Look What My Daddy Made Me!!!! 🥰🥰 @guyinyourfuture

“Come sit next to me baby, I need to tell you something.

There’s a reason these things are happening to you. The wet pants, the premature cumming, the losing control...theyre all connected.

And it’s because of me. I’ve been doing it all. Don’t be upset, I think this is really what’s best for you. You’ve always been a bit of a submissive type, I’m just pushing you deeper into that well.

Now, I can completely take control. You can call me mommy, I can change your diapers and make sure you get plenty of sexual release. How does that sound?”

Cupid’s Punk!

1- so it feels real

There is both terror and freedom in restarting your life. Not in a cosmic sense, but in the moving-across-the-country-and-leaving-everyone-you-knew-on-the-opposite-coast sense. That is where Scarlet found herself this morning. Eyes red from her jetlag, hair a mess from the uncomfortable seats, and a puffy-eyed death stare meeting her from the scratched bathroom mirror. Even with her fresh start, the fresh apartment, she was not ready for her first day at a new job in this new, unfamiliar city. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to forget. She wanted to go back to her home with—a pang of heartbreak through her chest interrupted the thought. That home was no longer there, and no one was waiting for her to come home. Instead, Scarlet let out a dejected sigh, opened the cardboard moving box that contained the toiletries that were not in her carry-on, and got in the shower. She was up far earlier than she realistically needed to be, to make sure she could wash her hair, shave her legs, and still have plenty of time for makeup and a relaxed cab ride to work. The pipes whined and hot water splashed her face as the new-ish utilities sprung to life. She focused on getting the sleep out of her eyes.

 She resented her own anxious, over-prepare-until-exhausted tendencies. Yet Scarlet knew that on mornings where she didn’t do this, she was late. It was part of why she’d lost her last position as a Library clerk. God, that feels like a lifetime ago. If I started taking those then…what if... Scarlet let the thought drift up with the steam, and focused on the rigorous maintenance that her curly, shoulder-length bob required. The rest of the shower went likewise. She would move on to some other form of self-grooming, only for another intrusive thought to appear, and she would do her best to let it roll off of her. By the time she was done, dripping into a towel and stepping out, she had gotten most of the self loathing scrubbed off. Scarlet turned to face the same mirror. She wiped the fogged glass with one pale hand, and the same dead-eyed look greeted her. Scarlet forced a smile, hollow but just enough to come across as courteous and eager, rather than like a retail worker who was dead inside. She had plenty of practice masking in this way. 

Her breakfast was a microwaved cup of coffee and protein bar, the leftovers from her flight. She’d have to go to the grocery after work. She ate just enough to then turn to her prescriptions, the small, resentful white triangles tasting bitter and frustrating, her knowing that it was a 50/50 on whether she would be vomiting before lunch. The three small blue estrogen pills had to melt sublingually, and wouldn’t upset her stomach. They did, however, taste like minty asshole as they dissolved under her tongue while she started her makeup routine. It went quickly, Scarlet’s old “professional” looks still in her head after years of rushed mornings where her mediocre nutrition and makeup routine battled for time. Her hands danced; brushing, patting, dabbing, blending, and setting at a quick but deliberate pace. This wasn’t Scarlet’s first time working places that made her tone down her looks and cover her smattering of artsy tattoos that criss crossed her arms. Her new boss had assured her however, that so long as she wore at least business casual and none of the tattoos visible were profane, no one would care. Simple enough to cover the guillotine on her shoulder blade or the shoddy stick and poke of her highschool bff’s band “The Fart Coffins” on the opposite blade. She only sometimes regretted that one out of any of the designs on her body.  She finished with a modest amount of very neutral blush, and got up to dress in the outfit she had laid out the night before. A simple white blouse and black skirt, black tie, black flats. Should show a good first impression for a secretary of a legal office. She couldn’t help but roll the sleeves partially, however, showing hints and edges of her ink. 

 Scarlet made sure her hair was dry, shook her head as a jolt of the last taste of estrogen left her mouth, and called for her cab. Just before leaving, she packed her purse, and heard an unfamiliar jingling at the bottom. Fishing through the myriad receipts, dust bunnies and half finished chapsticks, she finally found the culprit, and her heart dropped. A simple gold ring, with an inscription inside; Futile – the winds –/ To a Heart in port –The singular band was heavy in her hand, and Scarlet felt the heartbreak all over again. She wanted nothing more than to scream. She wanted to sob until her throat was hoarse, to wail in pain. She wanted to call her. Instead, she tenderly wiped the welling tear in one eye to preserve her mascara, roughly threw open the drawer to toss the precious bomb in with a clatter. The front door slammed and locked behind her.  The cab hummed quietly as it rode down the dense city streets, and Scarlet focused on taking in the sites of tree leaves slowly changing color through the cab window. She was headed further downtown from her new apartment, and even still there were beautiful trees she wasn’t familiar with. This is exactly what I thought the East Coast to look like, and yet it’s even more beautiful than I could have imagined, she mused to herself. She was used to her hometown in the Bay, the palms and pines of the San Francisco and Oakland areas all she had made friends with until now. The trees were dotted in front of the tall downtown shops, looking like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. She took a picture every now and again, killing time until her quiet cab driver pulled over to a sidewalk. Scarlet smoothed her skirt, handed the man his fare and a tip, and stepped out in front of a small office building. Her flats echoed against the shiny, reflective tile as she followed signs and elevator directories to Kane Arbitration & Mediation Legal Services.  The interior of the elevator shined, polished enough that Scarlet could see her own reflection.

 She took a moment as she rode to the fourth floor, using the reflection to adjust her skirt. She was so tall that no matter what she wore, it always eventually turned into a skirt shorter than intended, and that was the last thing she wanted to project on her first day.  Once the soft fabric was in place, better resting on her hips and covering much of her long thighs, she noticed she had arrived. Scarlet swallowed, her nerves making it louder than she had wanted, and exited as the doors parted. 

Kane Legal was one of the only offices on this floor, and it didn’t take her long to find, but she paused outside the door anyway. She took solace in the fact her new employer wouldn’t be able to see her through the doors frosted glass. Scarlet had a moment to steady the shaking in her hands. 

There’s nothing left for you back there. This has to work. You have no other option. The thought was supposed to be comforting. 

She opened the door and recalled all the times that thought would light a fire in her—to ignite the contrarian and spiteful nature she had to anyone that doubted her. A year ago, this would have made her unstoppable…but the last year was harder than she could have ever predicted. The reception area of the office was nicely decorated, looking like the kind you’d see on a mid-budget daytime law drama. No one was at the desk that she assumed would be hers, so she tried to peer around a corner leading to what she assumed would be Miss Kane’s proper office. Sure enough, a door at the end of the hall was open and revealed a head of deep black hair peaking just over the top of a large computer monitor. Scarlet took a moment for them to notice her.  

In another life, Scarlet would have confidently marched into the office, head held high, with enough swagger to convince anyone that she owned this office. Now the poor girl stood there, shivering as her future awaited. The Scarlet of a year ago would have left this newer Scarlet behind, just like the one she cared about the most. She prayed this wasn’t some kind of test. 

“Excuse me?” She called out, causing the head to twitch, “I’m looking for Miss Kane?”

The top of the head rose for a pair of eyes to see just over the top, and then a hand brusquely slid the monitor on a pivoting stand out of the way. Scarlet recognized her now, the telltale hazel, almost golden eyes and a striking streak of platinum blonde to one side having stuck with her since their video interview. “And you have found her.” Her voice merrily sang, reverberating down the tiled hall. She stood. “You must be Ms. Finch. I am so glad to finally get you out here. May I be the first to properly welcome you to Caulfield Valley, I hope your flight was smooth?” Scarlet was immediately put off balance, having to look up at someone for once. Even if Emilia Kane hadn’t been in imposing black heels, she would easily have three inches on the six feet even Scarlet. She effortlessly glided down the hall towards Scarlet, her hand outstretched. Scarlet met her, returning her’s for a handshake. The taller woman’s hands were so soft.

“Ah, t-thank you, Ma’am.” She politely smiled, and decided to rest her hands on the strap of her purse so as to not fidget. “I appreciate that, it was a long flight.” She wanted to divulge how exhausted and sore she was, but held back. 

“That is such a shame.” Emilia twisted her mouth into a concerned frown for a moment, a hand grabbing her chin in thought. “If you ever need to fly for me again, I can make sure you have better accommodations. Thankfully, your first day probably will not be too demanding. I am hoping to simply get you familiar with the way I organize best and have you operating at full speed before my next big meeting in…,” She checked the date on her phone, pulling it from the breast pocket of her dark green suit, “-three days. Does all that sound good?” Scarlet sighed in relief. “More than good, Ma’am, I’m sure I can be up to snuff by the end of the day.” She was a tiny bit surprised by how confident she sounded. “Oh please, Ma’am makes me feel old.” She waved a hand as if shooing the notion away, “I know to most it is respectful, but I prefer ‘Miss’ or just Emilia if it is all the same to you.” She rested the same hand now on her hips, which Scarlet noted were surprisingly accented in this type of suit. She nodded in response, and Emilia gestured for her to sit in the chair behind the receptionist desk. 

The woman looked like she was off a runway, the two piece suit and platinum jewelry complimenting her intense eyes and the vibrant streak of silver- no, platinum blonde in her hair. The hazel of her eyes became almost amber-gold as the light from the windows caught them. When her new employer wasn’t looking, she shook her head to erase the thoughts. Scarlet couldn’t exactly be thinking about how attractive her boss was if she didn’t want to risk her new living situation. 

“—and your last employer said you were familiar with all of these programs, is that right?” The question snapped Scarlet back to reality as Emilia motioned to the open windows of the computer. 

“That’s right. All of this is right in my wheelhouse.” Scarlet affirmed, grateful that the job didn’t seem to have any sudden surprises. “And this looks like a pretty standard inter-office set up on the phones as well. Would you prefer a call or a ping on your computer when you have a call or a client?” She hoped the question would help make her seem competent and ‘a go-getter,’ something her father had told her once upon a time about starting a new job. “A call is fine unless I am already with a client. If I do not respond, you may call regardless.” Emilia said, a small smile of approval spreading across her red lips. “On the topic of clients, occasionally you are to sit in for meetings and you will be taking notes. These are legal matters and meet the standard of attorney-client-privilege. So it is vitally important you understand that anything you hear or write down in those meetings are confidential, but could end up under scrutiny if we were ever to be sued or subpoenaed. Are you comfortable with that?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” Scarlet nodded, “To be clear, any notes I take are private between you and I unless that happens right? Like—” she kicked herself for her valleygirl filler word, and tried to recover, “a doctor? For example, I wouldn’t talk about this with anyone except you or the client, even during off hours?” Scarlet couldn’t lie to herself and say that didn’t make her anxious. Her understanding of the legal system told her there were a million and one ways to mess up proceedings if everyone didn’t know them ahead of time. The clarity would help alleviate that anxiety. 

“Exactly. We can talk about it informally outside of the office but we must use discretion. God forbid  you run into a client at a bar, make sure neither of you are shouting without realizing. However you got the most important part. Good job.”  Something inside Scarlet warmed at her new boss’s approval. Emilia’s phone lit up and began ringing in her hand. She rolled her eyes. “I have to take this,” she explained, grabbing a small packet from the top drawer of the desk, “Just answer the phone if any calls come in and start filling this out with your info so I can make payments and records and such. It will only take a moment!” Emilia walked back up the hall, closing the door of her office. Scarlet could hear her talking in a tone that sounded professional and even, but couldn’t make out anything specific. 

When Scarlet realized she could not eavesdrop, no matter how hard she tried to focus, she instead grabbed a pen from the desk and focused on the forms. They were typical of starting with any new employer: tax info, new address, signing agreements. Scarlet was sorely missing the over-designed packets she would receive on her first day at each of the oversized chain stores she had grown up working at. The kind that tries to convince the reader that “we’re a family here,” isn’t the same as “your boss will not give a single shit about you if you think for yourself.” They were always a riot to laugh at with her fellow cashiers, clerks, and baristas. 

Everything was astonishingly professional, and felt tailored to the tiny law office. The forms were of course up to every standard Scarlet was aware of, but everything appeared handwritten and then copied from a master document. The young woman marveled at the curves and loops that seemed so practiced, so official. Calligraphy as a hobby?

Scarlet’s daydream was broken as the phone rang. Her arm sprung to life, grabbing the phone and bringing it to her ear. “Hello, Legal Offices of Miss Kane, how can I help you?” Her mind auto piloted the greeting, a tactic she’d learned as a young adult to perform before any social anxiety made her hesitate to answer. 

There was a silent beat, broken only by soft background hum from the receiver. A deeper voice finally spoke. “Oh, is Miss Kane not in?”

“I’m sorry, she’s stepped away for another call. I’m the new secretary.” The professional mask came back to her like a second skin, despite over a year of disuse. “Can I take a message for you?”  Scarlet offered.

“Er,” The voice stammered for a moment, then clarified, “Yeah. Actually, you can tell her that I have to back out of Friday’s meeting, I won’t be rescheduling. She can keep the deposit. Goodbye.” Scarlet busied herself scribbling the note down. 

“Wait, I’ll need to tell her your name.” She tried to catch the man before he disconnected.

It was too late, the line went dead. Scarlet took a confused look at the receiver before returning it to the cradle. She tried to imagine what would have someone behaving this way, but even her previous customer support and retail work did not track here. Scarlet merely blinked in confusion and returned to filling her new employment forms. She could hear the muffled speech of her new boss, not able to pick distinct words, only cadence. The forms were dull and simple enough, and before too long Emilia’s office door clicked open. 

Scarlet was finishing the bottom lines of the last page, hoping quietly to impress the imposing woman, as childish as that want may be. Emilia’s heels marked her approach down the hall, and Scarlet spun gracefully in her swivel chair to face her. “Did I hear a call come in while I was gone?”

“You did, and I've got a message,” Scarlet tried her best to sound professional yet nonchalant, “your Friday meeting canceled, said to keep his deposit.” She looked up to Emilia to gauge her superior’s reaction. Emilia gave nothing but a solitary eyebrow twitch. “He didn’t leave a name and hung up…is that normal?” 

“Whether it’s normal or not, we get to keep the deposit for my time, and that’s what matters to me.” Emilia said, too hurried to be as casual. Scarlet decided to just let that slip.There was something going on here, but she would catch the intricacies of the client relationships soon enough. 

Emilia very pointedly avoided her gaze to check the time, and excused herself again. The rest of the day moved slowly, save for asking Scarlet for a coffee run in the afternoon, which turned into buying a cafe scone for Scarlet’s lunch as well. 

She busied herself with memorizing the upcoming schedule, the program, and the routine expected of her. She tried not to fidget as the caffeine had its way with her later in the day. The bouncing of her leg coincided with an increase in worry. Would she have another reaction to this medication like her last, and be unable to sleep? Would Emilia be angry that she wasn’t being proactive in some way? How was she supposed to know? She paused, trying to stop ruminating. She lifted her hands away from the keyboard. They were shaking, and she squeezed her eyes closed. When Scarlet opened them, they focused through her fingers, at the sticky note she had written down the message, and the smaller coffee order beneath it. Sighing, she wrote down the coffee order on her phone and on her desktop notepad. If she could do nothing, she would be constructive and prepared for the future. 

Her hands kept shaking for the remainder of the shift. Scarlet wasn’t sure if it was the anxiety, the caffeine, or her meds. She’d been so isolated until moving she hadn’t noticed if the shaking started then. Just past five, Emilia’s heels clicked down the hall, a smart designer purse over one shoulder. “Now, is there anything I can clarify before we leave?” Her voice sang again and the hall reverberated in tune with her voice like Brian Eno was behind it. Scarlet shook her head, smiling with her mask back on as she spun to face Emilia again. 

“Thank you so much, but I don’t think I’ve got any questions yet.” Scarlet wanted to be sincere in thanking her, drop the facade and business-casual tone. Speaking without rehearsal tended to bite her in the ass lately.  She squeezed her hands between her thighs to try and avoid any probing questions. Scarlet could only imagine suspicious and overbearing concern at best if her new boss thought there was something wrong with her medically. 

“Is there anything else I can help with? I’ve just been organizing your schedule and getting used to the layout in here all day.” She desperately wanted to get her groceries before it was too dark. 

“No thank you, Scarlet. You’ve already helped me enormously, you have no idea.” Emilia ushered Scarlet out the door, and locked it behind her. 

*  *

If one thing in the world could be counted on, it was chain stores being identical on the inside. Scarlet pushed an identically squeaky cart up identically packed aisles among indistinguishable brands. The only difference really seemed to be the accents. She approached bulk rice bags, hesitated, and drew out her phone with dread. Her meager bank account balance confirmed her fears, and she begrudgingly went for the generic. Other staples like cheap instant ramen and pasta followed suit. The sole splurge was the cheapest, sweetest, garbage brand of red wine she could find. 

Her cab ride was identical, save for the setting sun behind her. Purples and oranges and cotton-candy-clouds danced behind her, out of view, as she slowly sank her head against the cool glass of the window. At least the trees are still pretty. She raised her phone again to try and take a picture, but the camera went grainy in the growing dark. 

Her new apartment greeted her with the same lonely  tone as when she first received the keys. It was cold, it was empty, the furnishings were bland and picked by the property management company. Nothing here was hers yet, save the stacked boxes of cardboard. Her tired arms carried the groceries to their appropriate resting places, and she cracked open the wine before settling on the couch. Out of habit she reached for her remote, only to remember she didn’t have a TV yet. Sold for the moving expenses. 

Scarlet was so tired of sighing. She took a swig of wine, an old comfort that was basically a juicebox and rubbing alcohol that reminded her of being broke in college. She opened her phone, wishing for any stimulation. Her friends, (rather former friends)  were still posting stories, still sharing their bad takes and inane jokes. She considered getting off the couch to do the same. It was all performative anyway, right? But the energy wouldn’t come when she called out for it. Another sip, and she swapped apps. Scarlet noticed the singular blink of darkness on her phone’s screen.

“Please, you piece of shit. I really can’t afford you to die right now.”  Her worries seemed unfounded, as the brilliant screen returned and the malfunction wasn’t replicated for the rest of the night. What was strange, however, were the kinds of new accounts she was being recommended as she scrolled her timeline. 

Now, Scarlet was no prude. She enjoyed fucking and her alone time as much as anyone. Estrogen and Progesterone even maybe had her hornier than the average. But her timeline wasn’t  full of this much smut. She had friends in the sex work game, but she didn’t exactly like, share, favorite, reblog, or any other influencer verb their content. Another website breaking their algorithm again?  

Even if Dani did porn, she didn’t do this kind of porn. Morbid curiosity, and a slight increase in her pulse, beckoned Scarlet onward. 

Drawings, videos, and staged photos of women in things she’d only seen in racy HBO content. She didn’t even know what to call the more intricate…props…but felt herself linger on a clip of a woman riding a…pleasure machine plugged into the wall behind her. Scarlet’s face matched her namesake and she scrolled on. A woman sitting at a home office, the quintessential framing of every vlog you’ve ever watched. Finally somebody is fucking sane in this world. She clicked the video without even reading the caption, and the perky eyed labrador retriever of a woman began to speak.

“Hi everybody! This is the Channel of O. SO!” The blonde clapped for emphasis. “You’re trying to learn about BDSM, and you have no idea where to start.” Scarlet’s eyes went wide, she took another sip, and watched the woman jumpcut and explain through terrible jokes. It was a trainwreck, steam engines exploding in her mind. It made her hot in the crotch. Scarlet finished her glass, finished the video, and poured herself another while going deeper to the woman’s personal channel. More videos, more introductory guides. Scarlet polished the second glass, and was too engrossed despite the initial impulse to cringe to even pour another. 

Her alarm rang to remind her to take the rest of her medication, pulling her out of her trance.How long had she been zoned out? It was eight thirty. Losing track of time like that wasn’t uncommon for her and this diversion was welcome. She resigned herself and went to go take another dose of bitter antidepressants and her dose of Progesterone. Once the poison was administered, she looked across her kitchen to the counter where she left her phone. It lay there, like a metal megalith, imposing despite being a little plastic rectangle. Scarlet had to gather her nerve just to walk across the room and lift the damn thing. Once it was back in her hand, she used shaking hands to unlock it. The Channel of O was still smiling up at her, and she felt her cheeks getting redder. 

Her glass of wine was forgotten as she brought her phone to her bedroom. She unboxed her duvet, and sat on the soft material as the video resumed. Scarlet was enthralled, soaking in every bit of knowledge she could. 

“There’s all kinds of different dynamics! You’re probably familiar with a ‘master/slave’ dynamic,” The blonde woman began, “but there’s also pets and owners, and even daddies, mommies,—” Scarlet’s pulse quickened,”—or more generically caregivers and littles! Sometimes that’s called ABDL if it involves diapers.”  Scarlet felt her breath catch in her throat. Her fingers flew into a flurry, and a private internet search later, her phone was filled with images that made her heartbeat accelerate. 

Videos, drawings, and many, many depictions of adult women, with all their curves and freckles and other parts that excited Scarlet, in thick diapers. They ranged across all body types, and the infantile garb varied from plain white plastic to over the top patterns to evoke baby diapers. 

Scarlet continued to scroll, eyes wide in wonder and excitement. She finally stopped, a thumbnail capturing her attention like a punch to the gut and clicked the video. Scarlet’s mouth went wide, and felt herself starting to leak into her panties. 

A gorgeous, curvaceous woman was lying on her back,  supple lips wrapped around the nipples of another woman, in nothing but a pastel colored diaper and delicate, lacy lingerie top. The tender moment evoked  breastfeeding, save for the “mother” holding a massive vibrator against the woman’s…diaper. 

The “baby” of the couple was moaning, growing louder, and Scarlet felt a tent growing under her skirt. Eventually, the “baby” was screaming, thrusting her hips into the massive sex toy, in time with cries of “Mommy!”

Mommy’s smile was intoxicating. She was very clearly getting off just as much as her baby, her face painted a combination of maternal nurturing, hedonistic pleasure, ecstatic elation, and sadistic control as she began thrusting the enormous vibrator in time with her partner’s thrusts. 

It was obviously acting on the merit of pornography, but Scarlet couldn’t tear herself away. She allowed her hand to snake up to a nipple poking through her top. Scarlet realized her own arousal, and in embarrassment, closed the tab, flinging her phone to the edge of the bed like it was a dangerous spider. 

She flung the covers off, racing to the bathroom for a cold shower.  

Padded Little Paradise

When Mommy Takes Control

Image Credit: ABDreams.com “Aww… you like that, don’t you? You silly little thing!” A rustle. A quiet moan of agreement, muffled by the rubb

And here it is: a brand-new, extra-long caption! Click on the link for the full (FPN-containing) image!

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Image Credit: ABDreams.com

“Aww… you like that, don’t you? You silly little thing!”

A rustle. A quiet moan of agreement, muffled by the rubber nipple between the naked young woman’s lips. A pathetic little wriggle and nod as, with eyes screwed shut and face drawn in a silent transport of humiliated ecstasy, she assented to the amused words of her caretaker.

“Goodness, just look at you! All naked and helpless for me, like the sweetest little baby!” Rhoda continued, her warm voice dropping into a sexy purr of delight. Her hand was working gently, pressing the thick cotton booster suggestively into her partner’s freshly powdered groin. “Anyone else would be completely, utterly humiliated to be treated like this, you know. But you’re not just anyone else, honey, are you?”

Her voice was dripping with loving condescension as she leaned forward, elegantly mascaraed eyes alight with pleasure. “What are you then, sweetie? Go on, tell me. What are you?”

A muffled, barely audible response, between shy and shame-filled moans of ill-concealed pleasure. “I- I’m a ba- a baby– Jus’ a baby-” She was wriggling under Rhoda’s touch, her naked body tensing in irresistible pleasure at such a shameful admission. “Jus’ a siwwy- wih’ul- baybee…“

Rhoda laughed then: laughed over the quiet crinkle of the outspread diaper, laughed over the pathetic little mewlings of her Little partner. “Oh, honey, you’re more than a little baby now. You’re my little baby – mine, and no one else’s. And you know what? You’re going to be my baby for good: forever and ever.”

She bent down and cupped one of her partner’s petite breasts in her hand, smilingly weighing it as if mentally comparing it to her own voluptuous curves. “Just look at how sweet and cute you are without your clothes, baby! So naked and little and innocent, so very, very babyish…”

She giggled and gave the exposed nipple a tiny tweak, eliciting a muffled gasp of ill-suppressed surprise and pleasure from her partner. “Such cute little baby boobies, too – so small and adorable! You know, I think they look so much better like this. We’re gonna leave them nice and naked and free from now on, of course. No more of those silly padded bras. No more trying to pretend you’re a big girl when you’re so clearly not…”

“Yeh- yefh, Mommee-” came the groveling response, and Rhoda chuckled once more, a rush of dominant pleasure coursing through her at the sound of such helpless submission. “Aww, good baby!” she commended, her hand working with renewed vigor between her partner’s splayed legs. “And you’re gonna learn to love your diapers more and more every day, too. Believe me – you’re simply not going to have a choice! You may think sometimes that you do… but, oh, sweetie…”

She broke off, chuckling with dark pleasure as her partner squirmed and writhed under her relentless touch. “Sweetie,” she resumed, “There’s simply no way you can resist me – not even if you wanted! I’m your Mommy now, after all, and I know what’s best. I know exactly how to deal with you… how to make you do every little thing I want… how to train you and teach you and remind you that no matter how big you once were, you’re going to be nothing but an adorable, helpless, brainless little baby by the time I’m done with you…”

The red-faced, labored breathing and the tight-drawn muscles of her partner testified to the groveling pleasure and rising arousal within. She was close now, and with every suggestive thrust of those fingers pressing the soft booster against her shaven and powder-covered pussy – with every condescending word that left her partner’s lipstick-covered lips – she was edging ever closer to one of the most gloriously shameful climaxes she could imagine. Soon she would be cumming: not from penetration, nor even from a vibrator, but from the sheer humiliation and throbbing pleasure of her partner forcing her to become a helpless, laughable, infantilized little toy.

But then… just as she was teetering on the brink of bliss… Rhoda stopped. And oh, the stifled wail of disappointment that escaped her partner’s pacified lips sent fresh shivers of pleasure rippling through her.

“Aww, such an excitable baby!” she crooned, shaking her head at the young woman’s plaintive whines. “You’re getting way too excited for a baby girl as little and innocent as you. But don’t worry,” she added, with a sly little giggle that set her partner a-tremble . “I’m sure we’ll eventually find a way to scratch that silly little itch you seem to have between your pretty little legs. Maybe after you’ve shown me just how well you can fill your pampers… how soggy, and saggy, and smelly such a sweet little baby’s diaper ends up when Mommy takes control…”

And in that moment, the mortified little wail of disgust from her charge sounded in her ears as one of the most beautiful sounds in the entire world.

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Oh don't mind me dear I'm just opening up the window to get some a breeze in, you just go back to playing. Yeah baby, just some fresh air. Well it's still a little stinky in here sweety and I want it smelling fresh when my next patient comes.

Oh silly have you forgotten what I told you already? You're going home today, your mommy is coming to pick you up! No silly you're wife! She's just your mommy now, like how I was Dr. Philips when you came here but now I'm Nana.

Right I know it must seem so long ago, I can hardly believe it's only been two weeks myself. More treatment, oh honey it'd be silly do that- you're cured! I can confidently say as a medical professional you no longer have a wetting problem baby.

Shshsh baby no need to get upset, you see diapers are the cure to your wetting problem. When your wife dropped you off here we knew that this was the likely outcome. Yes this is intensive therapy, your wife didn't lie. Sometimes this helps people stop wetting, once in a blue moon. For most of the people I treat though the cure for their incontinence is more involved. You see your bed wetting and your pants wetting were only problems that you noticed. You had others too you know. You were unhappy, you were stressed, angry, very controlling too. Now those problems are gone! I've been sending your wife videos of you and she's said she hasn't seen you this happy since you two were dating!

No, a life of big adult worries isn't for you, so I have prescribed a full regression until further notice. Hey don't look so grumpy, this is good news! This means when you get home you'll have a big comfy crib like you do here. You'll have fun toys for you to play with all day. You'll have even more cozy clothes to roll around in and best of all, you wont ever have to worry about wet or dirty pants ever again thanks to the thick diapies you'll always be wearing. I'll even let you in on a secret, your wife has been taking pills so she can have milky boobies just like Nana!

Still with the grumpy face huh mister? Do I need to take you to the naughty corner? We haven't had to visit there in quite some time I'd hate to have our treatment end there- Oh, ugh silly me! You think I'd know that face by now. Of course it's time for your mid morning poopy. Well go right ahead baby, your wife will be here to pick you up soon and I think greeting her in a stinky, droopy, poopy diaper is the perfect way to start this new chapter. Good thing I opened the window now. Hopefully the stinky smells will leave before the next patient arrives this evening!

A while back I talked about making a diaper audio…. And here is my first attempt! 

I hope you enjoy the experience of wetting your pants in front of me - when it’s not the first time.

Apologies for the rough editing.  If you all enjoy this sort of thing, I’ll edit my next one better.  Let me know what you think!

Jenny Poos Her Panties

In order to get things started, here’s a story that I wrote years ago and posted on wetset.net and asstr.

Jenny checked her watch again, and found it only a minute since she had last checked it.  The lecture was due to finish quarter of an hour ago, but the lecturer seemed in no hurry.  Jenny was beginning to get quite anxious, she was desperate to use the toilet, but this wasn’t unusual for her. Jenny had enjoyed holding on and pretending to have accidents in her panties for years.  She was in her final year at university now, but had been pooping and peeing herself since she the start of high-school.

A sharp pain in her side brought Jenny’s mind back to her predicament.She really needed to poo, having not done so for over 2 days now.  Jenny had been holding on, hoping to get through her morning’s lectures and back to her house for the afternoon.  Neither of her housemates would be at home until late that night and Jenny had planned on having some fun in their absence.  Now the pressure to poop was becoming almost unbearable.  Jenny shuffled in her seat and pulled the waistband of her stretch jeans away from her stomach slightly, so as to ease the pressure a little.  She was already getting very excited at the thoughts of all the things she might like to do as soon as she got home.  She loved to mess and wet herself in virtually every way you could imagine, but of course Jenny had her favourites.

She pictured herself at home, lying on her bed wearing just a pair of cotton panties - white sloggi’s, deep cut at the side they were definitely Jenny’s favourite style of panties for pooping in.  The cut at the sides held them up close and they hugged her bottom and her crotch tightly, though not so tightly that there wasn’t room enough to hold a good load of poo snugly up against her bottom in their full-cut seat.  Tight fitting white cotton panties always reminded Jenny of the accident she’d had at home aged 12 when she’d first realised how good pooping herself felt.  In Jenny’s mind she saw herself in her favourite position this afternoon, lying on her front on her bed.  Her panties stretched tightly over her bottom, her hand slowly caressing her crotch as she slowly, slowly filled her panties with first hard firm poop, which she had to strain to push out against her panties, and then finally with softer poo which coated her bottom in the most sensual way.  Yes, Jenny decided, that would be the first thing she would do this afternoon after she got home.

By now Jenny was getting desperate for the lecture to finish, she could hardly wait to get home, and in any case would have to quickly or else to find a toilet and miss her chance for such fun.  A few minutes later the lecture finally came to an end, and Jenny grabbed her notes, shoved them into her shoulder bag and almost ran out of the lecture theatre.  She considered using the toilet in the institute hall as she left, but that wasn’t what she wanted to do, and in any case could make it home - it was only twenty minutes walk.  Jenny walked briskly along the street, all the time thinking about the fun she would soon be having. She was really getting quite wet now, and loved the way that her jeans and panties slipped past her sex with every step she took.  Another sharp pain in her side stopped brought her mind back to the present.  Jenny actually had to stop herself walking and support herself against someone’s garden fence.

For the first time Jenny was beginning to regret holding on so long. She’d done this lots of times before, but had always made it home in time to have her fun in private.  Now she was away from the centre of town, surrounded by large houses, no shops and certainly no public toilets. There were still lots of people walking in the streets and Jenny really didn’t want to mess herself in public - what if someone she knew saw her? The cramp passed, and Jenny stood up and began to walk again, this time slower than before as she concentrated on keeping control.  She had to make it home.

Five minutes later Jenny had to stop again.  The pain this time was terrible.  She could hardly hold out any longer.  Jenny sat down on a nearby wall and hoped the cramp would pass soon, but the pain continued. She could feel a huge firm mass of poop inside herself, and was having no trouble actually holding it there, but the pain was awful.  What could she do?  She was now only a few streets away from home, but she had to go now. There was nothing for it but to poop herself a little, not so much that someone might notice but just enough to relieve the pain and the pressure.

People were still walking past her regularly, and she was in full view where she sat.  There was no way she could do that here.  Jenny scanned the road looking for some cover.  The best she saw was the garden next door to the house whose garden wall she was sitting on now.  There was a tall wall between that garden and the wall, and a large bushy tree shielded a small gap on the garden side of the wall from being over-looked by the houses themselves.  Jenny’s heart thumping she rushed into this gap and taking a quick look around, put down her bag and stood with her legs apart.

The moment she relaxed her muscles Jenny felt her poop begin to move down, but it didn’t yet come out.  She spread her legs still slightly further and steadied herself against the wall in front of her.  Pushing hard now Jenny felt the enormous poo pushing her bottom open as it moved slowly but steadily out, and touched her panties.  She was wearing good clean panties today - still white cotton, but she had planned to change to an older pair before she pooped herself.

Jenny had never shit her pants anywhere not completely private before as she had always been terrified of getting caught.  Her heart was pounding now as she continued to push and her panties and jeans stretched out further away from her bottom.  Still, it felt so good and Jenny moved her right hand down from the wall and began to rub herself through her jeans, still slowly pooping more and more into her panties.  She knew she had to stop and get home.  She knew she would surely be found out if she did it all in her pants here.  The bulge and the smell would be far to much to hide especially in her stretch jeans which showed every detail of her perfect behind - and of anything which shouldn’t be there in a grown-up girl’s pants.

Jenny couldn’t help herself though, it felt so good she kept on pooping and pooping and pooping, filling her panties so much that some poop squeezed out from the back of the leg openings.  The stretch jeans kept it all right up close to her bottom though, and she loved the feeling of having such a big heavy load of poop pushed so tightly up against her, forcing her cheeks apart.  Just as she finally finished she came hard into her already soaking panties, and stood for fully two minutes panting, her heart refusing to stop pounding.  She realised the situation she was now in. She was at least 500 metres from home and had a huge load of poop in her panties.  Ordinarily Jenny would have panicked, but instead she just had a very naughty thought.  What if she didn’t try to dump some of the poop out of her pants here, but instead walked home with her panties full? Jenny had always been scared of getting caught and of anyone knowing she liked to mess herself, but was suddenly feeling so turned on that the thought of doing something so naughty gave her the courage that she needed.

Jenny stood up straight and caught her breath for a moment.  She reached back behind herself and felt the very hot and lumpy seat of her jeans. Anyone walking behind her would surely be able to tell what she had done.The bulge in her jeans was at least the size of two tennis balls, though Jenny felt for all the world like it was two footballs.  Her jeans left nothing to the imagination, and she worried that the softer poo that had escaped from the leg bands of her panties might be staining through, but there was no way to check now.

Picking up her bag she took a couple of steps forward.  Well, you could call them steps, but it was more of a waddle really.  Her panties were so full that no matter how normally she tried to walk she just looked like a baby girl who had completely shit her pants.  Jenny stopped and her mind raced again - was it really a good idea to walk home like this?  What if she met someone she knew The more she thought about it though the more naughty she felt and she knew that she couldn’t resist.  The thought of other people seeing her shameful secret really turned her on.  Jenny set off again.

Shortly later Jenny arrived home.  All through the walk home people had been staring at her bottom and her full panties.  The poop was really firm and hadn’t spread out any more while she walked, so Jenny had been forced to continue her baby girl walk all the way back.  Each time she passed someone in the street she was sure that they were going to say something or point at her, so sure that her heart pounded, but each time they just passed by looking and without a word.

Back at home Jenny dumped her bag in the hall and ran as quickly as she could, which wasn’t very quickly, up to the bathroom.  Turning round, she looked at her bottom in the mirror.  The bulge in her jeans was huge, and there were two brown streaks for a couple of inches down the inside backs of her legs.  She couldn’t believe she’d been out in public like that.  All those people seeing what a naughty little girl she’d been.

Jenny climbed into the bathtub, all the time repeating to herself out loud what a naughty girl she was, and how big girls like her should know better than to poop their knickers, and how all those strangers in the street had seen what a naughty dirty girl she was.  She kept repeating all of this to herself as she spread her legs and turned to face the wall, looking over her shoulder at the mirror showing her shamefully poopy jeans. Without a second though she wet herself.  Hot liquid pooled in the crotch of her panties and ran down the legs of her jeans, turning them dark immediately.  This sent Jenny wild - now she’d been naughty again and wet herself deliberately.  She couldn’t hold on any longer and quickly undid her jeans and pulled them half way down her thighs, before beginning to rub herself furiously though her soaking wet cotton panties.  Jenny reached back behind herself with her other hand and began to gently and rhythmically spank her bottom right on top of the bulge in the back of her panties.  She kept repeating, between gasping and panting, what a naughty little girl she’d been for completely messing herself and pooping and wetting her panties.  Within a minute she had two fantastic orgasms, the second forcing her to sink to her knees and stop.  Beyond caring now, Jenny lay back completely in the tub, sitting on her bottom, and causing poo to gush out of the legs and back waistband of her panties.

She continued slowly rubbing herself, but was now completely spent. Half dozing, Jenny just lay still for a while getting her breath back and thinking about everything she’d done.  She knew that she couldn’t wait until she needed to poo again, and she knew that she would be doing it in her pants again.

“So you don’t want to join us?”

“You don’t want to be transformed into a girl? One with smooth silky legs and a pair of bouncing breasts that will attract every man that sees you. One who has to bat her eyelids and flirt with any man who may be brave enough to change your diapers?”

“You don’t want to spend your life playing around together with us padded girls? Kissing and fooling around, giggling and teasing each other all day!”

“You don’t want to dress up in the sexiest lingerie? Showing off your body and your padding, displaying the new sexy girl you’ve become…”

“Well it’s too late”

See more captions and full length stories over on my Patreon