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Yes Sir
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The hotel room was too quiet. The air conditioner hummed, a low, steady drone that filled the space between the walls. Sunlight sneaked through the gap in the heavy curtains, painting a thin gold line across the carpet. The bed was still messy from last night, sheets tangled, pillows askew. And in the middle of it all, kneeling on the mattress, was her.
The hotel room was too quiet. The air conditioner hummed, a low, steady drone that filled the space between the walls. Sunlight sneaked through the gap in the heavy curtains, painting a thin gold line across the carpet. The bed was still messy from last night, sheets tangled, pillows askew. And in the middle of it all, kneeling on the mattress, was her.
She wasn’t supposed to be here. Not like this. Not with him.
Her fingers twisted in the hem of her oversized blue T-shirt, the one with the cartoon duck on the front. It was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. But she couldn’t stop. Her mind felt fuzzy, like someone had stuffed her head with cotton. Every time she tried to think, her thoughts slipped away, replaced by a single, stubborn command: Be good for Daddy.
She whimpered, her thighs pressing together. The diaper between her legs was thick, bulky, the plastic outer shell crinkling with every shift of her hips. She could feel the padding, dry and poofy, hugging her like a second skin. It was embarrassing. It was wrong. And yet, her body tingled with something she didn’t want to name.
Across the room, he leaned against the desk, arms crossed. His suit was still crisp, his tie perfectly knotted. He looked like he belonged here, at the conference, in the world of adults, of serious discussions and handshakes. Not in a hotel room with a grown woman dressed like a toddler, kneeling on a bed.
“You’re thinking too hard, princess,” he murmured. His voice was smooth, dark, like warm honey. It made her stomach flip. “Daddy told you what to do.”
She bit her lip. The pacifier in her mouth was stupid. She knew that. But when she tried to spit it out, her jaw locked, her tongue pushing it back in. Her cheeks burned.
She knew what to do. But it was hard to let go, to give in. Her body tingled, the pressure growing, the warmth spreading. She shifted again, the diaper crinkling loudly.
“Go on,” he murmured. “Show Daddy how good you can be.”
She whined, but her body betrayed her. The warmth spread, the pressure releasing in a slow, steady stream. The diaper caught it all, the padding swelling, the gel beads inside expanding. She could feel the wetness, the heat, the way it hugged her closer. There was a soft hiss, the sound of the diaper doing its job, absorbing everything.
She gasped, her fingers pressing against the front of her diaper. It was happening. She was doing it. The wetness spread, the warmth seeping into her skin. Her face burned, but she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to stop.
The diaper sagged, heavy and full. She wiggled, feeling the weight between her legs, the way it made her walk funny. She bit down on her pacifier, her hips rocking without permission. She was his. She was good.
“Enough.”
The word cut through her haze. She lowered the bottle, panting. Her belly was rounded, bloated. The diaper bulged obscenely between her legs, the front pooching out. She whimpered, her fingers twitching toward it.
“No touching,” he said sharply.
She jerked her hand back.
“Stand up. Let Daddy see.”
She obeyed, pushing herself up on wobbly legs. The diaper was huge, the weight making her walk bow-legged. She could feel it squishing with every step, the gel beads shifting. Her face was on fire. She wanted to hide. She wanted to show off.
“Turn around.”
She turned, slow, her hands clenched at her sides. The diaper crinkled, the sound filling the room. She could see the wetness now, the way the padding had swollen, the tapes barely holding on. She bit down on the pacifier, her hips swaying without meaning to.
“Perfect,” he said. His voice was low, approving. “You did so well, princess.”
She preened. Her chest puffed up, her fingers twisting in her shirt. She had done well. She’d filled her diaper for Daddy. The thought made her dizzy.
“Now,” he said, pushing off the desk. “Time to show everyone what a good little girl you are.”
Her eyes widened. The conference was still going on. People were out there, adults, colleagues, competitors. And he wanted her to…
“Yes, sir,” she breathed.
She waddled toward the door, her diaper squishing with every step. The handle was cold under her fingers. She glanced back once, her heart pounding.
He smiled. “Go on, princess. Show them your wet nappy.”
She giggled, the sound high and silly. Then she pulled the door open and stepped into the hallway, her thick diaper on full display.
