Thanks For Taking Me Out To Dinner And The Two Bottles Of Wine Were Fantastic. Yes, You Are Going To

“Lay down and let me get you out of that messy diaper. You’re lucky I noticed before any of the other girls.”

You were still trying to figure out what was happening. She wasn’t wrong—you did have a messy diaper. But how did she know that? None of your friends knew about your incontinence. You were fairly confident you didn’t even smell thanks to the magic of Nullo.

“I-I’m not wearing a diaper. What are you talking about?”

“Yes you are,” she says, “and you pooped yourself five minutes ago. I can tell. You don’t have to lie to me.”

You’ve been incontinent long enough to know this isn’t going to end well. It’s gotta be some kind of trap. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? You’re gonna stand there in a clearly loaded diaper and keep denying it? I don’t care about the diapers. I don’t care about the mess I’m about to wipe off of you. I don’t think you understand what’s going on. I’ve had a crush on you for months. I was absolutely terrified of even talking to you until I saw what was clearly a diaper bulging out of your shorts a month ago. And I saw it again. And again. I knew it was my chance. When I saw you squatting down, I knew it was time. You’re super discreet about it by the way. So, are you gonna let me change your diaper or what?”

“I-wha-really?” You stuttered in utter disbelief.

“Yes, really. Now lay down. I assume you keep your spare diapers in the bag you carry with you everywhere. Good.” She pulls down your pants. “Let’s get these tabs off. One. Two. Three. And four. It’s not how I first imagined seeing you naked in my bed, but who cares. It’s finally happening.”

Somehow, despite having a girl you were crushing on for months ripping open your messy diaper, you were visibly excited.

She was blushing more than you. “Well, if I’m gonna have to be the one cleaning you up from now on, it’s good to know you’re packing down there. Not even sure how you fit this thing in your diaper,” she says as she wipes you down. Once she’s satisfied you’re all clean, she pulls you up off the bed, leading you to her bathroom.

“Where are we going,” you ask.

“To the shower. You’re gonna thank me for the change and then show me what you can do with that.”

Lolette has broken the rules regarding patient contact

The regression clinic has strict rules. For example. All staff have to wear diapers. Another rule is that Nurses must not force patients to ejaculate unless this is required by their treatment program

Nurse Lolette broke this rule and now is to be punished

She is first gagged with the thick pacifier and strapped to the table

Next the nurses force her to listen to the powerful hypnosis tapes they use on patients to get them to lose their bladder control and to forget their potty training

Lolette struggles but can’t escape it won’t be long before she too is a drooling vacant incontinent little baby girl

The nurses remove Lolette’s thick diaper for the other punishment she is to suffer

Matron is kind enough to force a muscle relaxant/sedative into Lolettes mouth to loosen her up and reduce her ability to struggle so much

Lolette drifts off to sleep as the hypnosis tapes kick in

And all that is left is for Matron to insert a large butt plug deep into Lolette’s ass. She will wake up wet and uncomfortable. And then her nightmare really begins…

Image credit AB Dreams

“Worthless”

I do not like the concept of someone being “worthless” in the context of BDSM, it’s not something I have ever said to a sub and it’s not something I enjoy seeing. I’ll preface all of this by saying that I can understand hypothetically why that term could be appealing to people in a humiliation context, but it’s just not for me.

If you have ever so much as glanced at my blog, or even read the title, it shouldn’t be hard to see that I am very interested in humiliation. Some of my absolute favorite things to do in a D/s context are to piss on a sub and make her make out with my ass. In that context I may call a sub my urinal or ass licker, and it might be all I call her that whole day.

So you might ask if you are willing to piss on someone and call her a urinal, then why not worthless? Two reasons:

1) Whether you are dripping in piss or you have your head shoved up my ass, that doesn’t make you less of a person. I may make her do degrading things, but I never think less of her as a person because she is doing something I want her to do, if anything those are moments where I praise her, for doing things that are difficult to endure, because they please me. That’s absolutely worthwhile.

2) I think that any good humiliation has to be rooted in some level of truth. If I call someone a urinal for example, there’s truth to that title. It might be degrading to hear for her, but that’s because she knows there is truth to that and so do I when I say it. If I were to say someone was worthless, I wouldn’t believe that and wouldn’t want her to believe it either, which is not effective in creating the mindset I want.

I get on average 4-5 messages a month from random people on here where in their first message they describe themselves as worthless. I understand that they usually think they are demonstrating that they are interested in humiliation, but it’s not appealing to me. Quite the opposite, when I first get to know you I want to know all of the things that make you worthwhile, your skills, your talents, along with your faults and flaws, but when the first thing you tell me is that you are worthless, it makes me wonder than why I should take my time to respond to you. When I look for someone, I want someone who is going to add to my life, enrich it in various ways that I might choose and that I can do the same for her.

So while I fully support others using those types of phrases in their humiliation play and can understand the appeal, it’s not something for me. I don’t think people are worthless, I certainly don’t think being a submissive negatively affects your worth as a person and if I did think you were worthless I certainly wouldn’t have interest in speaking to that person let alone considering them as a partner and/or submissive.

Padded Little Paradise

Naptime Thoughts

Image Credit: Ageplay247.com Quiet! You’ll wake her if you’re not careful. It’s her naptime, of course. She needs two, maybe three hours’ na

This one's a classic – free from the archive at last, and publicly available on Wordpress!

going full toddler part 5

Marie froze.

The soft ding-dong of the doorbell still echoed in her ears, but it was nothing compared to the thud-thud-thud of her heartbeat pounding in her chest.

She sat there, trapped in her playpen, still dressed in just her oversized T-shirt and a clearly visible diaper, her bib still snug around her neck. The highchair beside her was undeniable proof of what she had just been doing. There was no hiding, no chance to run. Whoever was at the door was going to see her just like this.

Her stomach flipped.

Steve, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed. He didn’t even hesitate as he walked to the front door, his stride casual, his smirk still lingering as if he wasn’t about to let a stranger see his little girl in the most embarrassing state possible.

Marie curled into herself, gripping her bunny tight, barely daring to breathe as she watched the door swing open.

And then—

The woman stepped inside.

Marie’s breath hitched.

She was stunning.

Tall, confident, and impossibly graceful, she carried herself with an air of effortless authority. Her honey-blonde hair was swept back into a perfect, elegant ponytail, not a single strand out of place. A flowing white sundress draped over her frame, accentuating the soft curves of her figure, and her lips curled into a knowing smile the moment she laid eyes on Steve.

“Steve,” she purred, stepping forward with open arms.

Marie watched in horror as Steve smirked—as if this was completely expected—and met the woman halfway, wrapping his arms around her in an embrace so natural, so intimate that it made Marie’s stomach twist.

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

She knew what that hug meant. The way he pulled her close, the way his hand rested on the small of her back—it was the same way he touched her whenever he brought her in for cuddles, the same warmth she thought belonged to just her.

But before she could even begin to process that, Marie’s breath caught as the woman pulled away and turned her gaze directly on her.

Her golden-brown eyes lit up at the sight.

“Oh,” she murmured, her voice rich with amusement. “Well, isn’t she just precious?”

Marie’s entire body locked up.

She wanted to disappear. Wanted to shrink into the floor, wanted to dive into the plush blankets of the playpen and vanish before this elegant, beautiful woman could get a better look at her.

But it was too late.

The woman was already stepping forward, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor.

Marie barely registered the movement beside her—only now noticing the boy standing just behind the woman.

He was dressed in shortalls—light blue, soft-looking fabric with an embroidered dinosaur peeking out of the pocket, revealing the unmistakable bulk of a thick diaper beneath. His T-shirt was a matching green, the cartoon dino on the front grinning happily. His cheeks were slightly flushed, his lips pressed around a pacifier as he suckled quietly, but his eyes were wide and curious as he stared right at her.

Marie’s stomach plummeted.

Another little.

Another diapered little.

Watching her.

Her hands gripped her bunny even tighter, her toes curling as her crinkly padding reminded her of exactly how little she was right now.

And then—

A warm hand slid under her chin.

Marie squeaked, her whole body stiffening as the woman crouched down, tilting her face up with gentle but unshakable authority.

“You must be Marie,” the woman murmured, her tone soft but full of something deeper—something that made Marie’s tummy flip. “Stevie’s told me so much about his little princess.”

Marie’s lips parted, but no words came out.

She was stunned.

Trapped in the woman’s gaze, frozen under her touch.

And then—before she could even process what was happening—the woman leaned in, brushing a kiss to her forehead, the soft floral scent of her perfume surrounding her, making Marie feel impossibly small.

It was warm. Maternal.

And then…..

Squish.

Marie gasped.

The woman’s other hand had drifted down—trailing over Marie’s tummy, her bib, and lower—before pressing gently against the front of her diaper.

Marie whimpered, her entire body going rigid as a wave of shame crashed over her.

“Oh, sweetheart,” the woman cooed, tilting her head as she gave the damp padding another deliberate squeeze. “You’re already a little soggy, aren’t you?”

Marie whimpered softly, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps as the woman’s warm palm lingered on the front of her diaper, pressing just enough to remind her exactly how little she was.

She felt utterly exposed.

And yet, the woman looked completely unbothered—like checking Marie’s diaper was the most natural thing in the world.

Steve’s chuckle sent another wave of heat crawling up Marie’s neck. “She’s a little damp, but I changed her just before lunch,” he mused, his voice rich with amusement. “Had to—this little princess had her first messy diaper right before I put her in her highchair.”

Marie’s heart stopped.

She squeaked, her entire body jolting as if she could somehow take back the words that had already been spoken. Her breath hitched, her hands clamping down hard over her bunny as shame crashed over her like a tidal wave.

No.

No, no, no.

Why—why did he have to say that?!

It was one thing for this woman to see her in a wet diaper. But this—this was worse. This was humiliating.

This woman—this stranger—who’s name she didn’t even know yet, now knew one of the most intimate, most embarrassing things about her. That just an hour ago, she had completely filled her diaper like the helpless little baby she was.

Marie could barely breathe, her entire body trembling with shame.

She chanced a glance up—just a tiny one—only to find the woman’s eyes twinkling with warmth and amusement.

“Oh, sweet girl,” the woman purred, her thumb gently stroking Marie’s cheek as if she could feel her embarrassment. “You really are just Daddy’s little baby, aren’t you?”

Marie whimpered, her face burning, but she couldn’t look away.

And then—

“Well,” the woman continued, still cupping Marie’s cheek with one hand while giving her diaper one last firm squeeze with the other, “I suppose you and Tim are more alike than I thought.”

Marie blinked, confused, her lip still trembling.

Tim?

Slowly, her wide eyes flickered past the woman’s shoulder—to the little boy still standing quietly behind her.

And before Marie could even process what she meant—

“Oh yeah,” the woman added casually, as if she were talking about the weather. “Tim already had his poopy Pampers first thing this morning.”

Marie’s jaw dropped.

Her stomach flipped.

Did she—did she really just—

Her gaze snapped back to the little boy in horror.

And what did she find?

Tim, grinning behind his pacifier, completely unbothered.

No blush. No shame. No embarrassment at all.

Just… a tiny giggle.

A tiny, amused, carefree giggle, like this wasn’t even a big deal.

Like he knew exactly what he was, and he didn’t care.

Marie could barely breathe.

How—how was he so okay with this?!

She felt like she was dying from the sheer humiliation of Steve mentioning her accident. Meanwhile, this boy had just admitted—completely casually—that he’d messed his diaper hours ago, and he was giggling about it?!

Marie couldn’t handle it.

Her hands flew up to her face, pressing her bunny tight against her burning cheeks as she squirmed helplessly in the woman’s arms.

“Oh, don’t be so shy, sweetheart,” the woman teased, bouncing Marie slightly as if she were just a fussy little baby. “It’s just part of being a little one, isn’t it?”

Marie squeaked.

She wanted to disappear.

But the woman just chuckled, as if Marie’s flustered state only amused her more.

Steve, of course, looked thoroughly entertained.

“I tried telling her that earlier,” he mused, crossing his arms as he leaned lazily against the doorway. “She’s still getting used to it.”

The woman hummed, clearly pleased. “Well, I suppose that’s what this weekend is for, isn’t it?”

Marie swallowed hard, her stomach twisting.

What—what did that mean?

Fertility rates had been plummetting for decades. It wasn't only because people wanted fewer children, it was also because sperm quality had reached a critical low point. Children were still born here and there, but nothing approaching a global replacement rate. Fortunately, we'd fixed aging. Bodily and mental decline were things of the past which prevented society from collapsing.

Of course, in a society of only adults, having children became highly prized. To fix that issue, every year the people turning 21 were offered to go through state-sponsored regression. Using the same technology used to keep the rest of the population young and able, the minds of the volunteers were youthened to that of a two-year-old while keeping all their personality and memories intact.

Maggie had always wanted to be a princess ever since she'd been a little girl. Growing up, she didn't mind telling people that she wanted to be regressed once she turned 21. But then came beer and boys and various interests like painting and reading and psychology and suddenly getting regressed seemed a lot less interesting. By the time she turned 21, she was in a serious relationship. The boy in question was very open to her ABDL tendencies and babying her. They had talked at great lenghts about the possibility of Maggie being adopted by him. But, they agreed, they needed someone to be the mommy. Maggie was anxious about how enthusiastically her boyfriend seemed to search for a romantic partner that wasn't her and how quickly she came into the picture. She was a long-time friend of both of them and very soon the dynamic was put in place and an appointment for Maggie's regression was scheduled.

It was quick and painless, a few injections here and there that would only need upkeep every week until her situation became stable.

Losing her continence was wonderful, but slowly getting dumber felt a lot scarier. Thankfully, Mommy and Daddy were there to take care of her. They loved each other very much, but most of all, they loved her. Nothing can be scary when Mommy blows raspberries on your tummy! Getting picked up and carried everywhere, wearing pretty dresses and pink all the time, Maggie definitely felt like a princess.

Photo credit: @sophiexxlittle

For more stories by me: https://reamstories.com/babywriter

Look what my Daddy made me!!!! 🥰🥰 @guyinyourfuture

A perfect evening

All characters in this story are consenting adults well over the age of 18.

I’m in the bedroom with my LittleOne. The door is closed because baby boys are curious and I don’t want to be chasing him all over the house tonight. There’s a playmat on the floor with some stuffies and legos and other toys. My BabyBoy is playing quietly with his legos and it gives me a chance to do some ‘Mommy stuff’. I’m on the bed planning out the week on my iPad. As I start to fill in LittleOne’s chore chart I get a whiff of something stinky. Just a hint of it and it isn’t even enough to be sure what I smelled so I take another sniff of the air. Oh yes, I definitely smell poopies. Hoping I didn’t miss the whole show, I subtly glance over at my Babyboy. I can’t help but smile when I see him squatting and leaning on one of his toys for balance as he scrunches his face. It looks like this is quite a pushie and I make a mental note to make sure my littleguy eats some more fiber at his next meal. He is grunting and straining and struggling. Finally I see his diaper start bulging downward as I hear a big sigh. He takes in another big breath and bares down again. That’s when he notices me and catches my eye. Blushing, he diverts his gaze to the floor.

“Such a good boy” I coo wanting him to know this is what I want too.

He shyly smiles at me as he finishes his poopie with a big groan. He turns and goes back to playing. I can’t help but feel bad. My poor baby must have had quite the tummy ache. He looks like he feels so much better. Maybe I need to be pushing more water sippys throughout the day along with his fiber.

“Hey sweetie? Can you please come here?”

“But I’m trying to build my castle mommy.” He whines.

“What did Mommy just ask?” I say, so he knows there is no getting out of this.

Immediately he comes over looking at the floor. I stand up from the bed and motion for him to turn around. I cup the bulge in the back of his diaper and give it a firm squeeze up agains his bum and his head instinctively falls backwards, his mouth open. I love how much he loves that.

I turn him around facing me and run my hand over the bulge in the front of his diaper before sliding my hand between his legs and reaching around again to his bum to press his messy bulge forward towards his balls. He whines about getting messy.

“Honey, you don’t need to worry about that. Mommy is here and I’m the one cleaning your messy bottom. Mommy wants a nice messy boy to clean.” I say and I see his apprehensions disappear as he lets himself truly experience his desires.

I turn him around once more and give him a firm smack right on his poopy bulge as he lets out an involuntary moan. I lay him on the bed on top of the changing mat. It takes every ounce of self control I have to not rip off the diaper and mount his cock but I want to do this right.

I slowly untape the diaper and peel off the front. But my desire gets the best of me. Seeing my man so regressed and allowing me to take care of such an intimate moment of his makes me so wet and wild. His cock is standing straight up practically pulsing.

“Babyboy, do you want mommy to ride your chubby?”

“Oh yes Mommy, please.” He begs

I climb on top of him and guide his thick cock into my dripping pussy. He may be my little boy but, he has the most perfectly exquisite cock of any man I have ever been with.

“That’s my boy.” I say as I ease down on his cock. God he feels so good.

“Does it feel good being in mommy’s kitty? You make mommy feel so good baby boy. You did such a good job making a poopy for mommy in your diapers.”

When I feel both me and him getting close I can’t help myself and the words spill out of my mouth. “Does it feel good fucking mommy on top of your diaper with your big poopy pressing up against your bottom? You are mommy’s dirty dirty boy. Mommy loves how naughty you are.”

“Mommy I can’t…I’m gonna”

“Cum in your poopies for mommy Baby”

And with that my man erupts into me and I explode in a furry of pleasure.

We catch our breath and I hop off him grabbing the wipes and cleaning myself before tending to him.

I make sure to tell him what a good boy he is and how happy he made me by using his diapers while I clean and wipe down every inch, crack, and crevice. I roll up the dirty diaper and put a clean one under him sprinkling powder and taping him up.

“How bout some cuddles?” I say “grab a stuffie while I put this in the trash and wash my hands”

I discard the dirty diaper in the pail and wash my hands. When I return my baby has his favorite bear stuffie and is waiting for me on the bed. Sucking his thumb.

“That’s my SweetBoy. Come here” I say as he cuddles close. I take out my breast so he can nurse and I know we will both fall asleep this way shortly.

“I love you StinkyBoy” I say as I kiss his head. And my baby instinctively squeezes my breast as he falls into dreamland.

Pacifying the Party Girl (AB/DL Collaboration)

To celebrate her first year of HRT, Zoey decides to hit the clubs and party it up - and she can’t resist the temptation to do so in diapers. Meanwhile, Dianne is on the lookout for someone to care for - And when they find each other, sparks fly.

This story contains exhibitionism, praise, public diaper use, and chastity.

…

I wrote this story as part of a collaboration with three other wonderful creators - Ko, HofBondage, and FlashyFlesh! Once their respective sections are uploaded, I’ll update this post with links.

Ko created the original story concept and a lot of the outlining, and also wrote the other half of this story, told from the Baby’s perspective.

I wrote the section here - The PoV of the dominant, Dianne!

HofBondage and FlashyFlesh both did illustrations of several points in the story - They’re so freakin’ hot and wonderful, I can’t wait to share them.

…

Dianne didn’t believe in luck.

Everything in her life happened for a reason. The energy she put out into the world? It came right back to her. When life presented opportunities, she always did her best to take them while thanking life for the favor.

This philosophy had treated her well. Though she tried to remain humble, she’d had success in all her affairs, and that success bred confidence–as well as the ability to watch for further opportunity.

And tonight she certainly saw opportunity.

The club, “The Dream Mode”, wasn’t one she frequented often, but it could occasionally be a good spot for opportunity seeking, and she was friends with several people on the staff. The weekend DJ had been in her sorority, she’d seen the bartender at a few dungeon events, and many patrons were in Dianne’s sphere of friends, ranging from close colleagues to besties.

She’d felt the call to the bar that night and, trusting her instincts, sought out the place and ordered herself a little cocktail to enjoy while watching the dancers.

And, as she’d suspected, life had given her an opportunity tonight in the form of a precious young girl with more enthusiasm than sense.

Dianne noticed the girl as soon as she entered the bar, dressed up like a goth princess. Her clothes’ style screamed ‘You can’t tell me what to do’, but the color and her hair suggested a softer, cuter side, and the collar all but announced the antithesis–please tell me what to do.

Even so, Dianne didn’t make a move yet. She watched. There were other candidates that night, other possibilities that life may be pulling her towards.

As the girl began to dance, though, Dianne knew that this goth princess was the one she’d come for. As she jumped and spun and gyrated, the girl’s tripp skirt raised, showing off–to Dianne’s delight–the unmistakable outline of a diaper, and the unmistakable print of a Bunny Hop at that.

The girl was a Little, and that all but demanded Dianne’s intervention before she left the bar without a mistress to care for her.

She began their interaction with a subtle nod. A suggestion, of sorts, ordering the girl a drink. Without a name, Dianne decided to simply think of her as the Baby, until she learned otherwise.

And maybe, even after she learned otherwise, she’d still think of the Baby as such.

After receiving Dianne’s message, the Baby glanced back her way and smiled. She looked pleased and, perhaps, a little shy–but not so shy that she melted away and fled. Instead, she flounced past Dianne on her way back to the floor, wiggling her crinkling bottom as she passed.

It was as though the Baby wanted Dianne to notice, so it was just as well that Dianne had.

And if she was that confident in herself, Dianne really needed to provide for her a strong, guiding hand.

Stalking across the dance floor, Dianne approached the girl, who had begun dancing with reckless abandon, her eyes closed. Choosing a bold first encounter, she stepped in and looped a finger through the loop in the girl’s collar, pulling her a half step forward–not so forcefully that it’d hurt, just enough to jolt her.

Beaming with dominant energy, she sent her parting shot over. “Hello there, little girl. You sure are enjoying yourself tonight.”

“H-hello yourself,” the girl replied. Dianne’s heart leapt, this baby was adorable. Her attempt to sound confident rendered her down to a toddler, claiming she hadn’t gotten into the cookie jar without wiping the crumbs off her face.

Pulling her finger away, Dianne began to dance, reaching out to the baby’s hips and resting her hands on the poor girl’s diaper.

“Dance with me,” she said, not a request, a statement. She could call it, ‘Manifesting the world she wanted to see’, or she could just call it control, but the effect was the same. The baby nodded and obeyed, blushing brightly all the while.

Hands placed firmly over the baby’s diaper, with only a thin skirt between her and the crinkly padding, they danced. It wasn’t the right music for a slow dance with a lot of touching, but Dianne moved their bodies in a rhythm of her choosing, moving her hands up and down the baby, engaging in close contact.

She moved with an almost protective aura. She’d staked her claim on this little girl, and now they danced together, with Dianne warding off anyone who might come close in subtle ways, placing her body so that she was the baby’s whole world, her sole focus and the object of her attention.

When the time was right, in a lull between songs, Dianne moved behind the baby and wrapped her arm around the girl. She ran her hand up the girl’s thigh, finally pressing her palm into the front of the girl’s thick diapers. Leaning in to whisper in the baby’s ear, she stated, “Show me you’re a good little girl. Wet your diaper.” She didn’t say it in a condescending or mean way, but just as a statement–if the baby was good, her diaper would be wet.

The baby glanced back at her, anxious but pliable, biting her lip.

“What’s the matter? Did you not hear me?” Dianne asked, dropping her voice even lower. “Do I need to speak louder, sweetheart, so everyone can hear? Good girls wet their diapers.”

Shutting her eyes, the girl did what was only natural. She proved to Dianne that she was good, and obedient, and more than willing to obey. The warmth spread quickly as the baby followed instructions, flooding the padding thoroughly, urine wicking into the absorbent padding and making the diaper sag ever so slightly.

She’d stopped dancing. It was adorable. The baby was so focused on obeying, on being good, that she’d forgotten everything around her. To remind the girl of where she was, Dianne pressed her hand into the squelching diaper, giving it a squeeze. “Good girl, I knew you could do it,” she purred.

To Dianne’s delight, the girl squeaked in submission. Truly, the universe had given her a precious gift today, even if the baby tried to hide it and tamp down on any other little sounds.

“Tsk,” she warned, reaching down for the girl’s purse.

The girl resisted, but Dianne gave her a light swat to the thigh and she melted back into obedience. Going through the contents of the purse, she made a mental catalog–the baby had really come prepared.

“Enough pretending you’re big,” she stated, listing out what she saw as she came across it. “Miss Dianne wants to see what you have–powder, wipes, lotion, spare diapers. You’re a smart girl, right, you remembered to bring a change, and–ah, there it is.”

Before the baby could ask what she’d found, Dianne produced the baby’s pacifier and plopped it into the girl’s lips. She reached up, to cover the pacifier and remove it, but a firmer swat to her thigh and a dominant glance was enough to demolish the girl’s resistance.

“No no, sweetie, you keep that in. Nurse your paci, little girl, and Miss Dianne will take care of everything else.” To emphasize what ‘everything else’ meant, she gave the baby’s diaper another squeeze. “Don’t worry–nobody will know you’re a baby, they’ll just think you’re on molly.”

The girl nodded meekly. Putty in the hands of a strong woman, Dianne wanted to swaddle her up and protect her from the whims of the universe.

“Tell me your name,” she said.

“Zoey,” the girl mumbled, over her pacifier.

“Little Baby Zoey,” Dianne purred, letting the name float across her tongue. Running her fingers down the back of Zoey’s diaper, she decided to try something. This baby needed to be cared for, and Dianne had just the thing. “You flooded your diapers–we need to step aside to make sure you don’t leak.”

If Zoey even noticed the other dancers anymore, Dianne suspected it was only barely.

Moving her hand from the diaper to Zoey’s hand, Dianne walked off the stage and, as expected, felt no resistance. Baby Zoey followed with complete deference, off to a shady corner of the nightclub where no lights shone. It wouldn’t be private, but it’d be private enough.

Sliding the purse off Zoey’s shoulder, Dianne set it on the table by their side, turning the girl so that she faced the dance floor. “All you need to do is stand there and look pretty,” she promised.

The baby let out a squeak, the universal language version of, ‘I’m a helpless little girl,’ and Dianne proceeded with her plan.

“If you keep using your diaper–which a good little girl will do–you’re going to leak,” she explained, as her hands worked under Zoey’s skirt, feeling up her sodden diaper. With a sharp fingernail, she pierced the plastic shell of Zoey’s diaper, tearing a long slit from the front to the back. Zoey squeaked again, and Dianne whispered, “Shh, just hold still.”

Three more parallel slits into Zoey’s diaper created open channels, enough for fluids to easily drain. Now came the fun part, as she reached into Zoey’s purse–her diaper bag, really–and produced another diaper, unfolding it discreetly behind Zoey’s back.

In the dark corner, most onlookers would assume Dianne was just feeling her up, at least at a glance. Sure, there were some obvious tells that something more was going on, but Dianne was counting on the fact that, in a crowded nightclub, most eyes would be on the gyrating asses and dancing hotties on the floor, not the quietly meeping baby in the corner.

Sliding the diaper up beneath Zoey’s skirts, Dianne worked by sense of touch to wrap it around her waist. Zoey continued making little helpless squeaking sounds over her pacifier, but Dianne’s touch remained gentle as she smoothed out the crinkling plastic shell, pressing the diaper into Zoey, and smoothing out the tapes so that they stuck securely.

While she was doing so, she felt a bulge in the front of Zoey’s diaper. That settled one thing she’d been curious about, though she wouldn’t bring it up until Zoey did.

“Good girl,” she whispered from behind, into Zoey’s ear. “Now you don’t have to worry about leaks at all!”

Baby Zoey nodded meekly. Obediently. Such a good baby.

“You need to drink more water,” Dianne instructed. “Then come back to me. I want to dance again.”

Adorably, Zoe’s doubly-diapered waddle and choice of bottoms worked together to make her diaper poke out as she left, visible with every step beneath her flapping skirt. She was precious, with the sort of innocence that made Dianne’s heart melt.

While she was gone, Dianne steadied herself. She couldn’t get carried away, and wouldn’t push this girl too far. If the girl was that naive to how obvious her diaper was–and it really didn’t seem like she was choosing exhibitionism–then she truly needed a protector to shield that innocence.

Though, at the same time–the girl had chosen to come to a bar wearing a diaper, purely for her own gratification. She wasn’t that kind of innocent, and Dianne felt no compunctions about making Zoey helpless along that vector.

When Zoey returned, Dianne’s heart melted by another degree as she saw Zoey had brought back a sippy cup. Admittedly, it had lewd stickers and the bar logo printed on the side, and it probably came out for the Kandy Kid ravers fairly often, but in Zoey’s hands it just screamed, ‘I’m a little baby.’

“That’s cute,” she said, nodding at the cup with an amused smile. “The bartender could tell you’re still a little baby.”

Zoey responded by making a face, arguing her maturity in the most childish way possible. “Nuh uh, it was a joke an I…ummm…I though’ she knew…”

Dianne’s smile widened, though she wondered if Zoey’s slurring was a toddlerish aspect, or a sign that she’d had more than water in the past moment. “You should have a seat, little Zoey, and drink your water. Take care of your body. Okay?” Nodding to a box to the side, the sort of wide low rectangle that could be dragged out and used as a raised dancing or performing platform, she helped Zoey move to sit on it.

“Thanou… I shoudn…” The girl pulled out her pacifier, holding it in her hand as she confirmed Dianne’s suspicion. “I shouldn’t have gotten more shots…you were right about the water. ”

Heart swelling, Dianne’s instincts kicked in. This girl needed a Mommy, not just a Mommy Dom. “Zoey, that’s not what you were supposed to do. You want to be a good girl, and that’s not what good girls do. How is your head feeling?”

Zoey bit her lip, avoiding eye contact and staring at her lap. “It’s fine, well… a little spinny, but not bad… and I do want I be a good girl, I was just being dumb and not thinking. I’m sorry Miss.”

“You’re not dumb.” This girl… Dianne took a breath, resisting the urge to drag Zoey into a hug. “You just need a grown up to help take care of you. This is your first night out as a little girl, isn’t it?”

A little squeak escaped Zoey’s lips, and for a half second, Dianne worried she’d said something wrong. After catching herself, though, Zoey continued. “Well, I’ve been out padded before, but never to the club. Actually this is my first time at the club in over a year… I’m kind of here to celebrate something.”

A few thoughts all rose to the surface in Dianne’s mind. Rather than speak her theory aloud, though, she put her hands on Zoey’s and let the baby explain for herself in her own time. “Oh? I’m afraid I don’t have a present for you, but I’m sure whatever the occasion is, it’s very special.”

“Honestly, all the fun and attention is far more than I could’ve asked for from anyone… that being said…” Zoey closed her eyes and took a breath, like she was about to jump of a cliff. “… the thing is… I’m a trans woman. I started HRT a year ago.”

(This baby!) Dianne’s hands tightened over Zoey’s. “Oh, you sweet little thing. Thank you for telling me, but that doesn’t change anything to me.” Worried that she might be coming on too strong, too protective, she added a quip. “Then again, that explains why you’re such a baby–you’re only one!”

Zoey’s eyes watered, but she took the branch of humor and kept herself together. “Hmph! I’m four. I’m practically a big girl even.” She stuck out her tongue, and Dianne was almost surprised that she didn’t add in a raspberry.

“Uh-huh.” Playing along, Dianne lifted the sippy cup, prodding the sipper in between Zoey’s lips “Well, birthday girl, I want you to have a nice time, but since you’re a little tipsy, we need to make sure you’re okay first, okay?”

Zoey nodded obediently. “Yes ma'am.” When she spoke, the water she’d been sipping on dribbled down her chin, further reinforcing Dianne’s vision of her as all-but helpless. For some reason, the baby giggled, dribbling even more water, and a furtive glance downward suggested why.

Reaching down, Dianne gave the baby’s diaper another squeeze. “We’re going to sit here for a little while until your head stops spinning.” Zoey opened her mouth, but Dianne shook her head and pushed the sippy cup back between her lips. “Shh, just listen. I need you to listen, so you can be good.”

Zoey nodded.

Good girl. Dianne clasped Zoey’s hands tightly. “If I say you’re going to do something, and you don’t feel safe, you’re going to tell me. If I ask if you’re okay, you’re going to tell me. I can’t protect you if I don’t know how you’re feeling.”

Again, Zoey nodded, suckling intently on her water.

“If I ask, and you’re okay, you can just say, ‘Green’. Just that one word and I’ll know you’re okay.” Dianne waited for a nod before continuing. “If you’re uncertain, and want to talk, you say, ‘Yellow’. Swallow, then say it back to me.”

Zoey obeyed, swallowed her water, and said, “Yellow.”

“And if you say, ‘Red’, we stop immediately and get you safe and comfortable. Say it.”

“Red.” Zoey put her cup back, letting the water trickle into her mouth again.

“We don’t joke about safe words. I’m not going to do anything that’ll get you in trouble, but if you’re unsure, you’ll tell me immediately.” She was moving things too fast, and she knew it–but the universe had given her this precious baby to protect, and she wouldn’t let the moment pass her by.

“Now tell me, little Zoey, what’s your favorite song to dance to?”

The girl hesitated for a moment, and Dianne worried she’d gone too far, but it quickly became clear she’d just taken Zoey by surprise with the change of topics. Of course, Zoey couldn’t know what Dianne was thinking, so that shouldn’t have been a surprise.

After a moment of thought, Zoey said, “Um… Emo Girl? But not MJK’s version…” Smirking, she showed off a bit of the fiery passion and opinionated personality Dianne loved to see. “That isn’t emo to me. Paige Six got it right.”

Dianne grinned. “Okay, now you need someone to check your diaper for me while I go request your song–you’re probably close to needing a change, right?” Glancing around, she spotted another acquaintance, someone she knew was kink friendly and up for anything. Gesturing with her head, she suggested, “What about him?”

Zoey shook her head. “Y-yellow…”

Swallowing, Dianne tried not to berate herself. She’d already gone and pushed Zoey too far, and it had been luck that she’d used her safe words–no, Zoey was a smart girl. It wasn’t luck, she just knew how to assert her boundaries. “Is it a problem with him, or with someone checking your diaper?”

Zoey shook her head, briefly uncommunicative, but her eyes told the story. She glanced to the bartender, Amy, and Dianne knew what she wanted from that look.

“Oh, would you like the nice lady who gave you your sippy cup to do it? It would be very brave of you to go and ask her.” She smiled, reassuringly. Amy was just as reliable, maybe even moreso, and if it was what made Zoey comfortable it was the perfect choice. Zoey smiled, and Dianne helped her up, smirking at the girl’s pronounced waddle from the thick, sodden diapers that her skirt failed to hide. Giving Zoey a pat and a squeeze on her padding, she added, “You should thank her for the sippy cup, as well.”

While Zoey went to get checked, Dianne made her way through the crowd over to the DJ. Throwing up a wave with her thumb and pinkie extended in a waggle, she greeted her. “Hey, Mels! How’ve you been?”

With an earphone pressed against one ear, Mels responded with a thumbs up, bobbing her head and keeping the music going. She’d always been more of a doer than a talker.

“Can you take a request for me, as a favor? Emo Girl by Paige Six!”

Another thumbs up and a nod, and Mels returned to her DJ work. Grinning, Dianne found her way back to Zoey, meeting her by the dancing platform they’d been standing by. Zoey returned a moment later, with a full sippy cup and an adorable blush.

“What did the nice lady say?” Dianne asked.

“That…I could last a little longer,” Zoey replied, raising her cup to take a sip.

“We should fix that,” Dianne suggested. “But first, I want you to show me what a good dancer you are, okay?”

Zoey hesitated, and again, Dianne wondered if she’d gone too fast with her. Before she could retract her suggestion, though, Zoey nodded. “Okay.”

“Where’s your pacifier?” Dianne asked. Zoey retrieved it from her purse, and Dianne plopped it between her lips. Then, she bent slightly, pulling on the handle of the raised dance platform. It wasn’t that heavy, and she could drag it easily towards the center of the dance floor.

She hadn’t, strictly, gotten permission to use it, but confidence was the only ticket she needed. They weren’t forbidden or anything, and everyone was already dancing–what difference would it make if Zoey was dancing a little higher, for everyone to see?

“Just be good for me,” Dianne said. “I want to watch you dance, okay?”

Zoey nodded again, as Dianne got the platform far enough out that people were stepping aside to let her through. Taking Zoey’s hand, she squeezed it reassuringly, helping the tipsy baby up just as a few opening chords started to play.

The music began: “She’s got studded belts–” and Zoey’s face lit up with excitement. Needing no further encouragement, she began to dance.

The girl lit up the room, and not just because a spotlight whirled to point at her. Her smile was infectious, her enthusiasm infinite, and when she danced, twirling so that her skirt spun, it filled Dianne with pure joy.

It didn’t matter that Zoey’s diaper was acutely visible, between her raised platform, her skirt spinning high, and the severe puff and sag of the diaper. Most people in the bar were kink friendly, and even those who weren’t just didn’t care. It was impossible to look at Zoey, dancing her heart out and smiling the biggest, most exuberant smile in the world, and care what was sagging under that skirt.

As the song reached its final chorus, Zoey looked down at Dianne, hesitant, looking for something. Dianne knew what, and she gave her permission.

She mouthed the word: ‘Push.’

Zoey glanced past her, eyeing something. Dianne glanced back, and saw it was a mirror; Zoey was watching herself as she obeyed. The little girl bent her knees slightly, still wiggling her butt in time with the music, but soon even that motion was lost as she turned her attention to being a good girl.

She bit down on her pacifier, held her breath, and Dianne’s heart melted. This girl was simply too precious for this world, too adorable. Even though the mess could only be inferred; Zoey’s diaper was already so thick and sagging that there wasn’t much in the way of a visible bulge, it was clear what she was doing by her face and her pose, and by the subtle crinkle as she bottomed out her diapers.

Gaze darting around for reassurance, Zoey caught Dianne’s eyes, breathing rapidly. The last notes of the song were running out, and Dianne beamed at her, reaching up to help her down.

Even with Dianne’s hand, Zoey still stumbled, falling onto a seated position on the platform. She gasped and turned pink as she fell onto the weight of her packed diaper, and Dianne finally got a whiff of what she’d done. Wrinkling her nose ever so slightly, Dianne pulled her into a hug and helped Zoey away from the center of the dance floor, while someone else climbed up to take their turn as the center of attention.

“Shh,” she whispered into Zoey’s ear. “You’re such a good girl. You were wonderful up there, the most adorable little thing I’ve ever seen, and the best little baby anyone could ask for.” Reaching down, she slipped a hand under Zoey’s skirt, squeezing the seat of her diaper ever so slightly.

Zoey looked down, avoiding Dianne’s gaze, so Dianne touched her chin and moved her head up until they locked eyes again. Zoey’s expression was huge and helpless, little and in dire need of reassurance…and maybe something more.

“Your diaper is ready for a change,” Dianne said. “There’s a bathroom in the corner with a lock. Would you like me to change you?”

Zoey squeaked out a little, “Yes, please,” over her pacifier, though her focus was less on the words and more on Dianne’s face.

Smiling warmly, Dianne said, “There’s my stinky little girl. Let’s go.”

Leading Zoey by the hand, Dianne pulled her to the restroom. A unisex sign on the door indicated it was for general use, though in practice Dianne thought it was used as a private room for sex as often as it was for its intended purpose–certainly, Zoey wouldn’t be using the toilet any time soon.

Pulling her inside, Dianne locked the door. Reaching down, she took Zoey’s skirt, kneeling so she could pull it all the way down off the baby’s body, revealing her sagging, smelly diaper.

Kneeling in front of Zoey, Dianne looked up at her. “You really ruined your diaper, baby,” she commented. “Just like you’re supposed to.”

As Zoey squeaked in response, Dianne stood, took her hands, and gently forced her back towards the toilet. It was a cheap, old thing, with exposed copper pipes that ran halfway up the wall. Definitely a retrofit, and little effort had been made for aesthetics. Dianne pushed Zoey down onto the toilet seat, forcing the baby’s weight into her loaded diaper, then pulled her hands up to the pipes.

Twisting the skirt into a rope, Dianne wrapped it around the pipes and around Zoey’s wrists, tying a secure knot. It was by no means perfect, but it didn’t cut off circulation, and it’d keep her hands there so long as she didn’t try to wriggle free, and good girls wouldn’t try to wriggle free.

Once she was restrained, Dianne reached down, rubbing against the front of Zoey’s diaper. She could feel how hard the girl was, and Zoey wriggled on the toilet seat to truly experience how full her diaper had become.

Hesitating, Dianne took a risk. “Show mommy how much you love your smelly diapers, okay?”

She didn’t want to go too far, but calling herself ‘Mommy’ just felt right. Zoey seemed to agree with the label, because she didn’t object, she simply thrusted into Dianne’s hand, moaning into her pacifier as she tried to get every ounce of sensation through her layers of sodden, decimated diaper.

After a moment, Dianne pulled her hand away. She didn’t want Zoey’s fun to end just yet. Instead, she reached up, unbuttoning her blouse till it hung loose over her chest. Reaching down, she took Zoey’s pacifier out of her lips, moved to sit on Zoey’s lap so that her breasts were at Zoey’s eye level, and pulled herself free of her bra.

She didn’t need to say anything. Zoey’s mouth moved instinctively to Dianne’s nipple, and she began to suckle, still wriggling and grinding as she did so.

It was Dianne’s turn to moan, and to reach down beneath her own pants, slipping fingers to fondle herself while adorable, helpless, smelly little Zoey gasped and suckled her tits. Dianne barely needed to do anything for herself, simply being over Zoey in this situation brought her nearly to the edge, and she showed little restraint as she brought herself to climax.

“Yes,” she moaned, as Zoey sucked hard on her breasts. “Exactly like that, baby, just–yes–”

It was Dianne’s turn to make herself wet, though not as thoroughly as Zoey had. Squirting into her panties, it just barely soaked through to her jeans, not enough to be particularly noticeable unless someone was looking for it. Zoey continued to wriggle in helpless frustration, trying and failing to get enough sensation to achieve her own climax.

Dianne took a breath for a moment, then pulled away. “Zoey, I want you to wait here,” she said. “Don’t spit out your pacifier, and don’t untie your hands. If you do, I’ll know.”

Zoey looked up at her, eyes huge, pleading, as though to ask, ‘Why don’t I get to cum?’, but Dianne only smiled coyly.

“Trust me,” she said. “I’ll only be gone a minute. Safe words?”

Zoey mumbled, “Green,” over her pacifier, and Zoey bent over to kiss her on the forehead. Then she stood up straight, waved, and left the bathroom, flipping over the ‘out of order’ sign on the door to discourage anyone from stepping in.

Of course, there wasn’t anything stopping anyone from opening the door, and that was a bit of the fun. In the few minutes while Dianne was gone, anyone could wander in and find Zoey stuck, right over the toilet, in her filthy diaper.

She was only gone for a minute. There was a sex shop two doors down and open late, and she acquired what she needed with little hassle. She got back, made her way across the bar floor and pushed open the door to the bathroom.

After being gone for several minutes, the shock of the smell hit her hard as she stepped in, partly because it contrasted with the fresh air outside, partly because Zoey had been given time to stew and really stink up the room.

Zoey was wriggling on the toilet seat, smushing into her diaper and whimpering when Dianne walked in. Spotting her, she mumbled through her pacifier, “Mommy?”

“Mhmm,” Dianne said. “Let’s get your diaper changed, little girl.”

“But–” Zoey started, but Dianne shook her head.

“No buts, except yours, in a fresh diaper,” Dianne said, setting down her shopping bag and crossing to begin cleaning up Zoey.

It was a bit tricky, doing it while Zoey stayed seated and tied up, but Dianne made it work. Undoing the tapes, she pinched her nose and made a face, mostly for show. “You really did a number on your diaper,” she commented, producing baby wipes from Zoey’s purse and slowly, methodically, began to clean the girl up.

Zoey continued to squirm, but over time, the cold wipes began to combat her erection, and her princess parts grew smaller and more pliable.

Exactly what Dianne wanted.

Reaching into her purse, she produced her purchase–a stainless steel chastity cage. She made sure Zoey could see it, and waited for a moment to give her a chance to use a safe word. When Zoey didn’t respond, Dianne opened up the cage, and began fitting it around her parts.

“This is my good little girl insurance,” Dianne explained, sliding the cage into place. “I want you to wear your diapers and use them like a good baby all week, and if you do, I’ll unlock you and let you cum. Okay?”

Zoey nodded enthusiastically, eyes huge and excited.

“You’ll get my permission before every change, okay?” Dianne asked, as she slid the locking mechanism into place. Zoey nodded again, and with a little click, she locked the cage on. Reaching for a fresh diaper from Zoey’s purse, she added, “And I don’t want you to even think about using the potty. You’re a baby, you’re supposed to use your diapers. Okay?” She made sure to emphasize that she was asking–some things still required more than a statement of fact.

“O…okay, mommy,” Zoey nodded.

Zoey had brought along powder as well, so Dianne applied a thin layer before wrapping up the fresh diaper and taping it into place. “Good girl.” Reaching down, she wadded up Zoey’s old diaper so that nothing could smush out, then moved it into Zoey’s purse. “I don’t want to make the staff here deal with your stinky accidents, so this goes in your diaper bag.”

That didn’t need an ‘Okay?’ at the end. Zoey would be good on that account.

Zoey nodded again, squirming in her fresh diaper.

Reaching up, Dianne finally untied Zoey’s skirt from around the pipe, freeing her hands. “Let’s take you home, baby girl. Did you have a nice time?”

“Mhmm,” Zoey said. “Thanks, Mommy.”

Dianne’s heart swelled.

Fate had truly given her a gift tonight.

…

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