Jacqueline Isn't Here
Chapter 3

Jacqueline blinked, sitting up and looking around. 

She was almost naked, and in the same room as always, though it’d been redecorated once again. There was a bed, or… no, a crib, with low bars and a few stuffed animals decorating it. Though Jacqueline was inside the crib, she wasn’t trapped in it - the bars weren’t high enough to stop her from climbing out. 

In fact, the only thing with a lock in the room seemed to be the gag on her face, held with two straps - one around her head, one over it, help in place with a little padlock she could feel rattling at the back. Even the slightly damp diaper around her waist wasn’t locked on by anything, and since her hands were free, she ripped it off immediately. 

…

Jacqueline blinked, sitting up and looking around. 

She was in the same room. She blinked, her brow furrowing. She was in the crib with the stuffies, a gag locked over her face, free to climb out. 

Clambering over the edge of the crib, she got to her feet. She was in another damp diaper, warm and squishy, so before doing anything else she bent over and removed it.

…

Jacqueline blinked, laying back and groaning. Grabbing one of the stuffies, she pushed it to her face and shouted into it, a wordless sound of exasperation. 

Before even sitting up in the crib and looking around, she shimmied out of it, stretching the material and popping a couple tapes so she could discard the puffy garment. 

…

Jacqueline-

“GGGHHHH!” She screamed, frustration coming through without any need for defined words. 

Her gag still stole her capacity for speech. The diaper around her waist was still wet, and she could feel an uncomfortable pressure building in her guts. 

When she sat up this time, looking around the room, there was a sticky note on the far wall. She got out of the crib, waddling over to read the message. 

‘Waste another diaper, and the next one will be taped to your face. I’m being nice. Don’t ruin it.’ 

She swallowed, a thin line of drool escaping out of her lips and down her chin. There wasn’t much else in the room. Not even a shirt, or anything she could wear to hide her diaper. It seemed futile to try the handle of the door, but she did it anyways, and…

It opened. It wasn’t locked. 

The room beyond was unmistakably a sex dungeon, and one more explicit than the simple, almost boring room she’d been trapped in. An X-cross was set against a wall, hardpoints hung from the ceiling, and various spanking implements were arranged on a tidy rack against the wall. All looked to be expensive, well cared for, and used often.

Jacqueline walked through the room, eyeing the furniture and checking the door on the far side. It, too, was unlocked, and took her up a flight of stairs. 

She could see daylight. Going up the steps, it quickly became obvious that she’d been in a basement this whole time, but was finally getting to a space with windows. Watching out for ‘Mommy’, Jacqueline stepped onto the ground floor, peering around.

It was just a house. A nice house, cleaned and furnished, with a staircase going up to the second floor, but just a house. Not a porn set, or anything more sinister - someone lived here. Covering her naked chest with her arms, Jacqueline started exploring the space, looking for something to take off her gag, or something she could put on that wasn’t either erotic or absorbant. 

Upstairs seemed like the best bet. As she was walking up, a mild cramp struck her and she paused, steadying herself on the handrail, before renewing her efforts to find clothes. 

The door on the right was unlocked, and led to a bathroom. Nothing useful was there - the toilet was open for use, sure, but she wasn’t about to take off her diaper and try it. 

The other two doors were both locked. Dropping down onto all fours she was able to peek under the crack and see that one was a bedroom and the other was an office space, but the handles both had key locks that prevented her from getting in. While the bedroom likely had a wardrobe she could pilfer, it wouldn’t be accessible to her. 

Going back downstairs, then, she continued her search, avoiding any open windows. With a bit of careful maneuvering around the space she was able to approach them sideways and close the blinds, giving her a bit of privacy, at least from the neighbors. 

Not that it would help, if her goal was to avoid being observed. 

The main floor had an open floorplan, revolving around the central pair of stairs going up and down. To the right of the stairs, a living room that spanned the depth of the house, to the left, a dining room towards the front and a kitchen towards the back. And, behind the kitchen, she struck the jackpot.

The laundry room. A washer, a drier, and a basket of dirty laundry awaiting the wash. 

She didn’t care that the clothes were a little sweaty and rumpled from being used. She just needed something to wear, to cover up her diaper. Picking a long, breezy dress, she pulled it on and then went looking in the kitchen for a knife that could cut through leather straps. 

There just wasn’t enough time. For one, another cramp hit her, signalling that she’d need to use her diaper very soon. For another, she heard the jiggle of a handle and then the the creak of a the front door. 

“I’m home!” the woman, who Jacqueline knew only as ‘Mommy’, called, walking down the stairs to the basement to check on her.

Jacqueline froze. She couldn’t leave yet, not with the gag still strapped in her mouth. On the other hand, there just weren’t many places to hide from Mommy in the house. 

Looking around, she weighed her options. There was a door between the kitchen and the living room she hadn’t yet tried. If it was a closet, she could maybe curl up, hope that Mommy would think she’d already escaped, and then wait for her to leave. 

It was her best bet, especially since she could hear the stairs creaking again as Mommy came back up. “Baby? Where’d you run off to?” 

Without a moment to lose, Jacqueline ran to the door, opened it, and ducked inside. It wasn’t a closet, though - it was a bathroom. Even still, it had the potential to work as a hiding space if she was silent. 

“I can hear you running around up here!” Mommy called. “Are you hiding?” 

Jacqueline looked around the bathroom. There was a little window, maybe she could get it open and slip out, but with the gag still on her face… 

The bathroom door opened behind her and Jacqueline whirled, looking up at Mommy with a guilty expression. 

“Aha! There you are,” Mommy said, beaming at her. “Now, why are we playing hide and seek?”

Jacqueline squirmed under Mommy’s happy smirk. The taller woman didn’t look mad or upset, just amused at the thought that Jacqueline could have hid from her in the first place. She looked over her shoulder, eyes going to the window just for a moment.

Mommy misread the glance, looking down at the toilet. “Ooh, I think I know what this is about. You wanted to use the potty, but you couldn’t remember how to take off your diapers. Is that right?” 

It wasn’t, but as if on cue, the cramps hit Jacqueline again, and this time she couldn’t fight them off. Whimpering into her gag, she started to fill her diaper involuntarily, face turning pink as she realized, not just what she was doing, but how inevitable this all was. 

She had been doomed from the moment she got out of the crib. There just wasn’t enough time for her to get out.

Mommy’s smirk stayed in place as she watched Jacqueline helplessly fill up her diaper, and it even persisted as the smell struck her and she had to wrinkle her nose in response. “Aww, see, that’s why we put you in a diaper,” she teased, gently. “Isn’t that better than having an accident all over yourself? Now, let’s go get you out of that stinky diaper and into something fresh and nice and clean, okay?” 

There was no escape this time. She had only two options, to resist and fail, or to meekly go along. 

She didn’t want to think about the consequences of resisting at this juncture, so she hung her head and nodded. 

“Good girl,” Mommy said, leaning over to give her a small kiss on the forehead. She took Jacqueline’s hand, leading her back towards the stairs. Before they made it, though, she paused. “I’m sorry, am I being too nice?”

Jacqueline froze, eyes widening. 

“I know, I know,” Mommy continued, winking. “You like it a little meaner. Don’t worry, I can accommodate that.” 

Frowning, Jacqueline looked around the room. She tried to mewl out a response through the gag, but all that came out was a low grumble and a trickle of drool down her chin. 

“You actually thought you could make it to the potty?” Mommy said, finally turning to look at Jacqueline incredulously. “What, a helpless little baby like you? Don’t be ridiculous. All you’re good for is filling your diapers - even if you could make it to the potty, what would you do?” 

Realizing the sudden turn that things had taken, Jacqueline looked at the door, reconsidering her options, but Mommy grabbed her wrist with an iron grip and pulled her towards the stairs. No longer gently leading her, Mommy was forcing her down the steps whether she wanted to go or not. 

“You will use your diapers, and you won’t argue, and you’re going to like it,” Mommy insisted, as Jacqueline struggled to keep up without squelching the contents of her diaper more than she had to. Reaching the sex dungeon, Mommy pointed to one of the hardpoints, where a pair of leather cuffs were dangling. “Arms up.”

Jacqueline shook her head, trying to convey pleading with her eyes. 

“I can be meaner, if you push me,” Mommy said. “Either put your arms up, or I’ll put your smelly, filthy diaper up over my knee and see how many spanks it takes to break your brattiness.” “That’s what you want, right?” 

Shaking her head again, Jacqueline tried to think how to communicate with Mommy, but with the gag in place, she couldn’t. 

“Then put. Your. Arms. Up.” Mommy demanded.

Jacqueline obeyed, allowing herself to be cuffed. The height of the hardpoint meant that if she didn’t fully extend her arms and stand on the balls of her feet, she’d be dangling. 

Mommy grabbed the hem of Jacqueline’s dress. “Now, about this. Is it a joke? Wearing my clothes, pretending you’re a grown up? You’re not a grown up.” With her other hand, she reached back, pressing her fingers into the seat of Jacqueline’s diaper, forcing the mess around. “Grown ups don’t make big, smelly messes in their diapers. Do they?” 

She shook her head. 

“So, are you a grown up?” 

She shook her head again. 

“And you decided to make fun of me by pretending to be one.”

This time, when Jacqueline shook her head, Mommy didn’t believe her. “I’m half tempted to just leave you here,” she said. “Let you stew in your own stinky, poopy diaper until you can’t remember why you ever thought you were a big girl. You would hate that, wouldn’t you? Being left in time out, not even able to play with yourself?” 

Jacqueline nodded. 

“That’s what I thought.” Mommy walked away, out of Jacqueline’s field of view, though she kept talking. “What do you think? Should I be nice to her, and let her have her fun? Or should I see how mean I can get before she has to use her safe words?”

“... I know we can count on you. Good night, Sandra!” Quinn shut the tavern room’s door, the forced smile slipping off his face as he turned towards Tarja. “We should tell her.”

“No,” Tarja said, shaking her head, her knees wobbling as she crouched to remove her boots. “She has enough to worry about as it is, and we aren’t even certain- Damn this knot.” Her fingers shaking, she was having trouble unlacing the boot.

Quinn knelt, helping her without comment. It wasn’t a complicated knot, and his deft, calloused fingers were able to pull it free without the slightest trouble.

It wasn’t the knot, it was Tarja.

“We know,” Quinn said, bluntly, moving to the other boot. “You’ve never had nerves like this. Your grace is… Going away.”

Tarja pushed his hand away. “No. I’m not- I can do it.” She seized the string, pulling and tugging, fingers trembling so badly that Quinn thought that nerves might be adding to the curse, even if it wasn’t the sole cause of her loss in coordination.

He stayed, crouched next to her, for a full minute. When she finally gave up, he removed the laces and pulled away her other boot without comment, then began undoing the buttons on her blouse. “Trust Sandra. She’ll understand.”

While it was clear that Tarja didn’t want his help, she didn’t tell him to stop, either. She waited for him to get all the buttons, then shrugged out of the shirt, revealing the snug, blue onesie she had on underneath.

Seven stars decorated the front, and though they seemed magical in origin, Tarja hadn’t yet been able to decipher their nature. All she knew was that, though the onesie’s button snaps could be undone, she couldn’t take it off.

And, since it appeared on her body in the cave, she’d been losing her fine motor function, and the draining wasn’t stopping.

Quinn looked down at her. “Do you need help with the snaps?”

Tarja blushed. If he didn’t take them off for her, she’d end up peeing on herself when she tried to use the chamber pot. She nodded, stiffly, and Quinn undid them for her.

She hadn’t yet gotten used to peeing with her new…

“Gods dammit,” she said, feeling her eyes get wet. She tried to wipe away the tears, but Quinn had already seen.

“Tarja,” he said, his rough voice as soft as he could make it. “It’s alright. We’ll find a counterspell.”

“When?”

“As soon as-”

“You saw what the Wizard can do,” Tarja cut him off. “We lack the skill, the resources, to counterspell that before…”

She trailed off. Quinn put his hands on her shoulders. “Before what?”

Tarja’s voice was barely audible, not even a whisper. “Before he takes the rest of me.”

“Oh, Tarja…” Quinn shook his head. “He hasn’t taken you.”

“Hasn’t he? My body,” she said, her voice cracking. “My grace, the things I’ve spent my lifetime improving - He’s just twisted me up, leaving me something else. Every time I think of facing him, I fear what he’ll take next, at what point I’ll become someone else, someone I can’t recognize.”

“You are Tarja,” Quinn said, taking her hands. He could completely cover both her hands with his, and he felt how they shook. “You, are Tarja. The strongest woman I know. Not because of how well you can shoot an arrow at a monster, but because of who you are. He can’t take that.”

The words felt clumsy. He couldn’t give speeches like Sandra, but he could support his friend.

“If you can’t button your shirt, I’ll do it for you,” Quinn said. “If you can’t run, I will carry you. I don’t love you for the arrangement of your bones and your blood. It’s who you are, Tarja, and-”

She was staring up at him, her eyes wide. Her hands balled into nervous fists inside his soft grasp, and she asked, “What did you say?”

Quinn blinked, running back his words in his head. Oh. I said-

Tarja pulled her hands towards herself, gently dragging Quinn forward, and she leaned in for an awkward, slightly misaligned kiss. Quinn was so surprised, he didn’t react once they parted, his face frozen with half-puckered lips.

“I love you too,” she said. “But you can’t promise we’ll get out of this without being changed.”

“Of course we won’t,” Quinn said. “But if we change, we’ll do it together, and the person we become- the people we become- Persons? I…”

“I get it,” Tarja said. “We’ll make it together.”

Quinn nodded. “I promise.”

Dungeons and Diapers
Chapter 8

Meant to post this before Chapter 9, got things out of order!

“No way,” Sandra said, blinking away the shock. “A school?” 

“Believe it,” Hadrian replied, sitting on a rock past the end of the bridge. They’d had to carry him here, given that the latex bodysuit and high heeled boots were making it hard for him to walk. “It all fits. I’m sure if I sit down and start going through the documents I have on hand, it’ll just prove my theory.” 

“Wait, I don’t follow,” Tarja said. She was sitting down next to him, watching the caravan move past. “He’s going to start teaching magic?” 

“That’s not what a school is,” Hadrian said. “Magic is arranged into… shall we say, types, called ‘Schools’. There are eight of them.” 

“Like, Divine, Arcane, that sort of thing?” 

“I mean… no. The Schools are more broad than that, and they define the type of magic being cast. You’ve got Illusion for spells that create… uh, illusions, for example. Nearly every spell in existence falls into a school - I can count the universal spells I know of on one hand, and the ones I can cast with just my thumbs.” 

Quinn frowned. “Something I never really understood - Does magic come from schools, or do we come up with spells, then decide a school later?” 

“It’s complicated,” Hadrian said. “It’s kind of both. Magic is influenced by human perception. Wizards specialize in schools, because that’s how our understanding of magic is shaped. If the Wizard of Paraphilia manages to make a new school, from scratch, it would fundamentally, permanently change the way that we use magic.” 

“It’d be a sort of immortality,” Sandra realized, explaining it out loud as she got it. “Kingdoms, legends, they all rise and fall, but magic schools don’t go away. Damnation, they transcend planes. His work would be permanent. He’d never be forgotten, not in an eternity.” 

“That doesn’t seem so bad,” Quinn said. 

“Think again,” Hadrian said. “Magic and human nature affect each other. Now, think about the kind of magic he’s creating - It’s powerful, making it attractive to anyone looking for easy strength, and it’s cruel. Do you want to live in a plane where the strongest people, those with the greatest authority, got there through sexual torture and malice?” 

Quinn thought about that, then nodded. “Point taken.” 

“So, how do we stop him?” Tarja asked. 

“We find someone who’s got a vested interest in preventing that, and we make them help us. There’s a Temple of Calistria in the place we’re going, right?” 

“I think,” Sandra said. “Most big cities have one.” 

Hadrian looked down at the latex boots that were sealed around his feet. He swallowed, nervously. “Well then, we just need to get to the city. For now, I’ll just have to… ride a horse, or something. We can afford a horse, right?” 

…

“Oh gods my feet hurt,” Hadrian moaned, as they walked in through the city gates. 

“You’re complaining,” Quinn grunted, hefting the heavy burden on his back. “I’m carrying a couple hundred pounds of cursed crib and you’re complaining.” 

They’d parted ways with the caravan upon arriving at the city, and since the adventurer was a guild problem, they had taken him with them. Since they lacked horses and carts, though, it meant Quinn was carrying the adventurer until they found a place to leave him. 

“I didn’t know that my calves could ache this badly,” Hadrian whined. “And everything’s hot, and tight, and- Ugh.” 

“We’re all tired. It’s been a long day of marching, after an even longer day with the Wizard.” Sandra shook her head. “Even Tarja’s flagging a bit, and I’ve seen more feats of endurance from her than from anyone else in the party.” 

“I’m not,” Tarja protested, but her deflection was undermined by the way she stumbled as she walked. Everyone needed sleep, a proper meal, and a day or two to relax. 

“Let’s get to the temple, and then we can rest.” Sandra didn’t need to ask directions - she could make out several temple spires in the city, and only one was painted with stripes of black and yellow. 

They turned some heads as they walked. Quinn in his busty dress and hauling a massive crib obviously drew eyes first, but Hadrian’s latex costume and strut walk got more than its fair share of glances. It probably even helped hide the diaper poking out from above Sandra’s waistband, though she felt guilty at having her own embarrassment shielded by her friends’ humiliations. 

By the time they made it to the temple, the sun was low on the horizon, casting the sky in a crimson red glow. 

This Temple of Calistria didn’t resemble any church Sandra remembered visiting. It was church-ish in the exterior, but the interior resembled… something else. 

There was a central stage for sacred leaders to do their work, but it was long and narrow, extending from the back of the temple to the front, with many branches coming off it. The intent seemed to be that clergy could walk out amongst those coming for a service, without being on the floor and mingling with them. Each branch was surrounded by chairs and small tables, and trays for offerings were set out so that anyone who wished could contribute and support the temple. 

Oh, and there were stripper poles set up, with half-naked dancers performing on each one. All had a rapt audience, leaving coins in the offering trays in exchange for special attention from the performers. 

It was… mesmerizing. Sandra had to stop and stare at first when she walked in, until Quinn grunted in protest. 

“This isn’t feathers that I’m carrying,” he commented. 

“Right,” Sandra said, walking in and looking around for a member of the clergy who wasn’t occupied. The closest she saw was a stocky, limber gnome in the corner, whose bit of the stage wasn’t being visited by any of the patrons. 

“This way,” she said, shuffling towards the open seating.

The Gnome, dressed only in strips of carefully folded silk, was built from well toned muscle, and had evidently exercised in particular to tone her butt and build up her chest. She was stacked, her body deliberately sculpted so that it seemed that half her body weight could be found just in her ass, thighs, and breasts. It wasn’t Sandra’s thing, but Hadrian was sitting forward a little as Quinn set down the crib next to the wall and the whole party gathered around.

“How can I help you, dears,” the gnome asked, displaying remarkable flexibility as she raised one leg onto the pole. “Just come to flaunt your proclivities for the world to see?” 

“You don’t need to dance,” Sandra said, quickly, absently tugging up on her trousers as though it could hide her diaper. “We’re just here to talk.” 

“Not everything is about needs,” she pointed out. “Serendipity.” 

“Hmm?”

“That’s what you can call me,” Serendipity explained, spinning slowly around the pole. “The show is free, but if you want anything else, make a donation to the gods.” 

Sandra frowned, digging in her pouch for a few coins and dropping them in the collection tray. 

In response, Serendipity lifted herself up, spreading her legs wide. It was wildly impressive, and Hadrian sat forward even more, watching with clear interest.

“Hadrian,” Sandra snapped. “We’re here on business.”

“You’re here on business,” Hadrian shot back. “I’m along for the ride.”

Sandra glanced at the rest of her party. Quinn was nervously sitting in his chair, a little concerned that the delicate wood might break if he sank into it too much. Tarja was just blushing and staring at the ceiling. I guess it is just me. “We have someone who needs to be given to the church’s care. A member of the adventurer’s guild, who’s been subjected to some intense sexual torture and curses. We don’t have the means to undo what’s been done to him, and he can’t protect himself. He’s currently bound in a crib, unable to get out, and anyone who tries to free him is inflicted with curses as well.” 

“Curses,” Serendipity said. “Is that your excuse for wearing your identities so openly?” 

“They’re not our-” Sandra frowned. “Yes, we’ve all been cursed. Some of us worse than others.” 

“Indeed,” Serendipity confirmed, glancing over the party. She seemed especially interested in the contrast between Hadrian and Tarja. “Some of you much worse than others. If your wizard wishes to come serve with us, I think his current attire would make him fit very well on stage.” 

Directing the conversation back towards work, Sandra asked, “Can you help him?” 

Looking Hadrian in the eyes, Serendipity said, “Maybe this evening, if he comes to my room and makes a large donat-”

“Can you help him,” Sandra interrupted, gesturing emphatically at the crib. 

“Oh, yes.” The gnome was hanging upside down on the pole, held up with her legs, the strips of silk that covered her nipples seeming like they could fall off at any moment, but just barely hanging on. Sandra suspected magic, but found no trace on the gnome’s clothing that would keep the silk where it was supposed to be. “Leave him with us, we’ll see what we can do. The guild may be charged for the supplies we need.”

“Understood. He’s a brother, through and through,” Sandra said. If a guild master gave her shit for making the commitment without consulting them, she’d deal with it. “We’ve also got some other information, information that the church needs to be aware of.” 

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow and smirked, an expression that looked strange as she spun gracefully around the metal pole. “I think we can decide what we need, but if it’s necessary I’ll pass it along.” 

“We know what the Wizard of Paraphilia is planning,” Sandra said. “We fought him, we got away with it, and we know what’s going to happen next.”

For the first time since they’d started speaking, Serendipity hesitated. It wasn’t a dramatic falter, she didn’t fall off the pole or completely lose character, but they had her attention. Spinning to a stop, she got to her feet. “Are you certain?” 

“Hadrian,” Sandra said. “Stop drooling, and tell her what you told us.”

“No,” Serendipity said, quickly. “Not here. It’s not the time, nor the place, for these sorts of talks. Come back in the morning. Our high priest will be available then.”

“Where is he now?” Sandra asked. “It’s urgent.” 

Serendipity frowned, “He’s… busy.” 

As if on cue, an elf walked in from back stage, wearing nothing save for carefully arranged gemstones which had been adhered to his body, creating glimmering lines that ran along his tight, toned body, a pattern that aimed down towards his totally exposed-

“Um-” Sandra said, face feeling flush and hot. “We’ll return in the morning.” 

“You’re welcome to stay awhile,” Serendipity proposed. “We’ve got rooms.”

“We do need lodging,” Quinn pointed out.” 

“Not those sorts of rooms,” Tarja explained, quietly. 

“Uh…” Quinn frowned. “Oh. OH.” 

“Let’s go,” Sandra said, pushing to her feet. “There’s a guild inn somewhere in town, and we don’t have the gold to spare here anyways. Serendipity, do you need anything else from us?” 

“Can the adventurer be fed and washed?” 

“Fed, yes,” Sandra confirmed. “Washed… Well, some of his clothes seem to self clean occasionally, but that’s as much as we’ve figured out. Honestly, none of us are curse experts, and we had to be careful not to be bound ourselves.”

“Leave him here, then, and we’ll do what we can.” Eyeing Hadrian, Serendipity added, “I’ll watch for you to come back.” 

Sandra rolled her eyes, grabbed Hadrian by his latex-covered arm, and led her party out of the ‘temple’. It was only a short walk to the inn alley, and from there Sandra just had to spot the guild symbol on one of the tavern signs and walk right in. 

“A table,” Tarja said tiredly, as they walked in.

“A chair,” Hadrian piped in, bemoaning his aching feet.

“Some dinner,” Quinn added, rubbing his belly hungrily. 

Sandra smiled. Her party could use a reward. “And a round of ale!” 

Cheers, as they found a place to sit. Sandra went up to handle the orders and the payments, taking a spot near the end of the bar, so the protruding waistband of her diaper wouldn’t stick out too much. 

“How can I help you, dear?” a busty barmaid said, leaning forward over the counter. She had to be in her late 40s, but she still had a solid body and she was happy to flaunt it. 

Oh, to be that confident when I’m older. “I need a round of whatever you’ve got for supper, a round of ale, four rooms, and a chat with the local guildmaster,” Sandra said. 

“We’ve got roast mutton, mead, two double rooms, and you’re speaking to her,” the matron replied. 

Sandra blinked. Guildmasters were experienced warriors, but she didn’t get a dangerous vibe from this woman. That was… scarier than if she’d been rippling with muscle. Standing a little straighter, she said, “As long as there’s beds for four, we’ll make it work. I’ve got some reporting to do on questing activities.”

The guildmaster nodded. “Want me to take the tab out of your bounties, hun?” 

Sandra shook her head. “No bounties. We recovered a captive guild member from a wizard who’d been keeping him captive, but he’s pretty bound up with curses so I put him in the care of the local Calistrian temple. I don’t think the rescue bounty for him was large, but put it towards any fees they accrue in his care. If it costs any extra, you settle that with me.” 

Leaning back, the bar’s matron spoke under her breath. “D’arvit.” 

Pausing, Sandra said, “I… don’t know that oath, but if it’s a problem-”

“No. Leon D’arvit,” she supplied. “He is- was, I suppose- a regular here. Mostly handled small quests. The kind that couldn’t pay, but helped out the locals. You found him?” 

“I… don’t think I know his name,” Sandra said. “And it’d be hard to identify him, after everything that was done, but… maybe?” 

“He’s got blue eyes, with flecks of grey,” the guildmaster supplied. “Even if he was scarred, or injured, you can’t mistake them.”

Sandra nodded her head a little, remembering what he looked like. “I think that’s him.”

“Your rooms are covered. Dinner, too.”

“I said to put the bounty towards-”

“This isn’t a bounty, it’s a thank you. D’arvit is a friend.” 

The corners of her mouth turned up in an appreciative smile, but Sandra just moved on. “On that note, let me fill you in on what’s been going on with his captor.” 

Ten minutes later, she was back at their table, carrying four frothing tankards of the bar’s finest mead. “Only two rooms, so we’ll have to share.”

“I’ll share with Tarja,” Quinn said, pausing to add, “If that’s alright with…”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Tarja confirmed. 

“You and me together, then,” Hadrian said. “I guess the smell won’t bother each other as much.”

At the comment, Sandra sniffed, and turned pink. When did I- Oh. Wait. “That’s you?” 

“This sucks,” Hadrian grimaced. “And I thought the pacifier was bad.” 

Sandra had to nod in agreement. “You’ll get used to it.” 

“Oh yeah? How long will that take?” 

“I’ll let you know when I do.” 

That got some chuckles, at least. By the time food arrived, delivered with an extra helping of potatoes on the side, Hadrian’s diaper had at least self-cleaned, and the mead made it easy to ignore any looks being cast their way. 

They ate, they drank, they were merry. 

Given the events of the past days, nobody had the energy to stay up into the wee hours, but they weren’t eager to go to bed, either. Sandra ultimately put her foot down after three rounds of mead, and then again, two more rounds later.

“We need sleep,” she said. “We’ve got appointments tomorrow, and we need to find some proper, paying work.” 

That got groans, but compliant ones. The party shuffled upstairs to the available rooms, and Sandra paused, while they were upstairs. Maybe it was the late hour, maybe the alcohol, but she was feeling sentimental. As Quinn opened the door, but before they could all split up and sleep, she spoke.

“Before you turn in, there’s something I want to say.” She got three sets of eyes on her and cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

Nobody was quite sure what she meant, and Tarja made the confusion explicit. “For?”

“For… you know. Following me,” Sandra said. “Trusting me. It’s my fault that we got into this mess, but I’m doing what I can to fix it, and… It wouldn’t have taken much effort to abandon me after that first encounter went wrong. You’re all talented fighters… Well, a talented barbarian, wizard, and ranger. You could have found other parties. But you stuck with me.”

She wiped at her eyes, which were wet for some reason. Okay, I’ve definitely had too much to drink. I’m getting sappy. 

“Sandra,” Hadrian said. “You’ve saved all our lives, a few times over. There wouldn’t be enough of us to fill a shoebox if you hadn’t been there.” 

“You know who wanted to take me as a level one ranger?” Tarja asked. “You say anyone would take us, but you did take us. And you made us into a good team.” 

“I… thanks,” Sandra said. “Thank you. Get some sleep, and let’s pretend I wasn’t all sappy once we’re sober?” 

Quinn smiled. “Based on what we’ve gone through, it’s fair to say that no matter what happens, what the Wizard pulls next, I know we can count on you. Good night, Sandra!”

She smiled proudly as they went into their room, leaving her and Hadrian to retire to their own space. 

“You mind if I do some research for a while before I sleep?” Hadrian asked, lighting a candle almost immediately once they were inside.

“Not at all,” Sandra said. “I’m a deep sleeper.” 

“Oh?” Hadrian paused. “You know, I never asked about this, but I thought elves didn’t sleep.” 

Sandra shrugged. “Some of us do.” 

“Well, I’ll try to be quiet, anyways.” 

Sandra nodded, pulling off her shoes and setting aside her various weapons and gear before climbing into bed.

It had been a long day, and she enjoyed an equally long, deserved sleep.

…

Sandra awoke a little after dawn, but she didn’t get out of bed right away. She stayed under the covers, relaxing with her eyes closed, until her diaper self-cleaned and she couldn’t make any more excuses not to get up. 

Crawling out of bed, she stretched and yawned. Hadrian was snoring away, his latex bodysuit squeaking slightly as he tossed and turned, and she let him rest. They didn’t have anywhere urgently to be. If he wasn’t awake in an hour, she’d start to rouse him, but for now there were no worries. 

Pulling on her boots, belt, and her less overt gear, Sandra decided to go check and see if the others were awake yet. Stepping softly, so her footfalls wouldn’t wake Hadrian, she crept out of their room and tiptoed to Quinn and Tarja’s room, raising her hand to knock quietly…

“... improvement?” Quinn was asking something. 

Sandra trusted her party with ler life, but she was still naturally curious. Pressing her ear to the door, she listened. 

“I think it’s worse. I don’t know.” Tarja sounded… not scared, but definitely uncomfortable with something. “My balance is worse. It’s… it’s getting hard to stand.” 

“We should tell Sandra.” 

“You heard her last night. She’s already so hard on herself, and that’s without knowing about my personal troubles. Why should we put more weight on her shoulders?” 

“Because you need help.”

“Not yet. Maybe there’s a workaround. We don’t know what the stars do.” 

Swallowing, Sandra took a few steps back, quietly opened the door to her room, and then slammed it shut. 

Stomping loudly, she walked over to Quinn and Tarja’s room, before banging a hand a couple times on the door. “Quinn! Tarja! Are you awake?” 

If they didn’t want to talk to her, she wouldn’t force it. 

Quinn responded a second later, yawning loudly. “Just… waking up!” 

He was a bad actor, and the yawn sounded fake. Or maybe I’ve just got an advantage on knowing that he’s lying, Sandra thought. “I’m going to go get some breakfast. Do you want me to bring you something, or will you come down?” 

A couple seconds passed. Tarja finally called back, “We’ll be down.”

“Alright,” Sandra said. 

She was sorely tempted to continue eavesdropping, but they deserved their privacy. If Tarja didn’t want to explain what was happening to her, and it wasn’t hurting the rest of the party, Sandra wouldn’t push. 

For now. 

Half jogging down the steps, Sandra found what was being served for breakfast - smoked fish by the pound and bread by the loaf, apparently - and got enough to feed five average hungry people, or three hungry people and one hungry Quinn. 

Waiting at the counter, her ears perked up. 

“... isn’t that the elf who says she got beat by the Wizard of-”

“Yeah, I can see her diaper.”

“But I heard she was with some other-” 

Sandra glanced around, trying to identify who it was that had started whispering about her. 

She didn’t notice anyone straight away. A few people seemed to hurriedly make it obvious that they weren’t paying attention to her, though, which was a dead giveaway. 

Except… not all who looked away were at the same table.

Sandra raised an eyebrow. The adventurers guild wasn’t a rumor mill. People shared stories, sure, but ‘sharing stories’ didn’t mean ‘hearing news from different cities and spreading it around’ unless it was something particularly legendary, like a mighty hero slaying a dragon, or at least something comparably newsworthy. 

Her party was good at what they did, but they were small time. The guild grapevine wouldn’t be sharing that much stuff about her. 

It couldn’t just be bar chatter, either, because the crowd wasn’t uniformly the same with who had been there the night before, and they hadn’t really talked about the Wizard. She’d mentioned a wizard, but not the wizard, and that was a pretty huge distinction. 

So how… 

It took her a second to realize her blind spot. The guild wasn’t a rumor mill, but she hadn’t just stopped at a guild bar. First, she’d stopped at the temple of Calistria. That was a rumor mill. 

“Damn,” she muttered to herself, keeping her head low and tugging down at the waist of her shirt while she waited for the others to join her. 

When Quinn and Tarja inevitably did join her, she just offered a whispered warning. “Some of our… misadventures might be public knowledge around here,” she explained in a low tone. “Sorry.”

“Bound to happen,” Tarja replied, wobbling a little as she got up on her stool. 

Am I imagining that? Sandra thought. Or is she actually having trouble? Was she like this yesterday and I was just too distracted to notice?

“How are you both holding up?” she asked, as they spread jam onto the bread and ate. It was a simple meal, but a satisfying one. 

“Hungover,” Quinn said, gesturing down to his chest. “And I’m not still used to sleeping on my back, but fine besides that. I haven’t really been hit hard.” 

“Okay,” Sandra said, looking to their ranger. “How about you?”  

“Oh, well,” Tarja shrugged. “It’s… I am adjusting. It... doesn’t really alter how I can fight.” 

All right then, Sandra thought. Keep your secrets. 

It bothered her, but pushing the issue did no good. She finished up her meal, wrapped up food for Hadrian in waxed paper, and dismissed herself. “If you have anything to pack up, I’d do that now. Be ready to go in half an hour?” 

They all agreed, and Sandra went to get Hadrian. He was in the middle of meditating and preparing his spells, so she let him be, going about her own morning preparations. While he got finished up, she mapped out her plan for the day in her head. 

Go to the temple, explain what they knew about the Wizard, and then… check in with the guildmaster for quests. 

Not much of a plan, but it was better than nothing. 

The party saddled up, eventually. Sandra didn’t light a fire under anyone’s backside, letting everyone take their time and dilly dally, though eventually - even conceding that speed wasn’t important - she started to get antsy and rushed everyone out the door. 

The morning market stands were reaching the end of their busy period as the party walked up the street. All the best, freshest fruits and vegetables had been picked over, and soon they’d all be either packing up and going home, or resupplying for the late afternoon customers. 

The temple, by contrast, looked like a bawdy townhouse the night after a party. Priests were mopping up where vomit or booze had been spilled, and there were more than a couple hungover… ‘worshipers’... who were sleeping it off in the corners, where light couldn’t get to them. 

Sandra didn’t need to look around for the high priest. Though he was now wearing clothing; a formfitting yellow-black leather something that highlighted his supple, toned form, somehow drawing the eyes up to his face, his hair that indicated he took care of himself without being fussy, the way he moved so gracefully even when…

Shaking her head, Sandra blinked a few times, fighting off the feelings of warmth between her legs that had nothing to do with the state of her diaper. Fucking hell, I haven’t- 

She shook her head again. What was I thinking about?

“I’m going to go talk to the priest,” she announced, as much to remind herself of her objective as to inform her party. “Hadrian, I need you with me to explain the magic. Tarja and Quinn, you’re welcome to hang back… maybe speak to another priest, if you wanted to. For any reason.” 

It wasn’t her best moment of subtlety, and she spotted the glance that the two of them shared, but nobody commented on it.

“Uh, I might ask about how D’arvit is doing,” Quinn said, shrugging. 

While the two of them walked off… Okay, is Tarja stumbling or am I imagining that?... Sandra walked up to the high priest, bowing slightly. 

“We don’t bow, here,” the priest said, immediately. 

“Oh,” Sandra said, feeling sheepish and even a little shy. Dammit, I’m not a schoolgirl. He’s just a priest. “Apologies, I forget that some temples don’t hold to the same sorts of overt rituals and displays. Greeting aside, I’m Sandra, and this is Hadrian.” 

“You mistake, rogue,” the high priest said, his eyes dancing with mirth as he stepped forward. “We hold to customs, ours are simply more appropriate to the goddess we serve.” 

He reached out, his fingers gently wrapping around the back of Sandra’s head as he pulled her into a deep, sensuous kiss. The sort of kiss that songs were told of, the kiss of two lovers meeting after separation by war, or from the passion of newlyweds. He drank her in and gave as much of himself, and Sandra couldn’t help but sink into the surprising embrace. 

Separating, he whispered in a sultry tone, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sandra. I am Gwyndomere, a high priest of Calistria.”

She spluttered for a moment, reeling from the passion, and Gwyndomere pulled back from her and stepped up to Hadrian.

The two men kissed, leather sliding against latex as their bodies met, and the priest shared his lips with Hadrian, showing the sort of intensity that songs were told of, the kiss of two lovers meeting after-

I think he’s just a good kisser, Sandra considered, though a part of her still wanted to believe that the passion was all for her. 

It was Hadrian’s turn to splutter and blush as they pulled apart, blinking a few times as he caught his breath and the priest spoke in a sultry whisper. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hadrian. I am Gwyndomere, a high priest of Calistria. I hear you had an encounter with the Wizard.”

“He had an encounter with us,” Sandra said. “We won.” 

“Did you, now?” the priest asked. “And the diapers are for fun, then?” 

Coming from him, the jibe didn’t hurt like it would coming from a peer, but it did make her feel abashed. “I didn’t say we made it out unscathed, but we got away with his notes, we rescued a peer, and we forced him to agree to stand down and give us space. Hadrian can tell you more about what he’s planning.”

Gwyndomere looked to Hadrian, raising an eyebrow.

“A school,” Hadrian said simply, his cheeks still a little pink after the kiss.

That was all it took. Gwyndomere got it, without further explanation. “You should show me those notes.”

Hadrian nodded. “They’re in my bag. Is there somewhere we can go over them in private?” 

“We can go to my rectory,” the high priest confirmed. “Sandra, I believe that Janet had some business she needed to talk to you about.” 

“Janet?” Sandra frowned.

“Eh, that is, Serendipity,” Gwyndomere corrected. “She goes by Janet when she’s not on the stage.” 

“Right. Janet. Where is she?” 

Gwyndomere pointed to where a couple hungover worshippers were being attended to by a stocky priestess. Nodding, Sandra walked over, got Janet’s attention, and said, “I heard you had a business question. Is something wrong with the adventurer?” Pausing, she added, “His name is Leon D’arvit, by the way. I found that out last night.” 

“He’s stable,” Janet replied, straightening and stretching. She looked tired, like she hadn’t yet actually gone to bed since the night before. “Fussy, kept me up, but stable.”

“Then what is it?”

“We can fix him,” Janet said. “It won’t be easy, and it’ll take months of ongoing work, but we can fix him. But to do that, I’m going to need some supplies.”

Dungeons and Diapers
Chapter 9

“Okay, what’s the deal?” Sandra asked, holding a cup of warm tea as she sat down on the studded leather bench in the back room. “And why the privacy?” 

“Because,” Janet said, ensuring that the door was locked and lighting a few candles. “Rumors may be fun, but they can also kill a quest in the cradle if we’re not careful.”

“The wizard said he wouldn’t scry on us,” Quinn pointed out, leaning awkwardly against the X-shaped piece of furniture on the side of the room. 

“And did he say anything about informants?” Janet asked. After letting the question float in the air for a few minutes, she added, “And besides, he’s not the only player in town. It’ll make sense once I’m done explaining, I promise.” 

“Sure…” Tarja said, looking around the space. “But why are we back here?”

Janet held up a finger, then took a small brass pan pipe off the wall, taking in a breath. Sandra recognized it as a wondrous item, and expected some sort of sound barrier or distortion when Janet used it.

Instead, Janet puffed out a breath, blew on the pipes, and they produced the sound of a loud WHACK!, followed by a pained, aroused moan. 

Janet set down the pipes, but the illusion repeated, the sound of a sexual beating echoing through the room. Speaking just loud enough that the party could hear her, she explained, “I wanted to cover the sound of our conversation, and the only place this illusion would be reasonable is back here.”

“Ah,” Sandra said, nodding. “That… makes sense.”

Tarja turned a little pink, but it was far from the most embarrassing thing they’d done in the past couple weeks. 

“So, I have a ritual spell that I can use to relieve the effects on D’arvit,” Janet continued, “But, in order to counteract the intensely, sexually charged magic that’s been cast on him, I need a magical object imbued with equal, opposite energy. Like balancing out law with chaos, or chaos with law. We must provide the opposite side of the coin in order to create harmony.”

“And you need us to find an object for you?” Sandra asked. “What sort of scale are we talking about?”

“If it were anything less than extreme, we’d already have it on hand,” Janet said, looking over at Quinn. “Uh, don’t touch that.”

Quinn paused in the middle of inspecting a large wooden paddle that was hanging on the wall, which gave off a faint magical aura. “Oookay.” 

“It’s for… self play,” Janet explained, simply. “Anyways. We’ve got a fair number of particularly mundane items. Self-adjusting weigh scales tend to do the trick, but for this, we need something on the level of a relic, to counteract the sheer power of sexual magic that was used to bind him. Good news is, I have one in mind so you won’t need to search. Bad news, I don’t know how you’ll get in there.” 

“What’s the object?” Sandra asked. 

“Dranngvit’s Ledger. A tome that lists the relative value of all major trade goods at the trade ports listed within. We know it’s held within the Great Library at the City, but that’s as far as our information goes.”

“That’s pretty good information,” Quinn said. “We go to the library, take the book. Is it in a restricted section or something?” 

“Quinn,” Tarja said, with a tone that conveyed, ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about’. 

“What?” Quinn asked, oblivious to the subtext. It was possible that he was distracted by the loud sound of a spanking that was echoing above their conversation. It was also possible that he was just a bit socially inept. 

“The library isn’t available to the public,” Janet explained, before Tarja had to step in. “Only high ranking merchant and political guild members, nobility, certain scholars, people of that rank can grant leave to enter it at all. And beyond that, there’s a series of trials to enter the zone that the ledger is kept within. It’s built to ensure that nobody can take the valuable information without having the knowledge necessary to use it - If you are found to be unwise or unworthy, you can’t even look at the books and relics held within.”

“Well that’s dumb,” Quinn said.

“The last great library got burned down by pillagers after a siege, who were mad that the treasure held within wasn’t made out of gold,” Tarja pointed out. 

“So,” Sandra mused. “We just need to find someone who can get us into the library, get through these ordeals, and take the book?” 

“First part’s harder than it sounds,” Janet said. 

Sandra pursed her lips. “I’m not so sure it will be. We’ve got connections.” 

“Who?” Janet asked.

Raising an eyebrow, Sandra asked, “Do you need to know?” 

Janet hesitated, then shook her head. “I suppose not, and I can appreciate your discretion.” 

“His name is Darius,” Sandra said. “We did a quest for him a few weeks back, he seemed like good people.” 

Janet blinked. “Why-” 

Sandra smiled. “I wanted to see how you’d react.” 

Another pause went by, broken only by the loud moans and sounds of what had changed to a whip or possibly a belt. “Well… If your Darius can get you into the library, you’ll just need to pass the tests, then have your wizard complete a simple ritual at the end and take the book. That’s all we know.” 

“And why can’t a Calistrian priest go get the ledger?” Sandra asked. 

“Because we aren’t allowed in the library for one,” Janet said. “And our skillsets tend not to fall under ‘passing bureaucratic ordeals’, for two. Besides, that’s what subcontractors who owe us favors are for.” 

“Fair,” Sandra said. “We can do the job. Payment?” 

“We do the spell to cure your guild member,” the priestess said. “If you think you deserve a cash payment for that, take it up with your guildmaster.”

“That’s a deal.” Sandra got to her feet, wincing at a particularly pained, aroused cry from the illusion. “You can turn that off now, I think we’re done here.”  

“I actually have a couple questions, kind of a… sidenote, I guess,” Tarja said. “But Sandra, you don’t need to wait up for me.” 

Her party was keeping secrets from her. Sandra hated it, but confronting Tarja about it wouldn’t be productive. “Deal with your thing, I’ll go see how Hadrian is doing,” Sandra said. “Quinn?”

“He can stay,” Tarja said. “Er… I mean, it doesn’t really matter, but…” 

“Quinn, stay,” Sandra instructed, leaving the dungeon room to go find her wizard. 

…

They took another day in town. Hadrian had to finish explaining the magic he’d learned to one of the few people who would understand him, and they needed to restock on supplies, talk to the guildmaster about a rate for the job, and generally recover from the last several days of action. 

Tarja decided to do some shopping on her own. Sandra pretended that she didn’t think anything of it, but it was hard not to stare when she saw the usually so graceful changeling stumble on her way out the door.

The guildmaster, at least, was more than willing to pay standard rates for a party of their skill level doing a relic retrieval quest. Since it was in-house, it didn’t pay as well as when a wealthy benefactor hired the guild to do contract work, but it was a fair rate. She even hooked up the party with a caravan that needed a basic escort on their way to the City. It was a low rate, but since they were headed there anyways, Sandra was more than happy for a little extra coin in their pocket. 

A sending confirmed that Darius would be in the City handling business for the next week, and that he’d be happy to meet to discuss a business proposition - though, of course, his new wife would be taking part in the negotiations, as per his customs. Sandra was already anticipating Karena throwing a fit at their mere arrival, but there was no getting around that. If Darius’s merchant guild connections didn’t pan out or if he turned them down, they’d just need to start over on finding a way into the Great Library. 

With all that wrapped up and finalized, it was time to travel, and for once, their travel was uneventful. Nobody messed with the caravan on the three day trip to the City, so for the party’s part, it was just a few days of travel, rest, and recuperation. 

At least, for most of the party.

Tarja’s clumsiness continued to get worse. Dropping silverware over dinner. Failing to get a campfire started with a flint, because her hands were shaking so badly. Tripping over her own feet in ways that would seem ridiculous for someone with her grace just a few days prior. 

It was building to a confrontation point, and Sandra knew it. If this went on for much longer, they wouldn’t be able to pretend everything was fine. Even Hadrian was starting to notice, and he tended to be about as oblivious as a person could get. He’d stopped stumbling in heels after a few days of forced practice, and a quip after Tarja tripped about how he was more stable on heels than she was without was eerily accurate. 

Tarja was, at least, able to walk through the gates of the City under her own power, but Sandra could do the math. She knew how quickly Tarja’s dexterity was degrading, and it didn’t seem like it would be that long before she would lack the coordination necessary to stand.

She’ll come to you when she’s ready, Sandra reminded herself. Don’t push her. You’ve pushed them enough. They’ve given you enough trust without you making a fuss over this. 

After another night at the Sodden Songbird, the guild-friendly inn and tavern, it was time to meet with Darius. They dressed up for the occasion, as much as possible - Bathing, putting on their nicer clothes that weren’t so battle worn. Quinn chose not to wear his armor even though it looked more like a ballroom dress than a battle outfit, choosing instead to put on simple but neat cotton clothes. 

Hadrian couldn’t do nearly as much as the rest of the party, but at least ensured that his latex bodysuit and gloves were clean, and timed the removal of his pacifier so that he wouldn’t have it show up at an inopportune time during the meeting. 

The manor was large for a home within the City, though modest for someone of Darius’s standing, only two stories high with plain, practical architecture. Sandra knew he had manors in more than one city, but given that so much trade would be conducted in the City, she had expected something a bit more grand. 

Still, she presented herself to the master of the house, who looked the party up and down, nodded, and left to confirm the appointment. 

“Do you suppose Karena might be… indisposed?” Hadrian asked, sounding hopeful. 

“Shh,” Sandra said. “She might be able to hear you, and we need to be on her good side.” 

“Does she even have a-” 

Quinn thumped him on the back of the head, and that ended the discussion.

The master of the house returned a moment later. “They are ready for your proposal,” he said. “Come in.” 

The party followed, walking in through a modest entry hall and up the stairs.

“Restrooms are to the left, and should you require refreshments or changing supplies, I can fetch them for you,” he explained. Sandra noted the comment about changing supplies, but he was almost stoically professional, and it came off as a frank explanation of what he could offer rather than a jibe. Most likely, living with someone else cursed to wear diapers, he’d long since stopped being amused by the novelty of it.

Or, maybe he was just really professional. Sandra couldn’t be sure. 

Either way, he stood at the side of the double doors leading into Darius’s office, pulling them open for the party. 

Darius was inside, but he wasn’t sitting at his desk. Karena was. They both had a large map spread out in front of them, and Darius was leaning over the side, pointing and explaining something about trade routes. Karena, unsurprisingly, had a sneer on her face, and that expression didn’t go away when she looked up and saw the party. 

Sandra sighed. Maybe this was a waste of time. Bowing slightly, she did her best to remember the rules of courtesy, “Darius Drumet, I’m honored to be in your household.” 

“Sandra Cassidy, I welcome you and your party,” Darius said, addressing them with a smile and a bow of his own, before setting a hand on Karena’s shoulder. “But this is not my household alone.”

“Darius and Karena Drumet,” Sandra repeated, doing a second bow. “Of course.” 

“What do you want?” Karena cut in. “We’re busy.” 

Sandra walked further into the office, her party coming in behind her. There were chairs laid out, so she gestured to them. “May we sit?” 

Darius didn’t respond, instead looking down at Karena, deferring to her. After a begrudging pause, she nodded. 

Oh gods, Sandra realized, as she took a seat. He’s using this as a training opportunity for her.  

“Explain it all to me,” Karena said. “What do you need from us, and what are you offering in trade?” Blunt, which was expected. Sandra suspected that she’d been instructed on what to inquire about, but hadn’t yet learned the courtesy of how to ask about those things politely.

Then again… Sandra didn’t personally mind blunt. It let her cut to the point. “We’re trying to retrieve a ledger from the Great Library. We can pass the trials on our own to get to the inner sanctum, but we need someone with trade guild authority to let us in. In exchange, we will give the tome to you once it’s done being used by our client.” 

“What tome, exactly?” Karena asked. 

No point hiding their goal, seeing as it was their main bargaining chip. “Dranngvit’s Ledger.” 

Karena glanced up at Darius, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know what that is.” 

“A relic,” Darius said. “Useful, valuable, but getting it is risky. Who is it for?” 

“The Calistrian temple,” Sandra said. “The same wizard who cursed Karena has also begun targeting adventurers, but the ledger can be used in a curing ritual.” 

“You want out of your diapers,” Karena said, flatly. 

Sandra shook her head. “It’s not for me, or any of us.”

Karena frowned. “But you have been cursed. Obviously. No self-respecting wizard would wear that by choice.”

Darius cleared his throat, but it was a little late for propriety. 

“It might be possible to use it to cure us, too,” Sandra conceded. “But we’re not doing it for ourselves. A good man was cursed to the point of complete helplessness. We want to get his life back, and we need the ledger to do that. By my estimation, it could provide a great trade benefit to you as well, given the information inside.” 

Leaning on the desk, Darius took a deep breath. “I appreciate you coming to us, but I’m afraid we can’t accept this offer.” 

“Do you need further incentive?” Sandra asked. “I can’t offer wealth directly, but if you want to retrieve anything from beyond the trials, or guild credit-”

“It’s not that,” Darius said. “We’ve got a position we need to uphold. If we let you into the library, then we’ll be responsible for whatever you do in there, and… well, I mean no offense, but the guild isn’t known for maintaining collateral damage. You could cause great destruction if you make a mistake, and that would hang around our neck.” 

“We’ll be careful,” Sandra said, quickly. “We won’t do anything that could harm the books or relics in the library, even if it means failing the trials. Obviously, maintaining the integrity of the library is our first priority.”

Darius sighed. “I believe that you’re sincere, but we-”  

“You keep saying we,” Karena interrupted. “I’m pretty sure I haven’t said anything about it yet.” 

All eyes fell on Karena. A second passed, before Darius said, “I’ve spent too long working on our partnerships in the City to risk it.” 

“Is this your business, or is it a partnership?” Karena asked, simply. 

Darius pursed his lips. “I’ve got more experience-” 

“Is this your business, or is it a partnership?” Karena repeated. 

Pressing his thumb to the bridge of his nose, Darius shut his eyes and sighed. “It’s a partnership.”

Karena nodded. “And did you ask what I thought before you said what we were going to do?” 

“No,” Darius said. “But trust me-”

Karena finally stood, facing her husband with a flat look. “I do trust you, but I disagree with your stance. We’re in a recessive period of business, and we need an edge to regain that trade or we’ll be overwhelmed by our competition. This relic could offer us that edge, and- No, no. Let me finish.” She raised a finger, cutting Darius off as he opened his mouth to speak. “And, if we don’t trust the adventurer’s guild to act safely and do their job correctly, then why did you hire them to escort me?” 

The question hung in the air for a long pause, and Darius had no response. 

“You think they’re too reckless and incompetent to go through a library, but they were fine to protect your wife?” Karena demanded. “Some partnership!” 

“That’s not what I-” Darius started. “Fine. The decision is yours, and the consequences will fall on your share of the business.” 

“Yeah, no. We do this together. I’m not going to hold back the benefits from when the plan works, and it would be silly if I did, so I’m not going to protect you from the risks, either.” 

Karena’s expression had grown harder over the course of the discussion. It was still mostly flat and cold, but there was just a hint of anger that threatened to take over her demeanor if things got pushed any further. 

Darius wilted. “Fine.” 

“Thank you.” Karena faced Sandra again, opening her mouth, then rolling her eyes. “Dammit, not-” 

Plop.

A pacifier appeared between her lips, and she had to turn and face Darius to get his help removing it. With it removed, she made a few tentative noises as she regained her voice. “Buh- mbuhn… uh… anyways. Ask your contacts with the temple if this spell would be repeatable, so long as they were lent use of the tome. I might commission their services once this is all said and done.” 

“Will do,” Sandra said, surprised at how the conversation had gone. She’d expected Darius to be in their corner, with Karena being the one they needed to convince. Either way, she’d take the win. 

“We should go over details and work up a contract,” Karena said, sitting back down. “How long- Uh.” 

She turned pink, her nose wrinkling slightly, at the same time that Sandra caught a whiff of a dirty diaper. The whole room pretended not to notice anything as she, Hadrian, and Karena all quietly checked their own diapers to see if it was them.

“Uh… I don’t need to be here for this,” Hadrian said, after a pause. “I’m going to… take a walk.” 

Both diapered women sighed in relief. At least it wasn’t me. 

“Right, details,” Sandra said. “Let’s get down to brass tacks.” 

…

The Great Library lived up to its name. Getting access was fairly painless with the writ of approval from Karena Drumet, though the party had to surrender their weapons, spell components, and generally anything they could use for combat. 

The library was arranged in ringed tiers, circled by an enchanted stone wall that could protect it in case of siege or invasion. The complete outer ring of the library was nothing but book shelves stacked with tomes, and Sandra had to drag Hadrian through it by his collar to keep from getting sidetracked looking through all the many, many books stored there. 

“We can do this later, after the quest,” she insisted, walking them through the next ring of the library, which was more akin to a museum of relics. 

Few had practical merit, there were no magical swords or enchanted armor - rather, it had examples of different scales from across the nation, murals and artwork depicting great trade ships, and other boring but historically significant artifacts.  

The trials they were meant to face, then, were in the third ring. 

No guards barred the only passageway through the third wall, protecting the contents of the Library’s greatest knowledge and treasures. Just a simple signpost, with a plain message written on it. 

All those who pass through this door will be weighed and measured in wisdom and intellect. Should you be found wanting, you will be barred from entry from this day until the End of Days. 

“That’s a bit dramatic,” Quinn commented. “What’s wrong with just saying ‘Banned forever’?” 

“From the lore I’ve been taught, I don’t expect there will be any fighting,” Tarja said, ignoring his question. “From what I’ve heard of this test, it’s largely cerebral in nature. Hadrian should take point, he's got more book knowledge than the rest of us.” 

“Hadrian leads, then,” Sandra agreed, glad that she could summon a knife if it did come to combat. She didn’t trust any trial to be bloodless and nonviolent, no matter its reputation. 

Bodysuit squeaking slightly, Hadrian led the way through the door and under a low passageway while Tarja took the last few moments before entering to give the party reminders. “Be ready for anything. It could be a test of reaction, of quick wits, of thoughtfulness - Don’t let your guard down.” 

They entered the third ring, and the trials began. 

It was, largely, an anticlimax. Nothing came rushing at them, no sphinx with riddles, no instant challenge. 

Instead, the party found itself facing a long, ethereal… line. Dozens of people were waiting in a snaking queue separated by ropes and stanchions. At the end, a man working at a desk was handling paperwork, very, very slowly. 

Sandra’s magical vision saw that the people in line were illusory, but she doubted that cutting past them would work. 

The first trial, it seemed, was a test of patience. 

“Tarja,” she said. “Do we all need to go through the trials, or does just one of us need to complete each one?” 

“We’re tested as a party. As long as one of us can pass each trial and nobody fails, we’re fine.” 

“Then I’ll go,” Sandra said. “I’ve got reasonably good endurance, and I won’t need to step out of the line for bathroom breaks. Everyone else… find something to do to kill time, I guess.” 

She stepped up and got into line. 

It was ungodly boring. 

It barely moved. One person would get their paperwork done, and the line would shuffle forward by mere inches. Every time she tried to count how many people were ahead of her, the number seemed to shift, making an accurate count impossible to gauge. 

Hours dripped by, as though she’d stepped into another dimension and the passage of time had changed. Her diaper self cleaned, at least once, indicating the hours. She had nothing to do, nobody to talk to, all she could do was wait. 

At times, she was tempted to cut forward, noticing gaps in the line and inobservant people who wouldn’t notice her slipping forward. She didn’t give into temptation.  She waited, patiently, for the little eternity it took to get to the front of line.

Finally, it ended. She got to the front of the line, where the bored-looking attendant slid across an exceedingly long and detailed form for her to fill out. It required listing a lot of mundane details and signing a few dozen times, but she got through it with speed and quality penmanship, ensuring along the way that the paperwork wasn’t magically binding in any way. 

Once it was complete, the attendant looked up, nodded, and called past her, “Next!” 

Then, the whole line vanished with a puff of smoke. 

The rest of the party looked up, noticing she was done. Quinn was stretching and generally keeping himself warmed up physically, Hadrian was reading through a spellbook, and Tarja was just sitting cross legged and leaning against the wall. 

“Gods,” Sandra groaned, stretching out her back. “How long was I waiting?” 

Quinn shrugged. “Fifteen minutes?” 

“Did we pass?” Hadrian asked. 

“I think so. We’re not being booted out, so…” Sandra shrugged. 

Tarja sat up from where she’d “And there’s the next test…” 

From around the bend of the ring, what appeared to be a hundred and one soldiers were approaching, all with bandanas tied tightly around their heads. Some were blue, and some were purple, seemingly in an even split - though Sandra couldn’t make a precise count that quickly. 

The party tensed, readying for combat. The soldiers didn’t seem aggressive, but they were approaching fast, and they were coordinated. If they wanted to cause trouble, they could pose real problems for the party very easily. 

Instead, they stopped in a rank, twenty feet away, and the only soldier without a bandanna stepped forward. 

He cleared his throat, getting the attention of the party. “To pass the next trial, you must answer me this question. The soldiers behind me cannot speak, and are all perfectly rational. They cannot-”

“Fifty days,” Hadrian said. 

The speaker paused. “Excuse me?”

“Fifty days,” he repeated, confidently. Glancing at the rest of the party, he said, “What? I know this one. Classic logic puzzle.” 

“Erm…” the speaker said, glancing back at the soldiers and shrugging. “Well… yes. You have passed.” 

And, like the last illusion, they all disappeared in a puff of smoke. 

“So, a trial of patience, and trial of wisdom… sort of,” Sandra said. “So far, so easy. What do you suppose is next?” 

The party pondered that for a moment in silence. The silence dragged out longer. 

After ten seconds, Sandra realized something was wrong. 

Turning, she saw that they’d all been gagged with cloth and had their hands and feet bound with rope. Only she could still move and speak freely.

Whirling again, a figure was standing in front of her, wearing a formal cloak and breeches. “The final test,” he said, “Is a test of delegation. Three accomplices, three tasks. You will set one to each, and they must pass or fail, on their own.” 

“That’s easy,” Sandra said. “I know my party.”

“Then you should not struggle at all.” The figure stepped back, waving his hand out as three challenges appeared before them. 

A bear, in a fenced ring, raging and furious. Fighting the beast would be easy for Quinn, even without his weapons. 

A long, scrawled document sat next to an empty scroll. Something word-based, easy for Hadrian. 

And, finally, a deep, open pit, with a raised platform on the near end and slender rods placed every six feet to balance upon. 

Under normal circumstances, perfect for Tarja, but today…

“Down the beast,” the figure said. “Translate the record. Cross the pit.” 

Sandra spun, facing her party. The choices were obvious, but also impossible. Tarja on her best day could cross that pit without blinking, but as things stood, she’d stumble and fall on the first jump. 

But saying that out loud meant acknowledging that Tarja was losing her dexterity. It meant admitting that Sandra had known all along and not said anything, because she was waiting for Tarja to show her a little trust. 

She swallowed. 

“What do I do if my party can’t complete these tasks?” she asked. 

“Admit defeat and leave.” 

She swallowed, realizing her mistake. She should have confronted Tarja sooner, resolved her curse before doing these challenges. Now, she might have doomed them all. 

Glancing back at Tarja, Sandra saw that her eyes were wide with the same realization. 

Think. There’s got to be another solution.

She took a step forward, inspecting the pit, hoping to find some trick that would aid in crossing it. It was some twenty feet across, with a ramp leading up to the ten-foot-high platform. It seemed like it would help, starting on high ground, but in practice it would make the jumps from rod to rod even harder - Each rod was a couple feet lower than the last, but staggered unevenly. Only a great acrobat would be able to make those jumps.

In fact, Sandra was starting to doubt that Tarja could have actually crossed it on a good day. It was too much, even for her.

Frowning, she walked over to the bear, examining it. A big, furious beast, slamming its shoulder into the fence and making it shake. Could Quinn even fight that thing? 

Finally, she walked over to the scroll, squinting at it. It only took her a second to recognize the language written there, and once she did, she had an idea of what to do. 

“Tarja will handle the bear,” she said. “Quinn, the translation. Hadrian, you’d better have something up your sleeve to cross that pit.” 

“Is that your final decision?” the looming figure asked. Sandra nodded. The figure, along with the bindings on her party, vanished. 

Tarja stepped up to Sandra, shaking her head. “Sandra, I-”

“Not now,” Sandra said, turning away from her. “Do your job.” 

Tarja hesitated. She was shaking, but it wasn’t clear if she was unsteady or not. “How long have you known?” 

“Since before we returned to the temple,” Sandra said, flatly. “You should have told me. I gave you plenty of chances.” 

“I didn’t- You had so much you were dealing with,” Tarja said.

Quinn didn’t know what to say, standing back awkwardly, but Hadrian didn’t know what was going on and was too obtuse to know that staying quiet would be wise. “What are you talking about?” 

“Tarja’s been hiding her curses from us,” Sandra said. “Quinn has, too. And if I hadn’t found out through luck, we’d all be banished from these trials right about now.” 

The changeling opened her mouth, her voice cracking a little. “I’m sorr-” 

Sandra cut her off. “Do your job, and let’s hope we can pass this trial in spite of things. If anyone fails their test, then you and I are going to have words.” 

Jacqueline Isn't Here - Chapter 2

Jacqueline blinked. 

She wasn’t on camera this time. The room was the same, a windowless interior space roughly fifteen feet across, but that was about all that was similar. There was no streaming set up, no bed. She wasn’t bound to anything. 

She was bound, just not to anything. 

A gag was in her mouth, hard rubber holding her jaw open. It didn’t silence her, but it rendered her words into mere noise, and with straps going around and above her head, there was no way to spit it out. 

The straightjacket over her body, pinning her arms to her body, gave her an instant sense of claustrophobia. She jerked and twisted, but her arms were held fast, with only a hint of wiggle room. 

It almost distracted from the diaper around her waist. 

It was only damp, at least. Just a little wet, held in place with four sticky tapes and one strap from the straightjacket. Not much of a smell, and it certainly wasn’t the sagging mess that her last diaper had been, though her bladder felt ready to add more to it. 

She sat up sharply, looking around. 

The room was empty. Just a door with a metal latch and a combination lock holding it shut. Next to the lock, there was a stickynote. 

Jacqueline frowned, fighting off the urge to just keep struggling in the jacket. It was difficult to stand without using her arms to balance. She pressed her back against the wall, using it for support, pushing up with ler legs.

Upright, she wobbled for a moment, then waddled to the door to read the stickynote.

‘Combination is 626 - A big girl should have no trouble opening it - Be sure to hurry, you don’t want another spanking! - <3 Mommy’ 

Her eyes widened and her brow furrowed as Jacqueline read the note. 

It carried an implicit message. If she entered the combination, she could leave. If she didn’t, well… 

She needed to enter the combination. 

She inspected the combination lock. It had a spring-loaded cover over the combination. She tried pushing at the cover with her nose, but it wouldn’t move, and even if she could get the cover to the side, there was no way to turn the numbers. 

Jacqueline needed her hands.

She stepped back, breathing deeply. Escaping before she had to use her diaper again was her goal. She didn’t know what ‘hurry’ meant. 

Shutting her eyes, Jacqueline took a few deep breaths. 

There weren’t any tools in the room she could use. Nothing sharp or hard that could be used for leverage. It was totally empty, except for the door and the sticky note and the things she was wearing on her person. 

She tried wriggling again. There was a little room for her arms to shimmy from side to side, and when she did, she could feel the strap around her back moving. 

Squirming, Jacqueline struggled with the jacket. With the little amount of play she had in it, there was enough room to-

“Mmmph!” She squeaked, suddenly, as she felt an alarming buzz start up in the front of the diaper. 

Bending over, she looked down and saw what she’d missed before - stuck to the back of the strap that held her diaper snugly in place, a flat, plastic vibrator was stuck in place, and something had triggered it to start. 

She bit down on the gag, cheeks flushing as the sensation distracted her from her task.

There was only so much she could focus on at once. The claustrophobia, the restriction, and now the vibrator buzzing away, she had to stop again, sliding down the wall into a sitting position. 

Deep breaths. 

After a minute or so, the vibration stopped, and the concern that it might kick back into place was just more motivation to keep trying. 

The strap. It had play. Sitting against the wall, she tried lifting her legs and moving her arms, shimmying side to side to get it out from beneath her, but there wasn’t that much play. The strap holding her sleeves together wouldn’t go past her waist. 

She tried the other way. Pushing against the wall for support again, she stood, wobbled, and then pulled up. 

Bingo. It took a lot of wriggling and effort, but the sleeves moved over her head. 

Her arms weren’t free, but they had mobility. Sleeves covered her hands and a strap held her arms together. With them in front of her body, though, she had a range of motion that she’d previously lacked. 

Before she could celebrate this victory, though…

Her face flushed, and she was once again distracted from escaping her situation. 

It was hard to tell if things had gotten more intense or not. The vibrator sent pulses of sensation up her back, and she bit down on the gag, taking deep breaths through her nose. 

Another minute passed, and when it was done, she needed a few moments to recover. The pressure on her bladder had grown more intense, but it wasn’t yet at desperation levels. 

Getting back to her feet, Jacqueline found that it was easier to move around when she could use her arms for balance. She didn’t need to use the wall for support, she was able to just stand upright. 

Waddling back to the padlock, she tried again, pressing the sleeves of the straightjacket into the combination cover. 

No dice. She could sort of get the cover to slide to the side, but then she couldn’t get the combination dials to spin. 

Back to the jacket. 

She could open and close her hand. It didn’t give her much control, but it gave her enough to grab things, sort of. Fumbling at her back, she felt at the straps holding the jacket over her body. It was hard to tell, but by wriggling and moving her back, she guessed that there were three buckled straps. If she could get those loose, there’d be enough play that she’d be able to get the crotch strap free, and once that was free, the jacket would just slide right off. 

And all that was going to take was effort. 

Jacqueline was determined to escape. The pressure on her bladder reminded her of the ticking clock, but it wasn’t awful. Besides, she cared less about wetting herself, and more about the prospect of another spanking. 

So, she got to work, pawing at her back. Going by sense of feel was hard, especially when she was feeling everything through a thick layer of cotton fabric, and her only way to manipulate things was to fumble through the jacket and try to squeeze whatever she could get her paws on. 

Grumbling into her gag, she worked at it, spinning in place to try and get a better angle like a dog chasing its own tail, until…

The sound of the metal buckle rattling as she pulled it free was relief. Just two to-

“MMpHH!” She squeaked, loudly, jumping in the air as she felt the vibrator kick into high gear. 

The mixed sensation, frustration, and simple burning feelings that it brought up from deep inside Jacqueline were enough to drop her to the floor. It was definitely stronger this time, and her concentration shattered. It wasn’t just that there was a vibrator pressed to her diaper, there was something… more. She wasn’t sure. 

And, just before she could be pushed into climax, the vibration stopped.

She sat up.

Someone was watching. They had to be. The timing was too perfect for it to be anything else - how would they know she’d just gotten free from a buckle? 

But… though she walked a circle of the room to look for one, she couldn’t see a camera, or a viewport, or anywhere to hide and watch. The door didn’t even have a gap beneath it or a keyhole to peer through. 

People do know what she was up to, though, even if she couldn’t perceive any observers. 

If that was how it was going to be, it was how it would be. She proceeded to work on the next buckle. It was harder in some ways, having to reach further down her back, but with the first buckle free, she had a lot more range of motion for the jacket. With only a few minutes of squirming, it came free, and she braced herself for the inevitable vibration.

It came, right on queue, and she leaned back against the wall, biting down on the gag and riding it out. 

Only one buckle to go. 

She was going to make it, easily, without needing to use the diaper. It seemed like she was moving quickly, which made the threat of the spanking a non-issue, too. She just had to get the last buckle, which, now that she had a high range of motion with most of the jacket loose, was not difficult at all. 

Jacqueline braced herself, expecting the vibrator to kick in at whatever it’s highest setting was, but nothing happened. It stayed dormant. 

Frowning, she reached down, pulling the last buckle free from around her damp diaper. It wasn’t hard, with the other three buckles all open. 

As she got it free, though, she suddenly felt her bladder release. 

There was no warning. No building of sensation. She just started to pee in her diaper, helplessly wetting herself. 

That was concerning, but she didn’t take the time to worry about it. She pulled the straightjacket over her head, and was finally, mercifully, free.

The gag had no lock, and with access to her fingers, she could unbuckle it in a heartbeat. 

“Ffffuuuck,” she said, moving her jaw once the hard ball was gone, working out the soreness. Just one last thing to remove. She didn’t precisely want to be naked, but she wasn’t going to be stuck in a diaper.

Bending over, she pulled the tapes free, letting the sodden padding fall to the

She stood up, blinking a few times, then stretched. “Goddamn I’m good,” she said, stepping up to the door and entering the combination on the padlock with free, dextrous. It popped free, and she was able to open the door.

Her mommy was on the other side, with an amused expression and a fully charged hitachi. “Hi there, Heidi. Has someone been naughty?” 

Heidi grinned. “How fast was I?” 

“Thirty five minutes,” Mommy said, raising the hitachi for emphasis. “I think someone deserves a little reward, don’t you?” 

The Baby Bet - Chapter 2

We've got a proper chapter this time! No half-finished outlines with a 'Finish this later!' note on it! 

Other than the introduction here, this chapter doesn't have any author notes. It should work without any explanations provided for context, since it's pretty much complete and I don't need to retcon anything. 

At the end of the previous chapter, there will be a segue where Grace walks into the backyard to join her friends, who are having a bonfire in their back yard. 

Oh, and in the notes for the last chapter, I mentioned a character named 'Randy' who was going to show up later. He's been renamed to 'Pierce' but is otherwise unchanged. 

As always, feedback on this story is especially appreciated!

Author note: At the end of the previous chapter, there will be a segue where Grace walks into the backyard to join her friends, who are having a bonfire in their back yard. 

“... Bullshit!” 

The fire was rolling by the time Grace walked out back, a six pack of cold beers in tow. Their back yard had precisely five chairs - one for each of them, and not a single extra. 

Just the way things should be. 

Pulling cans one at a time from the plastic rings, Grace started passing them out.

“You’re just in time,” Pierce said, leaning forward in his chair to grab one.

“You’ve been bemoaning that your beer was empty for ten minutes,” Brains pointed out. 

“And if it’d been eleven minutes,” Pierce said, cracking open the can and taking a long pull before finishing his sentence. “Then I’d have had to go inside and get another one.” 

Drinks distributed, Grace set aside the single extra beer and tossed the plastic rings into the fire. “So what’s bullshit?” 

“Hmm?” Melody asked, looking up from the fire. 

“You were shouting ‘Bullshit’ when I walked back here,” Grace explained. “What, did Skip claim they weren’t working enough hours?” 

“Well,” Skip started to say, “I know there’s some slack that could be-” 

The whole club piped up in harmony. “No.” 

“But that’s not it,” Brains added. “Pierce was just saying he’d make a great dad.” 

Grace raised her eyebrows. “Hah! No way.”

“Hey, come on,” Pierce said, putting up his hands defensively. “I’m not saying I want a little rug rat, but if I had to. You should see me with my nephews!” 

“You don’t have to take care of your nephews,” Melody pointed out. 

“I babysit,” Pierce countered. 

In the middle of sipping her beer, Grace shook her head and raised a finger. “N…” Gulp. “No, no. You keep an eye on them for a couple hours when your sister’s busy. That barely counts.”

Sitting back, Pierce spread out his arms and relaxed as though he’d already won the argument. “Still! They love me.” 

“Yeah, because you’re the fun uncle. You don’t have to cook meals, or plan around their day, or put them to bed, or any of that shit. You just show up for a couple hours of playtime.” Grace shook her head and put on a comically deep voice. “‘Oh, I’m Pierce, I’d be a great dad for three whole hours before I got bored!’ Fuck off with that. I’ve seen your room.” 

Melody and Skip chuckled, but Pierce frowned and sat forward. “What’s that got to do with anything?” 

“When’s the last time you made your bed?” Grace asked.

“Why should I? I think it’s just as comfortable unmade,” Pierce said, already draining his can of beer, which got swiftly replaced. 

“How would you know, Pierce?” Melody chimed in. “You haven’t slept in a made bed since your mommy stopped doing the chores for you.” 

“My mo-” Pierce’s tone started to rise, but he shook his head and just flipped Melody off. 

“Got it, sorry,” Melody said, apologetically. 

“The point being.” Grace got everyone’s attention, steering the conversation back to her point. “You do the bare minimum to get things to a point where you’re okay with it. How’s that gonna work out when you have a whole entire other human to look after, who can’t give you a chore chart to micromanage what they need from you?” 

“I’d be a good dad,” Pierce said, simply. 

Grace found that her beer was mostly empty, and finished it off, raising her arm and squinting at the recycling bin fifteen feet away. “Come on…” Chucking it, the can hit the back wall of the bin, bouncing squarely inside. “Three points!” 

“Probably two points, you’re barely at a free throw line,” Brains pointed out. “Still a good shot, though. Sitting down and everything.” 

Grace reached for another beer, and found the extra can from the six pack already claimed. “Okay, y’all know the rules. You take the last beer, you get the next pack.” 

“I’ll get it in a minute,” Pierce said. “Once this one’s empty.” 

Rolling her eyes, Grace got to her feet, trudging back to the kitchen. She didn’t want to wait until Pierce finished his beer, walked inside, took a piss, made a sandwich, took a nap, watched the extended editions of Lord of the Rings-

Getting it herself was just faster. 

By the time she got back out, the conversation had moved on. Skip was relaying an anecdote from work, or maybe telling a filthy joke. Given their line of work, it was kind of hard to tell one from the other sometimes, but either way there was a racoon involved. 

The evening slipped on. Grace’s aim towards the recycling bin got a little better after two beers, and then started to drop off steeply after four. 

“Hey, Melody,” Grace said under her breath, leaning over in her seat. “Who’re you texting?” 

“This guy, Rich,” Melody replied, quietly, looking down at her phone. “He’s got a boat. I think. I guess he goes to some fancy university a little north of here.” 

“Is he your type?” 

“Is ‘rich’ a type?” Melody paused, then added, “Because he’s got money, not-”

Grace shook her head. “I got it.”

“And that!” Brains declared, almost-but-not-quite shouting as he stood upright on his chair. “Is how you make a beer can disappear!” 

“You just wanted to drink my beer!” Skip complained, grabbing an empty can from the ground and chucking it at Brains. The shot went wide, hitting the tall privacy fence a few paces away. 

“And that’s the last beer out here,” Pierce said. “Who’s got the next pack?” 

“It was Skip’s beer,” Brains declared.

“Brains drank it,” Skip rebutted. 

“I’ll get it,” Grace groaned, getting to her feet. 

She paused to get the can that had bounced from the fence, depositing it in the recycling bin on her way inside, and grabbing a bag of chips on the way out. 

Sitting down, she found a gap in the conversation and started telling a story she’d been wanting to relay all evening. “Okay, so, there’s this client I’m working for. Huge neat freak, anal-retentive-type-” 

“You should talk,” Pierce snorted. 

“You think everyone’s a neat freak.”

“I meant about the anal retention.” 

“You’re right, I do have experience with guys who have their heads up their ass all the time,” Grace rolled her eyes. “So anyways, he sends me this email…” 

It was a winding tale full of twists and turns, mostly involving increasingly pedantic and frustrating corrections to layout, which Grace had responded to with matching pedantry and specificity until the issue got dropped and the layout she preferred got used. Not something she’d brag too much about, except that she’d found out that day that the client was thrilled with the results, and was bragging about it, having completely forgotten that the design was her idea. 

“Okay, okay,” Pierce said, as she finished up telling the story. “Here’s what I’m still hung up on, though. You think…” He paused, sipping his beer. 

“Oh, hell, not this again,” Melody rolled her eyes.

“He brought this up while you were in the bathroom, too,” Brains added, giving context to Grace that she would otherwise have lacked. 

“You think I’m irresponsible!” Pierce said. “Like I don’t pay my bills on time and get my chores done, same as everyone else.”

“Yeah, uh, if I remind you,” Grace said. “Otherwise it’s always done late.” 

“Not late, just barely-on-time!” Pierce protested. “If you want it done sooner, make the deadline sooner! Otherwise, I’ll get it done when I want to.” 

“We’re not arguing about chores tonight,” Melody said. “It’s Friday. This isn’t how we’re gonna spend our night.”

“No, I’m not arguing about chores, I’m saying that I’m responsible,” Pierce said. “I could totally watch a kid. I’d be great at it.” 

“Bulllll-” Grace said, really dragging out the ‘L’. “Shit. You know how much work that is?” 

“Yeah, I do!” Pierce stood up, dramatically counting off on his fingers. “You gotta change their diapers, feed ‘em, put ‘em to bed every night, bathe ‘em, dress ‘em, and make sure they don’t stick their fingers into electrical sockets. Boom. Easy.” 

“I think you’re missing some stuff on that list,” Brains said. “And that’s only for kids of a very specific age.”

“Well I’d learn!” 

“You wouldn’t even do that much,” Grace shot. “You’d be begging for someone else to take the little shit after the first diaper change.”

“I’ve been around crap,” Pierce said. 

“And you’d really wait hand and foot like that on someone else?” Grace threw up her arms, sloshing a little beer out of the can she was holding. “No way.” 

“I would!” 

“No, you wouldn’t!” 

“Screw you, I would!” 

“Then prove it!” 

“How?”

Grace blinked. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. 

(When did I stand up?) 

(When did things get so spinny?) 

She shook her head. “Fuckin… Fuck you. We wouldn’t put a kid through that, it’d be torture.” 

“You’re just backing down because you know I’d be great and you don’t want to admit it!” 

(Asshole.) 

“Fine! I’ll do it, just to shut you up!” 

“Huh?” 

It was Pierce’s turn to be taken aback. “What?” 

“I would bet you one hundred dollars that you wouldn’t last one day if you had to do all that shit you listed for another person,” Grace said. “So do it to me. Make me a damn meal for once, instead of just coming in and swiping whatever someone else already cooked.” 

“And what about the other shit? The diapers?” Pierce asked.

“You’ve seen my ass naked,” Grace said. (I’m drunk.) “I don’t care.” (I should stop talking.) “Fuck you.” 

“No way,” Pierce said.

“Hah!” 

“Not for a hundred bucks.” Shaking his head, his shaggy hair swished back and forth in the firelight, as though he were trying to get rid of a pesky mosquito, not coming up with an idea. “And not for a day. I will outlast the shit out of you. You’d get sick of shitting your pants years before I’d get sick of taking care of a kid.”

“If not for a hundred bucks, then what?” 

“Chores,” Pierce snapped. “Loser does the winner’s house chores for a year.” 

“Fine!” 

“Fine!” 

“FIN-” 

“Wasters!” Melody shouted, raising her fist over her heart in a middle finger salute. “You two, drop this shit right now. We are not fighting.”

“We’re not figh-” Grace started. 

“Come ooon,” Skip groaned. “You think we’d buy that? Drop it, Grace. Drop it, Pierce. You’re both very responsible grown-ups.” 

Grace started to come up with a retort, but her head was fuzzy. 

(How many beers have I had?) 

She looked over to the recycling bin, trying to count the cans on the ground. Some of them weren’t hers, though, but… 

(Nine? Ten?)  

Sitting down in her chair so that her head would stop spinning, Grace grabbed the last beer from the latest six pack. 

“You took the last-” Brains started. 

“Nope.” Grace cracked open the can. “Okay, dropping it. I’m sorry.” 

 The fire was silent for a moment, until Brains said, “You all want to play Mafia?” 

The whole club piped up in harmony. “No.” 

The Baby Bet - Chapter 1* 

So, I'm going to be doing something... new, with this story.

I'm not writing a series of chapters that make up a larger story this time. I'm writing a novel. That's different!

Namely, it's different in my writing process. Specifically, because when I'm writing a novel, I don't always finish everything in order. 

As such, this isn't going to be a totally cohesive story just yet. It's going to take editing. I'll be supplementing heavily with author notes, especially when I change continuity. Once the story is 'done', I will go back and edit heavily, possibly even redoing entire chapters or sequences. 

For this chapter in particular: Openings are hard, especially when there's no immediate kink content to hang my hat on. I can't just rely on, say, a sex scene or a fun diaper scenario to keep interest, and in this case I can't even use an action scene or something high energy. 

It's difficult. I need to introduce the entire core cast and premise, almost purely through dialog. As such... This chapter is incomplete, and it's probably going to be replaced, because I don't know these characters yet. I've got a reasonably strong character for Grace and some good ideas for the rest, but I haven't had a chance to live with them for the length of a novel. Their personalities, quirks, and details about who they are haven't come to life yet, and so any attempt to introduce themis going to fall flat. 

Grace, as in elegance, surveyed the scene. “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The kitchen was a wreck; the aftermath of four adults - she wasn’t counting herself - who couldn’t clean up after themselves if their lives depended on it.

She frowned. That wasn’t true. It was the result of three adults who could clean up after themselves (Badly!) and one adult who, she suspected, didn’t know how to wipe his own ass.

Sighing, she rolled up her sleeves, stepped up to the plate, and got to work.

Dishes were the first thing. She had to reorganize the washer to make sure everything would be efficient, but even then it was going to take two loads. Better to get started early.

Someone (It had to be him) had left the cast iron skillet soaking in the sink. She recovered it and dried it quickly, checking for rust.

“Morning, Grace.” Brains, as in smartass, strolled in, a backpack over his shoulder. Hopping over the dustpan on the floor, he navigated to the coffee pot, pouring a quarter of it into his portable thermos.

“Morning, Brains,” Grace replied. “Off to work?”

“Off to work,” he replied, snagging an apple from the basket of fruit on the kitchen table. Taking a bite, he jumped once again to clear the dustpan, waltzing out the back door.

While Grace was bagging up trash, Melody, as in music, found her way in. “I could have helped with that, you know.”

“I was awake, and it needed done,” Grace replied. “I don’t mind.”

“Well, thanks then. Have you eaten?”

“Not yet.”

Melody took that as the indication to start cooking, raiding the fridge for breakfast fixings. It wasn’t anything fancy, just bacon and eggs, but she cooked them up while Grace cleaned. They managed to move around each other in the kitchen without getting in each other’s ways, and before long, three plates of food were set out on the now-clean table.

Grace took a break to eat, pulling up a stool. She used ketchup, Melody doused her eggs in salsa.

“How are things going with Bill?” Grace asked, between bites.

“Oh, I ghosted him.” Melody talked right over a mouthful of food. “He wouldn’t shut up about his band.”

“So?”

Melody’s chewing slowed, and she raised her eyebrows. “When’s the last time you saw someone?”

Grace shook her head, sticking out her middle finger and raising it over her heart. “Wasters Club,” she reminded Melody.

Melody returned the salute, and that was that. The subject was dropped. “Anyways, he was great in the sack, but we’d be done and like five seconds later he’d be talking about how I’d inspired him to write a song, and like- Fuck, dude. We’ve known each other for three days and they’ve only been pleasant when your mouth is shut.”

“Eventually you’ll run out of college guys to bang,” Grace pointed out.

Melody just shrugged. “They make new ones every year.”

Pushing up from the table, she glanced at her plate, then at Grace. Grace just nodded her head. “I’ll get it.”

“Thanks, G. Need anything from the store?”

“Dish soap,” Grace suggested. “Thanks.”

Melody left for work, and Grace alone, sweeping up the crud and dirt on the floor.

It wasn’t twenty minutes later that the door opened. Skip, as in playing hookie, was rubbing at their eyes and yawning. “Morning, G.”

Grace glanced up from what she was doing. “Evening, Skip. You’re home late.”

Skip shrugged. “Twelve hours. We’re in the busy season right now.”

“More than busy,” Grace said. “Gonna sleep?”

“In a bit.” Skip strolled through, drinking the rest of the slightly-cooled coffee straight from the pot. “Got some personal work to take care of, first.”

Grace shook her head. “Don’t kill yourself.”

“Can’t. Too busy,” Skip pointed out, wandering out of the kitchen.

Everything, save for the still running dishwasher, was largely cleaned up at this point. Counters wiped down, stove washed, she was done for the morning. Someone would likely trash the place come lunchtime, but that was a problem for later.

She had work to do, so she went to go get her laptop.

I stopped writing here, because I realized that this 'breakfast around the kitchen table' situation just wasn't working for me. It's slow, and we don't get to see the characters interact as a group. This is basically what I do when I'm stuck, I leave a note for myself explaining what needs to bridge this to the next chapter, then I come back and redo it once I'm more confident that I can solve the problem. So, with that in mind, here's the note I left for myself: 

Grace continues to go throughout her day. She gets some work done, and eventually we’re eventually going to meet Randy, and get a bit of backstory for the Wasters Club - Namely, a group of friends from highschool, who met through detention and stuck together after graduating, got a house to share, and are unified by a ‘fuck the world’ attitude. End with a segue into a late evening fire in the backyard.

I will try and avoid using these notes when I can, especially since I'll be posting these chapters publicly, but I can't promise that they won't come up again. 

Jacqueline Isn't Here
I'm starting by re-uploading all the content that had to be removed from Patreon.
This story was originally going to be the first part of a novel that would be Patreon exclusive. However, after Patreon's decisions about this type of content, it's now going to be a public novel. Other than that, the story should remain the same.

As I said on Patreon:
Please, feel free to leave your commentary and thoughts in the comments! I want to know how you feel about this story. I've put a lot of though and effort into outlining it, and I'm very excited to tell it. I hope you enjoy!

Also, I don't always do this, and I'm not going to put a reminder at the start of every chapter, but this whole story needs a content warning.
The plot will delve heavily into CNC play, and may involve coercion and blur the lines into non-consent at certain points as the main character explores kink play in extreme ways. It will get VERY mean. I know that's not for everyone.
I'd like to remind you that this is a work of fiction. The ultimate safeword lies with *you*. If at any point you feel uncomfortable while reading this, please stop reading and wait until you feel ready to continue. Just because something's really kinky and fun to read, doesn't mean it can't also be intense and even unhealthy.

(I also don't want to overblow it and make it sound like I've written the most shocking work of fiction ever. This isn't a shock horror story. It's still a work of AB/DL erotica, and I still wrote it with the purpose of being kinky and fun to read. There will be scenes where characters are punished to the point of tears, though, so fair warning.)

The comments were buzzing as Dolly spoke into the camera. She was naked, laying on her back, positioned in such a way that the viewers could easily see between her legs. “Now, you all have to promise not to tell my Mommy that I’m doing this, okay?” 

For a fairly new performer, she had a surprisingly large audience. Some aggressive pre-video marketing, and paying some of her peers, had ensured that Dolly would get a lot of people watching her tonight. The live video had several dozen people who’d all paid to watch, and the recording would likely do pretty well. It wasn’t record breaking numbers, but ‘Dolly’ didn’t want record breaking numbers. 

She just wanted enough people watching that it was unmistakably an audience. And enough people that she could have her vibrator hooked up to a bot that would run whenever she got a one dollar donation. It was low, but that’s because she wanted it to be low. It would only be a short pulse, but people could chain donations as much as they wanted, like potato chips. 

“I’m not supposed to play on my own,” Dolly said, winking. “Mommy says I could get stuck, and that’d just be no good, but you’ll keep my secret, right?” 

It was a performance, but one that the audience was willing to buy into. Spreading her legs, Dolly displayed the diaper she was laying on, but she didn’t tape it up just yet. There was preparation she had to do. 

Holding it up so the camera could see, she unwrapped a little wax bullet that could defeat even the most stubborn of potty training in about twenty minutes. Dolly wasn’t just relying on the suppository, though; she’d taken an oral laxative a few hours prior that she could feel gurgling inside. She didn’t want to leave this up to chance. 

Showing herself off, she inserted the suppository, moaning slightly as she pushed it deep up inside herself. 

“Now,” she said, reaching off camera and seizing her bullet vibrator, which she’d already lubricated before starting. She held it up. “Since I’ve got nobody else to play with, you’ll play with me, right? Just a little donation and this thing will buzz and make me feel so good.” She winked, then slid it in herself.

Unsurprisingly, the vibrator started buzzing almost immediately, and she grinned and bit her lip, moaning loudly. “Mmm-mmph! Oh, yes.” 

This was no place to stop, though. She had to time it right. Wriggling her butt so that she was centered just right on the diaper, she reached down, folding it into place, moving it snugly so that it was wrapped around her waist, taping it tightly and running her hand over the front, making it crinkle as she pressed the padding into herself. 

“I really hope Mommy doesn’t catch me like this,” she said. “It’d just be awful. She might punish me! Oh well, that’s a risk I’m willing to take.” 

Reaching off camera again, she produced a long, rubber dildo gag. Like everything else, she’d picked it out very carefully. So many gags were purely decorative, looking nice but only working for the illusion of restraint - she could spit them out easily. This one, though, had an extra strap that went over her nose and down the back of her head, and it was six inches long so that it’d almost touch the back of her throat. She’d be rendered almost completely mute, only able to mumble and moan incoherently. 

Of course, her Mommy wasn’t ‘gone’. She was in the next room, waiting for her cue to come in and continue the roleplay. They’d arranged a safeword beforehand; if Dolly snapped her fingers three times, they would cut the video and end the game. Dolly didn’t expect that she would. 

The audience didn’t need to know any of this. They could piece it together, sure, and it was in a disclaimer deep in the video description, but to the casual viewer she was going to be helpless. 

Once the gag was in her mouth and buckled tightly over her face, Dolly reached down, wrapping a pair of leather cuffs around her feet. There was no need to lock these, but she did anyways, making a loud ‘click’ for the microphone. 

While she was doing this, someone watching turned on the vibrator. “Mmm-mmm,” Dolly moaned, closing her eyes and groaning in pleasure. She couldn’t say much in thank you, but she arched her back in pleasure, making it obvious that she was enjoying this. 

Next, she held up a handcuff key, right up for the camera to see. She palmed it between her fingers, making it obvious that she’d have it on hand the whole time. 

That established, she leaned back, reaching up to one of the cuffs on the corner of her bedframe. With a click, she locked one hand in place, then leaned back. This was tricky, because the last cuff went around the hand that was holding the key, and she had to carefully maneuver her wrist so that she could-

Click. 

Ding. 

She blinked. The key had slipped out of her hand, falling very visibly onto the floor, to an open patch on the ground where it would be visible on camera. 

Her eyes went wide, and she looked at the camera, trying to convey as clearly as possible what she wanted the audience to know. Oh no! I’m actually stuck! 

Naturally, one of her viewers used this moment to donate, making the vibrator buzz inside her. She moaned in pleasure, yet again. She was ‘trapped’, and ‘helpless’, for her viewers to ‘torment’. 

And, with the suppository brewing inside her, soon her diaper would be full and heavy, too. Before that happened, there was just one more thing for Dolly to do. 

Tensing her muscles, Dolly released her bladder… 

The front of her diaper quickly drank up the liquid, the blue stripe on front fading instantly and turning to a yellow stain. Wet and hot, the accident was accompanied by a pulse of the bullet vibrator. 

The woman on camera’s eyes went wide and she squirmed, making ambiguous noises into the gag. “MMM! MMM!” 

She tugged at the handcuffs, but they were solid and real. No fake props. Her steel bedframe held up without bending, leaving her locked down and unable to resist or escape. 

Now that the show had begun, the donations came in hot and fast. It was programmed so that if donations overlapped, the vibration speed would increase, and now they were coming in so much that three and four overlapped at once. The sensation was intense, and as she yanked against her restraints, trying desperately to wriggle free, the rapid-fire donations overtook her senses. Her whole body tensed and strained as they ripped an orgasm out of her. 

The people watching weren’t merciful. There was no rest period for her. The vibrator kept going, even as the sensation was unbearably intense, going well past the point of pleasure. She gasped, sucking in air through her nose, legs twisting and kicking against the leather restraints. 

And, all the while, the suppository was melting inside her, working with the other drugs she’d taken to demolish her control. 

The pulsing vibrator ripped another orgasm out of her. And another. There was no stopping it, even though they’d long since passed ‘pleasure’ and it was just heat and overwhelming sensation. 

She couldn’t track time, except by the building pressure, and the string of rising and falling vibration that she had absolutely no control over. Her eyes watered and she started to cry, but those cries were accompanied by helpless sounds that could only be interpreted as moans. 

When ten minutes had passed, she was almost incoherent, and the audience was starting to lose interest. She was, finally, given a moment to breathe, panting into the deep-throating gag, tears running down her cheeks. 

It was Dolly’s fantasy, of course. If she snapped her fingers three times, the torture would end instantly. 

There was just one more element to complete it. 

Her body couldn’t resist anymore. The suppository won out, and while she panted and whimpered on the bed, a loud, persistent blrrrttghhhbht echoed from beneath her diaper. It was easy to hear in the video, even if her squirm of discomfort and wrinkling nose didn’t indicate what was happening. Her diaper swelled around the seat, bulging ever so slightly as it was filled with a tidal wave of foul muck. 

That got the interest of the viewers, and the donation stream resumed once again. The vibrator fired up once more, more intense than ever. 

“MMMMMM!” 

The sound was louder than any before. She was screaming into the gag as, finally, Mommy opened the door and walked in.

This was planned out, too. Mommy stepped in so that she was visible on camera, looking down at the struggling, whimpering, sobbing form on the bed, then over at the camera, pinching her nose. Looking down, she said, “Yuck, you stink. Did you make a mess in your diaper? You know I warned you about this, but you didn’t listen! And now look at you!” 

Bending down, she picked up the handcuff key, but she didn’t move to unlock the cuffs.

Instead, Mommy said, “If you’re going to be this irresponsible, then I’ve got no choice but to punish you.” 

Grabbing her arm, Mommy lifted and twisted. The ankle restraints and handcuffs had enough slack that she could be rolled over, though it meant she had to cross her arms, and put her heavy, brown diaper seat in the air for the camera to see. 

“This!” Mommy said, raising her hand and smacking the back of the diaper hard, eliciting a loud SMACK! “Is!” SMACK! “What!” SMACK! “Babies!” SMACK! “Get!” SMACK! “When!” SMACK! “They!” SMACK! “Don’t!” SMACK! “Listen!” SMACK! “To!” SMACK! “Mommy!” 

The sobs got louder. The viewers were donating so fast that the buzz of the vibrator sounded like someone was running a lawnmower inside her diaper. Even with the padding of the diaper and the layer of muck that squelched with every impact, the spanks had to be painful. Mommy knew how to leave bruises when she wanted to, and before this scene, Dolly had requested that she hit as hard as she could. 

The woman on the bed was a sobbing wreck. 

Her diaper was filthy and heavy, sagging around her ankles, over a butt that would be bright red and bruising if it was visible. The orgasm torture had gone on for fifteen minutes now, utterly relentless. 

Utterly humiliating. 

Utterly helpless. 

Mommy hesitated, for a moment. Giving a moment where she could have snapped three times, indicating her safeword. 

No safeword came. 

Taking that as permission to move forward with the scene, Mommy pressed her hand into the seat of the diaper, smushing the mess hard into the tender bottom beneath. “Ugh, you can’t even keep your diapers clean, you smelly, filthy little baby.” 

Pushing, Mommy rolled her over again, so that her arms and legs were twisted up, pressing her thighs together and making the diaper squelch even more. Reaching off camera, Mommy retrieved a tube of IcyHot, then stepped up onto the bed, mounting the sobbing form and sitting on her, so that her thighs straddled the outside of the abused diaper. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do, to make sure you learn your lesson,” she said, squirting the contents of the tube into her hands. “You’re going to be perfectly still and perfectly quiet for ten seconds. Then, I’ll change your diaper and let you out.”

The woman barely responded, but her head nodded a little and she seemed to tense. 

It took a few moments for her to properly fall silent, her choked, gagged whimpers trailing off, so that it was just the sound of the buzzing vibrator. The audience, it seemed, wanted to make this challenge as hard as possible. 

She fought, anyways, holding perfectly still.

“One, two, three-” Mommy started counting off, before rubbing the viscous liquid from her hands onto the hard tips of the woman’s exposed nipples. Heat and cold on such a sensitive place made her yelp, and that yelp was accompanied by more whimpers and cries as the sensory overload continued to pummel her. 

Mommy shook her head. “No. Again. One, two, three…”

Holding tight and tense, she fought. Her will was almost completely broken, but she resisted the vibrating bullet, the pain from her spanking, the heat that was burning on her exposed breasts, even the awful stink and weight of her diaper. 

“... Ten.” 

Mommy stood up, leaned over, and looked away from the figure on the bed. 

“Now I bet you all enjoyed that, didn’t you? Or do you think I should be meaner next time?”

Reaching up, she pressed a button on the stream setup, killing the connection to the vibrator.

Abused as it was by all of the wriggling, it flopped off of Dolly’s waist, onto the bed. Next, Mommy moved up and pulled away the gag in her mouth, so that she could finally speak. 

“How’s my naughty girl?” Mommy asked, as she started undoing the restraints.

Her lips were soaked with drool, and it took Dolly a long moment to find her voice. “Oh my goddd…” she purred. “That was incredible.”

Nobody except her knew the truth. 

Virtual Reality
I'm starting by re-uploading all the content that had to be removed from Patreon. This is, quite possibly, the most unfair story I've ever written, and CW for claustrophobia and general extreme BDSM. 

Angela blushed, looking down at her blouse. “I have to-” 

Leslie smirked, tapping their clipboard. “Well, yeah. It’s completely immersive. Did you think you’d just sit down and put on a headset?” 

To be honest, Angela didn’t have any expectations at all. She wasn’t much into the Virtual Reality scene, she was just doing this as a favor for a… well, not a friend, exactly. And not a favor. More like ‘recompense’ for past troubles. 

That was, hopefully, all behind them. Leslie had asked for a favor testing their new VR pod, and Angela was more than happy to assist them. 

The pod itself looked like… a prototype. That was putting it charitably. Leslie had apparently started with a plain box slightly larger than a coffin, then built the internal workings themselves. All that Angela could see was the plasticy interior that would separate her from the electronics and sensory input, with a clear visor area where her face would go. 

She had to admit, it was a little intimidating, but Leslie had assured her that, once she was inside, it’d feel just like walking around in the real world. 

“So…” she looked down at herself. “Just the blouse, then?” 

“It’s a prototype,” Leslie explained. “A few features are still in progress. For now, you’ll need to strip out of everything.” When Angela still looked hesitant, they added, “Hey, it’s not like I’ve never seen your naked ass before. At least this time-” 

“Fine.” Angela didn’t want to get into that argument again. Kicking off her shoes seemed like the most modest way to start, and Leslie at least gave her the pretense of modesty by pretending to fiddle with their phone while she pulled off her blouse, shrugged out of her jean shorts, and finally lingered over her panties and bra before slipping out of them as well. “Now what? I just… get in?” 

“Not quite.” Leslie smirked. “This is an eight hour test, to ensure that the long-term user experience is comfortable and safe. I’ll be monitoring you remotely, of course, but… well, we haven’t implemented the waste reclamation features yet.” 

Angela tilted her head, frowning. “Is this dangerous? I feel like-” 

“You’ll have an emergency release button at hand,” Leslie assured her, quickly. “If it feels like it’s too much, you can just press a button and you’ll be let out.” 

“Okay. So, without waste reclamation…” Angela trailed off, thinking about what that could mean. “Oh.” 

Leslie smirked, pointing to a metal filing cabinet by the wall. “In there, I assume you can probably put them on yourself.” 

Walking to the cabinet, Angela checked its interior, and sure enough… “These seem a little… big.” She picked up one of the diapers, unfolding it. 

She wasn’t super familiar with how adult diapers looked, but she’d expected the padding to be on par with a scaled up baby diaper. This material looked far thicker, like what she’d expect from three, maybe four diapers layered on top of one another.

Leslie shrugged. “I got a premium brand so you don’t leak on the electronics. Trust me, once you’re in the pod, you won’t feel it anyways.” 

That was fair enough. Angela was willing to trust them on that, and if it turned out not to be true, she’d have the panic button on hand. 

Propping herself up against the wall, Angela held the diaper between her legs, fiddling with the tapes. She managed to get one down, though it was a little crooked, and-

“You’re terrible at that,” Leslie ‘tssked’. Walking over, they took charge, adjusting the diaper and pulling the remaining five tapes snugly in place, and re-sticking the last one. 

Angela felt like she had a pillow strapped securely between her legs. It’d stop leaks, for sure. She idly thought it might even stop a smallish river, or a large creek. 

“Anything else?” she asked, covering her bare chest with her arms. “You’re not going to tell me that I need to put in a pacifier or something for the pod to work?” 

Leslie rolled their eyes. “Nope. Just climb in, lay down, and keep your mouth open when the pod closes so that the water hose gets between your lips. Eight hours is a long time, and you don’t want to end up dehydrated.” 

“Fair, I guess…” Angela looked at the black interior of the pod, still feeling hesitant. “And you’re sure that it’ll just feel like the real world?” 

At that, Leslie almost seemed offended. “You’re not the first person that’s tested my system, Angel. I just need to do an incremental time test. Everything will be fine, and even if it isn’t, you’ll have the panic button. Trust me. There’s nothing that can go wrong here. You’re not gonna back out and screw me on this, are you? Because-” 

“No!” Angela threw up her hands. “Fine, I’m getting in. Sue me for being cautious, I guess.” 

Putting her hands on the side of the rough-looking VR pod, Angela hopped up, legs splaying slightly on account of all the padding forcing them apart. Orienting her body with the pods smooth, latex interior, she laid down her head, spread out her arms and legs, and opened her mouth. 

“Good?” 

Leslie looked down at her, nodding. “Perfect. Now, just hold still. It’ll take just a minute or so for things to boot up, so be patient.” 

They reached up, took the top of the pod, and pulled it down. Angela was surprised as she felt the water tube insert into her mouth - she’d expected a small little hose, like a straw, but it was more than an inch around and long enough to go halfway down her throat. 

She heard a little ‘click’ as the pod was latched shut. 

Then, she couldn’t hear anything at all. Or see anything, for that matter. The latex on her skin felt a little sticky and warm, but that would presumably go away as soon as the VR started and the simulated atmosphere effects kicked in. 

She couldn’t move at all. In her left hand, she felt a little button, and she could press down on it if she wanted to, but the rest of her body was totally immobile. 

Okay, Leslie. Any time now. This isn’t exactly comfortable. 

Angela would have shifted uncomfortably, but she couldn’t really shift around at all. 

To pass the time, she counted off seconds in her head. Leslie had said it would only take a minute to get things booted up, so Angela counted backwards from sixty. 

Fifty nine. Fifty eight. Fifty seven... 

She wondered if Leslie was saying anything, and she just couldn’t hear it through the pod. 

It occurred to her that she didn’t know how Leslie was controlling the simulation, or even what sim she’d be inside. 

… three… two… one… zero… 

Nothing had happened yet. Leslie must have been talking out of their ass when they said ‘just a minute’, exaggerating to put her at ease. So, she kept counting. 

… minus a hundred. Minus a hundred and one. What the hell is taking them so long? 

She gave up counting. Clearly, something was wrong. She pressed the panic button. 

Nothing happened. 

Angela pressed it again. When she got no response, she held it down, counting off ten seconds, then started hammering it rapidly. 

Nothing at all. So far as she could tell, the pod didn’t respond in any way, and neither did Leslie. 

She tried to move, pressing against the latex material that kept her pressed down, but it was too tight, and she had no leverage. It was like trying to move while buried alive. 

Don’t panic. Leslie will get you out of here, any moment. It just takes them a moment to see the alert, I’m sure. 

She tried waiting. Nothing happened. 

Angela started to panic. 

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t see, or hear, and the only sensations she could feel was the pressure of the hose pressing into her throat, making her choke when she tried to move her mouth. 

‘Thrashing’ was hardly a descriptor for what she did. She tried to thrash, tensing her muscles and pushing against the latex, but it made absolutely no difference. 

She screamed, but it was so muffled that she could barely hear it in her own ears. 

Did Leslie get hurt? Are they in trouble? Why is nobody- 

Finally, she felt something. A system in the pod came to life. 

It was little reprieve. A cold trickle of something - definitely not water - started to dribble into her mouth. It was thick, and a little chalky, and had a bitter, vegetable taste to it. If she had to place it, the flavor reminded her most of mashed peas, but more artificial, and with something else mixed in. 

She had no choice but to choke it down. The sludge kept flowing, and if she didn’t swallow it all, she would be choked. 

Angela didn’t know how long it lasted. Maybe a minute. Maybe half an hour. She was having trouble telling time. Either way, by the time the mush ceased to creep down her throat, her belly felt intensely full, the sort of full that only came with continuing to eat well after even the barest common sense said to stop. 

In the absence of other sensations, it was all she could focus on, as the intense fullness slowly resolved itself, her body digesting and managing the food, and…

She felt a gurgle in her belly. Nothing intense, just a little pressure, but it had come out of nowhere. She had used the bathroom before all this. There was no reason for her… 

The faint residual chalkiness on her lips came to mind. Medicine, or drugs. Something was mixed in her food, and whatever it was, it was making her body churn to expel it. 

Time passed. Angela wasn’t sure if the drugs in her body were really so fast acting, or if her perception was just that unsound, but she could feel the pressure building inside her quickly. There was nothing she could do, except to clench and fight and wish that she could close her legs or ball her fists. 

In the end, the pressure won. It wasn’t even close. She lost the ability, or maybe just the will, to keep holding it, and a tidal wave of muck spilled out into her diaper. With little room to spread out, it was pressed into her cheeks and up between her legs, smearing around under the weight of her body and the confining pressure of the pod. 

She wriggled, and realized only then that, though the pod was a tight, closed system, the air she was breathing was being circulated inside the pod. If it had been coming from an outside source, she wouldn’t have been able to smell the sudden stench that was radiating off from her still-filling padding. As it was, the overwhelming odor of a very dirty diaper was added to her extremely limited repertoire of sensory inputs. The tube gagging her throat, the mush squelching between her legs, and now the smell filling her nostrils. 

It wasn’t all foul. A subtle hint of baby powder and plastic was mixed in, but the overwhelming majority was from the stinky mess stewing in her diaper. 

Minutes passed, and she gave up on taking shallow breaths. There was no avoiding the smell, except to desensitize herself to it. 

And then, finally, the other parts of the pod came alive. 

Lights flashed in her eyes, and the visor proved not to be a high-definition virtual reality display, but a simple LED like you’d find on an alarm clock. Words flashed in rapid succession, moving back and forth between ‘SLUT’ and ‘BABY’, the words filling her vision. 

SLUT

Vibration suddenly kicked in, with a whirring buzz that she could just barely hear, making the front of her padding suddenly begin to thrumm. She was the opposite of aroused, but it came at her with a delicate balance of force and speed, working up and then dropping, teasing her, making the vibration impossible to forget or ignore. It was one of the few sensations she could feel, and the only pleasant one, and she was quickly dripping wet in spite of everything else. 

BABY 

Another force, creating suction around her breasts, gently pulling at her nipples. It built, and then released, and then built again, in time with the vibration. 

SLUT

The hose in her mouth began to move, and only now could she feel the texture to it. It retracted and then thrust its way into her throat, and then retracted, and thrust, building in speed slowly as it fucked her mouth with greater and greater intensity

BABY

Sound began to play. A loud mix of moans, and whimpers, and whispered words echoed in her ears. In time with the LED display, a quiet voice reinforced what was being said, over the sounds of sex and pleasure. 

“SLUT.” 

She couldn’t moan herself, even as the rhythm of the vibration picked up, pressing harder, making her whole body tremble with sensation. It wasn’t pleasure, there was nothing pleasurable about this, but the burning arousal couldn’t be ignored. Panting, she inhaled deeply, acutely aware of the stench of her diaper and the pinpoints of sensation up and down her body.

“BABY.” 

The thrusting in her mouth grew faster, pushing deeper, until- 

“SLUT.” 

She screamed again as the orgasm was ripped out of her, and in the same moment, the hose in her mouth stopped thrusting and quivered, more of the foul-tasting sludge suddenly rushing into her mouth. She had to swallow as it spurted, trying to keep from choking as the slime went down her throat, making her cheeks puff out with the volume. 

“BABY.” 

The vibration against her sex didn’t cease, and the suction on her breasts only increased, as she squirted into the diaper, fluids getting absorbed by the thirsty, incredibly thick padding. She quivered, her whole body shaking as she choked down the last of the sludge. Seconds passed. Maybe minutes. Words and sounds flashed in her mind, whether her eyes were open or closed. 

Finally, the vibration stopped. With it, the suction, the flashing words, the sounds, all went away. 

She was left alone, without sensation, save for the smell of her diaper, now a little sweatier, and with a tinge of sex to highlight the overpowering stink of her mess. 

Her own panting was the only sound she could hear. A thin trickle of water started to pour into her mouth, a genuine relief. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was. 

In her belly, there was a little gurgle as the drugs from the recent round of sludge started to do their work. She didn’t even try to fight it this time, pushing out more smelly mush into her diaper just so the cramping wouldn’t last as long. 

Time passed. How long, she couldn’t tell. Before she was hungry again, though, she felt sudden, unexpected vibrations begin to build. 

“BABY.” 

The suction resumed. The thrusting down her throat returned. 

“SLUT.” 

The orgasm torture resumed. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought it lasted longer this time, teasing her, fucking her mouth, making things go on for minutes more than it had the last time. 

And then it ended again. She wet her diaper when she had to pee. As the drugs churned in her belly, she added to the growing mess. She took deep breaths, trying to stay calm, not even trying to ignore the stench anymore. 

Time passed. The process repeated, and this time she was sure it was longer than before. By the time her orgasm came, she was pleading with the device to give her release. 

The cycle repeated. 

Longer, again. 

Her diaper grew so full that she could feel its weight, even inside the enclosed machine. She couldn’t remember what fresh air smelled like. 

She was exhausted. 

The process repeated. 

The process repeated.

The process repeated. 

The Drone Legions
I'm starting by re-uploading all the content that had to be removed from Patreon. This was a Patreon-exclusive story.

“Tell me, doctor,” Madame Arianna said, standing on a balcony. Two thousand feet up, she could survey her whole factorium from her elevated perch. “How go the preparations?” 

Doctor Connors looked up from his clipboard. “The first round of assimilation has gone well. Our drones are ready to begin spreading out and claiming more candidates.” 

She tapped her sharp nails on the ledge, not looking back. Connors didn’t know if she could tell what he was thinking, the terror that always felt completely reasonable in her presence, but he kept it off his face. “Good, good. It is on schedule, then?”

“Eh… yes,” he said, wincing. “Mostly. There’s been a slight delay with the dropships. Setting them up to go to other Federation planets without clearance was a trick.” 

Madame Arianna whirled, fury in her expression. “What?” 

“We’re only behind by forty minutes!” Connors squeaked, holding up his clipboard defensively. “And our takeover of this sector won’t be delayed at all!” 

She glared, and he thought for a moment that Arianna might be contemplating killing him right then and there. She couldn’t, though. The assimilation factories were his design, from the ground up. Sure, the apprentice that Arianna has assigned to work with him could likely run the machines, but they were only an apprentice. They couldn’t have built them from the ground up. 

“Show me,” she said, lowly. 

“Ma’am?” 

“A tour,” she insisted. “I want to see the machines that will bring about my conquest.” 

“O-of course.” Bowing, he gestured towards the elevator. “Right this way, your supreme excellence.” 

There was no arguing with Madame Arianna. She ruled with an iron fist, and nobody who dared question her had ever gotten away with it unscathed. 

Leading her, they walked into the elevator, surveying their steel yards at work as they descended. 

Drop ships, the size of city blocks, were being welded together, each holding room for an attack team and an assimilation factory, each ready to be sent to another planet. 

The Federation hadn’t seen war in a hundred years. They were unprepared for ground forces, especially not ground forces that would self replicate. Once their assault began, Madame Arianna’s conquest would be swift and decisive. Those who knelt would be allowed to serve her. Those who fought, well… That’s what the factories were for. 

The elevator shuddered as it touched down on the factory floor, letting them out with a hiss of hydraulics. The factory floor was abuzz, drones forcing random civilians into the line. It didn’t matter who they were before, by the end they would be loyal soldiers for Arianna’s army. 

“It starts here,” he said, gesturing towards the civilians being shoved in. As soon as they stepped onto the belt, a needle jabbed in their neck, and the people dropped. “With a powerful, fast acting muscle relaxer. Once it’s been injected, their bodies become unresponsive for roughly an hour, ensuring that they can’t tamper with the rest of the process.” 

“But they’re fully aware?” Arianna asked. 

“Of course. As you requested, the whole process is as uncomfortable and humiliating for the drones as possible. Those who resist will be in a perpetual state of degradation once they’ve been conditioned,” Doctor Connors assured her. 

He walked along, pointing to the next stage. Large mechanical claws adjusted the victims, lining them up neatly, so that a laser could scan them and then begin systematically burning its way up their bodies, leaving clean, naked skin behind. 

“The laser renders them hairless and naked,” Connors explained, checking his clipboard and walking to the next step. 

As they moved through the factory floor, the drones all barely acknowledged them. They would respond to commands, but were otherwise incapable of independent actions. Discussion had been had about designing them to acknowledge Arianna and salute as she passed, but those ideas were discarded for fear of software issues in combat. Having the drones stop to salute in the middle of a battle would be potentially devastating, after all. 

While they walked, Arianna seemed to be inspecting Connors more than the machines, looking him up and down. “And these are calibrated to work with anyone, yes?” 

“The machine doesn’t care who’s put in, ma’am.” Doctor Connors confirmed. “Body type, sexual characteristics, it can work with any of them and create a loyal soldier drone. If we see here, now, we get the first stage of modifications…” 

He gestured at the belt, where groggy subjects were trying to escape, but barely even able to move their arms. As they tried, servos sat them upright, and metal bands were locked around each subject’s neck, wrists, and ankles. Once properly cuffed and collared, they were lifted up, and the first humiliation was put into place. 

For those with penises, tight metal cages were latched around them and welded shut. They were designed with stimulating toys that would constantly tease, but never give release. Subjects with vaginas were given a similar treatment, only with a self sterilizing implant that would tease and torture just as much without any sort of release. 

“All subjects are scanned, and have an appropriately torturous locking mechanism applied that fits them,” Doctor Connors added.

Following this came plugs, forced in with lube. Each was hollow, but had a wax seal to prevent any accidents on the line, and there was no flared base to prevent removal under any circumstances. Given a few minutes, the wax seal would melt, but by then the drone would be wrapped in a snug diaper. 

“To ensure they can’t control even their baser urges,” he added. 

“Of course.” They kept walking. 

One particular subject, a young man, was looking side to side and struggling mightily, but he was helpless under the control of the mechanical arms and the drugs. Doctor Connors watched as he was lifted up, given another scan, and then had his mouth pulled open so that a hollow gag could be inserted. 

I almost feel sorry for them, he thought, but it wasn’t like Connors had much of a choice. If he didn’t build these factories for Arianna, she would have done worse to him. 

As mechanical arms reached down to wrap the victims in thick, white diapers - designed to only need changing once every three days, to minimize downtime and increase humiliation - Arianna asked, “Tell me about the enhancements.” 

“Well, all of them will be encased in a latex-alloy bodysuit,” Connors explained. “It’s resistant to most firearms, cut proof, and shock proof. It’s also uncomfortably hot and sweaty, and it traps odors like nobody’s business. I tried wearing a glove made of the stuff and had to take it off in five minutes. An hour wearing the suit, with a full diaper and no chance at a shower, the odor’s going to be unbearable.” 

“But their mind won’t be intact,” Arianna pointed out. “Given that they’ll be under my control.” 

“Well, the part of their mind that controls their limbs will be under the commander’s control,” Connors hedged. “They’ll still be fully aware of their surroundings, and able to feel everything being done to them. It makes me shudder, a little.”

“Good,” the Madame declared. “Let that be a warning to my enemies, then.” 

Connors hesitated. Guilt twinged at his consciousness, wondering if he’d done the right thing, and he had to jog to catch up to Arianna as she walked alongside, inspecting the now-diapered subjects as heavy, elastic materials were pulled over their bodies, starting at the leg cuffs and snapping tight to each drone’s skin, covering their puffy diapers and creating a bulge.

The latex came up to their necks, stopping at the collars, so that everything except the drones’ hands, feet, and heads were covered. 

Next came… the helmets.

Connors had designed them, of course. They would display a disorienting pattern of feedback into the subjects vision and hearing, completely demolishing their ability to employ rational control over their body, and then begin the process of reprogramming them. The drones would be completely blind and deaf, their motions dictated not by their brains, but by computers embedded in the helmets. The only opening on the helmet was for the mouth, so that a feeding tube could be inserted to keep the drone hydrated and fed. 

Combat robots were more efficient in battle, but they couldn’t live off the land or be fed organic materials, and they weren’t half so terrifying. A robot trying to kill you was something to fight against. A drone trying to subsume your thoughts and encase you in a torture made of latex and diapers was something to surrender to. 

The gloves and boots were perfunctory, practical things. They got put on, and then the drones were all dumped into a pile where they would wait as their brains were reprogrammed and their diapers were filled for the first time. By the time the muscle relaxers wore off, there would be no chance of escape or recovery for anyone who’d gone through the belt. 

“It’s good,” Arianna declared. “I’m impressed.” 

“Thank you, your magnificence,” Doctor Connors said. 

“And it’s all your own design,” she added. “But… your apprentice knows how it all works, yes?” 

“Well, of course. I taught him so that he could lead the factories on another planet,” Doctor Connors frowned. “Why?” 

“I was only thinking…” Madame Arianna tapped her chin. “That you’ve seemed hesitant, these past weeks. Nervous.”

“I’m fully committed to the plan, ma’am. To the empire,” Connors said, taking a step back. 

“Not only that, though. These machines, they’re your inventions. Your glory, in a way. Not my own work.” She leveled her steely gaze on Connors. “I don’t like to share, Doctor.” 

He took another step away. “What… what are you saying?” 

“That you’re no use to me, not any longer.” Madame Arianna smirking. “Not as anything more than a pathetic, useless-”

“Take her now,” Connors snapped. 

She blinked. “Huh?” 

Three drones in the immediate vicinity jumped on Arianna, tackling her to the ground. A quadruple dose of the muscle relaxer got shot into her neck, rendering her body totally limp, totally helpless.

Connors squatted down, smirking. “You stupid little bitch, you thought I wouldn’t program them to follow me above you? I slipped it into the programming. You wanted them to follow you, or to follow their base programming if you got taken out, but I outsmarted you. Now you’re going to be a little, pants-shitting, helpless thing, and I’ll- Huh? Buh…”

He fell to the ground limply, as a needle pricked his neck. 

It didn’t make sense. One of the drones had incapacitated him, same as Arianna, but he hadn’t told her to. It had no instructions, except…

Except to follow it’s base programming, to find and assimilate drones.

Oh no. No, no, no, no-

The drones dragged him and Arianna towards the front of the assembly line, dumping them onto the belt with the other captives. Despite already being drugged, the servos hit them with another dose, and Connors felt his body go even more slack. 

No. There’s got to be a way out of this, he thought, as the belt carried him forward into the first scan. The laser started working its way up his body, removing layers of his clothing and rendering hair to ash. 

In the corner of his vision, he could see Madame Arianna behind him, glaring daggers his way, but she was as helpless, naked, and hairless as him. 

If they don’t have a leader, they won’t accept surrender, Connors realized. They’ll assimilate everyone. They can’t not. 

He’d made the perfect self replicating system, after all. Autonomous invasion forces that would conquer planets and send out more, larger, invasion forces. 

The collar, designed to choke just a little bit, latched tightly around his neck, and the chafing wrist and ankle cuffs were locked down. He could hear Arianna whimpering, terror setting into her for possibly the first time in her life, but he’d accepted his fate. There was nothing to do except try to deal with the discomfort. 

As he considered this, a steel cage was clamped tightly around him, squeezing his member and then immediately beginning to buzz, stroke, and tease. Despite his circumstances, his terror, he felt himself try to grow hard, strain painfully in the steel, fall limp, and then repeat the process. 

 Next, he was picked up by cold, steel hands. The plug was rested against his back door, pressure applied, and then he winced as it was shoved inside him. Why did I make it that large? Just to be painful? 

… Stupid question. 

The diaper came next, though he was already having trouble focusing on it, between painful attempts at an erection and the uncomfortable fullness in his bottom from a plug that would never be removed. Still, thick padding was folded between his thighs, taped down with industrial-grade adhesive, and he was dropped back in place. 

Being gagged wasn’t so bad. He didn’t fight as the arms opened his mouth and forced in the hollow feeding gag, letting it rest between his teeth, waiting for the next step. 

One thing he hadn’t considered as a designer was that the latex being pulled over his body would be coming straight out of a formation vat. It was hot to the touch, like it’d been laying out in the sun, making him sweat as soon as the tight material was snapped over his body. As a torture feature, he’d probably have left it in even if he’d known, but the surprise was the first thing that made him whimper. There wouldn’t be any cooling down or getting better, not when his body heat was radiating into the suit. 

Then, finally, came the helmet, and Connors said goodbye to being the renowned doctor and scientist he’d been up until that moment. 

He was just one of the legion of diaper drones.  

Happy Baby Day
I'm starting by re-uploading all the content that had to be removed from Patreon. This is part an old gift for HofBondage, featuring an AB/DL parody spin on a horror film.

Day 27. 

“I’m being stalked. I need your help.” 

Cindi stared at me, blinking a few times in surprise. I had stepped into the lunch line a space behind her, cutting in front of a few students, but I had bigger things to worry about than ruffling some feathers. “Uh… hi, Jasmine. It is Jasmine, right?” 

“Call me Jazz,” I replied, sticking out my hand to shake. “We’re roommates, but you haven’t had the chance to meet me yet. You got onto campus a day late, because your truck got a flat coming here.” 

The uncertain stare continued, and I started to notice a hint of fear in her expression. Not good. If you scare her off, she won’t help you. She looked past me, towards the exit. “Yeah… look, now’s not a good time.” 

I kept my hand extended, implacable. I knew she’d give in to my stubbornness, so I didn’t feel uncertain about being so forward with her. “Just hear me out, it’ll take five minutes. I’ll even buy your lunch. If you still think I’m crazy when I’m done, you can get up and leave.” 

Cindi eyed me, still convinced I was off my rocker, but then she adjusted her grip on her lunch tray so she could shake my hand. “Deal. You said you’re being stalked?” 

I nodded, stepping forward in the lunch line. “I’ll explain it once we’re sitting down.” I wasn’t really hungry, but I knew that if I didn’t eat now I wouldn’t get a chance later, so I took a cellophane-wrapped sandwich and an apple while Cindi filled her tray. 

Two punches on my lunch card later, we were sitting across from each other, at a table I’d chosen so my back could be against a wall. “Sorry for all this being kind of weird, I just don’t have time to explain better and it’s… a lot.” 

Watching me, Cindi popped the tab on a soda. “Just… start from the beginning, I guess.” 

“It’s…” I flushed. I hadn’t practiced explaining this beforehand. “I woke up this morning, went about my day, and this freak in a baby mask grabbed me and pulled me off to some sort of… a bad place. I don’t want to talk about what they did, but… when they were done, I woke up back in my bed.” 

“That sounds like a bad dream, Jazz,” Cindi said, skeptically. “Not a stalker.” 

I look around, half expecting to see my abductor charging towards me, but the cafeteria hall is only populated by students. “Well, I thought that too, but… then it happened again.” 

“The same dream?” 

I shake my head. “The same day.” 

Cindi frowned. “I don’t follow.” 

“I woke up, and everything was the same. I got the same good-morning text from my dad, I bumped into the same person as I left our dorm room, the same songs were playing on the radio in the cafeteria when I got breakfast. I tried to brush it off as deja-vu, but then, that afternoon, they grabbed me again.” 

Furrowing her brow, Cindi asked, “And… tortured you?” 

“Yes. And then I woke up, and it all started over again.” 

Cindi glanced at her phone, then at her mostly-unfinished lunch. “Look, it sounds like you need to go to the police. Or maybe a psychiatrist.” 

“I tried that, the sixth time this happened,” I explained, shaking my head, imploring her not to leave. “They wouldn’t help. When I told them I’d been living the same day over and over, they thought I was crazy. When I tried going in and just telling them I was being stalked, they wouldn’t help me without evidence.”

My roommate stared at me, calculating, trying to determine if I was sincere, if I was pulling her leg, or if I’d just gone off the deep end. 

“I’ve had to live out this day twenty six times,” I say, going in for the kill. “And I can prove it. In about five seconds, a guy in a white t-shirt is going to drop his lunch tray.” I pointed towards an intersection of tables a few paces away. 

Cindi raised an eyebrow, watching skeptically until a gangly freshman tripped on his shoelaces, staggered, and sent his meal skittering across the floor. She blinked in surprise, but tried to conceal it. “Maybe you paid him to do that.” 

I could tell I had her then. Checking my phone for the time, I say, “Upstairs, in five minutes and seventeen seconds, someone’s going to put a nylon backpack in one of the dryers and it’ll melt and they’ll have to call maintenance. In twenty three minutes, our RA is going to text with information about the floor meeting tonight. Do I need to keep going?” 

Shaking her head, Cindi said, “No, I believe you, but… why do you think I’m the person who has to help you?” 

“I trust you.” It would sound silly to her, given that she’d just met me, but I’d met her twenty six times and I had a good sense of her character. “You’ve been willing to hear me. You’re determined, you’re willing to take me at my word, and you’ve tried to help me before.” 

“Right, when the day was repeating. What am I supposed to be helping with, exactly?” 

“It’s… complicated,” I replied, blushing again. “Every time, the day ends and I wake up in bed after a certain thing that the stalker does to me. I think, if I can keep that thing from happening, then the day won’t start over.” 

Cindi frowns, pushing her lunch tray to the side. “You want my help, but you’re not going to tell me any details?” 

“It’s embarrassing.” 

Tapping her fingers on the table, she said, “Well, if what you say is true, then either I’ll forget about this conversation, or you’ll break the cycle, which I think would be worth a little embarrassment.” 

“It’s…” my face turned pink. I really, really didn’t want to get into the details of what my kidnapper had done to me for the past twenty six days, so I decided to give her as little information as I could. “Once they’ve grabbed me, they take me back to this room, and make me…” 

Fuck.

Cindi read my expression, blinking in comprehension. “Oh. I mean, I guess it could be worse, then.”

I shook my head. “I don’t… that is, I wake up just before… never mind. Will you help me?” 

Looking at her lunch tray, Cindi pushed it aside and stood, nodding. “Sure. What do you need me to do?” 

Relief washed over me as she confirmed her willingness to lend a hand. “I think I know where this freak set everything up. It’s an abandoned building on the side of campus. If we can get there, and either find proof for the cops or just get the drop on them, they won’t be able to grab me and I won’t have to… that is, I won’t restart the day again.” 

Cindi frowned. “What, the old Jefferson building? Nobody’s in there, they keep that place locked up.” 

“That’s not entirely true.” I smiled, using a bit more of my knowledge of the day. “There’s a way in where we won’t be seen, if we leave here in just a minute, and the two times I’ve tried to explore it by myself, my stalker found me right away. If they weren’t already there, it’s one hell of a coincidence.” 

“Unless they were just following you around, like stalkers are known to do,” Cindi pointed out, sounding skeptical. “It just seems like a longshot, if there was anywhere else you wanted to check out first.” 

“If I’m wrong, we can try again when the day loops,” I pointed out, walking towards the exit. “But I’ve got a good gut feeling about this, and I need to stop this from going on without letting the day repeat any more than it already has.”

Holding the door for me, Cindi asked, “Why’s that?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Stepping out into the campus, I started following the sidewalk towards the far side of the college campus, trying not to rush too much. With Cindi’s help, I felt like I finally had a real chance at getting out of this without being grabbed, but I didn’t want to make a mistake in my haste. 

Cindi stopped, a few paces behind me, and I looked over my shoulder at her. “What?” 

“Are you…” She trailed off, and I realized that she was staring at my ass. My cheeks flushed, and she finished, “Are you wearing a diaper?” 

Embarrassment filling me, I looked around to make sure nobody had heard her, tugging at the back of my shirt in alarm to hide the waistband poking up from beneath my jeans. “Shhh!” I implored, taking a couple steps closer. “It’s… just pullups.” 

“You didn’t say anything about that on your roommate agreement,” Cindi pointed out, doing very little to keep her voice down. “I didn’t know you needed-”

“I don’t!” I snapped, before lowering my voice. “Since this groundhog day freaky shit started, though… I’ve just been having a little trouble. It’s no problem.”

Cindi smirked and started walking again, but she didn’t drop the topic, and she didn’t keep her voice down in the slightest. “So you’ve been peeing your pants?” 

“No! Shut up! People can hear you.” 

Looking around at the other students walking by, Cindi rolled her eyes. “Nobody’s listening to us. If you haven’t been having accidents, why would you need diapers?” 

“Pullup,” I repeated, gritting my teeth. “The package from Wal-Mart said they were for ages twelve and up. And… it’s just been getting harder to hold it, and a couple times I haven’t made it, and…” 

“And you peed your pants,” Cindi snickered. 

I shoved her arm, just enough to make her step to the side. “Shut up!” 

Covering her mouth to conceal a laugh, Cindi said, “You asked for my help, diaper girl.” 

“I didn’t think you’d be an asshole about it.” 

She frowned to one side, amusement still plain in her eyes. “Sorry. It’s just funny.” 

I glared, but there was no heat to it. Cindi was the only person who’d agreed to help me so far, and I couldn’t risk losing her support. “Not for me.” 

Cindi shrugged and we kept walking. I tried not to think about the subtle crinkle as my thin padding shifted between my legs, but now that Cindi had brought it up, it was hard to forget. 

“So, have you used this to do anything useful?” Cindi asked me, filling the quiet time as we walked. 

“Useful like what?” I replied, checking over my shoulder. The last time I’d come to this building, my stalker had found me before I could do any investigation. I was hoping that with my backup, they wouldn’t get another chance, but that didn’t make me less paranoid about an ambush. 

Cindi shrugged. “Like, looking up the lottery numbers or something.” 

“I haven’t had the chance,” I admitted. “They don’t draw the numbers today until the evening, and I have yet to make it past four or five before…” 

“Before they get you?” Cindi looked around as well. “Hey, you’re with me now. Want to go wait at a coffee shop or something for a few hours until it gets dark, check the numbers, then come back here afterwards?” 

“If this works, the day won’t loop again,” I pointed out. “And I’m not going to make it loop again on purpose. It’s been worse every time they get me, and no amount of money is worth that.” 

“If you say so.” Cindi pointed as we rounded a bend in the sidewalk. “That’s the building, right?” 

“Yeah.” The old arts building loomed over us, four stories of solid brick architecture with boarded-over windows. I’d found it a few repeated days prior when I was looking for places to hide a sex dungeon on campus, but I’d never gotten past the first floor before my stalker found me. Given how far aside from campus it was, with minimal security and no visibility to the inside from the outside, it’d be a great place for my stalker to set up. 

Looking for an entrance, Cindi asked, “Think we’ll catch them off guard?” 

“I think we’ve got a better shot than I have so far.” We walked up to it, and I led Cindi off to the north side, where we’d be out of view from the rest of campus. 

Cindi scanned the side of the building, frowning skeptically. “So, what’s the plan to get in? Smash a window?” 

“That’s one option,” I explained, smirking. “I checked the building out a few todays ago. There are a couple ways in, but the easiest is just to go in through the back door.” Pressing the handlebar, the door swung open, letting us into a long, unlit hallway.

“Oh.” Cindi peered in behind me, frowning. “It’s dark in there. Are you sure this is a good idea?” 

I unslung my backpack from my shoulder, pulling out two brand new jumbo flashlights and passing one to Cindi. “I planned ahead.” 

She took the light, clicking it on. “I guess there’s no good excuse to back out then.” 

“Hey, help me out here, and I’ll owe you one,” I pointed out. “Or, hell, if something goes wrong you won’t even remember, so no harm no foul.” 

“Unless time-loop-icitis is infectious.” She chuckled, nervously, and we walked inside the building, letting the door thud shut behind us. 

“We’ll stick together,” I explained, using my light to gesture at the doors. “Check the place out methodically. As long as we have each other’s backs, they won’t be able to grab us.” 

Cindi shiverred, pointing her flashlight nervously into the first classroom on the right. “What if campus security finds us?” 

“They won’t. I’ve been here before, remember?” I pointed down the hall, towards a T intersection. “We can skip this first hallway, I’ve already looked around here.”  

“Whatever you say, Jazz.” 

It was less creepy than the last time I’d explored the building. With Cindi at my side, I felt a lot safer, less anxious at every turn. We checked rooms one at a time, exploring just enough to ensure that there was no hidden bondage gear behind old desks and lecterns before moving on to the next. 

Even as fast as we were moving, though, it took most of half an hour to clear the first floor and find the stairs up to the second. 

“I don’t think we’re going to find anything,” Cindi said, as we headed up. “If I were a creepy stalker, I’d have gone for the first floor. Can you imagine hauling all that gear up the stairs? Makes me tired, just thinking about it.” 

“There’s only a few floors, and I’m not giving up,” I insisted, as we rounded the stairwell. “If you want to take a break, that’s okay, but we’re not giving up.” 

Cindi opened her mouth, then closed it, squinting and pointing her flashlight down the hall. “Did you see that?” 

“See what?” I asked, frowning. 

“Thought I saw something moving,” Cindi said, taking a few steps further. “It was probably just a weird shadow from your flashlight, though. I’m not worried about it.” 

“If you… oh.” I paused, getting a sinking feeling in my belly. “Oh no.” 

“Oh no?” Cindi’s voice was alarmed. “What’s wrong?” 

“I gotta pee,” I said, looking around. “I… I don’t think this building has working plumbing.”

Sighing in relief, my partner in crime asked, “So? You’re wearing a diaper.” 

“Pull-up,” I corrected, peering down the hall, shifting my weight back and forth in an anxious potty dance. “And that’s not the point. I’m still potty trained, and I’m damned sure that I’m not going to pee my pants.” 

Cindi shrugged, looking back down the hall. “Suit yourself. I think the closest campus building with a toilet you could use was only a few minutes away. I guess we’re taking that break after all.” 

“I… don’t know if I can hold it that long,” I conceded, leaning to look further down the hall. “I’m just going to find a toilet, I don’t care if it flushes.” 

“Gross,” Cindi said, but she rolled her eyes and started walking down the hall. “Whatever you say, I guess.” 

“Here, I think the bathrooms are this way.” I guided our walk with my flashlight, still mindful of my surroundings. “You sure you saw something earlier?” 

Cindi walked backwards for a moment, checking behind us. “Like I said, it was probably a trick of the light.” Spinning to face forward, she pointed her flashlight at my backside and giggled. “That’s a cute potty dance.”  

I blushed, realizing I was walking with my thighs pressed together to try and hold back the suddenly mounting pressure. “Shut up.” 

“Just an observation. Y’know, if you wanted to hide your pullups, you should have worn a longer shirt.” Cindi’s tone was innocent, but her expression showed a broad smirk. 

Groaning, I rounded the corner and pointed my flashlight towards the large ‘W’ mounted over a door. Feeling the pressure in my bladder surge at the sight of a bathroom, I hurried to it, trying the pull handle. 

“Shit.” 

“What’s wrong?” Cindi asked, walking up behind me and leaning against the wall by the door. 

I pulled a second time, but it didn’t budge. “Locked.” Desperation mounting, I pressed a hand into my crotch, hopping back and forth on the balls of my feet. 

Cindi frowned, and I half expected her to make a quip, but instead she pointed her light at a far office door. “Just… go piss in a trash can or something.” 

“What?” I asked, caught off guard by the suggestion.” 

“It’s not like the toilets would actually work. Unless you changed your mind about that whole ‘I’m a big girl, I don’t pee my pants’ speech you gave a minute ago.” 

I considered it for a half second, deciding that anything was better than conceding the loss of my potty training. Waddling across the hall, I opened the door, stepped forward, then glanced back at Cindi. She was still leaning against the wall. 

“Aren’t you coming?” 

She chuckled. “To watch the “Jazz pisses in a trash can” show? Ew. I’ll wait out here, thanks.” 

There was no time to argue. Rushing into the classroom, I let the door swing shut behind me, looking around for a trash bin, a janitor’s bucket, anything. Fiddling with my jeans’ snap, I shuffled over to the teacher’s desk, checking under it for- 

Outside the door, Cindi screamed. 

I spun in alarm, half expecting to see my stalker coming through the door in a baby mask, but instead I saw only a brief flash of light come from under the door, followed by darkness. 

“Cindi!” I ran to the door and threw it open, looking around the hallway. 

She was gone. 

Also, the pressure on my bladder had vanished, replaced by a growing warmth around my crotch. 

My attention was split between concern for Cindi, fear for myself, and frustrated humiliation as I soaked the thin padding of my Disney Princess pull-up. 

I stepped into the hallway, shining my light around, but there was nobody in sight. Cindi was gone, vanishing like she’d never even been there.

Worse, I could feel wet warmth trickling down my thighs. I’d flooded my pullup, and looking down, I could see crescent-shaped marks highlighting the shape of my overwhelmed padding. 

“Dammit.” I stepped back into the classroom, putting the door to my back. My bladder was just starting to trail off, and I could feel my socks squishing around my heels, suggesting that maybe I should have gotten incontinence protection for adults instead of the cheap children’s variety. 

My stalker had gotten Cindi. I’d dragged her into this to protect myself, but I’d never considered how it might put her in danger. Now, she was about to be put through the same humiliations and torture that I’d been suffering. 

A selfish part of me considered that, if I just left, my stalker might be content with only one victim. I could run away, be free, escape the time loop and never look back. I’d have to walk across the campus in soggy jeans, the outline of my pullup standing out like a spotlight, but I’d have escaped. 

If I did that, though, Cindi might be held captive forever. She might not get the same chances I had, to try again over and over until she got a version where she didn’t get grabbed. 

As much as I hated it, I couldn’t give up now. I had to find my stalker and free Cindi. 

So, leaving wet footprints in my wake, I raised my flashlight, braced myself, and strode towards the door. 

“Cindi!” I cried out, looking to my right, towards the stairs. “I’m coming to get you! Don’t worry!” 

I moved carefully, mimicking how I’d seen spies move in action films. It was maybe a bad sign that I was basing my actions based off of outlandish fiction, but I didn’t have anything better to draw on. It also probably didn’t help that, instead of moving silently, my shoes were squelching and my sodden pullup was crinkling with every movement of my hips and thighs. 

A felt a different kind of warmth that had nothing to do with temperature and stopped to get annoyed with myself. “Goddammit,” I said, directing my words between my legs. “No. We’re in peril here. I know it’s been a while, but now is not a good time.” 

My sex-starved body disagreed. I couldn’t blame it, no matter how inconvenient the circumstances. I’d effectively been edged twenty six days in a row with no hope of release, and most of those times, I’d had some variety of soggy protection rubbing between my legs. 

I tried not to let it worry me that I was being conditioned to get hot and bothered by dirty diapers.

“We get through this without getting grabbed, and I promise we’ll have some fun tomorrow,” I assured myself. “Normal fun. And I’ll get my potty training back, and put all this behind me, and-”

I didn’t hear the figure that had crept up behind me. I only knew they were there when a hand had snaked around my face, pressing a wet towel over my mouth and nose. 

“Shh,” a voice said in my ear, such a low whisper that I couldn’t make out anything distinguishing about it. “Go to sleep.” 

I sucked in a panicked breath, which was the wrong decision. The chloroform kicked in instantly, and I didn’t even feel it when my body hit the ground. 

…

It was hard to tell when exactly I came to, because the world was still black. Something was pulled over my face, covering my head from the neck up, blocking my vision and distorting my hearing. My mouth was open, held that way by something metallic and cold, so that I couldn’t help but gape. 

I was lying down. I tried to get up, to pry the hood from over my face, but my wrists were strapped down by my side, and my ankles were similarly fastened down. Judging by the cold air I could feel, the rest of my body was naked. 

Fingers touched me, running down the side of my body gently. I tensed, as though my captor wouldn’t be able to see me if I held perfectly still. 

“The baby’s awake,” they whispered, quiet and toneless. I identified them at once as my captor, doing their signature affectation to make their voice unrecognizable. Gender, age, and accent were all lost to me. “It was sweet of you to bring me another plaything, but she’s a little occupied right now, so we can play together instead.” 

Fear for Cindi’s wellbeing fizzled and died at the back of my mind. I wanted to care about my friend, but as soon as the day reset, none of this would matter to her. I, on the other hand, would remember every detail and lose even more potty training as soon as this was over. 

“I’m not sure what you were doing on that side of campus, but it was an interesting challenge having to carry you all the way over here.” The fingers reached my hips and trailed over my thighs, then stopped. “I was going to have so much fun making you wet your diapers for the first time since you were a baby, but I guess you beat me to that. It was so cute watching you have your little potty accident.” 

They could see me? My blood turned cold and I shivered again, except that this time it had nothing to do with the cold. 

Their hand left my body and I could barely hear footsteps through my hood, leaving me alone for a moment. Though I was sure it was futile, I tested my restraints one more time, tugging at the cuffs and hoping for an unprecedented mistake that would let me slip free and run while they were a few paces away. 

I had no luck, and before I could try anything else, I heard them return, little caster wheels rattling on the floor as they dragged something over with them. 

“After an accident like that, little baby, you have to be dehydrated,” they said, and I felt my stomach sink as I realized what they’d dragged over. 

My mouth was still held open, and there was nothing I could do as they leaned over me, fixing a rubber hose to the opening in my hood. I was forced to breathe through my nose, little airholes ensuring that I didn’t pass out from oxygen deprivation. 

I expected a flood of some sort of fluids, be it baby formula or prune juice, but no such sensation came, and the footsteps echoed away for a second time. I held still, trying to puzzle out why my captor hadn’t gone through with the force-feeding, but they returned a moment later, the sound of more casters following them. 

“Hold still,” they warned, and I knew better than to disobey. I had an idea what was coming, and I didn’t want them to spank my ass raw first. 

With no vision and only muted hearing, I could only shiver in anticipation and wait, deprived of any senses that would let me know what was coming next. 

A cold, slippery something pressed against my back door, with enough force to slip in quickly. It felt obtrusive, but it wasn’t anything close to the largest plug that had been used inside me these past few weeks. 

“Can you breathe?” they asked, stepping back. 

I inhaled through my nose in reflex. It smelled like dust and leather, but I could, and I nodded. Lying to my captor was a bad idea. 

“Good.” 

I received no warning before a stream of chalky baby formula filled my mouth, tasting like something had been mixed in with it, filling my mouth and threatening to choke me if I didn’t swallow it down. 

At the same time, warm water flooded into my other end, as the enema nozzle pushed water up my body. 

I twisted in discomfort, but the hose was placed securely inside me, and it was all I could do to gulp down the formula and squirm. My captor laughed mirthlessly, taking delight in watching my helpless discomfort as I was filled with fluids from both ends. 

With no way of knowing how much she meant to feed me or the size of the enema being pumped inside my body, I had to brace myself for the worst, choking down the formula and trying not to think about what drugs were being fed to me. I could feel my bowels swelling as they were filled to the brim, painfully full with the water, as well as… the stuff that had already been in there. 

Only when I was certain I was about to burst from being so full did the floods both stop, in almost exactly the same moment. A second later, the feeding hose was unclipped from the hood, and the brace holding my mouth open was taken away. 

“How are you feeling, baby? A little less thirsty?” my captor crooned, taunting me.

I knew better than to respond with any sort of venom. If I chewed them out, yelled insults or swear words, they would have no problem making my tortures infinitely worse. Helplessly, I gave in to what they wanted. “Yes.”  

Standing at the end of the table, they pushed my legs open. “I’m going to take out the nozzle. If you have an accident before I give you permission, I’ll fill you up again with twice as much.” 

The threat was genuine. I clamped down, struggling to keep everything inside me as the lubed-up nozzle was removed. I expected to have a diaper wrapped around me a moment later, but instead, the nozzle was replaced by another object, something longer and much, much wider, pressed hard enough to slide inside me and then stay there. 

Even as full as I was already, the plug managed to feel massive inside me, making the cramps in my belly grow worse. Only then, with the plug firmly lodged inside my body, did I smell a puff of baby powder and hear an all-too-familiar crinkle. 

Knowing the orders that were about to follow, I lifted up, using the tiny bit of leverage I had to raise my body so that they could slide the diaper under my waist without having to be told. There was a surprised pause before my captor slid the protection in place. 

“You knew what was coming next,” they commented, applying enough sweetly-scented baby powder that it made me cough. “Is my baby secretly enjoying herself? Am I stirring up fantasies you’ve kept hidden from everyone, of being a pathetic little diaper slut?” 

I shook my head. I could have lied, but acting as though I had wanted this all along had only made things worse when I’d tried it before. 

“I don’t believe you,” they taunted. “How else would you be so good at getting your diaper changed? You must have been desperate for someone to make you into the little diapered plaything you so clearly are meant to be.” 

There was no use trying to explain that I’d done this a couple dozen times already, even if it was possible that they would believe me, so I kept my mouth shut. 

They didn’t linger on the topic. “It doesn’t matter, but I suppose since you’re being such an obedient baby, I just might have to reward you.” 

I knew that was a lie, or that the ‘reward’ would be something I would hate, but I didn’t say as much as the comically thick diaper was folded over my body and taped snugly in place. 

Only then did my captor walk to the head of the bed, release two straps, and pull the hood away from my face. 

I looked at them, looming over me, loose clothes and a disturbing baby mask covering their body and face. I’d seen this costume far too many times, but it still made me shiver in fear as I looked into the mask’s lifeless eyes.

“Now, baby, let’s see if you really are a good girl,” they whispered. Even without the hood, their voice still sounded strange. I wasn’t sure if they were just good at voice acting, or if the mask had something installed to warp their voice like Batman in the movies, but the result was the same. “If you want something, you’re going to have to ask me nicely for it.” 

We’d done this before. My captor was about to produce a vibrator, or another toy, and tease me until I begged for climax. It was humiliating, but now that I knew the rules, it was simpler to just obey and ask immediately. The day would reset, and- 

“I’ve filled your enema with a few little surprises,” they said. “It’s going to start getting uncomfortable, very quickly, but with that plug you’ll never be able to release it. If you want to use your diaper, you’ll have to ask for it.” 

As if on cue, another cramp racked my body. I drew in a sharp breath, grunting in discomfort as the enema reminded me of its presence. 

“Go ahead, baby,” they taunted, moving to my side and placing a hand over my midsection. “Ask. Beg. Tell me you want to fill up your diapers like a little baby.” 

Color rose in my cheeks, and my instincts told me to fight it. I could hold it off, ride out the cramps, and I wouldn’t have to- 

I groaned in pain as another surge of discomfort rose up from inside me. Loathing myself, I whispered, “P-please.” 

They leaned in, ever so slightly, applying a bit of weight down on my belly. I squirmed as the pressure redoubled, squeezing against the plug that stayed firmly in place. “Please, what? Be specific, baby.” 

“I… I want to use my diaper,” I whimpered, face flush with humiliation. “Please let me use my diaper.” 

“Hmm,” my captor mused, applying more weight onto me, heightening the pressure to torturous levels. I wriggled as the cramps hit me again. Facing me from behind the mask, they said, “That’s not good enough, baby. Ask me properly.” 

Tears were starting to well up in my eyes, but there was no relief unless I gave into their demands and admitted what I wanted. Laying on a toddlerish lisp to try and put myself in their good graces, I looked their baby mask in the face. 

“Pwease,” I whimpered, crossing my fingers that they would be generous if I went above and beyond, trying to think of the words that they wanted to hear. “Pwease wet me fiww up my diapers. I want dem to b-be squishy, and smewwy, and… I wanna be a diaper baby!” 

There was a second of pause as the mask stared back at me, expressionless. Then, my captor laughed, their voice full of mirth and mockery. “Good baby! You really do know what it takes to make me happy, don’t you?” 

Still standing by my side, my captor reached their hand down through the front of my diaper, one finger hooking the handle of the plug and pulling sharply. There was a moment of pressure as the plug resisted being removed. Then, in an instant, it was free and they’d pulled their hand away, leaving the plug in the seat of my diaper rather than try to fish it out. 

Even had I wanted to, there was no holding it in any longer. The enema rushed out, flooding my diaper with warmth. The padding, as absorbant and thick as it was, could barely hold it all in and was sagging within a second, the moisture being wicked up to soak the front of the diaper, squelching between my legs and up against my sex. 

My captor wasted no time. Even as I was still filling up my diaper, the water giving way to foul-smelling mush, they pressed the end of a wand to the front of my diaper and kicked it up to full. 

Sensations of discomfort and humiliation were pushed aside as my sex-starved body registered the sensation. Grunts and whimpers were interrupted by an involuntary moan, pleasure making my body tense and relax all over. 

They laughed again, pressing the wand harder into my swollen padding, and as the smell of my mess hit me I moaned again, back arching in pleasure as they took advantage of my helpless humiliation. 

“Tell me you like it,” They instructed, as my full, heavy diaper rumbled against me. “Tell me-”

“I like it!” I cried out, moaning loudly. “I love… i...” My words were cut off by another moan as they adjusted the wand, so that it was closer than ever to my most sensitive parts. Heat and pleasure were building, growing up to a precipice of pleasure and-

I sat up in bed, the pleasure vanishing to be replaced by frustration so intense that it made me miss being tied to that bed. 

I was still wet between my legs, but as I looked down, I saw that it wasn’t because of anything fun. For the first time in any of the repeat days, I’d wet the bed. 

…

Cindi stood in line at the cafeteria, minding her own business, planning out the rest of her day. She was tired from the day before, having had to do a whole lot of setup and preparation without being seen, but now excitement was overcoming her fatigue. 

Someone cut into line behind her and she spun, surprised to see her roommate, Jasmine. Just the person that Cindi wanted to see, though she hadn’t been expecting to run into her this early in the day. She didn’t have any of her supplies on hand, and they were too public. She would just have to play this off for now. 

“Uh… hi, Jasmine. It is Jasmine, right?” Cindi said, uncertainly, trying to act as though she hadn’t recognized her roommate immediately. 

“Call me Jazz,” Jazz replied, sticking out her hand to shake. “We’re roommates, but you haven’t had the chance to meet me yet. You got onto campus a day late, because your truck got a flat coming here. I’m being stalked, and I need your help.” 

Cindi felt cold and afraid, thinking she’d been found out. How did she know about that? 

Looking at the exit, half expecting the cops to come bursting through the door to come to Jazz’s aid, she tried to play dumb and innocent. “Yeah… look, now’s not a good time.” 

Jazz kept her hand extended, implacable, practically forcing Cindi to take it. “Just hear me out, it’ll take five minutes. I need your help, so that neither of us get grabbed this time. Can I buy you lunch?” 

What the hell is she talking about? Cindi thought, frowning. As she thought about it, though, she realized it didn’t matter. She doesn’t know anything. If I go along with this, it might end up working better than I’d even planned. 

If Cindi had her way, she’d have her roommate moaning in diapers before the end of the day. 

"Baby" Sitter - Part 2
I'm starting by re-uploading all the content that had to be removed from Patreon. This is part two of a two-part story playing with some classic AB/DL tropes.

Melissa moaned, back arching as she squirted into her squelching, smelly diaper for the dozenth time in an hour. 

She couldn’t stop. It felt so good, she wasn’t sure she’d want to stop even if Erica’s command wasn’t forcing her to continue. Even as her diaper had begun to leak from the constant, explosive orgasms flooding the crotch, she was only able to stop long enough to take a drink of water before slipping her hand beneath her padding again, pleasure and humiliation mingling as she touched herself in time out once again. 

Beneath the endless orgasmic haze, she was terrified. Erica was beyond powerful. She could do whatever she wanted, at least as far as Melissa could tell. If she didn’t play the perfect, obedient babysitter all weekend, there was no telling what Erica would do in retaliation. Even if Melissa was the perfect, obedient babysitter, Erica might still punish her out of pure malice. 

Downstairs, she could hear the girls giggling. Having a great party that Melissa would no doubt have to clean up after, whenever Erica let her out of time out. Laughing about the ways Melissa had humiliated herself in front of them. Listening to the baby monitor Erica had set in the guest bedroom, so they could hear every time Melissa gasped or moaned in pleasure. 

Then, there was the tweet. Melissa had posted an explicit picture of her full diaper for the whole world to see, and until she was out of time out and had her phone back, she couldn’t do a thing for damage control. She wanted desperately to delete the post, but a part of her suspected that even if she did, Erica would only make her post something even more humiliating. 

For now, though, there was nothing Melissa could do except to gasp as she explored herself, pleasure amplified by the stink and the squelch of her dribbling, lumpy, overused diaper. 

As she rode the wave of her fourteenth orgasm, she heard the door creak open behind her. 

What does Erica want now? 

Soft, almost inaudible footsteps padded up behind her, and Melissa felt the presence behind her, casting a shadow. Even then, she couldn’t stop masturbating through her diaper. 

The figure behind her squatted down, scooted to the side, and help up a phone screen with some text written on it, raised so that Melissa could see it, even with her nose planted firmly in the corner of the room.

‘Don’t make a sound. We can’t let Erica know I’m here.’

Melissa could barely process what that meant in time to catch herself before asking, ‘Huh?’. She covered by gasping instead, as her own fingers probed inside her. 

The phone pulled away, and there was a second of typing before the screen got raised again. ‘Erica’s a bitch. It’s time someone taught her a lesson, but I can’t do that on my own. I need your help.’ 

Melissa’s diaper squelched as she rocked back, feeling her mess squish against her skin. Oh god, I’m gonna-

Moaning, her eyes rolled back in her head as the message was replaced again. Downstairs, she heard a round of giggles as the party girls heard her cum again. 

As soon as she could, she focused on the next note. ‘I’ve got a plan. I’m going to give you a ring. You can only use it once, so you have to be very careful.’

Panting, Melissa nodded silently, taking a drink of water to prepare herself for the next round of pleasure. 

‘When Erica changes the world, it takes a few seconds to kick in. In those few seconds, if you concentrate on using the ring, her power will be distorted like feedback, and whatever Erica ordered will happen to her.’ 

Melissa swallowed, the water replacing the dribbling fluids that were making a puddle on the floor around her knees, staining her blue skirt dark. 

‘You’ll have to goad her into something powerful, and permanent. Something that will render her helpless. Try to go for something that will make her unable to say ‘I bet’ - if she can’t form those words exactly, she can’t use her power. Can you do that?’ 

Nodding, Melissa pressed her palms into the squelching front of her diaper. 

The figure behind her lowered their phone, reached out, and took one of Melissa’s hands, slipping a simple white band onto her ring finger. 

Whispering, so low that they almost couldn’t be heard, they said, “Good luck.” 

Melissa could only gasp in reply as she started working herself up towards another humiliating orgasm. 

…

Erica didn’t return for another forty five minutes, by which point Melissa had run out of water, and her diaper had nearly fallen apart from all the friction and use. 

“Hey there, baby,” she purred, flicking on the lights in the guest room. “We’ve all had a lot of fun listening to you show off how much you like your stinky diapers, but we’re out of snacks and someone needs to pay for the pizza when it gets here. I bet your time-out is over.” 

Melissa leaned back, hand pulling away from her diaper. She was exhausted. Even ignoring all the times she’d squirted into her diaper, she was soaked simply from sweat from the constant, unstoppable tide of pleasure. 

“Do you need a diaper change?” Erica asked, her tone snide and condescending. 

“Yes,” Melissa replied. Make her do something you can hit back with. “You… you jerk.” 

Rolling her eyes, Erica said, “I bet your diaper can hold up until after the pizza gets here.” 

Melissa turned pink, but it wasn’t like she could argue that. And, even if she used the ring, reflecting that command onto Melissa wasn’t going to do any good. 

Getting up, she said, “C-can I go get some water?” 

Erica rolled her eyes. “Sure, but then you’ll wait on the porch until the pizza guy gets here. No reason for you to stink up the living room.” 

Grateful, and then mad at herself for feeling grateful, Melissa bobbed her head and waddled towards the door. It was a miracle that her poor, abused diaper didn’t fall off her hips, but it managed to contain everything, even though it was swollen and heavy to the point where it sagged down almost to her knees. Her skirt, already insufficient at covering her diaper, was at this point barely covering the top set of sticky tapes. 

She tried to ignore the giggles as she waddled through the living room, got a cup of water from the sink, retrieved her purse, and finally stepped out onto the porch. 

Outside, there was nowhere to hide. The porch light was on, and there was no foliage, fencing, or furniture that would block line of sight from the street to where Melissa stood. She tried tugging her skirt down and her diaper up, but that didn’t accomplish anything except to remind her that hiding the state of her diaper was impossible. 

She tried pacing, but that just made her think about the way the weight hung around her hips and smooshed between her thighs, so she stopped that, watching and waiting for the pizza guy to show up. 

When he did, her heart sank. No, no, no no no-

Her old college flame walked up carrying an insulated bag, eyes wide and confused as he got close enough to look at Melissa’s face. “Um… You ordered a pi… Melissa?” 

“Brett…” Melissa mumbled, flushing bright red. “Um…” 

He stepped up on the porch, staring. “I… I’m sorry, are you-” Wrinkling his nose, he leaned back. “Ew, what the hell?” 

“Brett, I-” she started, but she had no idea what to say. It’s not like she could deny what she was wearing. “Um… how much is the pizza?” 

He stared at the bulging, sagging padding hanging between her thighs, almost missing the question. “Er… thirty bucks.” 

Burning with humiliation, she passed him two twenties from her purse, hands shaking. “I… just keep the, um…” 

“Gross,” he said, at a loss for what else he could add to the conversation. Pinching his nose, he slid the pizzas out of the bag, passed them over, and hurried away from the porch. 

Melissa watched him go, fighting back tears of embarrassment, then turned to waddle back inside with the pizza. 

It was only then that she noticed half the girls were watching the encounter from the front window. 

“Oh my god that was funny!” Erica snickered, as Melissa came back inside with the food. “You had no idea! And then when he smelled you!” 

“I…” Melissa wasn’t feeling like goading Erica at the moment, she just wanted out of her filthy diaper. “C-can I please have a change...” 

“What do you think, girls?” Erica asked. “Do you think the baby deserves a fresh diapy?” 

Scattered giggles, with whispers of, “I think she likes it too much!” and “Well I don’t want her smelling that bad around me!” 

Melissa just fumed, looking down at the floor. 

Finally, Erica said, “Well, I’m not touching that thing, and Melissa’s not a big enough girl to change her own stinky butt. I bet whoever secretly wants to change her raises their hand!” 

To Melissa’s surprise, one of the girls raised her hand, blushing pink as the other girls looked at her and broke out into laughter. 

“Nicki likes to change diapers!” one of the girls declared. 

Stepping forward, face pink, Nicki said, “Um… I guess I’ll do it.” 

Erica rolled her eyes, taking the pizzas from Melissa. “I bet changing supplies are in her diaper bag. We’re going to eat, have fun with the baby!” 

Searching in the bag, Nicki brought out a fresh diaper, wipes, and powder as the other girls left, whispering comments and shooting amused looks back at Melissa. 

“I guess lie down,” Nicki said. 

Melissa obeyed, pulling off her stained skirt. It wasn’t doing any good, anyways. 

Untaping the diaper, Nicki wrinkled her nose, recoiling at the contents, but she got to work with the wipes. 

Melissa covered her face with her hands, trying not to think about what was going on at the moment. She still had the ring, but it wasn’t like that was going to do any good if Erica kept the humiliating commands to a minimum. 

Half the container of wipes got used up before she was clean, and Nicki went overboard with the powder, dusting Melissa’s thighs until they were ghostly white. Before she taped up the diaper, though, she leaned in. “You’ve got to act tonight.”

“Wh-” Melissa started to speak. Before she could answer the question, Nicki shushed her. 

“Just trust me. Goad her into something big, as soon as we’re done here. It’s your best shot. If you make her feel like she needs to show off in front of her friends, she’ll do something big. Once we’re gone, she’ll just torture you in little ways.” She leaned up, folding the diaper into place, smiling like nothing was amiss. 

Melissa swallowed. She was going to have to do something big, and soon. 

As much as she hated to admit it, her clean diaper felt nice. She wasn’t even longing for panties anymore, just a diaper that wasn’t filthy and foul. Getting to her feet, she looked down at the skirt, frowned, and gave up on it. A shirt and a diaper would have to do, the skirt wasn’t helping anything. 

Sucking in a breath, she planned on what she had to do. 

Waddling into the kitchen, she stepped up to the pizza box, opened it, and took out a slice. 

“Hey,” Erica said, frowning. All eyes fell on her. “Did I say you could have some of the pizza?” 

“You didn’t say I couldn’t,” Melissa said. Mouthing off was terrifying, but she put on a brave face. “I’m allowed to eat, yeah?” 

It was a tiny, insignificant slight, but that was enough to make Erica mad. Erica wanted total control, and a mouthy babysitter wasn’t total control. “I bet the only thing you can eat is babyfood, smartass.” 

Melissa had the pizza halfway to her mouth, but she couldn’t bite down on it. The girls giggled. Crap. Setting it down, she said, “Oooh, real clever. Do you think it makes you special, pulling crap like that?” 

Everything fell silent, except for Erica. “What did you just say to me?” 

“I asked if it made you feel special, acting like a bitch,” Melissa replied. Oh god, oh fuck. Please let this work. I can’t-

Erica stepped up to Melissa, all eyes on her. “Okay, diaper butt. I’m going to give you one last chance to explain what the fuck you think you’re doing.” 

Melissa stared right back at her, keeping up her best poker face. “I think I’m not scared of you, bitch. I think you’re just a selfish, arrogant, smartass with a diaper fetish and a god complex who thinks she’s-” 

“I bet you shut your damned mouth,” Erica snapped. 

Though she obeyed, it wasn’t a permanent command, and Melissa opened it right away. “You complete dicktrap, you just-” 

“I BET,” Erica said, almost shouting. “That you’ll never be anything more than a thumb-sucking, diaper-filling, baby-babbling little slut who can’t help but moan in her poopy pampers, you stupid, arrogant, bitch.” 

There was never going to be another opportunity than that. Melissa focused on the ring, just like she’d been told. 

A second passed. 

Erica’s eyes went wide. She staggered back, fear entering her expression as she jammed her thumb into her mouth. “Wha… wha da’ heww?” 

Everyone in the room, except for Melissa, was staring at her as a bulge appeared below her jeans, a diaper suddenly poking out above the waist, and a foul smell began to fill the air. 

“I… I be’ dah I’m back to nowmaw!” Erica stammered over her thumb. Nothing happened. Without the hard t, it didn’t work. “I be’ I’m fi’e!” 

What everyone had failed to notice, staring at Erica as she helplessly began rubbing a hand to the outside of her jeans, was that Melissa was sucking her thumb too. 

Everyone except Nicki. 

Nicki faced Melissa, with a smirk. “I’m sorry, I didn’t really make it clear. The ring was never going to protect you.” 

Melissa’s eyes bulged with shame and anger as she filled up her diapers, struggling and failing to remove her thumb from her mouth. “Hu’?” 

“I said it would make her command effect her,” Nicki explained, smirking. “I didn’t say it wouldn’t effect you, too. Sorry, but it was the only way to make the bitch get a taste of her own medicine.” 

The girls were giggling again, but this time they had two moaning, helpless babies to gawk at. 

Nicki smirked, bending to take the ring off Melissa’s finger. Slipping it onto her own, she straightened. “Alright, girls, I’ve got to head out. I bet you’ll make sure these two crinkly sluts are taken care of, right?” 

"Baby" Sitter
I'm starting by re-uploading all the content that had to be removed from Patreon. This is part one of a two-part story playing with some classic AB/DL tropes. 

Knock knock. 

Melissa waited at the door, already ready to have this weekend to be over with. She didn’t mind babysitting - and she certainly didn’t mind making twenty bucks an hour for a job that wasn’t hard at all - but losing her college weekends was still a bit frustrating. 

Lifting her phone, she took a selfie, posting it with, ‘Who’s gonna be babysitting all weekend? It’s me! Working with kids is the best!’ as the caption. Her outfit was picked out so that even the most conservative of parents couldn’t get mad at her for immodesty, but she’d still managed to put together a cute ensemble that was social media worthy, with rainbow-stripe leggings and a bright blue dress that came down to her knees. Kid friendly, but still expressive and fun. 

While the post loaded, someone answered the door. Melissa beamed. “Hey there! I’m-” 

“The babysitter?” the girl at the door asked, rolling his eyes. She was almost Melissa’s age, at that sort of transition period where she’d be out of highschool, but hadn’t yet started college or found a full time job. “Yeah, okay, I’ll text my parents and tell them you showed up.” 

Melissa hadn’t expected an older sister to be there. She wondered why she’d been hired to babysit if there was an adult daughter who could watch the kid, but then again, she didn’t know much about the job. “Okay, where’s… eh, I think it was, Erica? I’d like to meet him.” 

The girl chuckled without looking up from her phone. “I’m Erica.” 

“Huh? No, I mean… I’m supposed to be babysitting for-” 

“Yeah. That’s me.” Erica stepped back, so there was room for Melissa to get through the door. “My parents don’t trust me home alone. You’re really just here to make sure I don’t wreck the place with a party while they’re out of town.” 

“Oh.” Melissa stepped inside, setting down her purse and her ‘babysitter bag’, a bright pink diaper bag which she’d packed with supplies for any kid from six months to six years. She hadn’t planned on her charge being almost her age. “Uh… okay. Well, I’m Melissa, it’s nice to meet you.” 

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” She still hadn’t looked up from his phone. 

Walking in, Melissa texted the number that had contacted her about this job, Erica’s mom. ‘Hey, I didn’t realize Erica would be so old. What do you need me to do?’ 

A few seconds passed before her phone chimed. ‘Just make sure she doesn’t cause any trouble, keep the place clean, make sure she doesn’t stay up all night and that she eats something healthy.’ 

Easy enough. “Well, I guess we’ll just be sharing the house for a couple days,” Melissa started. “I don’t see any reason for us to make any trouble for each other.” 

“Yeah, no… what’s with the bag?” Erica had looked up from her phone, finally, and was poking at the ‘babysitter bag’ with a foot. Snorting, she asked, “Do you need diapers or something? I bet you do!” 

Melissa rolled her eyes as Erica unzipped the bag, peeking inside. “I didn’t know you were going to be almost my age, it’s just for if I need to take care of kids.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Showing a huge smirk, Erica lifted a large, fluffy diaper from the bag, with butterfly decorations around the front. It was clearly too big for any child. “You sit for a lot of kids that are exactly your size?” 

“I-” Melissa stared at the diaper, alarmed. “I didn’t, um…” Did I buy that size by accident? “I’m not sure why that’s in there.” 

“Sure you aren’t,” Erica snickered. “Baby butt. I bet you’re wearing a diaper right now.” 

Melissa sighed. Okay, that’s why her parents don’t trust her. She’s a brat. “Erica, I don’t need diapers.”

Erica looked at her. “Oh, yeah? Show me!”

That was just ridiculous. Melissa wasn’t about to lift up her dress just to show Erica she was wearing panties. “Drop it, Erica. I’m not going to show you my underwear.” 

“I bet you will!” Erica declared, smirking. 

Okay, fine. Glaring, Melissa took the hem of her dress and pulled it up, at the same time tugging down her leggings to make sure it was totally visible. 

Erica was grinning like she’d just won a game at a carnival. “So that’s not a diaper?” 

Frowning, Melissa looked down. It was only then that she noticed the bulk between her thighs, the subtle rustle as she moved, the… 

The diaper. That she was wearing. 

“I didn’t put that on!” she yelped, in surprise. “I don’t know how that happened, but… erm… Here, I’m going to go change my clothes.” 

“I bet you won’t!” Erica said, snickering again. 

Melissa stopped, letting go over her dress. There was no hurry to get changed. “I’ll do that later, I guess.” 

She was confused as to what was going on. It had to be some kind of prank a friend pulled on her, but she had no idea how she’d forgotten about putting on a diaper. 

While she pondered that, Erica took out her phone. “I’m going to invite some friends over. I bet you won’t mind if, like, a dozen or so people come by to hang out, right?” 

“That’s fine,” Melissa agreed. Twelve people wasn’t really a ‘party’, so it was fine. 

“Cool. And you’ll make snacks and stuff for everyone, I’ll bet?” 

Nodding, Melissa waddled off to the kitchen to put together some party snacks for Erica’s friends. 

By the time people started showing up, she had out two bowls of chips, cups were set out for drinks, and pigs-in-a-blanket were cooking in the oven. While Erica let in guests, she got it all set up in the kitchen table. 

And, she had to pee. 

Going to the bathroom would require taking off her diaper, but taking off her diaper would mean changing her clothes, and she didn’t want to change her clothes. 

Standing there, Melissa tried to think how to solve the dilemma. Unfortunately, she didn’t see much of a choice. Sooner or later, she was going to have to use the diaper. Upon realizing this, she turned pink and looked around to ensure nobody else was in the room. Sure she had a little privacy, she closed her eyes and let go of her bladder, flooding the front of the diaper. 

It wasn’t difficult. With just a little effort, she released a stream of pee into the thirsty padding, feeling it swell with warmth as she soaked it. 

“... so I told her, you’re wearing that to Mike’s party? Do you think he’s blind?” 

A trio of Erica’s friends giggled as they followed her into the kitchen, congregating around the chip bowls. Erica, though, noticed the pink on Melissa’s cheeks and zeroed in on it like a bloodhound. 

“Melissa,” she said, loud and sharp enough to get her friend’s attention. “Did you just have an accident?” 

Blush deepening, Melissa shook her head. “N-no, I-” 

The gaggle of friends looked between her and Erica, smiles growing with amusement as they realized what was being said. 

“I knew you needed diapers!” Erica declared. “Hah!” 

Melissa shook her head obstinately. Erica’s friends were practically her age - in fact, Melissa recognized a couple of them from college. It wasn’t like being teased by one of the kids she babysat. “I do not!” 

“Oh, yeah? I bet you’ll show us, then.” 

If I show them, it’ll look like it’s dry and she’ll drop the subject. Glaring, Melissa hiked up her dress and pulled down her leggings, displaying her soggy padding. “See?” 

“Oh my gosh!” one of the friends exclaimed. 

“She did!” another piped in. 

They fell into fits of giggles, while Erica only smirked, staring right at Melissa. “I bet you don’t need to wear those leggings for the rest of the night.” 

She was right. Blushing profusely, Melissa let go of her dress and pulled off the leggings, folding them up. 

Leaning in, one of her friends whispered something in Erica’s ear, that made Erica laugh out loud. 

“What is it?” Melissa asked, disliking being left out of the joke. 

“She said, ‘I bet your dress is so short that it doesn’t cover up your diaper at all’!” Erica repeated. 

Dammit, she’s right. Why did I wear such a short dress? She tugged at the hem, trying to cover her soggy diaper, but it just wasn’t long enough. 

Whispering, loud enough that Melissa could hear, Erica added, “I bet she can’t even change her own diapers.” 

How did she know that? 

Turning even pinker, Melissa realized that she hadn’t planned for how she would change while she was babysitting. She’d need someone’s help, but asking Erica would just be too mortifying. 

The doorbell rang. “Melissa, I bet you’re going to answer that,” Erica chimed in. 

“Of course I am,” Melissa said, rolling her eyes as she squelched back to the living room, opening the door. 

A half dozen of Erica’s friends were standing there, and they burst out laughing upon seeing her. One of them said, “You must be the baby sitter!” 

Looking away, Melissa let them in, regretting this job already. “Erica’s in the kitchen, I-” she started to say, but Erica was walking back into the living room already, greeting her posse of friends. 

After a round of greetings, while Melissa stood awkwardly off to the side, Erica said, “I know you’ve all seen my baby sitter, Melissa. Isn’t she so cute?” 

More giggles. Melissa was done putting up with it. “I’m going upstairs.” 

“I bet you’re not going to leave this room,” Erica snapped. 

Right, I should stay behind so they don’t get up to any trouble. 

Continuing, Erica said, “She pretends she’s a grownup, but really she’s just a big diaper baby. I bet she’s about to poop her pants!” 

“Oh, gross,” one of the other girls said. 

“Right now? Come on, that’s going to stink so bad,” another chimed in. 

To Melissa’s horror, though, Erica was right. She had to go, badly, and there wasn’t an alternative. Squatting down, she puffed up her cheeks and started to push, right in front of the gaggle of giggling girls. 

Warm mush quickly ballooned into the seat of her diaper, making a visible bulge as Melissa grunted. It was humiliating to have the girls watch her do this, but Melissa didn’t know of anything else she could do. 

Finishing, she stood back up from her squatting position, keeping her legs spread so that the mess wouldn’t squelch around too much. Several of the girls were pinching their noses or waving hands in the air, and the rounds of giggles were impossible to ignore. 

Erica stepped forward, reaching down to squeeze the back of Melissa’s diaper like a patient nanny with an infant. “Yup! That’s one smelly baby diaper,” she declared. 

“Erica-” Melissa started. 

Erica looked her right in the eye. “I bet you know what’s going on now.” 

Melissa blinked. I bet… I bet. Oh, no, she- 

“I bet you’re going to sit down on your mushy diaper,” Erica said. 

Melissa sat, smushing her mess around inside her padding. She knew she was being controlled, now, but she was helpless to stop it. 

Crouching over her, Erica said, “I bet you’re going to rub the front of your diaper, and you’re going to love it.” 

Putting a hand to the sodden crotch of the diaper, Melissa started to rub, up and down, pressing the heavy, warm padding into herself. At the first contact, she moaned, pleasure overtaking her thoughts. 

She was acutely aware of the giggling girls that watched her, though, and after the initial pleasure she stopped. 

That wasn’t good enough for Erica. Forcing the matter, she said, “I bet you’re going to cum in front of us, in your smelly, squishy baby diapers!” 

At the command word, Melissa resumed rubbing, moaning, rocking her hips forward into the palm of her hand. It made the contents of her diaper smush everywhere, but she didn’t care, she couldn’t think of anything except the pleasure, of the ecstasy, of-

“Fffuck!” she cried out, squirting into her diaper as she did exactly what Erica had predicted. 

The laughter rang out in her ears, and she blushed more deeply, shame replacing the brief high of pleasure. 

“Good baby,” Erica said. “Now, here’s how this weekend is going to work. I don’t want to make you do stuff all weekend. It gets tiring, and it’s no fun, so I’ll make you a deal.” 

Face bright red, both from exertion and humiliation, Melissa nodded. 

“If you’re a model baby for me, and don’t break any rules, I’ll let you have your potty training and your other big-girl skills back on Monday. If you don’t, then I’d just have to make a bet that you’ll be making stinky, sticky diapers every day until you graduate. You don’t want that, do you?” 

Melissa shook her head, whimpering, “P-please, no…” 

“Good.” Standing, Erica pushed Melissa’s purse over to her. “I want you to post a selfie, with one of your cutesy self-aware captions on it.” 

“What?” Melissa said, her eyebrows raising. “But-”

“I bet you won’t be able to change yourself for a week,” Erica snapped. “That’s a warning, baby. No more ‘buts’.” 

In horror, Melissa reached for her purse, taking out her phone and raising it up. There was no angle that hid her diaper, and she suspected that if there was, Erica would punish her for hiding it. 

The picture she got had the sodden diaper on full display, brownish stains and bulges visible. Fingers shaking, she typed out, ‘Guess who needs a diaper change? It’s me!’

She posted it. 

Erica smiled, as half of her friend’s phones dinged. More giggles when they read her caption. 

“Now,” Erica said, “I bet you can stand up again. Go make sure the snacks are ready, then sit in time out in the guest room upstairs until I come and get you. They’re right, you stink, and I don’t want you ruining the fun for the rest of us.” 

Melissa nodded, getting to her feet. “I… okay.” 

“Hey, cheer up, baby,” Erica beamed. “I promise I’ll change you in the morning. And…” leaning in, she whispered, “I didn’t say you couldn’t touch yourself. I bet you’ll have a lot of fun in the corner.” 

Daddy's Home - Chapter 12
I'm starting by re-uploading all the content that had to be removed from Patreon. This is part of a series of commissions for a subscriber.

“Hmmmmm,” Daddy said, really drawing out the thought. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

He looked over at his two shopping companions, who were both holding very still and not saying very much. 

“I know you prefer the mixed fruit and the peaches,” Daddy continued, holding up one option of baby food. “But the strained spinach is so much healthier. I’ll just let you decide - if you want the fruit, just say so, otherwise we’ll get the vegetables.” 

It was a cruel trick. The Baby couldn’t respond, not with a gag in his mouth, hidden only by a disposable facemask. The Maid couldn’t, either, for that matter - and both of them were desperately hoping that the elastic on the facemask wouldn’t fail or slip off their face, since if it did, their matching gags would be exposed, along with the dried cum Daddy has left on their lips and cheeks before coming to the store. 

“Nothing to say?” Daddy asked. “Vegetables it is.”

He put the baby food in their cart, and kept rolling along through the store as though nothing were wrong. 

The Maid and the Baby both struggled to follow, knees trembling, waddling ever so slightly. The quart of water and epsom salts that they’d been filled with before coming inside was heavy, and bursting to get out the same way it’d come in.

If they could have protested about the enemas, they would have, but by that point they’d both been gagged. 

If they could have walked slower they would have, but the collars around their necks were tight, and led by a thin, almost gossamer bit of thread that Daddy held the other end of. It’d break easily, if either of them slowed down and fell behind, but Daddy has assured them both that if either leash snapped, they’d both regret it. 

Neither of them wanted to learn what that meant. 

“What’s wrong?” Daddy asked, as they moved at a slightly-too-fast pace through the freezer section. “Are you worried about the pup? Don’t be. I left the AC on in the car, and he’s listening to his favorite tunes. He’ll be alright.” 

That wasn’t what they were both whimpering and blushing about, of course. The Baby was more worried that people would recognize his shortalls and blue T-shirt - well, his blue onesie, though nobody could see the snaps that were over his thick diaper - as the obviously juvenile clothes that they were, and the Maid was worried about the same, except that her outfit was more in the style of a 60s pinup girl, complete with stockings and heels that made it especially impractical to waddle around. 

“Oh, is it the enemas? Don’t worry, your plastic pants will make sure you don’t leak,” Daddy said, loud enough that his voice carried. 

Both of them blushed, in case someone nearby heard. Only the Baby looked around, though.

“Give it a rest,” Daddy said, smirking. “Stop worrying about who sees. Babies don’t care if anyone sees what they’re wearing, or smells what they did to their diapers - And that should include you.” 

The shopping cart was mostly full. Despite all the teasing, Daddy had moved fast through the store, mostly being efficient and going through a planned route. They’d only been there for about thirty minutes. 

For most people, that wouldn’t be long at all. For the Baby and the Maid, holding their enemas in, it was an eternity. They were holding on, though - and if checkout lines were fast, they might even be able to get to the car before losing control. 

“Let’s go check out,” Daddy said. “I don’t think the lines are very long.” 

Both of them breathed a sigh of relief. They were going to make it, and-

“Oh, but first. Both of you need to stop holding it in the next five seconds,” Daddy added. “Otherwise, you’ll get a spanking right here in the aisle.” 

They both turned bright pink, but neither disobeyed, giving up the struggle and letting the enema flood into the backs of their diapers. 

Daddy was in control the whole time. Any possibility that they might make it out of the store without humiliating themselves was just an illusion. 

It was, always, up to Daddy. 

Daddy's Home - Chapter 11
I'm starting by re-uploading all the content that had to be removed from Patreon. This is part of a series of commissions for a subscriber.

It was game day, and the living room was abuzz with noise. 

The TV was blaring, announcers keeping track of the game. Daddy and his friend were munching on snacks, cheering, shouting at the screen. Even the pup was getting into it, panting excitedly whenever their team did well. And, of course, the wet, sucking sounds of two mouths on two cocks as the Baby and the Maid did their best to keep both men watching the game happy. 

“Baby, keep up,” Daddy warned. “Use your lips.” 

He tried, but it was difficult to pay attention. He could feel the heavy, lengthy plug filling up his bottom, occasionally pulsing as Daddy randomly triggered it. It was allegedly there ‘to make sure he didn’t stink up the game room’, but Baby secretly suspected that he and the maid had been plugged just for the sounds they would make as the toys buzzed. 

Baby tried to work harder. He knew the consequences if Daddy didn’t have a good day. It was the Big Game after all, things had to be perfect. 

He tried to eye the screen. He knew if Daddy’s team lost, they’d be punished anyways, but he couldn’t see the score while Daddy’s cock was in his mouth. 

Next to him, Daddy’s friend grunted with satisfaction and the Maid let out a surprised noise, swallowing him down. 

“Didn’t I tell you?” Daddy commented. “Live-in maids make everything better.” 

He had to take a moment before pushing away, letting the maid wipe her mouth. “Right, well, I’ll be right back.” 

“Why?” Daddy asked. “If you need something, have the maid get it for you.” 

“I’ve got to piss,” the friend replied. “Where’s your bathroom?” 

Daddy smirked, pointing at the maid. “She’s wearing it. Maid, lift up your skirts.” 

Blushing, the maid obeyed, lifting up the frilly white lace so that her diaper became visible. She’d been double layered, to make sure she couldn’t possibly need a change all day. 

Glancing between daddy and the maid, he shrugged, slipping his cock down the front of the maids diaper. A moment passed, and then the telltale hissing noise became apparent, subtle beneath the sound of the game, and the maid’s diaper grew heavy and yellow. 

The baby could just barely see this, his mouth still on daddy’s cock. He knew Daddy had better willpower than him - if he was given this treatment, he’d be squirting in moments. Daddy could last as long as he wanted to, which meant that the baby needed to have incredible stamina to keep up with him. 

That was, of course, the point. 

Time passed, and the game continued, and the Baby’s mouth was starting to grow tired. Daddy’s cock was huge, and keeping the whole thing stimulated took a lot of effort. He did get a reprieve around halftime, but only for as long as it took Daddy to pee down his diaper, then it was right back to sucking, licking, and squirming as his own member strained inside its cage. 

Occasionally, his plug would start pulsing faster, eliciting whimpers that were muffled by how full his mouth was. Daddy didn’t acknowledge these sounds outright, but he smiled every time, and increased the speed of vibration even more before toning it down a bit. 

The guest had the maid go down for seconds and even thirds, but she got a break between each blowjob she delivered as Daddy’s friend recovered. The Baby got no such reprieve, only chastising comments whenever he started to slow down. 

Baby wasn’t sure how long he’d been sucking when, finally, he felt the cock in his mouth start to quiver and then, mercifully, felt something hot spray down the back of his throat. Moaning in exhausted relief, he sucked down a little longer, riding out Daddy’s orgasm, ecstatic for it to be done. Behind him, he heard cheers from the TV as their team won the game, and he felt Daddy’s hand press down on his head with a pleased sort of gentle pressure. 

Thirty seconds passed, and the Baby was finally allowed to pull away, cum dripping from his lips. Daddy gently nodded towards the bottle of milk on the table and Baby took a drink, thirsty and exhausted, grateful for the relief. 

“Good job, baby,” Daddy said, simply. “Now, the second game starts in thirty minutes, so help the Maid refill our snacks and be sure to drink plenty of water before it begins.”

Daddy's Home - Chapter 10
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“Fuck…” the maid whimpered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck- PLEASE!” 

Her arms and legs were bound in place, tied spread eagle on Daddy’s bed. She’d been told to be naked when she came to clean his room, but instead of being given an opportunity to clean, she’d instead been introduced to ropes that held her, naked. 

It had been her and her husband’s bed, once, a long time ago. 

She expected Daddy to use her as his fuckdoll - she certainly looked the part - but his pants stayed on. Instead, Daddy had brought out the toys.

Today, it seemed, was all about denying her pleasure. 

“I don’t think so,” Daddy said, pressing the vibrator into her, unrelenting. “I need to be careful with a big girl doll like you. If we always did whatever you wanted, the house would be a mess.”

She bit her lip. She could achieve climax if she let herself, but doing so would bring the whole world crashing down around her. The punishment for giving into her base desires without permission would be unthinkably harsh. “I’ll keep-” she gasped. “I’ll clean-”

“Not what I’m worried about,” Daddy said, finally pulling away the vibrator. It wasn’t a mercy, though, as he replaced the toy with his fingers, teasing her briefly before sliding inside.

The maid sucked in a breath. “Fffff-” 

“Don’t you dare,” Daddy warned. 

She didn’t, but she did scream, “PLEASE!” 

“And let you squirt all over my bed?” Daddy asked. “Soak my sheets and ruin the mattress? I don’t think so.” 

“I-” she stammered, struggling to find words. “What do you want?”

“I don’t want you dribbling all over the furniture,” Daddy said. “You insist you’re big enough for grown up panties, but you want to have an accident on my bed just because it’ll feel good.”

“N-no!” the Maid protested. “I don’t- I won’t-” 

“You will,” Daddy said. “I control your body, and I know what it’ll do. If I let you even come close, you’ll leave a puddle bigger than the Baby could make.” 

At the mention of the Baby, it clicked in the Maid’s head. What Daddy was driving at, what he wanted. “P-please, Daddy,” she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut as he fingered her, fast and hard, pushing her self control to the breaking point. “L-let me have a diaper!” 

He didn’t relent. “And, what? You expect me to just deal with the hassle of diapering you, every time you want satisfaction? If I decide my fuckdoll needs a release, I have to go and wait for her to be diapered before I can do what I want?” 

“I’ll be quick-” she promised. “And then-”

“You’re expecting me to wait on you,” Daddy shot, plunging his fingers deep inside her, curling his fingers back to make her moan. “That’s not how this relationship works. When I decide to use my doll, I want to be able to use her immediately.” 

The maid whimpered, biting her tongue. There was only one way out of this, one way to end the torture and get a release. 

“Please, d-d-Daddy,” she mewled, straining against the bonds that held her firmly in place, her muscles tight and tense as she resisted, barely hanging on. “L-let me wear diapers all the time!” 

“Are you sure?” Daddy asked. “I won’t tolerate wastefulness. If you expect to wear diapers and not use them, fully, you’ll find that you’re sorely mistaken.”

“PLEASE!” she screamed. “I want to wear diapers, I’ll use them, I’ll fill them, just let me-” 

“Cum for me,” Daddy instructed.

She stopped holding back, her whole body tensing so tightly that the bed creaked as she gave herself over completely into ecstasy. Just as Daddy had promised, she squirted, hard, but she barely noticed, so wrapped up in the intense, mind-shattering pleasure. 

She didn’t hold back her deep, loud moan, and Daddy didn’t relent with his fingering, teasing and playing with her for a full minute, until her knees were shaking and she couldn’t breathe. 

Only then did he stop, pulling his hand free, climbing onto the bed with her. She was still immobilized by the ropes, naked, helpless, but he moved up next to her and wrapped his arms around her body. “Shh, little doll. You held on well.”

She panted for air, regaining coherent thoughts as Daddy held her.

“You can breathe until you’re ready,” Daddy said. “Then, you’ll go drink some water, put on one of the baby’s nighttime diapers, and come back and clean up this mess you made. And once that’s done, we’re going to test just how many times you have to squirt before you leak.”

Daddy's Home - Chapter 9
I'm starting by re-uploading all the content that had to be removed from Patreon. This is part of a series of commissions for a subscriber.

“Happy birthday, my maid!” 

The Maid hadn’t been sure what to expect, but this wasn’t it. Daddy’s rewards always came with a catch, sometimes worse than the punishments. When he’d promised to give her a special surprise for her birthday, she was suspicious. 

The spa they’d pulled up to, though, looked pretty genuine. ‘Rainy Day Spa’ was on the sign, and the entrance smelled of incense and perfume. 

“There’s no trick?” she asked, even though questioning Daddy wasn’t wise.

Daddy beamed, explaining, “A friend of mine owns this place. You’re going to get the works. Nothing but the best for my Maid.” Leaning in, he squeezed the back of the Maid’s diaper beneath her skirt, adding, “They know about your special underwear, so no need to feel embarrassed.” 

“Wow!” Given how her life had been going lately, a relaxing day at the spa seemed like a huge relief. 

Pausing, Daddy raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for something else. “And what do we say when people get us gifts?” 

Oh, right. “Thank you, Daddy!” 

“I’ll be back to pick you up when you’re done,” Daddy said, retrieving his keys from his pocket and walking back through the entrance. “Have a lovely time, doll!” 

The Maid might have been confused by the pet name Daddy gave her, but she was too busy being excited for her spa day. She hadn’t had a proper spa day in ages. Since before Daddy came home, really. 

As Daddy left, a woman came out from the back carrying a robe and a martini, gesturing with the latter to follow her. “Come with me, dear, we’ll get you all taken care of.” 

The Maid greedily accepted the martini, sipping a bit off the top. Boozy - maybe even really boozy - with just a touch of lemon. Perfect. Her standards were maybe a bit low, since she hadn’t had a proper martini in a long time and couldn’t quite remember what a great one tasted like, but even with a slightly bitter aftertaste it was something worth savoring. 

Following the woman back into a massage room, she took another sip of the martini before disrobing. As much as Daddy has robbed her of her dignity over the past weeks, she felt no shame about taking off her blouse and skirt in front of a stranger, exposing her slightly damp diaper and even taking off her bra. 

“Should I leave this on?” she asked, gesturing to her diaper.

“We’ll get you changed before we go to the steam room,” the woman said, squirting coconut oil from a bottle into her hands. “Now, lay down for your massage, and let’s see if we can’t get you to relax a little.”

The Maid drained the rest of her martini. If she was going to get one opportunity a year to get a little tipsy, she’d take it - And, something told her, they would happily give her as many as she asked for throughout the day. This seemed like the sort of spa where she could get what she wanted, no questions asked. Laying face down on the massage table, she relaxed, letting the woman do her work.

It was magical. Already a little lightheaded from the booze, the Maid sank into the massage, feeling tension in her shoulders get worked out that she hadn’t realized was even there. She practically melted on the table as the woman rubbed out knots in her shoulders and back. It was a delirious experience, rendering her thoughts almost incoherent with relaxation as her conscious mind slipped away.

By the time she realized she wasn’t just relaxed from the massage, she couldn’t move, and her mind was in such a fog that she couldn’t remember why that paralysis would be confusing. 

“Can you hear me?” 

The voice came from a mile away, faint and distant. The Maid just let out a small, relaxed moan. 

“Don’t worry. You’ll be asleep, soon, and when you wake up you’ll be all better.” 

I wonder who she’s talking to…

…

The Maid woke up as slowly as she’d fallen asleep. She was lying on a soft, plush bed, silk sheets and downy pillows all around her. It was nice.

She wanted to get back to her spa day. I wonder if they have a steam room? She’d been excited about it. It had been…

Wait, did they drug me?

It only made sense, they must have. She had passed out in the middle of a massage. But why? 

Sitting up, she looked around the room she was in. Clean, organized, it was… a hospital room. 

Why am I in a hospital room?

Sitting up, she called out, “Hello?” 

A nurse showed up a moment later, holding a clipboard. “Oh, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“W-what happened?” the Maid stammered. 

“Everything’s fine,” the nurse assured her. “You’ve got nothing to be worried about. Let me go get your Daddy, he’ll explain everything.” 

At the mention of Daddy, the Maid started to understand. He’d planned this. Maybe she’d done something wrong, maybe he just felt like punishing her, but he’d arranged for this… whatever this was… to happen. 

Swallowing, she waited for him to arrive, still feeling a little numb from the drugs. 

Someone knocked on the door and stepped inside. Daddy. “Morning, sleepyhead.” 

“Where am I?” 

“A little cosmetic facility, on the edge of town,” Daddy explained, beaming. “I realized something, a few days ago.” 

Swallowing, the Maid asked, “Um… what was that?”

“That no matter how obedient you are, you never would have been the perfect Maid,” Daddy explained. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong, there were just a few shortcomings that had to be corrected.” 

“What did you do?” The question was dangerously close to back talk, but she was starting to feel scared. 

“I corrected them,” Daddy explained. Walking over to the bedside stand, he pulled out a drawer and took out a mirror. “Take a look for yourself.” 

Hands shaking, the Maid took the mirror, held it up, and inspected herself. 

At first glance, she almost didn’t recognize her own face. Her lips had almost doubled in size, round, plump, and cherry red, as though she were wearing lipstick. Wiping at her mouth, nothing came away - the color was permanent. 

To match the lipstick, eyeliner had been tattooed around her eyes, along with eyebrow ‘makeup’ that was equally permanent, and long lash extensions. Even a subtle blush had been tattooed on her cheeks, a faint pink that blended into her skin. Combined, it gave her whole face a doll-like appearance, like a toy that could be found in the pink aisle of any department store. 

That wasn’t all. Looking down, she didn’t need a mirror to finally notice her chest - her breasts, already considerable, had gone up a couple sizes, and even beneath the diaper that was taped around her hips, she could recognize that her butt had been extended at least as much. She had been given proportions that were almost unreasonable, the kind that normally had to be photoshopped onto people for magazine covers. 

“I…” she started to say. 

“One more thing,” Daddy said, simply. “Though… you won’t be able to see it. Close your eyes.” 

Hesitant, but fearing the repercussions of disobedience, the Maid obeyed, shutting her eyes firmly. A couple seconds passed, and she heard the ‘click’ of a cell phone camera mimicking a shutter. 

“Here, you can look,” Daddy said, spinning around his phone so that she could see. The maid opened her eyes and looked, cheeks turning pinker as she read. 

Her eyelids had been tattooed, each with a word. Together, it read, ‘Daddy’s Doll’. 

“Now, everyone will know exactly what you are, and exactly who you belong to,” Daddy said, smiling. “You really will be the perfect Maid for me. Isn’t that nice?”

Throat dry, the Maid nodded, not knowing what else to say. 

“Now, I believe you had your spa day interrupted. Come with me, we’ll let you finish the rest of your birthday present.” Daddy offered a hand to help her out of bed. “No more surprises, I promise.” 

Daddy's Home - Chapter 8
I'm starting by re-uploading all the content that had to be removed from Patreon. This is part of a series of commissions for a subscriber.

The Maid sucked in a breath, her sense of smell totally overwhelmed by the stink of a particularly full diaper. 

She hadn’t been allowed to change the baby for almost twenty four hours. That had made her suspicious that Daddy was planning something. Now, hands and legs tied to a frame on the floor, lying with the Baby’s diaper all but smothering her ability to breathe, she knew what it was he’d intended for her. 

Moaning, she sucked in another breath involuntarily as Daddy thrust into her. She couldn’t see him, not with her husband’s full diaper obscuring her vision, but she could feel him. Strong, hard, pumping inside her with a deliberate rhythm. 

She wasn’t going anywhere until he was done, and he was clearly in no hurry. 

At this point, she couldn’t even deny that she loved it. The association between the Baby’s heavy, smelly diapers and her own arousal had been ingrained into her almost as soon as Daddy showed up, and now just a whiff of him made her wet. Even so, having him completely smother her face while Daddy thrust into her, again, and again, was pleasure and sensory overload. 

She tried to push her hips into Daddy, to get a little more sensation for her own pleasure, but she couldn’t get any leverage with her limbs tied down and the weight holding her face in place. 

Her moans only earned her a little crinkly and squelching sound. 

Another thrust, harder, faster. Daddy was picking up the pace. 

There was just barely enough of a gap for her to suck in air, even if that air was dominated by a foul smell. She had to work to inhale, sucking in the diaper’s stink as she brought in enough air to keep up with Daddy’s cock pounding inside her. 

She gasped as he shifted tempo, going even faster, going in for the kill. 

Back arching, the Maid moaned into her husband’s diaper, her whole body tensing as she rode the orgasm. Daddy’s cock quivered inside her, squirting, pulsing, and then pulling away.

The maid collapsed, panting for air. 

…

“You can do it, Baby,” the Maid said, crouched next to her husband. “That’s it, just take it all in.” 

One orgasm just wasn’t enough for Daddy that afternoon, and he’d decided he wasn’t going to play favorites. If he was going to cum inside the maid, he’d cum inside the baby too. 

So, the baby knelt in front of daddy, still in the same mucky diaper, working not to choke on Daddy’s cock as he swallowed it down. 

“Shh, you can do it,” the Maid encouraged. Daddy wasn’t about to give advice, and if the Baby did poorly, both of them would be in trouble. It was down to her to make sure the Baby’s performance was top-notch. “Breathe through your nose, use your tongue.” 

The Baby squirmed. Unlike the maid, he hadn’t been allowed a proper orgasm since Daddy arrived, and being used as Daddy’s toy was clearly making him horny. There was nothing to be done about that. The Baby’s satisfaction didn’t matter at the moment, only Daddy’s. 

Daddy, for his part, was simply standing there. He was going to let the Baby do everything, and whether things went well or not depended entirely on the Baby’s performance. 

He made a little choking noise and stopped for a moment, catching his breath as he took all of Daddy’s cock into his mouth, sucking down on it hard. 

“Good,” the Maid coached. “You should remember what it feels like, right?” 

The Baby squirmed in his diaper, unable to grumble while his mouth was full. He didn’t like to be reminded of how little play his little caged cock had received. 

“Well, just do it like that,” the Maid said. “You can-” 

The Baby’s eyes bulged in surprise, and Daddy let out a pleased sigh as he squirted down the Baby’s throat. Now, he did move, grabbing the Baby’s hair and holding him in place so that he’d have no choice but to swallow it all down. 

They held together for half a minute before Daddy finally let go, pulling free of the Baby’s mouth. “Good job, little one. Maid, please reward him with a diaper change, why don’t you?”