school. Seven months shy of graduation, college had all but become an impossible dream.

It was soon understood that the most powerful tool wasn’t fear or violence. It was education. A knowledgeable woman was far more dangerous than any weapon. 

So it came to no surprise when women and girls slowly disappeared from public view.

It was only a matter of time.

The mornings offered safety, comfort, and a temporary refuge from the harshness of the world. It was a time for thought as her gaze wandered over the bookcase across the room. Greeted by familiar titles from a lifetime ago, still able to feel the worn edges frayed from use and care, it was so easy to take life for granted. Nobody knew what to miss until it was gone. 

But too soon, Hannah was forced back into reality. Distracted by the gnawing ache in her belly, she knew what was about to happen. The morning wasn’t complete without a soiled diaper and if she didn’t shit herself, Jack would make her.

Careful not to wake him, beneath the blanket Hannah brought her knees to her chest. Already soaked from the night, her face scrunched in concentration. That's when she began to push. Exhaling tiny breaths and little grunts as her belly chugged to its final destination, the seat of her padding filled with warmth as the softened mush snaked its way out. 

This wasn’t her favorite position to go in. She preferred a squat rather than on her back because it always ended in a blowout. Such as now. Smeared up her backside, all Hannah could do was wait. Jack would wake up when he did and change her when he wanted, all the while mocking her endlessly with knowing looks, smug smirks, and stupid baby talk that made her want to punch him in the face.

Lucky for him, she’d placed the pads down last night. She had a feeling something like this would happen. Small as it was, making the bed was her least favorite part of the day. She’d rather painstakingly polish all the silverware one by one or scrub the toilet with a toothbrush.

But then again, she didn’t have a choice. 

Hannah told herself to be happy though. Think of the positives like that today was Sunday which meant it was a good day.

∞§∞

“My little wife is quite the poopoo machine! I think we may need to permanently switch to nighttime diapers.” He said seriously. 

Unperturbed by the wretched odor, he’d let her stew for an hour, taking his sweet time before finally deciding that she’d had enough (or maybe it was him).

Hannah laid on the changing table beneath the window overlooking the street. Her legs were spread as he wiped her brown stained bottom in a practiced ease. She couldn’t lie, he was quick and efficient, never lingering in one place for a long. 

“Nighttime?” She sneezed at the cloud of powder. 

Pampers Xtreme left her just barely able to walk. Unable to move no more than a slow and unsteady waddle, surely he wouldn’t do that. It wasn’t feasible. 

There were women treated as babies and infantilized to the highest degree. There were even adult daycares and items for men to live out their wildest fantasies. For a while, Hannah feared that was her fate but Jack had quickly shut that down when he’d gaffed at the fear, “If I wanted a baby, I’d fuck it into you.” 

That cleared that up.

But still, she never could predict his next steps.

“Only deluxe,” he reassured, unfolding the thick white square. “You still have work to do.”

Oh, thank god. 

“Hips up.” He hummed. 

Slid beneath and taped at her hips, there was a noticeable difference. Bulkier and heavier, her thighs no longer touched (not that they did much before) and the star printed design would glow immediately upon indication of use. 

“Am I still able to see Grace today?” She asked hesitantly, fiddling with her fingers. 

“Where are you going?”

“The park.” 

The heat had been stifling all summer and for once, it wasn’t supposed to be too hot.

For North Carolina was a rare occurrence.

“Go have your play date,” he shrugged. “You know what time to be back.” 

“Yes, sir!” She nodded, barely able to contain her relief. 

There were many approved past times for women to partake in such as sewing or knitting, baking, walks, shopping… it was any activity that required no thought because why would a woman read, when all she needed to do was clean?

That’s why any opportunity to get out of the house was a chance taken. From the grocery store to the dreaded Southern Housewives Association for Diapered Women (SHADW for short), where they gossiped over finger sandwiches and sparkling juice every week… it was her one reprieve.

How sad was that…

∞§∞

Author’s Note:

Hey all! Here is another chapter! I know that it is super short but I promise the next one will be longer! I’m not sure how many are reading this story but for those who are, I thank you so much! Your support means everything to me. As always, I love reviews because they inspire me to keep writing and update faster! That being said, I should post again shortly so stay tuned!