VR

A satisfied, but tired, smile spreads over my face as I type out the end of the caption, feeling happy to have finally gotten it done after so long. I’ve had these pictures for so long, and an idea for the story, but I just couldn’t get myself to write it all out until now.

I think it’s turned out pretty well, too…. It isn’t anything particularly groundbreaking, just another tale of a naughty girl being tricked into a life of babyhood, obedience, and diapers by some mysterious drug that had been put into her water. It’s fun, but as I look it over one more time before posting, I can’t help but feel like there’s something missing…

Should I do a re-write? That will take so long… I don’t know if I’ll even be able to get it done today, and then it will be even longer before I can post it! But is it good enough the way it is now?

I sigh, leaning back in my chair and staring listlessly at my image editing program. My eyes drift over to the buttons at the side, wondering if maybe changing up the font or the color might spice it up a bit, before noticing a button I’ve never seen before. I did just update the program, and of course I didn’t bother to read up on what was changed… What did they add? I already don’t use the majority of the functions the program has, so I doubt I’ll need this one, but I might as well see.

Curiously, I move my mouse over it so the description will pop up. The icon looks like a pair of 3D glasses, and when the little box pops up, it says, simply, “VR”. That might be interesting… Maybe just the thing to set these captions apart! I click on the button, then blankly look over the huge number of dials and sliders that shows up. After a moment of deliberation, I set them all on maximum, and hit the preview button. A message pops up, telling me to put on my VR headset, which, luckily, I’d just bought a few months ago, but never used.

Instantly, I’m transported to a nursery, one that looks very familiar. I look around, impressed at just how realistic it all looks, until I hear, “Are you playing or not?”

I jump a little at the sound, turning around to see the girl who was the subject of my captions, and the woman who had taken over her care. “Don’t you want to play house?” the latter asks.

Still marvelling at how much the computer had been able to create from a few still images, I shrug. “Sure,” I play along. What harm could it do? It all looks real – the nursery, the people, the bottle being shoved towards my face – but I know it’s fake… Even though, as the bottle is pushed between my lips, the nipple feels real, and the milk tastes real, and the angry expression of the girl I’d caused to be babified also looked all too real…

My head is spinning as I pull the headset off, plunging me back into the real world, the taste of milk still fresh in my mouth. I know it isn’t real, but if it was, that milk was probably the kind that the drug that was keeping the girl diapered and under her new Mommy’s control was hidden in…

But it’s not! It’s just VR, nothing more… I still feel a bit shaky from the experience as I hit cancel on my screen and save the captions for another day. VR might be a little much for my readers, too, and without it, I’m not sure if the captions will work. I can try to put the finishing touches on them tomorrow after all.

I wake up the next morning with my alarm, still sleepy, cold, and, more importantly, wet. I groan, fidgeting in my bed, my drowsy brain not processing what had happened until I throw back my blankets to find a huge wet spot, emanating from the crotch of my PJ pants, which were also soaked.

I wet my bed… I can’t even remember the last time that happened, yet here I am, staring at the evidence. What is wrong with me?! I don’t have enough time to worry about it right now, unfortunately, as I take a quick shower, throw my bedding into the washing machine, and scrub my mattress as well as I can manage before heading to work.

Something definitely feels off as I make my way into the office building and to my cubicle, sitting down to get to work for the day, but I can’t quite place it. I squirm a little, trying to think of what it is, before realizing that I’m being stared at by the people walking by… Blushing, I make myself sit still and get to work.

It isn’t until I go to the bathroom later on that morning that I figure it out, and even then, it takes me pulling down my pants and sitting on the toilet for a few moments to look down and realize that I wasn’t wearing the purple panties I thought I’d put on that morning… No, instead it seemed like I’d pulled on a pair of Goodnites.

My heart began to pound as I stared down at them… I had some Goodnites, of course, and I would wear them every now and then, but I’d never just accidentally put on a pair instead of underwear before heading out somewhere, especially not work – and I’d certainly never worn them for so long thinking that they felt like regular panties. And, as I peeked inside and saw what was unmistakably a small wet spot, I’d never used them, even a little, without realizing it…. I’d never done any of those things, until, apparently, now.

Now that I know I’m wearing them, I can’t help but feel extremely self-conscious about them. I don’t have any other underwear with me, of couse, and judging by the state of them, I can’t risk wearing nothing beneath my pants, so I pull them up, wrinkling my nose at the now all-too-obvious cool, squishy spot on my crotch, made even more obvious as I make my way back to my desk and sit down.

I write out a quick e-mail to my boss, hoping she’ll let me go home early, but there’s a big project due soon, and without a good excuse, she won’t budge. Normally, I know I’d fight her on it, at least say something else, but I find myself obediently typing out that I understand, that I’ll do whatever she thinks is best.

By the end of the day, my Goodnite is soaked. I never notice myself having a full-fledged accident, or even using it at all, but every now and then I feel a fresh warmth soaking into it, too late to do anything about it, or when I pull down my pants to use the bathroom, I see that it looks just a little wetter. I suppose I’m lucky the whole thing didn’t leak…

It made for a long day, so by the time I got home, I was ready to just put on my PJs, make some dinner, watch a little TV, and go to bed early. Unfortunately, I have to actually make the bed first, dragging out my back-up sheets, along with another pair of PJs to slip into once I take another shower.

It isn’t until I’ve been sitting on my couch for a little while, eating the leftovers I’d heated up while staring at my television, that I glance downwards and notice the thick, baby-printed diaper sticking out of the top of my PJ pants. I gasp at the sight of it, at the realization of how much I must look like a toddler right now, just waiting for her babysitter to put her to bed. I thought I’d grabbed a pair of panties to put on, just like this morning… But as I stare down at the diaper, I know, after the state of my Goodnites, having some protection overnight really might be the best idea…

I let them be, thoughtlessly sipping at the milk I’d poured for myself, never questioning the fact that I’d poured myself a glass, just like I had that morning, despite having just put milk on my shopping list the day before because I’d run out….

I yawn as I close my laptop, glancing up at the clock on my wall. I hadn’t intended to browse the Internet any while the TV played pointlessly in the background, I’d just grabbed the computer, almost in a daze… It felt like I’d let it get much later than I’d anticipated, but the clock claims it’s just past 8 pm. It’s much too early to go to bed… Then again, I had planned on going to bed early, and I feel very sleepy already…

I trudge back to my bedroom and curl up in bed, falling asleep almost instantly. When I wake up, my diaper is soaked, but, fortunately, my sheets are perfectly dry. It’s a good thing I wore that diaper after all!

I get myself cleaned up and dressed, making myself a big bowl of oatmeal, even though I don’t like it that much, and a large glass of milk before heading out, today making sure to pack a spare Goodnite in my purse, just in case.

I almost immediately need it, too, as I open my door and find a group of large men in construction uniforms waiting outside. “H-Hello,” I say cautiously, my heart still thumping from the shock of seeing so many unexpected visitors right outside my door.

“Are you going out?” the leader asked, sounding annoyed. “We have a lot of work to do… Are you just leaving the keys with us?”

“Work?” I look at him inquisitively, before reminding myself I don’t have time to waste… Besides, he looks very trustworthy, like a big, strong adult. If he says he has things he needs to do, I’m sure he’s right… “Okay,” I reach into my purse and pull my house key off of the ring to give him, blushing and quickly pulling the purse closed as I realize I might have let him see my spare Goodnite.

I’d almost forgotten about them by the time I get off work – very grateful for my extra Goodnite, since I’d definitely needed that one, and very nearly a third – until I go to look for my keys and find them gone. Luckily, I peek under my welcome mat, and find the house key there. I look around the house, wondering what they’d been working on, but at first glance, everything seems perfectly normal. There also, from what I can tell, doesn’t seem to be anything big missing, so I guess they weren’t robbers…

I shrug and clean myself up again, putting on my pajamas early yet again. It’s a little warmer today, so I decide to hold off on the PJ pants, heading to the kitchen to fix supper in just my PJ top and diaper, which I very consciously grab this time, knowing that, after the past couple nights, I definitely need it.

I’m exhaused by 8 yet again, but it doesn’t bother me too much as I head to my bedroom for another early bedtime. I head towards my bed, then stare at it for a good minute before realizing what’s different about it. I gasp, glancing at the rest of my room, and then down at my feet. My bed is now a crib… My room is a nursery… I’d been in my room several times, but it had all looked so normal, I hadn’t even questioned it. And, looking down, I can’t help but wonder if that’s because I look, for all the world, like I belong here.

This has to stop! I don’t know what’s happening, or how, but as I stand there, in front of my crib, staring down at my diaper, I know that this isn’t normal… In fact, it feels eerily familiar. Isn’t this what was happening in my captions, the ones I’d abandoned? The ones that I’d played around with the VR setting on? All it had taken was a sip of the drugged milk, and before the subject knew it, her whole life had been turned upside-down… And it was all her own doing.

But that’s not real! And, no matter how it had tasted, neither was the milk I’d been fed inside the VR, the milk with the same, oddly sweet, aftertaste that I’d described in my captions… But the crib that had replaced my bed was real, and the diaper, already slightly damp, that I’m wearing is real…

I shake my head, backing away from the nursery. I have to stop this somehow… For now, though, I’m too sleepy. I head for my spare bedroom, only to find, to my surprise, that it’s locked. Had the construction workers done that, too? Had I told them to? I shivered a little, thinking back to my captions… This really was just like them…

But I could stop it… Somehow… Surely… I toddled back to the living room, curling up on the couch to go to sleep. I wake up to another soaked diaper, another breakfast of oatmeal and milk, and then head in to work, too distracted to realize I’d put on a full-fledged diaper instead of Goodnites until I’m already sitting at my desk.

I spend the whole day distracted, barely able to concentrate on my work at all as I try to think of a way to get myself out of this mess – which I shouldn’t even be in to begin with… The drug I’d written about didn’t even exist, was too vague and all-powerful to ever really exist… And yet, here I am, quite clearly caught up in it. What can I do about it?

The answer still hasn’t come to me by the time I head home. I don’t even want to go into my room anymore, but all my clothes are there, so I head in to grab myself a fresh diaper, though I’m determined not to put on my pajamas so early today… I’m going to stay up later than 8, figure out how to combat this fictional drug, get out of this mess…

“There you are!” a voice chirps. “I’ve been waiting for you!” There’s a girl in my bedroom – my nursery now – no older than me, if even that old, and yet there’s something about her that makes me feel instantly submissive, the way I had with the workers the day before, with my boss when I’d tried to get her to let me go home early…

I shuffle my feet bashfully even as I try to demand, “Who are you?! What are you doing in my house?!”

“I’m your babysitter, young lady,” she tells me, quite matter-of-factly, marching up to me and pulling down my pants, giving my diaper a quick, but thorough, check. “Just as I thought.” She walks back to the diaper already laid out on the changing table, pulling out an enema bulb and a pair of latex gloves from under the table.

“Come on, then,” she says in a gentle, sing-songy voice, that still, somehow, feels like an ironclad, undeniable demand, pulling one of the gloves on. “You’re overdue for a change, little one… And more than overdue for making your Nanny a nice, big present in your diapies. We don’t want you getting sick from holding your poopies in too long, do we?”

I shake my head, looking around the room for some kind of help, pants around my ankles, leaving my soggy diaper in full view… This can’t be happening… It can’t…

“No!” I shake my head defiantly. “Get out of my house… I don’t want you here!”

Nanny – I mean, the girl’s – eyes flash with anger as she stands up, walking slowly and deliberately over to me. My defiance melts away quickly as I gulp, anxiously inching back away from her. She reaches into her bag, pulling out a huge stack of paper and brandishing it at me.

“Do you see this, little girl?” she asks. “You agreed to all of this online when you hired me. You left your house key exactly where I told you to, and my room was set up exactly as I told you to do it, along with your nursery. I am in charge now, and every time you try to deny it, I’m going to punish you; like right now. You are going to march into the bathroom to bring me your biggest, hardest, wooden hairbrush, and then, after your spanking, you’re going to fill the enema bulb and bring it back to me… Then I’m going to diaper you and put you to bed with only a bottle of milk for supper. Do you understand?”

I want to shake my head, to tell her no, to repeat that I wanted her out of my house… But I can’t. She’s obviously an adult, and, as I look down at the thick, wet diaper between my thighs as I shuffle to the bathroom, pants still around my ankles, it’s obvious that I’m just a baby… And babies have to do what adults tell them to… I gulp as I see that she’s already filled the sink with water, and mixed in some soap, and, almost certainly, the drug that would interact with the one in my milk…

She’s as good as her word, if not better… My bottom is bright pink and throbbing by the time she finishes, sending me back to the bathroom, now completely naked, to prepare my own enema… I blush and sniffle and beg, but none of it stops her from slipping the bulb into my backside and sending the soapy water gushing inside me.

“Since you were a bad little girl, I’m not going to change you until morning,” she tells me as she tapes my new diaper into place, sliding a second underneath it. “But I want you to hold it as long as you can before you let go… There’s some nice medicine in there to make you a good little girl.”

“Y-Yes, Nanny…” I sniffle, letting her help me down off the table and over to my crib. I lay down and watch helplessly as she lifts the bars, locking me in. They aren’t that high, really, but I know I’m just a baby, that I’m not supposed to get out of my crib once the side is raised… She hands me my bottle and I take it, mindlessly starting to suck on it, despite knowing there’s more of the drug inside – the same drug that had turned me into a bedwetter, made me go to work padded for the last three days, have my room completely remodeled, hire a permanent, live in babysitter – and that the ‘medicine’ gurgling in my tummy would make its effects permanent, turning me into an overgrown toddler, still struggling with my potty training, totally at the mercy of my Nanny, and anyone else I saw as I grown-up, which was just about everyone at this point… Nanny had given me the bottle, so I know I have to drink it up, no matter what.

I groan as a cramp hits me, making me wriggle uncomfortably in my crib. Maybe if I could just let go now, fill my diaper, the medicine wouldn’t take its full effect, and maybe I could find a way to break the drug’s grip… Of course, that would mean intentionally filling my diaper, and being stuck in it even longer before a change… Not to mention disobeying Nanny… Would she know? Would she give me another spanking, another enema? Or would she come up with a new punishment?

Either way, I’m sure she’ll find a way, eventually, to drug me, and there likely won’t be anything I can do to stop her…. I’d probably even told her to do just that. After all, that was what the girl in the captions had done, unknowingly. I couldn’t help but think back to her, sitting there on her nursery floor, happily playing with her toys and mindlessly using her diapers… At least, until I’d come into the scene with my VR headset, and she’d gotten her revenge. It seemed like, despite her pleasant exterior, she knew exactly what had happened, and that she was meant to be an adult herself, not a burbling, incontinent little baby. If it had happened that way with her, then it probably would with me, too… After all, she’d had her Mommy give me the bottle with the exact same drug as her…

I squirm, chewing on my bottom lip as I try to decide what to do… I need to choose fast, or the medicine will make it so I can’t. Do I mess myself now, get it out of my system, and risk Nanny’s wrath, or do I just wait, let it soak in and infect my mind, before helplessly giving in and messing myself when I can’t wait any longer? I shake my head, sweating slightly, as I make up my mind and start to push, wondering if I’ll be able to do it, or if I’d already waited too long, and I was going to be stuck here, wiggling in my crib with a full tummy until it’s too late, and I mess myself anyway.