My Self-Imposed Punishment

“Stay out of trouble,” my mother tells me, and I roll my eyes. I have to wonder, sometimes, if she actually realizes that I’m 22, not a kid anymore. Or, at least, not technically…

“Okay,” I agree, just to get her out of the house more quickly. I give her a kiss on the forehead and watch her leave, slipping back into my room, heart starting to flutter in my chest. I walk back over to my desk, turn the monitor back on and stare at the webpage.

“The Princess’s Castle,” it reads. “155 posts, last published on July 18, 2011.” My eyes flick down to the clock on my taskbar, the one that tells me it’s now July 30th, nearly two weeks later. More than ten days, and I hadn’t posted so much as a single caption, a snippet of a story. That was, I couldn’t deny, rather naughty of me. I open my word processor and sort through my notes, even though I know there’s no way I’ll be able to get any of those stories done enough to post in the next few days. I browse through my pictures, too, the ones I’d earmarked after spending a semi-desperate morning looking through my collection. There are definitely some with potential, and I can see captions brewing inside them… But I just don’t think I’ll be able to draw them out anytime soon.

There is, I know, no two ways around it. I’ve tried to make myself sit down and get some work done for the past couple days, and it’s done me no good. I’m tempted to try again, to let it slide, but I can’t do that. My parents are gone for the rest of the day, and most of the night – what they’re doing tomorrow, I don’t know, and I don’t know how much of Monday I’ll have to myself, and by then it will have already been two full weeks. No, I need a punishment, and if I’m going to have it, it has to be now.

The thought makes me squirm a little as I reach over and turn my monitor back off, then stand up from my chair and unbutton my jeans, sliding them down over my legs and leaving them in a pile on the floor. On top of those goes my underwear, then my shirt and bra, leaving me standing here, naked, blushing slightly, despite being alone, in my room, door closed. I walk over to my dresser, pulling out a plain pink cotton camisole first, which I slip over my head and pull down over my tummy. It’s old, which is part of the reason I like it, and wear it when I’m in little mode, and doesn’t quite reach my belly button.

Then I bend down to pull open my bottom drawer. I know I’m lucky not to have nosy parents, as that allows me to keep my baby stuff pretty easily accessible. I don’t even make any attempt to hide it in here, as I just have to pull it open to see my cloth diapers, folded off on one side, plastic panties beneath them. On the other side are my accessories – my baby bottle, the little container I keep my pacifier in, my tubs of suppositories and (rather icky tasting) fiber supplement, my baby powder and lotion, and, at the bottom, what I’m really looking for. I pull it out, feeling a bit apprehensive, and, honestly, a little excited – it had been so long since I’d used it! – and set it to the side, then take out my powder, lotion, and one cloth diaper.

Then it’s over to my closet, where the other half of my not-so-cunningly hidden stash resides. I push aside my clothes to find the twin packages of diapers, both still mostly full. One is Abena X-Plus, the other Tranquility ATN. I ponder, for a moment, which to use, and then wind up with one of each. The X-Plus gets tossed over to my bed as I fiddle with the ATN, unfolding it and gently ripping the plastic coating before I spread it out and sit myself down on the peach-colored padding, reaching over for the baby powder and sprinkling it liberally onto myself and the diaper, savoring the sweet smell, knowing it wouldn’t be long before my scent was much less agreeable. I squirt in a bit of lotion, too, though after rubbing it in I realize I didn’t think to grab anything to wipe my hands off with. I use my leg, for the time being, though as soon as I’m done I realize my cloth diaper would have worked just as well.

I lie down, pulling the diaper up between my legs and onto my tummy, then tug one side up and fasten the bottom tape before moving on the other side, from there moving up to the top tapes. I grab my X-Plus next and rip its plastic before strapping it on, then, finally, I slide the cloth diaper under me and snap it into place. It’s an All-in-One, so it doesn’t really need plastic pants over it, which is lucky, because I don’t think they’ll go on over all this padding.

That same padding keeps my legs just a bit splayed as I sit up, then stand, giving me a waddle while I fetch my pacifier, and the rest of my punishment. I begin to suck on my paci as I toddle into the kitchen. I go past the bathroom, which is where I know I’ll end up, but the sink in there isn’t quite deep enough for what I need.

In the kitchen, I dump out the bag onto the stove, grabbing the lid, tubing still attached, first. I take it to the sink and rinse both ends, just to be safe, before setting it back on the stove and grabbing the water bottle in its place. It gets a good rinse as well, but when I’m done with that, I let it start to fill. I can’t help but feel apprehensive as the rubber begins to bulge outwards, knowing just what it’s for, where it’s going. In the past, I’ve used cold water, because the cramps that causes feel more like a punishment to me, but I always have a hard time actually holding it for any amount of time, so I try to keep it warm.

I consider adding a little soap, something I’ve never tried, but chicken out. I’m not sure what kind of soap you use for that, exactly, and while I doubt it really makes that much of a difference, I decide against running the risk of trying the dish soap sitting just inches from my hands.

The bag just keeps filling, more and more, and while I know I’ll wind up regretting it, I keep raising the top of it higher, letting more water in, until the bottom is dangling, rather than resting on the bottom of the sink, and I know it’s just as full as it can get. I carefully carry it over the the sink and screw  the lid on, then make my way to the bathroom.

“You don’t really have to do this,” I tell myself. “Nobody’s complained or anything…” But, nervous as the full water bottle in my hands makes me, I know I need it. After all, none of my other attempts to motivate myself have worked, so clearly I need to do something drastic.

I gingerly set the bottle in the sink, wetting the nozzle and then tugging the back of my diapers open. I snake the tube inside, blindly fumbling with it to get it into position before sliding it up into my bottom. I’ve always been a bit of a chicken about it, so I don’t push it in too far, but I can feel its invasive head inside of me, and I know that’s good enough.

I let my diapers snap back into place, feeling the tube running up my back, knowing that it meant there was no backing out now. I mean, yes, technically I could have stopped the whole thing, since I’m the one in charge… But all it will take now is to lift the bottle, and it’s all over. I’ve never backed out once I’ve gotten this far, and I know I’m not about to start now.

But before I can take that final step, I happen to notice my bar of soap, sitting off to the corner of the sink. I knew it was there all the time, of course, but I hadn’t really been thinking about it. I bite my bottom lip as I stare at it, glancing up at my reflection in the mirror, seeing myself standing there like the naughty little girl I am, thick diapers bulging out around my waist, beneath my bare belly button, enema tubing dangling behind me and extending up to the sink.

It’s a punishment I’ve used in my stories often enough, mostly just because it seems like such a juvenile thing to have done to you, but if I’ve ever experienced it myself, I don’t remember it. “I have said some bad words lately,” I remind myself. “Plus, it might not hurt to know what it feels like, first hand…”

I sigh as I decide to indulge myself, picking up the soap and rinsing it off as well. I pluck out my pacifier, setting it to the side, and replace it with the bar of soap. I’m not sure quite what I’m expecting, but it doesn’t really do much, or have much of a taste. Mostly, it just makes my mouth feel fuller. I’m a little disappointed, a little relieved. I almost switch it back out with my paci, then change my mind. Might as well go all the way, now that I’ve started.

My fingers actually shake a little as I reach for the bottle, done messing around. As I reach for the hook, however, I find that it isn’t there. I think back, making sure I’d seen it attached to the bottom when I’d removed it from the bag – I’m fairly certain I did. It must have come off when I was rinsing and filling it. I ponder for a moment, wondering if I should unplug myself for the minute it would take me to go to the kitchen, find it, and return, upon which I’d have to replace it, which I’m not exactly fond of.

It only takes a moment because the answer is pretty clear, even if I do feel silly, toddling through the house, carrying an enema bottle that is already attached to me, mouth full of soap. The hook is right in the sink, where I really should have noticed it, which only makes me feel more ridiculous. I slip it through the hole in the bottom of the bag and make my return trip.

I know it’s pointless – if my parents do return, way ahead of schedule, I’m screwed whether I do it or not, since, even if I do wrap myself in a towel and dash to my room to get dressed, I’ll still have my diapers to deal with – but I close the door anyway, then slide the shower door open and carefully step inside. The enema bag’s hook fits quite nicely on the towel rack, which is, handily, right by the tub.

Finally, I flip the bag over and hang it up, bracing myself for the coming rush of water, fidgeting as I mentally tell myself I’m going to take it all this time, and even hold it for a few minutes, a feat I’ve never pulled off. The warm water, I tell myself, should help with that. In fact, that warmth seems to be working so well that I can’t even feel the water…

I turn back, reaching for the tubing. There’s a spot that’s bent, creased in from where I didn’t coil it up right the first time I put it back in its bag. Usually that doesn’t seem to matter, but now, for whatever reason, I guess it does. I push the sides in, giving the water space to run through. Nothing happens.

“Well,” I think to myself, “maybe this is a sign I don’t need this punishment after all…” I’m definitely starting to notice the soap as more than a gag now – it’s starting to leave an acrid taste in my mouth – and I wonder if that might be enough. I could always use one of my suppositories… Or even an Enemeez, since I still have most of my sample pack of them. It wouldn’t be quite the same, but it might be all I have. I have had the enema kit for a while, and it was awfully cheap. I don’t know how it would have broken, but if it had, I can’t do much about it now.

Just as a test, I lower myself onto my knees, waiting to see if giving more distance between the bag and me would help, but after a little fidgeting, I realize it won’t. I stand back up, not quite sure if I should be disappointed or relieved. I reach up to try one more thing, poking at the swollen red rubber bag that held my fate. It wasn’t a particularly hard poke, yet it was enough, apparently, as almost instantly I feel the water start to gush inside of me, and I bite into the soap in surprise, wrinkling my nose.

As I feel my insides filling up with water, I can tell, almost instantly, that the warmth of the water won’t help as much as I’d thought. Not quite thinking straight, I lower myself onto my knees again, reasoning that it would help me take the rest of the enema more quickly. That’s true, of course, yet not as much help as I expected, since the increased pace put more strain on my body. I unconsciously bite into the soap again, feeling bits and pieces of it sticking to the backs on my teeth, as a spasm rocks my body, and, looking for relief, I send a rush of water back into my diaper.

“Couldn’t even hold it all until the enema is finished!” I reprimand myself. “Bad girl!” It isn’t unexpected, though… It happens most of the time. Usually, it’s enough to loosen the nozzle, send the water meant for me pumping into the seat of my diaper, making me pinch the tubing while I decide whether to bother attempting to reinsert it and continue, or just let the rest of the enema drain into the tub. This time, however, I can still feel the water flowing into me mercilessly.

Before I can even try to loosen my teeth from the soap, they dig in deeper as I feel the cramps starting. I manage, somehow, to stop the first, but after an anxious look at the enema bag that makes me realize I’m only half done, I scramble to my feet, hoping that would slow the rush of the water enough to make it easier to control. Another spurt of water pushes out and into my diaper as I stand, and if it actually helps any, it’s hard to tell.

I shudder a little, the foul taste of the soap growing too much for me in conjunction with everything else. I try to spit my mouthful of suds out, only for it to drip down my face, leaving a damp line of drool on my shirt. Whimpering, I stare back at the bag, wishing it would empty just a little quicker so I could be done with it. It deflates slowly as the cramps begin getting worse, and, at last, my body fights back enough to push the nozzle loose. By now, the bag is hanging mostly limp, so I fish the tubing out of my diaper, let it flop down into the tub, where the last of the water drains out. I watch it flow out, surprised at how little there is – usually, there’s quite a bit more left when I give up.

I don’t have much time to feel proud of myself, though, as seconds later, I let a rush of water into my diapers, thoroughly soaking at least the bottom layer. My body had barely even tried to hold it, and there was no conscious choice in letting go… It had simply happened.

It’s been so long since I’ve given myself an enema, I’m not sure if that’s all I can expect or not. After all that, was it over so quickly? I hope so. Then I can get out of the tub and take out this soap… It’s starting to burn against my tongue now. It’s hard to believe I thought it “wasn’t so bad” when I started… I’ll definitely be watching my language from now on! I let out another line of drool, trying again to expectorate it away from me, again winding up with a wet chin and shirt. It would be much easier to do without the bar of soap, but then, that’s kind of the point, I suppose.

And then, as quickly and unrelenting as the water, my body pushes a load of warm mush into the seat of my diaper, sending it bulging outward even further than usual, proving that it was not, in fact, over. A few moments later, I can feel a second load approaching. This time, I have enough warning I might try to stop it, but what’s the point now? I push, letting my diaper grow all the filthier.

My diapers are sagging quite heavily now, though, luckily, they managed not to leak. The first time I gave an enema to myself, I had leaked, quite badly, which was why I still keep in the tub, even though I know how thickly I need to diaper myself. Still, I’m not about to try sitting in my chair, or anywhere else in the house, in case that’s all it takes to push my diapers too far.

But I can’t change just yet. I didn’t take my whole enema, and I couldn’t even hold it until I’d taken as much as I could. Normally, that might not be so bad, but this is supposed to be a punishment. So, wincing a little, I lower myself down, letting my bottom sink into the squishy mess beneath me as I sit in the tub, turning so that I’m facing the corner. A final, much smaller, round of ickiness pushes its way into my diaper as I sit there, the last of the enema making its exit, making me feel even more thoroughly infantile.

I’m not sure how long I sit there, though probably not as long as I should. The soap gets to be too much for me, though, and I just have to get up and out of the tub so I can take it out. I rinse it off in the sink and set it back on its dish, blushing to see the ridges my teeth dug into it. It’s a good thing my parents have their own bathroom, and only sometimes use mine, so they aren’t likely to notice them, or that might be a little hard to explain.

I spit a few times, trying to remove the excess soap still in my mouth. When I look up at my reflection in the mirror, I wrinkle my nose as I see it caked around my lips. I wipe my face off with my towel before toddling to the kitchen for a glass to rinse my mouth out with. My tongue is still burning – in the back of my mind, I worry that I used the wrong kind of soap for that, too, and poisoned myself or something, though I’m sure I’m just being overly dramatic.

I grab a trash bag and return to the bathroom to start cleaning up, dumping my two thoroughly used disposables into it and tying it loosely closed. My cloth diaper is a bit damp, so I take it to the washing machine and toss it inside, then strip out of my drool-wettened camisole and put it in as well before returning to the bathroom, naked again, to take a quick shower. Feeling clean and fresh, I go to my room and put on another ATN, slipping on the plastic panties over them – they aren’t necessary, but they’re nice to have. I put on my blue Eeyore onesie, snapping it into place under my diaper, feeling it hold the padding snugly and securely against me, then tug on a pair of short black shorts on over that.

I start the washer and grab the garbage bag, taking it outside and setting it in the driveway. There’s a little store a few miles away. It closes in an hour or two, and, by then, there won’t be many people driving the road it’s on. By then, this diaper will probably be nice and wet, and I’ll change into one of my other cloth ones, keeping the rest of my outfit, slipping on a pair of sandals. I’ll carry my wet diaper gingerly out to the bag, adding it to its stinky cargo and re-tying it shut, more securely this time. I’ll toss it into my trunk and drive out to that store to dump the bag off in their dumpster, and no one will be the wiser.

Feeling satisfied that my punishment is mostly over, I return to the kitchen, rinsing my mouth out another time or two before filling my bottle with water. It still tastes a little soapy, but it isn’t so bad anymore, and the burning is starting to go away too, slowly. I make my way back to my room and sink into my chair. I turn on the monitor and stare at the webpage. Punishment or not, it still tells me it’s been 12 days since I last updated it.

And then I have an idea. There’s not much to it, but still, this might make a decent little story. It would be something, anyway, better than just watching the number of days since my last update continue to rise. I suck on my bottle as I gather my thoughts, then open up my word processor and start to type.

The Dangers of Premarital Sex

A test/tease

All right, so, remember me talking about working on something a little different. Well, I’m still not done, but I have enough to work as a bit of a tease, so I thought I’d put it up… Mostly because that might help motivate me to finish it.

What I’ve been working on is a Choose Your Own Adventure type story, using a program called QML-Edit. I’m sure I can do a lot more with the program than what I have, but I haven’t really looked into it too much, honestly, as I’m just trying to do something simple for my first time. Anyway, you shouldn’t need to install anything for the game to work – just open the htm file with your browser. I did have problems getting it to work in Chrome, though, so you may need to use something other than that. Internet Explorer worked fine, though I had to tell it to allow blocked content.

As of yet, there’s only one “path” open, so you need to choose the top option in the first two screens, though you can also try to escape, if you like. Once you do that, I believe all the options work, though I might have missed one somewhere. All the paths are rather short, but as I mentioned before, I’m mostly just testing stuff out at this point. There are four different endings (but only one good one!) with a couple different ways to get to one or two of them. See if you can find them all!

So, how do you get to this surely fabulous game? Well, it’s a very small file, and I don’t really want to upload it to a filesharing site and risk it being taken down and having to reupload it, blah, blah, so I’m trying something different with that as well. Below you’ll see a picture (which is, at least for now, totally unrelated to the game). Click on it to open it full-sized, then save that to your computer. 

From there, you should be able to open that picture with your file compression software of choice. I use 7-Zip, which is free and quick to download here. If you’re having trouble getting it to work, what I do is right click the picture and choose “Open With,” then click on “Choose default program” at the bottom of the list. Make sure you don’t have the box that says “Always use this program to open this kind of file” checked, and click Browse. Find the 7-Zip folder in your Program Files, or wherever you installed it to (or find whatever other compression program you use) and choose 7zFM.exe, and open it with that, then extract from there. 

It sounds complicated, but it really isn’t. And once you’ve done it once, 7-Zip should show up in the “Open With” list of programs, so any more releases I do this way will be even easier to access. Also note this is just for Windows computers, but I’m sure it’s easy enough with Macs as well. If it doesn’t work out, I can see about putting the file up elsewhere, but I want to give this a try, anyway.

Enjoy!

The Whole Story

This is a story I thought up after talking to a few people on Fetlife about various fantasy scenarios that I thought could be kind of fun, plus a few that I came up with on all my own. Enjoy!

I should have known better.

I mean, I didn’t think there would be any harm in it, and, I suppose there wasn’t, except for, you know, to me. It was just a little bet, some silly fun to help pass the long, summer days. My little sister, Adriana, was the one actually on vacation, since, at 16, she’s still in high school. I’m 22, so I shouldn’t really be having a summer break, but since I’m not currently employed, I kind of do. Which, I won’t lie, is nice, because it’s been so hot lately that I don’t know if I’d be able to stand having to go to work every day.

It all started a couple hours ago, when Adriana found the package of Pull-Ups. She’s something of a neat freak, and her idea of things to do during summer vacation is to reorganize her room, or, as she’d been doing that day, cleaning the bathroom we share. I guess I should be grateful somebody does, so I don’t have to, but it’s still weird.

“Hey, look at this,” she said, opening my door and walking in unannounced, sitting down on my bed. I turned from my computer, a little annoyed, to see the half-empty package of Pull-Ups sitting beside her on the bed. “They were under the sink.”

“Those must be Robyn’s,” I mused, staring over at them. “Jeez, it’s been forever since she was over. I can’t believe those are still here.” Mostly because I was shocked it had taken Adriana this long to get her cleaning mits on that particular piece of the house.

“Well, she doesn’t need them anymore,” Adriana looked into the package, poking at the garments. “She’s potty trained now.” I nodded absent-mindedly, starting to turn back to my computer. “You know, I bet you could fit into these.”

I snorted, spinning back around to look at her. “Yeah, right. Robyn’s three and they fit her. I’m pretty sure they’re not going to be able to fit me, too.”

“Oh, come on,” Adriana teased, picking one of them up, holding it up by the sides and stretching it out, distorting the bodies of the three princesses standing on the front. “You’re tiny! It might fit!”

I rolled my eyes, sure that she was wrong – I was small, certainly more petite, in every way, than her, which she never let me forget, though not that small – but also sure that she wasn’t about to give up. “Fine, give it here,” I said, standing and snatching the training pants away from her. She scurried off as I ditched my shorts and panties, then, feeling like an idiot, tugged the Pull-Up over my feet and started to work it up my legs. I felt more and more surprised as I watched it get higher and higher on my body, sure at some point it would reach its limit and rip.

And then it was all the way up. It was tight, padding pressing hard against me, but it was on. I wriggled and moved around, trying to get it to act like it was going to tear, to prove it hadn’t really fit after all, but it seemed quite safe and secure. My cheeks burned at the thought of being in a pair of Pull-Ups, ones that belonged to my little cousin, and actually having them fit…

“Are you done yet?” Adriana knocked on my door.

“Yeah, they, uh… They don’t fit!” I called back, not wanting to admit she had been right after all. I could always just tear the sides once I had them back off, after all, and she’d never know the difference.

“You’re probably just not doing it right!” Adriana opened my door anyway, barging in and then stopping dead in her tracks as she saw me, one hand shooting up to her mouth in a vain attempt to hide her giggling. “Aww, look at you!”

“Shut up,” I flushed, holding my hands in front of my crotch. “It doesn’t really count, they’re tight and…”

“You’re not cheating your way out of this!” she declared. “Now, what should I have you do?”

“What? No, that’s not fair!” I shook my head. “I didn’t think it was a real bet! And you have to define the conditions beforehand!”

“Oh, this is just what I would have had you do anyway,” she waved me off, missing my point. “And it doesn’t matter what you’d have wanted if you’d won, because you clearly didn’t. Hmm… I know! You’re going to use that.” She brushed my hands aside, pointing at the Pull-Up.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to that,” I pouted. Not that it mattered. Adriana always got her way. With our parents, it was because she was the youngest; with me, it was because she’d outgrown me years and years ago, to the point where I could hardly remember what it felt like to actually be an older sibling, other than being done with school a few years before she was.

“Not here, either,” she mused. “I want you to go out and do it.”

“Out where?” I asked nervously.

“Oh, I don’t know. A playground, a store… Wherever you want.” She grinned, going to my dresser and beginning to root through my clothes, finding a pair of pink shorts I hadn’t worn in years. They were shorter than the denim ones I had been wearing, and rather childish looking, but when she tossed them to me, I was still glad to put them on, just to cover the Pull-Up.

“I really don’t…” I started to say as I stood there, awkwardly watching her go through my things.

“I know!” she exclaimed, seemingly not hearing me. She grabbed my hand and dragged me to her room, where she opened up her closet and grabbed a T-shirt from a hanger. “Paula left this here last time she was over, and I keep forgetting to get it back to her.” It was pink as well, with a large badge looking emblem on the center. The top of the design was a unicorn’s head, and the body was divided in two, one half containing an open book, the other what seemed to be a shepherd’s staff.. It looked somehow familiar, though I couldn’t quite place it.

“Come on, off,” she commanded, staring at my shirt. Sighing, I stripped, taking the new shirt and pulling it down over my head. It fit, though it left an inch or two of skin exposed around my midriff, in which I could see the waistband of the Pull-Up. Blushing, I tugged my shorts back up, much to Adriana’s delight. “Sit,” she told me next, gesturing to her bed. She made quick work of separating my hair into pigtails, tying each bunch in place with a pink ribbon, then started applying make-up to my face, stepping back every minute or two to examine her work.

Finally, she pulled a pair of pink and white sneakers from the back of her closet. In addition to being a neat freak, she’s also a pack rat, a combination that shouldn’t work as well as it did. She probably hadn’t worn those shoes since she was six or seven, but I had a bad feeling they’d fit on my feet, no problem, and so they did, once she’d found a pair of white socks to go under them. “There!” she declared, admiring her handiwork.

I was almost afraid to look at what she’d done, but she didn’t give me a choice, dragging me over to her mirror. I was stunned by what I saw there. I liked to think, as most people do once they hit a certain age, that I didn’t look as old as I am… But I never imagined I could look this young. Staring back at me was a girl who was surely Adriana’s younger sister, as she couldn’t possibly be any older than 14 or 15. Knowing about the Pull-Up under my shorts made me feel even smaller.

“Adorable!” she cooed, before scooting me through the house and out the door, grabbing my purse and my keys on the way. “Now go, and don’t come back until your little Pull-Ups are wet, you hear me? You’re not to just sit in the driveway and go there, either… I don’t want to see you again for two hours, at least,” she ordered sternly.

“Wait, you’re not coming with me?” I asked in disbelief. She grabbed my shoulders, spinning me around to face the door and patting my bottom to send me on my way.

“I have other things to do,” she said. “You don’t need a babysitter, do you?”

I had a good idea just what it was she had to do, and that was confirmed when I pulled my car into an empty driveway a few houses down to sulk for a few minutes. Sure enough, Johnny’s car pulled into our own driveway, and when Adriana answered the door, she had her tongue down his throat before they’d even closed the door behind themselves.

I couldn’t believe it. Had she really gone through all that just to get me out of the house? As I thought about it, I realized it had all seemed a little staged, and she was just a little too prepared… But why hadn’t she just asked me to let her have the house to herself for a little while? This was going a little far!

Then again, I suppose if she had asked me that, I would have been able to figure out what was going on anyway. And apparently she didn’t want that. I wasn’t about to barge in now, dressed like this, to walk in on her and her boyfriend doing… whatever they were up to. I hoped they were just making out, though I wasn’t sure if that was just because she was too young, and my little sister, despite appearances, or if I’d be too jealous of her otherwise, since I don’t have anyone to do that with myself.

At the very least, I thought, this would make good blackmail material. If I’d had this to hold over her head – and obviously, if she’d gone to this extreme to get rid of me, she didn’t want anyone to know – I would never have let her do this to me. I stared down at myself in disgust, wondering why she’d chosen to do this in the first place. Was it just her weird sense of humor? Or was it her way of proving her own power to herself, smugly watching me leave, looking so childish, knowing she had some probably rather adult activities awaiting her, things I hadn’t done in a very long time?

The more I thought about it, the more mad I got, and the more determined that I was going to milk this secret for all it was worth. Let her have her fun… When I got back, I was going to be the boss. I’d be the big sister, like I always should have been. She wouldn’t just come barging into my room without knocking anymore, either, that was for sure.

Eventually, however, that fuming got rather boring, so I pulled away and drove off to a store. I didn’t have anything in particular I was looking for, except a way to kill the time before returning and letting Adriana know how badly her silly little plan had backfired. I finally settled on trying on sunglasses, my purse resting on a shelf beside me while I modeled them in the glasses display mirror. I knew they would look better once I had this make-up off and the pigtails gone. I was considering heading to the bathroom to do just that, and to take care of some other business, since Adriana wouldn’t be in any position to ask why I’d broken the terms of our bet when I was through with her, only to feel a hand close around my arm.

“Shouldn’t you be in school, young lady?” a voice asked from above.

I squirmed, trying to tug my arm free, cheeks flushing to match my outfit. I didn’t want to explain how old I really was, so instead I simply pointed out, “Umm, it’s summer,” with a squeak.

I stared into the mirror, seeing a large, unhappy looking woman looming under me. Under her angry gaze, even just through the reflection, I felt about the age I looked, if not younger. “Saint Mary’s summer vacation ended a week ago,” she informed me.

I started to roll my eyes, ask her why she thought that, even if I was young enough, I went there, when I glanced down to see the reflection of the crest on my shirt. Of course… That’s where I knew it from. Obviously, I’d seen the little robots… umm, I mean students… that came from the boarding school on the edge of town walking around with it on their blazers, though I hadn’t realized Paula went there. “I-I’m just borrowing this shirt from a friend!”

“We’ll see about that,” the woman replied. “Now, where are your parents?”

“At work…” I answered meekly, and honestly.

She spun me around, continuing to glare, apparently to let me know she wasn’t fooling around. “I know you’re not old enough to drive yourself here. Where are they?” I wasn’t sure what to say to that. As my mind blanked, the woman shook her head and began to drag me away. I tried to plant my feet, to stop her, only to realize that while it might have slowed her down a little, it also made me look like a spoiled brat, refusing to move until my mommy bought me what I wanted.

As soon as she happened across another “grown-up”, who happened to be a woman only slightly younger looking than her, she thrust me in front of her, demanding to know, “Is this your daughter?” The other woman just shook her head, but that didn’t discourage her, as she immediately began tromping off towards the next aisle.

“Look, this is all just a mistake,” I told her, shrinking slightly as she gave me a look. “I’m not really a kid, okay? I’m 22! So just let me go, and…”

“Twenty-two?” she snorted. “Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”

My cheeks burned. “It’s true!” I protested, though it came out as more of a whine. “Just look at my…” I let out a gasp as I reached for my purse. “Wait, we have to go back… I left…”

“I’ve had enough of your nonsense,” she declared. “Unless you’re going to tell me where your parents are to make this easier on me, I don’t want to hear another word out of you, young lady.”

“No, but I need it!” I cried, tugging at her seemingly unbreakable grip. “You can’t do this!”

But clearly I was wrong about that. Despite my fighting, I found myself being dragged through the entire store, presented before everyone who looked like they could possibly be old enough to have given birth to me. I could only pray that none of my friends were shopping that day. And, to make things worse, my bladder just kept feeling more and more full. At first, I was too embarrassed to say anything about that, but as I began to realize just how long it was going to take to do what she had planned, I knew waiting was not going to be an option.

“Look, can you just let me go to the bathroom?” I asked nervously. It felt ridiculous to have to ask permission, and even more so to be completely ignored. “Come on, let me go!” I tried a few minutes later.

“You aren’t getting away that easily, little missy,” she informed me, only tightening her grip.

“B-But…” I whimpered, fidgeting as I felt a few drops of urine fall into the padding wrapped tight around my groin. I stopped, feeling them soak in, followed by a sudden cold sensation. At the shock of it, I sent another spurt of pee into my pants, which sent a wave of coolness over my privates. I hadn’t paid much attention to the package, though now, as I thought about it, standing there, shivering slightly, though more from the surprise than the actual temperature, there had been snowflakes on these Pull-Ups, rather than the traditional flowers or stars. They must have been those Cool Alert ones, designed to make sure the toddler really knew that they’d gone… Which I hadn’t needed any help with, thank you very much.

Another tug got me moving again, the padding squishing slightly between my legs now. I was going to need a plan, I realized, or I’d be spending all day doing this, and I’d have no hope of escaping the fate of completely emptying my bladder into my Pull-Ups. “All right!” I squeaked. “I’ll take you to my mom.”

A smile crossed the woman’s place, making her look far more pleasant than I’d expected she could be. “That’s more like it,” she nodded.

“They’re back the other way,” I said, pointing back the way we’d come, back towards the sunglasses, where I would get my purse back, and my ID, and then I’d be free. Why hadn’t I thought of that before? I suppose I was just too shocked at what was happening to think straight, though now it does seem like the obvious thing to do.

I feel like I should mention here that it had been quite a while since I’d been to the bathroom before Adriana came barging into my room, and I’d been shopping for a fair amount of time before the woman showed up. And, much as I hate to admit it, we’d already covered a lot of the store before I came up with that ruse. Plus, as I mentioned, I’d already gone some, and my bladder doesn’t seem to realize that when I go a little, it’s emptier… In fact, it only makes it feel more full, until it drains completely…

In an effort not to completely soak my Pull-Up in front of this stranger, I’d been doing a lot of wiggling about, but it was only then that it got bad enough that I had to press my free hand between my legs, pushing the damp padding deeper into my private parts in an effort to keep them in check. All my twitching and flailing the woman didn’t notice, but that got her attention fast. “Just what do you think you’re doing, young lady?” she demanded, stopping in her tracks and staring down at me.

I was too embarrassed, and too deeply involved in my quest to stay dry(-ish) that I couldn’t answer, yet she still figured it out after a moment. “Oh, I recognize that little dance,” she said. “You really do have to go, don’t you? I’m sorry, dear. Come on, then.”

At last, relief was in sight! I smiled and nodded, hurrying alongside her, heading for the bathroom… Only to spot a group of my friends an aisle over. I assume they weren’t there together on purpose, as they had stopped to chat right at the end of the aisle.

“A-Actually, let’s go to the bathroom at the other end of the store,” I said quietly, tugging the woman in the opposite direction.

“Nonsense,” she told me. “We’re almost there.”

“Yes, but… My mother is this way, so you can just drop me off with her…”

The woman’s eyes flashed. “You told me she wasn’t over there.”

“Y-Yes… W-Well…” I stammered, trying to think my way out of that one.

She yanked me away, luckily away from my friends. “I was almost willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, to think that this is your parents’ fault… I was going to let them know how important it is to keep children like you in school unless they have an extremely good excuse. But now I’m beginning to think this is all your doing. Did you tell them that you were still on summer break? Hmm? You dispicable little liar…”

It was somewhere during this that the levees broke. To be perfectly honest, I almost didn’t notice at first, until I felt a fresh coolness start to spread around my bottom. As the realization of what had caused it came over me, I could feel myself peeing, letting go more and more into my Pull-Up, but there was no stopping it now. I could feel the padding swelling up between my legs as it soaked it up, growing fuller and fuller…

The fact that I was still being led around by the woman didn’t help, either, the constant motion making it very hard to even try to stop myself. And, in the end, I didn’t – my body just ran out of urine to dump into my pants. I let out a sigh of relief that I hadn’t leaked; not a second later, I felt it, a droplet, purely warm this time, not turning cold like the rest of it had, making its way down my thigh.

I looked down in horror, where I could clearly see that drop. When I glanced a little higher, I was even more unhappy to see a wet spot on the crotch of my shorts. It wasn’t huge, but it was humiliating to see it, knowing what it meant. I’d used my Pull-Ups, and not only that, I’d used them so much they couldn’t hold it all. I was mortified. Without realizing it, I stopped in my tracks.

“What is it now?” the woman demanded, turning to see what the hold up was now. My head snapped up to face her, my cheeks burning. I prayed she wouldn’t notice, that the spot was small enough that it would escape her notice. She narrowed her eyes at me as I stood there, willing her to look away, squirming. Unfortunately, my motion squeezed another drop of urine from the completely saturated lining of my Pull-Up, and I felt it begin its trip down my inner thigh.

Her eyes snapped to it at once, then followed it up to the wet spot. “You didn’t…!” she exclaimed, shaking her head. Then, somehow, she found a way to make it all even worse as she bent forward and pulled open the front of my shorts, looking down right at my Pull-Up. I wanted to die right there. “I thought that didn’t look like a normal accident,” she shook her head. “How old are you?”

“I’m 22,” I squeaked, staring down at my feet, scuffing one pink sneakered foot on the floor as I watched the drops of my own pee sliding down it, reminding me of my state. My answer sounded ridiculous even to me, and it was obvious she wasn’t buying it, either.

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” she shook her head. “I’ve had enough of fooling with you, young lady. I’ll take you back to St. Mary’s myself, and they can call your parents and sort all this out. But I’m not about to let you in my car like that.”

“Then don’t,” I protested half-heartedly, too humiliated to put much effort into it.

She didn’t even seem to notice as she began dragging me back through the store, each step wringing more wetness from my Pull-Up, making the wet spot on my shorts bigger, or sending more wetness down my legs and into my socks. This time, she seemed to know exactly where she was going, while I had no idea what she was planning, not until she stopped and I glanced up from my feet, jaw dropping as I found myself surrounded by row after row of diapers.

“No way,” I shook my head. “There is no way I’m wearing a diaper!”

Again, she apparently didn’t notice, or simply ignored me. I’m not sure which would have been worse, that I was so mortified by my experience that I couldn’t make myself heard, or that she saw me as just a kid, not even worth paying attention to even when we were talking about my own wardrobe.

“A youth sized diaper would probably fit you better,” she mused while I stood there, uncomfortably scanning the aisle, ducking my head whenever someone passed by, praying they wouldn’t come in and see me standing there. “But if a Pull-Up will fit you, I bet a baby diaper would, too, and the way you’ve been acting, that seems more appropriate, don’t you think?” I shook my head vehemently, but she just kept going. “And look, Pampers are on sale! I guess that settles it, then.”

“No,” I whimpered, staring at the package as she took it down, seeing the toddler on the front and knowing I was about to be dressed like her, the Disney Princesses on my Pull-Ups replaced with even more juvenile Sesame Street characters, the faux underwear design gone in favor of tight, inescapable tapes. I could remember Robyn, when she was younger, toddling around in diapers that looked just like this… Now she was potty trained, and I was about to be put back in them. As I stood there, contemplating my fate, a final burst of pee forced its way out of me, sending fresh trickles down my legs, reminding me that, much as I hated to admit it, I couldn’t entirely blame her for thinking I did need diapers.

“Hmm,” she said, watching me squirm, “then again, maybe these aren’t absorbent enough.” She started to look over towards the bigger diapers, then shook her head, picking up a pack of baby wipes instead. “We’ll just double up. Come on, then.”

“No,” I tried again, voice going even quieter now, feeling even more self-conscious. “I won’t do it!”

Finally, the woman gave an indication that she heard me, though unfortunately it was by smacking my wet bottom and sternly saying, “If you were my daughter, you’d be getting a lot more than that. You should be thanking me for taking care of you, not constantly whining.”

“But…” I protested, rubbing my bottom poutily, only to find, to my horror, that there was a wet spot forming back there, too. Once again, she was back to pretending I didn’t exist, so I stayed quiet, trying desperately to think of a way to get myself out of this mess. I glanced around as I hurried to keep up with her, looking for something I could use to my advantage, only to accidently find myself looking right into the eyes of Julie, one of my friends. She was still hanging out with the group, though they’d moved to a slightly different spot. My eyes stayed on hers for a few moments, hoping she didn’t see me, that she wouldn’t recognize me, and then I was tugged along.

I do wonder now if I should have just bit the bullet and called out to her, asking for help. Sure, I didn’t want them to see me, much less realize what I was wearing, but even that would have been better than what wound up happening, right? I’m not even sure.

When we passed the sunglasses display, I started to pull on her hand, trying to get closer, to be able to grab my purse and end this madness. If anything, it just made her take me in the opposite direction more quickly. As I watched the sunglasses get further and further away, taking with them my last chance at getting out of this before finding myself Pampered, I demanded, “Stop!”

To my surprise, she did, though I also got the attention of seemingly everyone around me. I felt their eyes turn to me, and, I was sure, especially to the damp spot on my shorts, and my face turned bright red. “Well, what is it now?” she asked impatiently.

I almost couldn’t speak. The rest of the customers were moving on now, though I could see the smaller children pointing at me, their mothers whispering about how it wasn’t polite, and a few actual teenagers were snickering to see someone they perceived as one of their own in my situation. “M-My purse,” I finally managed to spit out. “It’s right over there, and we can clear this whole thing up… Please…”

She glared down at me, and for a minute, I was sure it wasn’t going to work. Then, at last, she sighed and said, “Well, lead on then.” She didn’t let go, but this time when I tugged at her hand, she followed. I made my way over to the display, turned to the shelf I’d rested my purse on… And it was gone.

“N-No…” I squeaked. “It was here, I put it here! Then you took me away, and someone must have stolen it!”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure they did. Come on, you’ve wasted enough of my time, young lady.”

“No,” I sniffled, staring back at the empty shelf as she took me away. “It was there… I know it was there… I’m not a kid…”

As my one stroke of luck, she managed to find an empty checkout lane to escort me to. It was staffed by a girl, a cute little thing probably a few years younger than my real age, who hid a rather obvious giggle as she stared from the diapers she was scanning to me, clearly knowing what was going on.

“I suppose your money was in your purse that supposedly got stolen, too, wasn’t it?” the woman asked. The only thing I could do in response was blush, yet again. “That’s what I thought. “Excuse me, miss, but do your bathrooms up front have changing stations, or is it just the ones in the back? And could I get an extra bag?”

“They all do,” the cashier reported happily. “And here you go. You two have a good day!”

I was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen, and my suspicion was only confirmed as I found myself being dragged into the ladies’ room, back to the changing stall. With a surprising display of strength, she pulled the changing table down from the wall and lifted me onto it, pushing me back onto the hard plastic. “Now, are you going to be good?” she asked, “or do I need to strap you down?”

“Just let me go,” I whimpered, starting to sit up.

She sighed, pushing me back down and reaching for the strap, pulling it tight across my tummy, holding me in place. I was a little surprised the changing table held me, but it gave no sign of my weight causing any strain, and while my legs did hang over the edge from the knees down, the rest of my body fit onto it well enough, giving the woman easy access to my shorts, and what was beneath.

“Look at what a mess you made,” she shook her head, examining me. Now that I was standing still, rather than walking, the air against my wet legs felt especially cool, giving me goosebumps. As I wiggled my feet in the sneakers, they felt quite damp, as did the sodden padding beneath my bottom. I certainly had made quite a mess, I had to agree.

With that, she tugged off my shoes, then my socks, holding them by her thumb and forefinger as she dropped them into the spare bag. Then she reached up towards the waistband of my shorts. Frantically, I snatched for it as well, getting my hands smacked in return until she grew frustrated with that. She undid the strap, making me think, for just a moment, that she was fed up with me and ready to leave me to fend for myself. Then, instead, she grabbed my arms and pushed them closer to my belly, so that when she quickly re-did the strap, they were caught underneath, leaving me helpless to stop her.

“Please, don’t do this,” I pouted, thrashing uselessly back and forth.

“I really hope you’re new to St. Mary’s,” she said as she yanked down my shorts, depositing them into the bag as well. “I’d hate to think I’m sending my daughter to a school that would tolerate your behavior for long.”

“I don’t go to St. Mary’s!” I tried to tell her again. “I don’t go to any school! I’m an adult!”

“Oh, really?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she ripped the sides of the Pull-Up, sliding it out from between my legs and holding it up in front of me. “Does this look like something an adult would do?”

I couldn’t very well answer, since I knew the answer was no, but also knew that’s what she wanted to hear. She turned and threw the sodden garment away in the trash can at the corner of the stall before returning to me, now tied down and naked from the waist down. I tried again to free my arms, wanting to cover myself, not wanting another woman to see me like this, so exposed.

“Calm down,” she told me, bending down to pick up the bag of her purchases, removing the baby wipes first. “You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before, even though I haven’t had to do this for my own daughter in a very long time.” I shivered at the cool, damp touch of the baby wipes against my sensitive skin, knowing that every inch they touched, she was getting a full view of. It was even worse than it could have been, as I had just had a full Brazilian not a week earlier, getting myself ready for bikini season. Now, instead of a sexy swimsuit, I was about to find myself in a Pamper.

Finally, after what I felt was far too long, she moved on from my crotch and started to clean my legs, all the way down to my feet. Other than still being naked, I have to admit that was nice. I felt dirty and gross, knowing the wetness there was from my own pee, and the damp feeling the wipes left behind was much fresher and cleaner, and I was grateful for it after walking around in a leaky Pull-Up for so long.

But after that came the worst part, as she threw the used wipes away, put the other back in the bag, and brought out, instead, the Pampers. “No, no,” I sniffled. “Please don’t….”

She ripped open the package, pulling a pair of the diapers out. She laid one, still folded up, on my stomach, heaving from my rapidly failing attempt not to burst into tears. The other one she unfolded and slipped beneath my bottom. Almost before I knew what was going on, she had it up between my legs, and then taped tightly in place. Before I could adjust to that, she had the second one off my tummy and over the other one. Then she put my sneakers back on my feet, un-did the strap, and lifted me down.

Even one of the diapers were even thicker than the Pull-Up, and with two, I had to stand with my legs slightly apart. They bulged out beneath my shirt, completely visible and obvious, and when she grabbed my hand and began leading me out of the stall, they gave me a bit of a waddle. I should have stopped her right away, but I was too flabbergasted by what had just happened. I was diapered. Even if I managed to get home, Adriana would find me in Pampers, rather than the Pull-Up she’d left me in, and whatever blackmail I had against her for what she was doing with her boyfriend would be invalidated by my new state.

So it was only when I saw her start to open the stall door that it hit me what was about to happen. “No!” I whined, running in front of her and blocking the door. “I can’t go out there like this!”

“Your shorts are soaked,” she told me. “I’m not putting them back on you, and you certainly are not about to get in my car wearing them. I’m parked close to the entrance, don’t worry. And I have one of my daughter’s extra skirts in my car you can wear.”

“I won’t do it!” I declared, in no uncertain terms. “I won’t!” I stomped my foot angrily, refusing to give in.

She picked me up and slung me over her shoulder, leaving my diapered bottom entirely on display. I went limp at first, the blood rushing to my head, but as I watched the bathroom floor streaming by beneath me, I began fighting again, for all the good it did me. She carted me to the store’s entrance, and then outside, with me screaming and crying all the while, then set me down  my what I presumed to be her car, dropping the bags so she could snatch my wrist when I tried to run off while unlocked her trunk at the same time. She put the bags in there, and pulled out a short, pleated, plaid skirt from inside, wrapping it over my diaper.

“I hope you know what a fool you made yourself look like in there,” she lectured as she led me, now clothed, to the passenger’s side back door of her car, unlocked it as well and putting me inside, fastening my seatbelt for me. She closed the door and then went around the car to her own seat, continuing once she sat and started the engine. “You think anyone in there would have believed your ridiculous story about being 22? I doubt they’d even believe you’re 13, or 14, or whatever you really are, since you were acting just like a naughty toddler.”

She was, once again, right, and, since I couldn’t deny it, I just sat there in her back seat, sulking. After a few minutes, it dawned on me where she was taking me, and I knew I needed to stop her. “I can tell you my address,” I volunteered meekly. “You can just drop me off there…”

“I hope you don’t seriously think I’ll believe you after all that,” she scoffed. “You’re going right to St. Mary’s, to the headmistress’s office, young lady. She’s going to hear all about this, and you can bet she won’t be as kind as I’ve been.”

And… umm… That’s where I am now, obviously. On the way to your office, we ran into Paula, unfortunately. She recognized me right away, and I could see an evil glint in her eye as she saw me standing there in her shirt and a plaid skirt just like hers.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” she said, all polite, “what are you doing with my roommate?”

And, much to my horror, the woman told her the whole story while I stood there, turning paler and paler, wishing I could sink into the floor. Every now and then, Paula would speak up helpfully, telling the woman that I must have hitched a ride into town, since I’d been there this morning, that, given my bedwetting – which is a total lie, by the way! I haven’t wet the bed in years! – she isn’t surprised I had such a big accident during the day finally.

“I feel so bad,” Paula shook her head. “They let me room with her even though she’s younger than me because she’s such a trouble-maker, and they thought I could help straighten her out, but she just won’t listen. I’ve tried everything!”

Then the woman comforted her. Her! “I’m sure you tried your best, dear. I’ve seen her, and she was almost more than I can handle. I’m not surprised you couldn’t get through to her, either.”

While the woman was in here talking to you, Paula stayed with me, watching me like a hawk. She even flipped up my skirt and took a picture of my diaper with her cell phone! She’s not supposed to have that, right? But, anyway, she sent that to my sister, who texted a message back to her saying that she was going to tell our parents that I was visiting a friend in another state so they wouldn’t worry about me for a while.

So, there you go, ma’am, the whole story! As you can see, those two are both lying! Well, I guess only Paula is really lying… But the woman just doesn’t understand what’s going on, so you can’t trust her. What? N-No, I didn’t know that Paula had reported that she’d caught me masturbating in my diapers last night, but like I said, she’s a liar and…

Umm, yeah, I assume Mary is your patron saint. Which one? I have no idea. Jesus’s mom, I assume. Mary of Egypt, huh? No, I’m not Catholic, so I don’t know what she’s the saint of. Ch-Chastity? Okay, yeah, I could see where the whole masturbation thing might be a problem, then, if I was a student and all, and it was true, but I’m not, so…

Wait, who is that? Why did you invite a nurse here? What does she have? Locking plasic pants? What for? For after what?!

Where did you get that schedule? That’s not mine! That isn’t my name! Did Paula give you that?! That’s fake! What are you writing on it? No, look, I don’t need diapers, and I don’t even go here, so I don’t need to go to the nurse for anything, much less for a change every three hours! No, stop writing that! I don’t need extra-thick diapers at night! I’m not a bedwetter! Stop talking to the nurse, I’m sitting right here! It’s not up to her whether I need extra thick diapers during the day, too! It’s up to me what I wear! I am an adult and…

Well, I’ve had about enough of you, too. Good, send the nurse off… Listen, I just need you to take me to my house, and I can prove… Wait, why is she bringing Paula and that woman back in? Wh-Why are you getting that paddle down?

Y-You believe me, don’t you?

The Halloween Story

Mommy Knows Best

And now for something completely different…

As the title suggests, this is something a little bit different (though not the “something different” I promised a few posts ago… That’s a whole other project that I’m very slowly working on) for this site.

I suppose some background would be good. I found this years and years ago at my grandmother’s house while I was looking through some of my dad’s old comics. I’m not sure what comic this came from, or how old it is exactly… When I tried to remember it semi-recently, I always thought it was Casper in this story, which it isn’t, obviously, but looking the information for this character up online reveals that this could have been in the Casper comic, or one of four comics starring this character himself, and it seems it could have been published anywhere from 1953-1980, though I would guess somewhere in the late 60s or 70s.

Anyway, whatever comic it was in, I took it home and kept it for a while, then at some point got rid of it, but tore out these pages and kept them in a variety of hiding places, until finally finding one that even I quickly forgot about, as for quite a while now, I’d forgotten about saving them and just assumed it was gone with the rest of the comic, until tonight when I stumbled across them while looking for something else.

I’ve never seen this scanned, or even mentioned, on any AB/DL site, so I figured I might as well put it up. It may be out there somewhere – when looking for mentions of it, I usually looked under Casper, after all – but it would be pretty neat if I was the first. But enough with the explanation – here is Spooky, the Tuff Little Ghost in BOOtiful Baby!

Anniversary!

I just thought I’d point out that it’s this site’s one month anniversary today. Even though I did cheat a bit, since most of the content already existed and I just had to post it, this is the 150th post, which I think is pretty good for a month ^_^ Also, according to Blogspot’s stat page, I’ve had over 25,000 pageviews, so thank you all for that. I hope you’ve all enjoyed it, and will keep coming back for more!

Red, White and Blue

Celeste could feel her employees staring at her as she strode into the gazebo, but she didn’t care. She was sure they hadn’t expected her to come – they’d only invited her because she’d caught them talking about it behind her back and demanded to know what they were whispering about. After that, they hadn’t really had any choice.

“It’s an Independence Day party,” Bonnie had told her timidly. “Well, my parents are really the ones throwing it, but they told me I should invite everyone from work, so…” The girl stared down at her feet, cheeks turning red.

“Then I’m sure you were just about to come to my office and ask me to come, weren’t you?” Celeste grinned as the girl nodded, knowing quite well that wasn’t the case. She relished the chance to make her workers squirm, to show them who was boss. She had to, really… She was a rather small woman, and quite young to have gotten as far as she had already. If she didn’t show them that she meant business, they’d think they could walk all over her.

“You don’t have to bring anything,” Bonnie said. “You just have to make sure to wear red, white and blue.” Her cheeks darkened a shade. “That’s just my parents’ rule.”

Celeste had snorted at that, rolling her eyes. “All right, sure.”

She hadn’t really planned to go, not at first. She’d been invited to a few little parties her employees threw, almost always as a transparent attempt to get on her good side. Still, as the days had ticked past toward the holiday weekend, she began to reconsider. She didn’t have any other plans for that day, and productivity was always down the day after a three day weekend. If she went to the party, maybe they’d keep their celebrations to a minimum, and thus be better equipped the next day to get right back to work as usual. That was how she justified it, anyway. She knew they had plenty of gatherings without her, and even if she had no interest in going to them, it still hurt a little not to even be invited. So if her showing up ruined their fun, even just a little, well, that was what they deserved for all those other times.

She’d considered wearing one of her business suits, like the one she wore to the office every day, but eventually decided that might be taking things a bit too far. Besides, it was too hot to deal with that without the help of air conditioning. Instead, she threw on a yellow sundress, making sure to pick one that wasn’t one of the colors she was “supposed” to wear, slipping a pair of black strappy heeled sandals on. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she worried it was too casual, but she supposed it would do.

She was quite surprised at the house the directions Bonnie had sent her led to. It was further from the city than she’d expected, quite isolated from the other neighbors, and quite massive. It had two floors, with a massive porch across the whole front, supported by a row of ornate columns, and, she found as she began to walk around it, a gazebo, attached to the main house by a covered walkway. It looked like, and she supposed it probably was technically, a plantation house, the kind she’d only ever seen in old movies. She had to admit, when she’d heard Bonnie was inviting people to a party at her parents’ house, she’d nearly snickered at the idea of a grown woman doing that, rather than throwing her own, but if this was what their house looked like, she couldn’t blame her.

Most of her employees were gathered in the gazebo, though a few were a couple yards away, playing horse-shoes. There was a pair of small children, one of whom she identified as belonging to Sarah from the one time she had brought the little wretch in, claiming not to have been able to find a babysitter, playing in a sandbox a short distance in the opposite direction. In a small spur of the walkway sat a large grill, being tended to by an older man she assumed was Bonnie’s father, and a woman who must have been her mother was holding court in the gazebo.

To Celeste’s surprise, everyone was, indeed, wearing red, white and blue. Not just a little flag pin, either; they’d gone all out. A small part of her felt worried that she’d ignored the instructions, that she was going to stand out so much, but the rest of her was proud of herself. She wasn’t a mindless sheep like her workers – that was why she was their boss, after all, and not the other way around. It was only right that she look distinctive.

She began to make her way towards the gazebo, only to run into Bonnie, coming out of the house in a pair of white shorts and a red shirt, blue flip-flops on her feet, carrying an armful of hamburger and hot dog buns. Her face turned a little pale as she saw Celeste, and Celeste, for her part, couldn’t help but smile at that, feeling a bit of a charge run down her spine at  just how scared this woman, who was probably right around her own age, maybe a little older, was of her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, trying not to sound like she was mocking the girl too much. “You did invite me, didn’t you?”

“W-Well, yes,” Bonnie fumbled. Celeste grinned, drinking up the girl’s fear. “And I’m glad you came, really.”

“Oh, I can tell,” Celeste nodded. Bonnie turned a little paler at this, to Celeste’s glee. It was just so much fun watching her squirm. She always had been one of the biggest pushovers in the office.

“It’s just that… I did tell you about the dress code, right?” Bonnie bit her bottom lip anxiously.

“Yes, you did,” Celeste said, “but this is a party, not work! We’re all grown-ups here,” she wasn’t counting the children, since she barely took note of them, “We don’t need dress codes, now do we?”

“I don’t mind,” Bonnie was quick to note, “but it was my parents’ idea, and they like things done their way. I-I could go get you something from my room. I think we’re about the same size, so…”

“No need,” Celeste waved her off, starting back toward the gazebo. “I’m sure your parents will understand.”

“Well, okay…” Bonnie shrugged, a small grin of her own that Celeste missed, having her back to her by then, crossing her face. “If that’s what you want.”

Celeste marched up the path to the gazebo, walking up to Bonnie’s mother, basking in the glow of everyone’s attention. She hesitated for only a moment when she saw how tall the woman was, and how she towered over her. “You have a lovely home here,” she told her, holding out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m…”

“Excuse me, young lady, but I’m talking here,” the woman brushed her off. “It’s very rude to interrupt like that.”

Celeste’s eyes went wide at the scolding, and the fact that the lady hadn’t so much as looked at her before delivering it, just assuming that she was addressing a child. She saw some of her employees snicker as they watched her being rebuked. That just wouldn’t do.

“I’m sorry,” she said as sweetly, and sincerely, as she could manage. “It’s just that I’m Bonnie’s boss, so I thought I would introduce myself, and…”

“Young lady, I warned you once. Now, please be quiet until I’m done talking.”

Celeste’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, completely shocked at the way she was being treated. How dare she?! She set her jaw, preparing to launch into a tirade to quiet her tittering workers, when Bonnie’s mother finished off her story, earning a round of hearty chuckles, then, at last, turned to her.

“Children should be seen and not heard,” she started off with, which only made Celeste more livid. “But I suppose it isn’t your fault your parents didn’t teach you that. What do you need, dear? The sandbox is right over there, and the bathroom is inside and… What are you wearing?” She shook her head, seemingly only then noticing Celeste’s attire. “Bonnie, you told me you announced the dress code for the party to everyone.”

“I did!” Bonnie squeaked, dropping the buns off at the grill with her father and scurrying up to the gazebo. The other workers chipped in, confirming that she had.

“Did you not have anything the right color, dear? I’m sure Bonnie wouldn’t mind sharing her clothes with one of her friends, would you?”

“I offered to let her,” Bonnie said innocently, “but she didn’t want to.”

Celeste had had enough of being talked over, and about. “I am not a child, and I am not her ‘friend’,” she told Bonnie’s mother, “I am her boss, and a grown woman, and I will wear whatever I please.”

“She’s a willful little thing, isn’t she?” Bonnie’s mother laughed, getting everyone else started. Celeste’s eyes lit up with anger as she stared around the gazebo at her employees, stomping one foot to try to bring them back under her control. “I’ll give you one more chance, young lady. Let Bonnie help you pick out something more appropriate for the holiday, or I’ll give you the one that you so clearly deserve.”

“Excuse me? Are you threatening me?” Celeste drew herself up to her full height, though next to Bonnie’s mother, that wasn’t particularly impressive. “Are you going to kick me out because I’m wearing yellow?”

“Of course not! Kicking you out wouldn’t teach you anything, dear. Honey, could you help me out here?” Her husband turned the heat on the grill down and walked up to his wife. She was tall, but he was even taller – Celeste had to admit that she felt rather childish standing in front of them. “This naughty child is dressed improperly, and refuses to listen. Could you help me with the red part of her new outfit?”

“Yes, honey,” he smiled at her obediently, kissing her forehead. “Bonnie, go watch the grill for me, sweetie.” Bonnie trotted back over there, though she spent more time watching what was going on with Celeste than doing what she had been told to.

Bonnie’s mother pulled an empty chair from the perimeter of the gazebo, setting it down beside her husband, who took off his grilling apron and handed it to her before suddenly grabbing Celeste’s wrist. “What are you doing?” Celeste demanded, feeling herself being pulled toward him. She tried to plant her feet, but the heels made it difficult to do much of anything other than go along without running the risk of falling and twisting her ankle.

He didn’t answer her. He just sat down, then dragged her over his lap. She gasped, purse falling to the gazebo floor as her hands flew behind her to try to push her skirt back down over her bottom, humiliated that she had just flashed half her employees. She could hear the other half moving around, trying to get a better look. She tried to turn to see them, but Bonnie mother knelt down and grabbed her chin between her fingers. “Clearly your mother didn’t believe in spanking,” she said, the word eliciting a gasp and a fruitless squirm from the prone Celeste, “and that’s why you turned into such a rude, disrespectful young woman. Well, we do believe in it, and you’re in our house now.”

With that, Celeste’s hands were brushed away from the hem of her dress, which was then flipped up onto her lower back, fully revealing her black-pantied ass to the world. Then, to her ever-deepening horror, she felt his hand in the waistband of those, pulling them down, away from her pale, round bottom. “No!” she squealed. Had her face not already been as red as it could be, she might have blushed at how childish her tone was, something she tried to correct as she went on. “You can’t do this! I am an adult, and you… Oww!”

Her back arched as the first smack struck, sending a wave of pain through her body. “N-No,” she sniffled, starting to wriggle on the man’s lap as the initial shock of the impact wore off. His hand exploded across her rear again, this time on the opposite cheek, and she cried out again, feeling tears start to fill her eyes. Clearly, despite what she thought, they could do it. “Please, stop…” she begged quietly.

She saw Bonnie’s mother nod as she said it, and suddenly his hand was everywhere, spanking what seemed like every inch of her exposed bottom. Sometimes the strikes were quick, sometimes they were slower, but harder. She never knew where the next would come from, whether it would hit her butt or her thighs, she just knew that it would hurt. She tried, for a moment or two, to maintain her composure, to not show her employees how much it was getting to her, knowing the sight of her lying there, rear turning red and swollen, was bad enough. Before long, however, she was bawling, legs kicking, giving them all a show that was going to be hell to live down.

She didn’t see it – her eyes were too bleary from her tears to see much of anything – but she was sure there was a signal from Bonnie’s mother to stop, and, at last, the sound of her own flesh being paddled ceased, leaving just her own blubbering. She went limp, hanging over the man’s lap. She felt his hand resting on her warm, aching bottom, knowing it was still out on the open, but too exhausted to even try to lower her skirt. There didn’t seem a whole lot of use in that anymore, anyway.

“All right, enough,” Bonnie’s mother said after a few minutes, and she felt herself being lifted up and down on her feet, panties falling to her ankles. Her knees started to buckle – though she knew it couldn’t have been more than five or ten minutes, she felt as if she’d been lying down for hours now – but she managed to keep herself upright, and, at last, was able to pull down her dress, although her fingers brushed against the skin of her thighs as she did so, and she could tell the redness extended down even further. “You know, for claiming to be such a big girl, you sure started crying awfully quick,” she commented, “and it’s taking you a long time to quit. Straighten up, young lady! Your punishment is over, and no amount of boo-hooing is going to stop it!”

“I-I’m sorry!” Celeste stammered. “I’ll go change, I promise, I…”

“Yes, we are going to go change you, but a little girl like you can’t do it on her own. Come on.” Celeste’s wrist was grabbed again, and she hurried after the woman as she was guided back to the house, walking as fast as her heels, and the panties stretched out between her ankles, would allow. On the way, they picked up Bonnie, who looked much happier than Celeste had ever seen her before. When they got to the kitchen, Bonnie’s mother let go of Celeste, ordered Bonnie to undress her, and then vanished off into the depths of the house.

“You’ve really stepped in it this time,” Bonnie gloated, pushing Celeste down onto a hard wooden chair, smiling as she saw the woman wince when her spanked bottom hit it. “I can’t even remember the last time I got a spanking that rough.”

“Y-You can’t do this to me,” Celeste sniffled, watching helplessly as Bonnie pulled off her sandals and panties, setting them aside. “I’m your boss, you can’t…”

“I’m not,” Bonnie replied. “My mama is. I have no control over what she does.” She gave an exaggerated shrug. “Although I maybe might have mentioned what a horrible bitch you were to her a time or two. But it isn’t my fault what she decided to do with that. Now lift your arms.”

Celeste shook her head defiantly, standing up. “I won’t! I’m not putting up with this anymore! I’m going to get my purse, and then I’m getting the hell out of here!”

She started to stomp off toward the door, only to be stopped when Bonnie spoke up. “You can do that,” she said pleasantly. “I hope you do, really. Because as soon as daddy sees you out there without mama, you’ll get a spanking that makes the one you just got look like a walk in the park.” Celeste heard herself give a whimper at that, turning back to see that Bonnie looked completely serious about it. “Now sit your red little bottom down, and lift your arms.”

Celeste trudged back over to the chair and gingerly sat down on it. “I don’t have a separate bra on,” she said quietly.

“You don’t have anything we haven’t seen,” Bonnie informed her. “Lift.”

Seeing no other choice, Celeste raised her arms, blushing and shivering even before her dress was pulled up over her head, leaving her sitting in a strange house, naked as a jaybird, freshly spanked and timidly waiting to see what was going to happen next. How could this have happened to her?

Bonnie’s mother returned, her arms full of supplies, which she laid out on the floor, ending with a pink plastic mat that was spread out and then patted. Celeste was standing almost before she even thought about it. “I had a feeling she wouldn’t keep herself clean,” Bonnie’s mother said to Bonnie. “Come on, stop gawking. Lie down.” Celeste obeyed, lying down on the mat, feeling the plastic clinging to her sweaty skin uncomfortably. Bonnie’s mother pushed her legs apart, leaving her completely exposed, and then reached for a can of shaving gel.

“What’s that?” Celeste asked timidly.

Instead of answering right away, the woman sprayed the blue gel into her hand, then began rubbing it with the fingertips of her other hand before scooping some up and massaging it into Celeste’s groin. Celeste’s face glowed nearly as red as her other cheeks as she felt this stranger touching her there, one of her most intimate areas, going about her work as if there was nothing unusual about it. “A good little girl,” she spoke up once she had lathered up all of Celeste’s pubic hair to her satisfaction and wiped her hand on a towel she had brought, “keeps herself nice and clean down there. There’s no need for all that hair, now is there?”

Celeste gulped as she watched the woman pick up a razor. “Please, no,” she sniffled. “I’ll be nicer to your daughter, I promise. I’ll get her a promotion, I…”

She felt the razor glide across her skin, leaving a bare patch behind. Bonnie knelt down beside her mother, setting down a bowl of water, which the woman dipped the razor into, rinsing it off before moving on. “That might have been fine at one time,” she said, running the blade over the next section of doomed hair, “before I met you. You’re nothing but an overgrown child. The only reason anyone does what you say is because they’re afraid of getting caught in the path of one of your temper tantrums. Well, I’ve already raised a child, and I know just how to deal with them. Take Bonnie here. I was like your mother once, afraid of spanking, or any kind of discipline, not wanting to hurt my little angel. And then, one day, I got a call from the police telling me she’d been arrested on a drug charge. I wasn’t able to see it until then, but suddenly I realized I had been raising a spoiled little brat. Looking back, it was obvious she’d always been that way, and I just kept myself from seeing it, because if I had, then I’d have tried to punish her for it, and I was too scared to do that.”

She set down the razor, its work done. Celeste’s chin began to quiver as she stared down at herself, watching as the woman dipped a washcloth in the water and ran it over her smooth skin, revealing just how perfectly bald she’d been made down there. “So I knew that, to fix her, I’d have to start from the beginning. She resisted at first, but after a while even she was able to see that it was for the best. She’s a good girl now, aren’t you, Bonnie?” Bonnie nodded as she picked up the basin of water and took it back over to the sink. “The only reason she’s even working for you is that I didn’t want her to take all she had for granted. I assumed her boss would be someone she could look up to, somebody trustworthy and mature… Well, when I’m done with you, you will be.”

She reached over for another towel from the stack she’d brought down. The one she’d wiped her hand on had been a faded blue, but these were all bright white, and far fluffier. “And now,” Bonnie’s mother announced, “for the white of your new outfit.”

Celeste was confused by this for a moment, enough time for Bonnie’s mother to lift her bottom and slide the towel underneath, which was just what she needed to come to the sudden, sickening realization of what those towels really were. “No!” she shook her head. “No, this is crazy! You’re crazy! I won’t let you do it! Get away from me, you bitch!” She scrambled backwards, skittering across the floor in horror, away from the soft fabric she’d felt her sore bottom sinking into.

Bonnie’s mother calmly stood up and strode over to her, catching up without even looking as if she was in any rush. She picked up the girl and carried her, squirming, to the nearest chair. “Bring me the spoon,” she told Bonnie. That stopped Celeste instantly.

“I’m sorry,” she pled. “I’ll be good!”

“I know you will,” Bonnie’s mother said, sitting down and forcing the girl over her lap anyway. She only spanked her five times, but Celeste was howling by the second, and all the fight had gone out of her by the end. Still crying, she was taken back to the changing pad and positioned over the diaper, which was joined by another, and another, until all of the “towels” were resting beneath her, making her feel as if she were lying on a pillow. Even knowing the horrible truth about what they were, she still had to admit the cushioning was nice on her aching bottom.

Next came a tub of Vaseline, which was liberally applied. Celeste had thought she was beyond the ability to be humiliated, but she still felt herself blushing as the substance was rubbed into her skin. Unlike with the shaving gel, Bonnie’s mother had no problem applying the Vaseline to Celeste’s most private parts. There was nothing sexual about it, yet it was still embarrassing, feeling herself being touched there by another woman. Once a thick layer of the substance had been applied, it was followed up with a liberal dose of baby powder, surely enough to leave her smelling of it for hours.

Then, at last, Celeste felt the fabric being pulled up between her legs, layer after layer piled up over her bald crotch, then fastened tight around her waist and pinned into place. And just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, Bonnie’s mother produced a pair of white rubber pants, working them over the girl’s ankles and up her legs, stretching them over the bulk of her diaper, sealing her lubricated privates and red tush into their hot new home.

Celeste’s legs naturally splayed outward, leaving her diaper completely visible between them, as she was pulled into a sitting position. She could only sit there, stunned, while Bonnie set about cleaning up the supplies. “Now you just need your blue, and your outfit will be complete,” Bonnie’s mother said. “I was just going to let you wear one of Bonnie’s blue shirts, but considering what you called me, I think I have something better.” She walked to the sink, where Celeste could see a set of shelves jutting from the cupboards on either side. There were carvings laid out on the shelves, mostly different sorts of birds, but a cat as well, and a bear… And the one that Bonnie’s mother picked up.

It looked for all the world like a regular pacifier, except that the bulb was quite full, and clearly not made of silicone or rubber. It was the same material as the rest of the pacifier, which was a pale blue, a color that eerily matched that of the bar of soap sitting beside the sink. Celeste pouted, but didn’t have the strength to protest it any more than that. In fact, when she was ordered to open her mouth, she did so right away, nose wrinkling as the soap filled her mouth.

“If she’s not going to wear my shirt, what is she going to wear?” Bonnie asked.

“Well, she was so insistent that she should be allowed to wear yellow,” her mother answered, leaning down and picking up Celeste’s fallen dress, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to indulge her this one thing.” She smiled as she crossed the kitchen, opening a drawer to take out a pair of scissors. Behind the soapy pacifier, Celeste mumbled unhappily, serving only to dampen the intruder in her mouth and create a nice batch of suds. That was a designer dress! She’d spent hundreds of dollars on that!

And, with a few snips, it was ruined. When it was pulled over her head, it barely covered the waistband of her diapers. Even at full length, she doubted it could have completely masked their bulk, but now her diapers ballooned out beneath it, almost entirely visible to anyone and everyone.

Celeste was pulled to her feet and led back outside. Her legs would have been weak anyway, having to face her employees after they’d seen her spanked, but now, with the diapers, she could hardly even waddle, though that suited her just fine, as it delayed the inevitable moment when they all saw her, and any of the power she might still hold over them vanished. The rubber pants squeaked and squelched beneath her, an audible reminder of something she couldn’t have forgotten about even if she tried.

When she finally made it outside, however, she wasn’t led to the gazebo. She doubted it did much good in terms of hiding her state from the gathered crowd, as she could hear them talking, surely about her. Instead, she was led across the lawn, over to the sandbox, where she was forced down onto her diapered bum in one corner.

“Food’s ready!” Bonnie’s father called nonchalantly.

“Oh, good! We timed that perfectly!” his wife exclaimed happily. “Now, everyone eat up!” She turned to the other kids in the sandbox, who were staring at Celeste, wide-eyed. “Come on, let’s go get you something to eat,” she told them sweetly. “There’s just a few more hours until the fireworks start! Won’t that be fun?” The kids seemed to think so, nodding and bouncing at the thought. “It’s too bad the poor baby here won’t get to see them. She’ll be tucked away in her crib by then. She’s too young to stay up that late… But maybe someday. Now, come on!” She led the kids off toward the gazebo, leaving Celeste and Bonnie all alone.

“I bet you’re getting pretty warm in there, aren’t you?” Bonnie asked. “Oh, no need to answer, I know. As hot as it is out here… You’re going to be swimming in your own sweat. And you’re going to have to pee eventually, and that’s only going to make it worse. I’m sure you’ll be just dying to go to bed, if just to get into the air conditioning. Well, just between us – we’re sisters now, you know – mama’s got a little ritual she does with babies before bedtime. If you don’t mess yourself before then – and trust me, your first day, you won’t, you just aren’t going to be able to talk yourself into it until you feel the consequences for not first hand – you’re going to get a nice, big, soapy enema. Just think of all that water rushing into here,” she poked Celeste’s tummy, “and then, while you’re stuck in your crib, and we’re out watching fireworks, it’ll all come out here.” She patted Celeste’s diaper with that, grinning as she saw the tears in her boss’s eyes.

“I’m pretty sure mama trusts me enough to be a babysitter now,” she said. “So I bet I’ll get to drive you to work tomorrow. Mama might let you wear training pants, but even if she does, you’re not going to be allowed to go to the bathroom without me taking you. And I plan on being very, very busy from now on. That’s what you like, isn’t it? Productivity?” She reached out, wiping the tears running down Celeste’s cheek, and then the soapy water making its way down her chin, drying her hand on the girl’s ruined dress. “Well, I just wanted to give you something to think about while you sat out here, waiting for bedtime. Don’t worry, it won’t be too long now.”

As she walked away, Celeste angrily pounded her fist into the sand below her, frustrated at what she’d gotten herself into, helpless to do anything to stop it. She hit it again, with her other fist, then, before she knew it, found herself in the middle of a full-fledged tantrum, kicking and screaming against her pacifier, tears pouring from her eyes. She half expected to get in trouble, but instead, nobody seemed to notice. When she stopped, glancing over at the gazebo, she saw her employees, their kids, and her new daddy and mama, all eating peacefully, hardly sparing a single glance in her direction. Her employees knew she had no power, that she wasn’t worth paying any attention to anymore; her parents were sure she’d had enough punishment for one day, and she wouldn’t even think of trying anything more daring than a fit of impotent rage.

And the worst part about it was that they were right.

The End