Quality Control

Carly wasn’t stupid, despite what her co-workers all seemed to believe. She knew exactly what she was there for, why they’d hired her, and it was not, as one of her co-workers, Jack, had told her once, that she was a diversity hire, or, as another one, Melissa, had said, “It’s silly for us to make toys and not have the input from someone in one of our core demographics!”

She was there for meetings just like this one, where she sat in her special booster chair around the meeting table and listened to everyone else doing their best to not give any specifics as they talked about their newest product. “So, Carly,” one of them asked finally. “What do you think?”

“It looks cute to me,” she shrugged. “I mean, it’s pink, it’s fluffy, it smells good, it comes in a gift set with some chocolate… Sounds like a perfect Valentine’s Day present.”

Her co-workers smiled triumphantly, complimenting one another, faces filled with pride. She decided not to mention that she’d consulted on it, helped pick the design, so she deserved some of the credit, too. She doubted anyone who had come to her for advice was going to stick up for her, either… They had never seem like official visits, one of them just stopping by, seeing what she thought of a picture of the newest prototype, her telling them to use a different fur, or make the ears a bit smaller.

It would have been easy to stop them there, to ‘help’ them make it worse, so nobody would want it… If she did that, however, then their intended audience would never buy it, and if it was bought for them, they’d probably return it without using it, and everyone would stop listening to her, and she wouldn’t have a job. It was better, she thought, to actually help, to make them trust her, and one day she’d be able to betray them, to take them down a peg…

Somehow. She hadn’t quite figured that part out yet, and the longer she stayed here, the more comfortable she was, the more raises she got, the less certain she was of when she’d ever move on to the second phase of her plan.

This would have been a good time… From what she’d gleaned, this was a particularly sneaky little product, one that could do a lot of damage… But there were always other ones that could be worse, that could have a bigger impact if she waited, and she was saving up for a new car…

“And what about advertising?” another inquired. “Our studies say these programs would be the most effective to reach… your audience,” they flipped to a new slide, split into two groups of television shows, “and these would be the least. Do you agree?”

This was the big one, the place where she could make the largest dent in their profits… They could design the perfect, most devious, toys, but if the wrong people saw the wrong commercials, it would wreck everything. There would be at least two of them, one telling littles all about how great the teddy bear was, how it could be their new best friend, and another for Amazons, informing them of its real purpose.

The latter would circulate online eventually, once a little – or a ‘tweener or Amazon sympathetic to them – spotted it, recorded it, posted it with a warning. By then, especially with a limited, seasonal release like this, most of the damage would be done, and there would be enough posters ready to call it a hoax to sow doubt. If the speculation did gain traction, the company would pull the spots early, or switch them out with the little-targeted ones, so anyone trying to find the others to prove they existed would be foiled.

She shouldn’t help them… She should tell them they had their research flipped, saturate the airwaves with the wrong commercial so everyone saw the real thing, and there was no way they were fooled, if they got it as a Valentine’s gift… But she did really want to get that new car.

“I’m not sure about the baking show,” she pointed at the Amazon side of the slide. “I’ve been hearing more of my friends talking about watching it.”

Did she feel a bit guilty, seeing her co-workers nod, take notes? Of course… That wasn’t going to stop her now, however. Maybe somewhere down the road, for their Christmastime campaign, or next Valentine’s… That would work out better for her…

The Valentine’s Plan

This was going to do it… No, scratch that. This HAD to do it.

Nothing else had worked, after all. Caprice had wracked her brain, coming up with everything she could to throw at the problem, and, one by one, it had all been shot down. Honestly, even that was making it sound more dramatic than it was… It had all been swatted lazily aside, or ignored totally, with the same result either way.

It didn’t help that she didn’t know what had happened in the first place. One day, everything had been fine, and the next, she’d woken up in a diaper and a onesie, her fiance, Cooper, shoving a bottle of warm milk into her mouth before handing her off to their neighbor, Mrs. Foster, to take care of for the day, both of them treating her, and talking to her, like she was nothing more than a toddler.

It was certainly bad enough from Cooper, after all the time they’d been together, being reduced from his partner to, seemingly, a child in his eyes, someone he cooed over and fed and changed, but showed no sign of attraction to; Mrs. Foster had been a whole other story. Their relationship already had been strained, to put it lightly. The woman was a busybody, a snoop, constantly complaining that they were being too loud, or that they’d put decorations an inch or two onto her yard…

Was it any surprise that Caprice had decided she needed a few pranks now and then? Two could play at that game, and all she’d had to do was wait and watch until she saw the woman’s SUV pull out of the garage for some grocery shopping, and then go over to her yard with some eggs, or some toilet paper. Mrs. Foster blamed them, of course, but Caprice always asked her if she had any proof, which she didn’t, other than the fact that these things coincidentally always happened when she was away.

And now she was in complete control of Caprice for most of the day. Caprice still remembered that first day, being led by the hand from Cooper’s house to Mrs. Foster’s, toddling across the sidewalk, diaper crinkling, cheeks blazing. Caprice had tried to squirm away, to break free of the woman’s grip, but she’d always been pretty small, and weak, and Mrs. Foster was neither, her grip remaining firm.

“No, sweetie, you can’t run off on your own,” she’d lectured. “We’re much too close to the road.”

“Just let me go back home!” Caprice had begged. “Please! E-Everyone can see me!”

“Aww, poor thing,” Mrs. Foster had cooed, pausing, halting their progress temporarily, leaving Caprice whimpering and fidgeting as she stood there on the sidewalk anxiously. “Do you miss your Daddy? Is that why you’re crying so much? I know what will make you feel better.”

“To be taken back home!” Caprice had told her; instead, she’d had a pacifier shoved into her mouth, and their trek had continued as if the woman hadn’t heard a word of what the girl had said.

The whole day had gone like that, with Caprice pleading with Mrs. Foster to let her watch something on the TV other than the dumb cartoons she’d put on, to give her something other than mushy, gross baby food for lunch – and to let her feed herself – and, most importantly, to open the locked bathroom door before she had an accident in her diaper. Every time, Mrs. Foster had responded as if she were spouting baby babble.

Until the last one, that was, which had made Caprice desperate enough to make a break for the front door, ready to race back to her own house, her own toilet… That had ended with her over Mrs. Foster’s lap, the woman quite happy to spank her silly for trying to get away, then put her in the corner until she no longer needed the bathroom, until she’d had no choice but to appease the growing pressure in her tummy and squat down to fill her pants.

First Date

“Wait, like, never?” Vanessa couldn’t stop herself from giggling, until she saw Claudia squirm in her seat, face turning red. “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that! I’m just surprised, that’s all!”

“No, never,” Claudia confessed, almost wishing she hadn’t said anything. Vanessa had asked what her plans for Valentine’s Day were, however, and that had been the answer. Maybe she could have shrugged, said she didn’t know, or nothing; instead, she’d told the whole truth, that she was not only not going on a date then, she’d never been on one at all.

“Well, why not?” Vanessa asked. “Are you not interested? It’s okay if you aren’t, but if you are… You’re adorable, sweetie! I’m sure lots of people would love to go out with you!”

“I-I don’t know about that,” Claudia blushed again. “I was always just so busy with school, I didn’t have time, and then I never really tried to figure it out after that…”

Vanessa chuckled. “It’s not hard,” she promised. “I even know a pretty good dating site to try. It’s free, so it won’t cost you anything, and, as long as you’re careful, it should be perfectly safe…” Claudia wasn’t certain, but, with a little persuading, Vanessa got her to agree to sign up, at least. “It’s Luvfree.com,” she said. “Not l-o-v-e. It’s l-u-v, like the diapers.”

It was the last part that stuck with Claudia the most, apparently, over the next couple days while she debated whether she was actually going to go through with it or not. When, finally, she decided she didn’t want to spend another Valentine’s alone, she opened up her laptop, and typed in what she thought the site’s address was.

“Luvsfree.com,” she mumbled to herself. “Like the diapers.”

She’d thought Vanessa had said that about it to help her remember the spelling, but, from what she could tell at a glance, it was the whole theme of the site. They really appeared to be leaning into it, which was a little odd, though, simultaneously, it did help her lower her guard as she signed up, making sure to mention in her profile that she was a first-timer.

She almost stopped and texted Vanessa when one of the boxes confused her, but didn’t want to look dumb. She couldn’t figure out what, exactly, it was asking… She definitely wasn’t a Mommy or a Daddy, and she wasn’t sure what a DL was; her blood type was AB, however, so, while she didn’t see what that had to do with anything else there, that’s what she chose.

To her shock, she quickly began to get messages, some from people who were taking the theme of the site extra far, posing for pictures in diapers. She certainly didn’t have that level of commitment to the bit… She did appreciate that somebody did, though. She didn’t know who, or what, she was looking for…

Until Hanna appeared in her inbox. Claudia had found herself attracted to both men and women at various times over the years, and, with no real experience, she was open to either… When she saw Hanna, however, there was no doubt in her mind that she was the right choice. She was so hot, and she said she’d be more than happy to guide Claudia through her first time…

“So, what do you think?” Claudia asked. “There are some good restaurants not too far from me, but I don’t know what you’re into.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Hanna replied. “On Valentine’s Day? Everything will be packed. Besides, it’ll be much easier to do this at your place. I’d be glad to cook for you.”

Claudia knew she should be the one offering that, except she was about as skilled at cooking as she was at dating, and didn’t want to scare Hanna away immediately with it. And she was right, trying to order from any restaurant that day would be a nightmare… She also knew it probably wasn’t the best idea to meet someone from the internet at her house, rather than in public…

But there was something about Hanna that made Claudia positive she could trust her. She had such a soothing, almost motherly, presence, and she’d sent Claudia plenty of pictures that proved she was who she claimed to be… What was the worst that could happen?

Kiss and Make Up

“Good morning, girls!” the woman cooed, a pair of executives yawning, blinking, stretching, blushing in almost perfect unity as they felt a sensation they should, by now, be almost getting used to… If it wasn’t so humiliating. How could they grow accustomed to waking up in the same bed, in soggy diapers?!

“Good morning, Miss Watson,” they chirped out, in perfect unison. It was a skill they’d been forced to develop over their time here… If they couldn’t work together to do that, they stayed in their overnight diapers until lunchtime, no matter what state they were in.

“Very good!” Miss Watson smiled down at them. “All right, come along… Let’s get you changed. I have something very special for you today!”

The women looked at one another nervously, wondering what that could be. Surprises rarely tended to be a good thing here… Then again, it hardly mattered. They were going to do what they were told anyway, because they had no choice. Not really; they could say no, but they knew it wouldn’t end well for either of them.

Analisa was a year older, a few inches taller, and her diaper was drooping a bit further than Livi’s, but she deferred to the smaller woman anyway. She’d gotten changed first for bed, after all, so now it was Livi’s turn. She watched jealously as Livi was helped onto the changing table, squirming, her padding squishing damply between her legs, hoping she didn’t have another accident, unsure if the padding could hold it…

Unfortunately, she had no real control over that. The big, bulky diapers weren’t just for show… As soon as they’d arrived here, they’d been injected with something that had rendered them incontinent, and the only way that was getting reversed – at least, according to Miss Watson – was if they passed the ‘class’.

“Here we go!” Miss Watson taped the fresh diapers onto Livi, then lifted her down, onto the floor, Analisa gratefully toddling up to take her place. “My, my,” she gave the sodden padding around the second girl’s crotch a rub, “soaked again… I’m starting to think we’re going to have to double you up, even at night.”

Livi groaned, then immediately shrank back, eyes wide, as Miss Watson shot her a look. “What was that, young lady?”

Analisa knew why Livi was upset, and couldn’t blame her… They were equals here, and that meant if one of them earned a punishment, they both did… They were only in double diapers during the day because Ana had leaked. Wearing two to bed, however, seemed almost impossible… As poofy as the overnights were one at a time, would they be able to walk in them?! Livi, especially, with her shorter legs, was going to have a hard time of it…

“N-Nothing, Miss Watson,” Livi shook her head. “If that’s what Ana needs, I’m happy to help.”

“That’s what I thought,” Miss Watson nodded. “I’d hate to start today, of all days, with a spanking.”

Analisa nibbled her bottom lip, hating how much she missed the pacifier she spent so much time with. What was today? Between the naps, their early bedtime, and being stuck in this nursery full time, she had no clue.

Miss Watson chuckled, making Ana feel tiny as she was powdered up, taped into her first diaper. The woman had a way of doing that to her, of making her feel like a toddler, up against a full-grown adult. “Hold on,” she urged. “You’ll see.”

Sure enough, once she had Analisa diapered, and the girls ‘dressed’, which, for them, meant shirts and socks, nothing to hide their padding, she gathered them onto their bed, having them look back at the mirror behind them to see what the rear of their diapers said: “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Valentine’s Cards

“What are we, in third grade?” Penny rolled her eyes as she stared out at the Valentine’s cards spread out in front of her on her desk. Signing them, distributing them, at all was dumb enough… Being forced to make one for everyone in her class was even worse.

She wasn’t sure, if she’d had the choice, she would have given them to anyone, but there were three people specifically that she really hated the thought of being nice to, of handing some sugary sweet card telling them how much she wanted them to be her Valentine when, in reality, she wanted nothing to do with them. Just thinking about them made her blood boil as she sat there, squirming in her desk chair, punishment diaper crinkling beneath her, reminding her how all this had started.

She didn’t even need the stupid, bulky things… But when she acted up, her step-mother was convinced making her wear them was the only solution to fixing her behavior. And, if she was really bad, she wasn’t allowed to sleep in her own room anymore… The crazy old bat had set up a nursery just for her – an adult! – and only for when she ‘deserved’ it, which, perhaps since the woman had paid for it and had it there, was more often than seemed fair. Penny genuinely thought she’d gotten good at hiding them while she was at school, at wearing things that disguised them, kept anyone from finding out… She’d been wrong.

Thinking of the faces of those three girls, she clutched her pen a bit tighter, began to imagine what she’d actually like to write in their Valentine’s cards… And, almost without thinking, started to scribble away. It was nearly a shock to look down and see it, angry black words staring back at her, barely even looking like her own handwriting.

She paused, frowning slightly. It really didn’t… Honestly, if she didn’t sign it, she could hand it out, and nobody would be the wiser. She knew she shouldn’t actually do that, and yet… She glanced over at the pile of cards she’d already finished, debating whether to slide this into an envelope, add it to the stack. They were the same kind of cards as the other, but they were cheap ones, whatever she could grab at the dollar store. More than likely, multiple people would be using them, right? Or, if somebody wanted to hide their identity, these would be the ones they used, probably… If she sent them regular, nice cards, too, nobody would ever be the wiser…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Are you trying to tell me this isn’t your writing, young lady?”

Penny gulped, staring down at the card Mr. Fletcher had slapped down on her desk, recognizing it right away. “N-No,” she fibbed. “It doesn’t look like mine at all… I don’t know who would write such mean stuff, but I…”

He raised an eyebrow, sliding another card next to the one already there. Penny fidgeted, feeling the eyes of the whole class on her as this happened. “That’s funny,” he said, “because this is the other card you sent to Vanessa. It’s the same design, and, other than the penstrokes being a bit heavier, this writing looks exactly the same to me.”

Seeing them again now, side by side, perhaps the penmanship wasn’t as different as she’d originally thought… And there were only a few different designs in that box; she should have made an effort to do those three girls’ ‘real’ cards back to back with the more sincere ones, to know they didn’t match. She’d written the ones that told them how she really felt, then put off the others until the end, too close to bedtime to take a moment and check what was in those first envelopes.

“Th-That’s just a coincidence,” she defended herself weakly.

“Get up,” he ordered, perching on the edge of her desk once she’d nervously followed orders, tugging at her skirt. “Over my knee.”

“Wh-What are you doing?!” she squealed.

“Your mother has given me permission to discipline you in any way I see fit, and right now, I think you deserve a spanking.” Penny could hardly believe her ears, nor could, it seemed, her giggling classmates. She shook her head in horror, only to be grabbed, pulled closer to him, bent over…

“N-No!” she gasped, feeling his hand on her skirt’s hem. He wouldn’t do that… Not here, not now! “Pl-Please, don…”

But it was too late. She heard the giggling stop for a second as she felt cool air, blowing far further up than it ought to be able to reach, just to be replaced by more laughter, and whispers about how the rumors had been true. “What is this?” the teacher asked, poking the girl’s padding as she squirmed, face beet red. He didn’t wait for an answer, pushing her skirt downwards instead, letting it slide over her diaper with a rustle, pooling around the girl’s ankles, leaving the infantile garment beneath fully exposed. “Well?”

“Umm… U-Uh….” she stammered, not wanting to say it out loud.

“Little girls who still need diapers shouldn’t be saying things like this,” he told her, pushing the card into her hand, sliding the diaper down, exposing enough of her backside to start her spanking in earnest.

 

Cupid’s Arrows

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I see what the problem is,” the photographer shrugged. “I told you I wanted you be be Cupid, didn’t I?”

“I-I mean, yeah,” Astrid had to admit – that had been, basically, the entirety of the request she’d found online. “But I didn’t really expect…”

The photographer rolled her eyes. “Well, what else would you wear? Cupid’s outfit is pretty iconic… He’s the symbol of Valentine’s Day, and you really only ever see him wear one thing.”

She held up the diaper, Astrid’s stomach churning as she heard it crinkle. “I know…” she fidgeted uncomfortably. “That’s, like, a real diaper, though. I thought it would be more like a bikini or something… H-He usually is wearing a diaper, but that’s not how it looks. It’s cloth, and…”

“Do you know where to find cloth diapers nowadays?” the photographer challenged.

“No…” Astrid shook her head. “But it doesn’t have to be an actual diaper! You could just get some cloth, and, like, tie it on, and…”

“Oh, good,” the photographer sighed dramatically. “I always love when my models tell me what my pictures do and don’t need. If you don’t want to do this, you’re free to leave, and I can find someone else.”

Astrid looked back at the diaper with a frown. This wasn’t the way she’d envisioned her start in the modelling game going… She should have realized there was more to that ad than met the eye, however, when she’d gotten the job at all. She had no experience, a cheap headshot, and the photographer was someone she’d actually heard of; she’d thought the other woman saw some raw talent inside her, and wanted to nurture it, to be the one to reveal it to the world. Instead, apparently anyone who knew better had steered away, leaving the photographer to settle on a newbie.

This was supposed to be her big break, but did she really want her professional portfolio to consist, at least at the start, of her wearing a diaper?! She wanted people to see her as sexy, not some overgrown toddler, still too immature to be trusted to keep her pants dry… And if any of her friends saw it, she’d never live it down, for sure.

On the other hand… This was a real photographer. If Astrid did well for her now, she might remember her, call her back for something better… And, if she left now, refusing to even try, she probably would never hire her again, and might tell any other photographers she knew that Astrid wasn’t worth taking a chance on. She could be ending her career before it had actually begun by walking out.

“Okay, fine,” she gave in, reluctantly picking up the diaper, feeling the soft padding compress slightly under her fingers. This was nothing like the thongs she normally wore, if she bothered with underwear at all… But she needed to think of it as a costume, not underwear. After all, she cheered herself up slightly, she wouldn’t even have to wear it like a normal diaper, since – being out on a job – she had thrown on some undies.

“I expect you don’t know how to put that on,” the photographer sighed, as if that was something anyone should know.

“I can figure it out,” Astrid shrugged. Briefly, she’d considered pretending she did, to perhaps win some favor with the other woman, but the truth was, she had no clue, and didn’t particularly want to make it seem like this was something she did often.

“No,” the photographer shook her head, snatching the diaper out of Astrid’s hand. “I only have one, and I don’t want you messing it up by doing it wrong. Come on, take that skirt off.” Astrid blushed, hesitating long enough to see that the woman wasn’t joking, then, slowly, shimmied out of her skirt. “Those, too,” the photographer waved her finger at the thong. When Astrid opened her mouth to protest, she was cut off with, “I don’t want any chance of it showing under the diaper and ruining the illusion.”

Staring at the diaper as it was unfolded, Astrid couldn’t imagine her tiny thong coming anywhere close to the edges of the massive thing, but she’d already come this far… Why stop now? She winced as her bottom sank into the cushy padding, then let out a tiny gasp of surprise as the other woman pulled the front of it up between her legs, shocked at how truly bulky it was.

“That’ll do,” the photographer nodded. “All right, get the rest of it off now.”

“O-Okay,” Astrid nodded, clumsily climbing to her feet, her thighs forced further apart than she’d anticipated. “Where’s the rest of the costume?”

“Right there,” the photographer pointed at the wings, and bow and arrow, that had been sitting with the diaper the whole time.

“Y-Yeah, but…” Astrid fidgeted. “Is there no… shirt? Tunic? Something?”

The woman let out another sigh. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure nothing is visible…”

Astrid was concerned about that, of course, though it was more the idea of running around in just a diaper, like a toddler playing dress-up, too young to really have to worry about staying covered up. She was in too deep now, however. She took off her shirt, and bra, and let herself be helped into the wings – which she was pretty sure ‘ruined the illusion’ with how cheap and silly they looked more than she could have with a slightly mis-taped diaper – and grabbed the bow, letting herself be led out, a slight waddle to her step, into the back yard.

It was unfortunate that, by the time she’d finished arguing, her bladder was already starting to feel full. She didn’t want to pause the session so early to take a break, and, once the photographer got into it, she barely listened to Astrid at all, she was so busy giving her orders, and snapping at her to stay still.

She didn’t want to have an accident, obviously… This was the only diaper, after all, and if she used it, that either meant the shoot would end, and she’d get in trouble for ruining the wardrobe, or the photographer would keep going, taking lots of lots of visual evidence of what Astrid had done, ensuring the girl really wouldn’t want that in her portfolio. But every attempt to get the photographer’s attention, to put a temporary stop to what was going on, was ignored, and it was getting harder and harder to stop squirming, as she was told over and over to do, until, at last, she glanced down in shock as she realized it was too late…

Love Your Enemy

“I have to write a Valentine to who?!” Angel stared up from the floor in shock, unable to believe what she’d just heard.

While she’d like to say it was bad enough having to fill out boxes of these childish Valentines, even without making some of them out to… them… she had to admit, it was actually kind of fun, and definitely nostalgic, reminding her of being in elementary school. Of course, the diaper certainly helped with that, considering she’d been a bedwetter through those years, and had usually procrastinated about doing her cards until the night before, so her mother would get her ready for bed so she could go straight there once she was done.

The cards were a nice walk down memory lane; the diaper, not so much. She hadn’t actually needed them in nearly a decade, but, unfortunately, when she got to college, she decided to pledge a sorority that some girls she’d went to elementary school with were also in. Even worse, one of them had once invited her to a sleepover, and her mother had insisted Angel go, despite her issues, saying that nobody would notice.

They, of course, had, almost instantly. It had taken years for the other students to stop teasing her about it, once the story started getting around… Angel had done her best to avoid everyone who had gone to that party from then on, and had done a relatively good job, until waltzing right into their midst. At first, they seemed nice enough, like maybe they’d finally forgotten….

She’d taken a gap year after high school, which now seemed like a huge mistake. All the girls she knew were already in the sorority, all eager to take her ‘under their wing’ as a little sister… And, once Angel had officially pledged, all too happy to manage her hazing themselves. At first, Angel had been naive enough to believe they were going to go easy on her… Then, they’d pulled out the diapers.

“We can’t have the reputation of our sorority tarnished by allowing in an immature little bedwetter,” they teased. “So, you’re going to have to prove you’re over that.”

“That was a long time ago!” she’d pouted, but, of course, they didn’t care. Since she lived close enough to the college to still be living at home to save a little money, they couldn’t confirm her nighttime progress, so, instead, they made her wear them during the day. It had been awful, shuffling around to her classes in the crinkly thing; then, they’d refused to give her panties back before she left for home.

She was required to ask a sorority sister for permission to use the bathroom before she went, which, unsurprisingly, she hadn’t been exactly eager to do, so she’d held it, thinking she could make it until she got home. Maybe, if she hadn’t gotten caught in a traffic jam, she would have been right… And, to make matters worse, her mother had recognized the bulge instantly, and had been none to happy to find her nearly twenty year old daughter in a wet diaper.

Angel tried to explain, but that hadn’t stopped her mother from buying her diapers, and insisting she wear them to bed, and then to school the next day. Her ‘big sisters’ had, of course, noticed immediately that she was in a different brand of diaper than the one they’d bought for her.

“Oh, my God,” one of them had giggled. “She actually does still need them!”

Things had only gotten worse from there… Now, when she tried to ask for permission to use the bathroom, she was told no, and followed to make sure she didn’t try to go on her own. Most days, she got sent home in a wet diaper, which ensured her mother would keep her in them that evening. She’d tried taking the diaper off in the car, but her mother had still checked her as soon as she walked in the door, and been even more angry at finding that; she attempted to sneak a change out of the house in the morning, to change into before returning, only to get caught, and have her backpack searched every morning.

She was in diapers full time, even worse than it had been in elementary school, where she’d only ever worn them at night. Fed up, she’d dropped her pledge, sure that getting away from the girls would help… Yet, when she went home that day, her mother had emptied all her real panties from her underwear drawer and hidden them, replacing them with diapers. Her ‘big sisters’ hadn’t been happy about her quitting, and she saw at least one of them staking out the bathrooms in between her classes, making sure she couldn’t get in…

But, as the cherry on top of all of this, one day during lunch in the cafeteria, Angel had gotten up to put her tray up, only to feel a sudden breeze on her legs. For a long moment, she was confused, uncertain what could possibly be happening… Then, she’d heard the laughter. As quickly as she could, she grabbed for her baggy pants, yanking them back up, her cheeks burning as she saw the ‘big sisters’ standing behind her, giggling. She didn’t know which one had pantsed her, though she knew it had to have been one of them. And now, once again, just like in elementary school, she was the diaper girl of the school.

And her mother expected her to write Valentines to each of those ‘big sisters’, along with everyone in each of her classes. “And they’d all better be nice,” she warned. “I’ll be reading all of them tonight to make sure, and if I don’t approve of any of them, you’ll be getting a spanking for each one tomorrow before you leave.”

Angel knew she wasn’t joking; her mother was taking this opportunity to ‘re-do’ a few mistakes she thought she’d made with her parenting so far, turning Angel into a sweet, polite young lady, whether that’s what she wanted to be or not. Angel had a feeling those Valentines to her ‘big sisters’ were really coming from her mother, as a way to thank the girls for giving her that opportunity. Either way, she could already hear the Cupid jokes that were sure to be thrown around as she delivered all of these the next day… But, since she didn’t dare risk throwing them away, and having her mother somehow find out, like she always seemed to, she knew she was going to do it anyway.

Mr. Right

Amy’s Gift

A Valentine’s Day Present