MISTRESS MAY EYE  Day 29:

Such a naughty little baby, now you can pout all you want as you fill your diaper in bed

Mummy's Girl - Part 1

Kimmy might be a twenty-two year-old-woman, but her potty skills have never been up to the level of her peers. Living firmly under the thumb of her controlling, condescending mother, she desperately wants to live an ordinary life of a girl her age, to make friends and go on dates and, above all, to say goodbye to dirty diapers for good. Unfortunately, her Mama has other ideas...

***

Kimmy hurried up to the front door as quickly and quietly as she could, praying her mother was preoccupied with something and wouldn’t notice her sneaking into the house so late – it was almost eight thirty in the evening, which meant it was past her bedtime. She tottered a little unsteadily up the drive, thanks in part to the half a dozen or so shots of vodka she’d had with her college friends at the bar after lectures. But there was another thing making her walk a little strangely; a thick pair of oversized Huggies pull-ups were pushing her thighs apart, and one of her hands was pressed urgently against her crotch as she fought desperately not to wet herself.

If it wasn’t for her babyish training pants and the childish clothes she was dressed in (a pale pink frock that could just barely pass for something a grown woman might wear), Kimmy would have looked the part of the archetypal blonde bombshell. As it was, her long golden hair looked more cute than sexy in braided pigtails, and her generous chest was hidden, crammed inside her tight blouse. Her bright blue eyes, plump lips, and perfect complexion were model-like, but at present her features were scrunched up with the effort of holding her aching bladder.

Nevertheless, there was no doubt that Kimmy was a beautiful, fully-grown woman. Although the toddler’s pull-ups she wore instead of adult underwear didn’t make her feel that way, she was actually two or three years older than most of her peers at university. It was her mother’s doing, of course. Mrs Jones had decided on three separate occasions that her daughter ‘simply wasn’t mature enough’ to move on to the next school year, and had insisted she be held back – once in kindergarten, then twice over the course of primary school, making her much older than her classmates. But she’d been the only one still toddling off to the nurse’s office at breaktime for diaper changes. At least she’d kicked her pants-pooping habit by the time she’d moved on to secondary school, even if she did still have to contend with wet training pants on a regular basis.

Now, though, the age difference wasn’t nearly as important as it had been, and even her pee-pee issues had almost completely dried up. At long last, Kimmy was free in a way she’d never been before, free from the humiliation of being a grown woman who still went to the bathroom in her own pants. She only wished she could be free from her mother’s constant coddling as well. She’d been worried her mum wouldn’t allow her to go to college at all, but with enough badgering, she’d eventually relented – on the condition that Kimmy choose a local university, and live at home rather than at a dorm. Unfortunately, that meant dealing with the same rules she’d had since the age of six.

“What time do you call this, Kimmy?!” her mother thundered the moment Kimmy entered the house. “It’s past your bedtime, little girl! Where have you been?!”

Kimmy let out a whimper and felt the familiar sensation of her bladder letting go in her pants. Warm pee flooded into her pull-ups at once, accompanied by a faint hissing sound. It had been a feeble hope, but there was a small chance she could have slipped in without her mother noticing if she’d been taking a bath or something. But she ought to have known better; her mum had never once failed to catch her breaking a rule in all her life.

Apart from being a little plumper, Mrs Jones looked exactly like an aged-up version of her daughter; the same golden blonde hair, only tied up in a tight knot behind her head rather than arranged in childish pigtails, the same large breasts, though in her case her assets were proudly on display in a tastefully tempting, low-cut top, and the same crystal blue eyes and full lips, perhaps a little less pouty than her daughter’s, but painted a deep, sensuous red. The most dramatic difference between them were their expressions, however. While Kimmy looked shy and sweet, her mother gave off an impression of severity and self-confidence.

“I was just out with my friends, Mama…” Kimmy said meekly, pulling a face at the icky feeling of the heavy, pee-soaked pull-ups squishing against her skin.

Her mother sniffed the air suspiciously and her eyes flashed. “Have you been drinking, young lady?!”

“I’m twenty-two, Mama!” Kimmy whined petulantly, looking down at her feet. “I’m allowed to drink!”

“As long as you’re under my roof, that decision is up to me, Kimmy! You know your bladder can’t cope when you…” She paused, sniffing the air again. “Oh, Kimmy…” she said in a disappointed, threatening tone. “You didn’t…”

Kimmy’s bottom lip trembled and tears welled up in her eyes as her mother reached out and lifted up the hem of her frock, exposing the faded wetness indicators on the front of her sagging pull-ups.

“Soaked!” her mother announced, as she inspected the discoloured training pants between her daughter’s legs. “This is exactly why you shouldn’t be drinking, Kimmy! I told you this would happen! Mama is very cross with you, little lady! I’ve been trying my hardest to finally get you potty trained, and you insist on going out of your way to make it as difficult as possible! Maybe you’re not mature enough for college after all…”

“No!” Kimmy squealed, eyes widening in fear. “Please, Mama! It was just an accident!”

“Two-year-olds have accidents, Kimmy, not twenty-two-year-olds. Perhaps daycare will suit you better than university…”

“I’ll be good!” Kimmy said desperately. Tears were spilling down her cheeks. “Please, Mama! Don’t make me drop out! I can be a big girl, I promise! I even have a date tomorrow with a guy from my class!”

Her mother said nothing for a few seconds. Then she sighed. “Alright, Kimmy. But you still need to be disciplined. Are you going to be a good girl and accept your punishment?”

“Yes, Mama!” Kimmy said at once, even though her stomach was twisting uncomfortably at the thought of what her mother likely had in mind.

“Then come me with, baby.” She took her daughter’s hand and led her to her bedroom. Kimmy’s heart sank as she watched her approach the closet, open the doors, and bend down to reach what Kimmy knew was sitting at the bottom. A moment later she straightened up, holding in her hand one of the enormous, custom-ordered Pampers that she used for her go-to punishment – diaper discipline.

“Mama, please…” Kimmy whispered, her bright eyes fixed on the huge nappy.

“Three days in diapers, Kimmy,” her mother said briskly, walking over to the large changing table that still sat in the middle of the bedroom and patting the surface. “Hop up. You know the drill.”

Her feet felt like they were made of lead, but Kimmy dragged them over to the table obediently and hoisted herself up.

“Good girl,” her mother said, quickly getting to work stripping off her clothes. “You just lie still and Mama will have that naughty bottom back in nappies in no time!”

Kimmy covered her face with her hands so she wouldn’t be able to see as her mother ripped off her pissy pull-ups and slid the bulky diaper under her bottom in their place. But she could feel the cool tickle of the baby wipe as the pee was cleaned off her skin, and there was no blocking out her mother’s voice. “There you go, Kimmy,” she said, pulling thick padding up between her legs and taping it into place. “Now you can wet yourself as much as you want, just like a baby. Do you remember the rules?”

“No toilets,” said Kimmy quietly. “No asking for a change. No touching my diaper.”

“Good girl.”

Kimmy took her hands away from her face and swung herself down from the table. Her gait was spread wide; as always, the Pampers felt absurdly thick between her legs – big enough to hold a full day’s worth of a grown woman’s pee.

“Mama,” Kimmy said hesitantly, “maybe I could just use them for number one, and then when I need to-”

“You’ll poop in them too, Kimmy,” her mother said firmly. “A full nappy will help you appreciate how immature you acted.”

Kimmy screwed up her face and tried not to cry. Wetting herself was one thing, but dirtying her diaper always transported her back to those awful days of her childhood when she still had poopy accidents. She wanted more than anything to leave that phase of her life behind forever. “Yes, Mama…” she mumbled.

“Now, brush teeth and straight to bed young lady!” her mother ordered, delivering a firm smack to her bottom to send her on her way. “No dawdling, or you’ll have a red bottom under your nappy by the time I tuck you in!”

***

The full story can be found on Patreon for those who want to read more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Incontinent

You are recently were prescribed Incontinence to address your hyper-chronic masturbation and rampant pornography addiction that was seriously affecting your life and livelihood. Your doctor and therapist signed off on it and once you arrived at the clinic and you signed in they would take your information and and brought to your room where you were undressed and dawned a hospital gown before they came to bring you in you did one last fap and made account going in and out until you felt it go . They would arrive and put you on the gurney bring you in and soon put you under . Not long later you would wake in your bed with a weird feeling your crotch it was a tick medical diaper soggy and moist and it surrounded your crotch .  as you lay there thinking about your decision up to this point and your problem you would feel yourself go filling it even more and you couldn’t stop yourself . Soon the nurses would arrive and told you the operation was a total success, and you were incontinent and happily they helped you change your diaper powdering your bottom and applying a new diaper they would tell you that we’re going to keep you overnight to watch you and tomorrow you would be going home . You would lay there Thinkingagain, only to be interrupted by a new spur out urine and then stool and then you fed. This is what your life became. Now home your life would change now having to wear thick diapers and carry around a diaper bag as you couldn’t control yourself now. At first not letting incontinence stop you you would attempt to masturbate taking it off and doing it but before you could go all the way, you would end up ruining your bedsheets with urine doing a number on it . After that, you slowly stopped attempting to do it since diapers weren’t your thing you would ultimately stop doing it with that now you you had to get on with your life being an Incontinent woman all because you couldn’t control your dirty habits .

This is my first time so please be kind with me :3

The Babies of New York City

Fine I’ll write more smut. I’ll even make it relevant to the current housing crisis. Please message me any spelling / grammar mistakes you find. I will also remove pictures at your request.

I am also not sure this story is particularly good so any feedback is appreciated.

The women of New York City weren’t smart.

All Mike had to do to lure them in was offer his apartment at a price below market rate. Within days of listing he would have hundreds of applicants pleading to rent it out. Of those hundreds of applicants, he could always find a few young beautiful women who looked like they could be easily trained.

The first step was always simple: let them move in normally. These young women would start cautiously but slowly over the days and months let their guards down. Once they stopped locking their doors and sleeping with one eye open, he could spring the first part of the trap.

The girls never questioned the free speakers he provided in the apartment – too excited about the high-quality music to question his intent. The hypnosis tapes were almost too good to be true. Subliminal messaging massaging their minds as they slept, keeping them just awake enough to take in the training.

After a week of their minds being bombarded with suggestions as they slept, they would find themselves slipping up and having tiny accidents during the day. Take Molly as an example, the most recent of his conquests.

One day, seemingly out of nowhere, she found herself with a nasty case of stress incontinence. Every chuckle, sneeze, and startle sent a spurt of urine into her underwear. She was sure this wasn’t the way it had always been for her, but for reasons she couldn’t explain it didn’t bother her all that much. Molly had such an easy solution – Goodnites! She wasn’t sure where the idea came from, but it was perfect for her newfound bladder problems.

Sometimes when she really thought about having to wear training panties her head would start to hurt, but she found that sucking her new pacifier always calmed her down. A damp pull-up and a pacifier between her lips just felt normal to Molly.

But Mike wanted far more than a bunch of barely potty-trained girls dumbly sucking pacifiers. The tapes progressed over time, infecting their minds as they nibbled their pacifiers and dribbled into their training panties.

As their programming progressed, the girls would lose more and more of their continence. Stress incontinence turned into a complete inability to control their bladders. This was Mike’s favorite part, because the demotion of the girl to her diapers was unique every time.

Some girls, like Miranda, would refuse to believe that anything was different. She woke up every morning with a leaking pair of training panties and had to move to the thickest diapers she could find, but in her mind, everything was completely normal. She had no reason to change how she dressed, despite the formerly form-fitting skirts doing nothing to hide her ridiculously thick padding. She just viewed herself as an adult wearing slightly thicker underwear and had no reason not to do the things she loved (liked visiting the cinema).

But every girl really was unique – some girls spiraled almost immediately after leaking in their Goodnites once. Morgan was the most recent example. She loved the cheap rent and made no association between the apartment and her newfound potty problems. She handled the transition to thicker diapers in the complete opposite way.

Morgan gave up control so easily. She settled on even thicker diapers than Miranda, not minding how the infantile characters and pink color made her look like she enjoyed wearing them. As she grew accustomed to wearing and wetting them, she seemed to lose most of her purpose in life. She spent most of her days crawling around her apartment, diaper on full display and pacifier firmly tucked into her mouth. She felt at peace like this – not a single thought under the infantile pink bow she attached to her hair each morning.

However, the transformation wasn’t complete until the girls messed themselves. It would have been so easy to have them squatting down in their pampers after a day of a new hypnosis tape, but Mike wanted this part to always be on their own. It was fun to see how each girl would end up pooping their pants. Some girls gave into the convenience once they were diapered 24/7 anyway, while some fought long and hard before failing in public because of some bad food.

His favorites were always the accidents – the ones that the girls couldn’t stop. Sure, it was adorable to watch them purposefully bend over and fill their Pampers on purpose, grunting softly as their diaper expanded beneath them, but there was something even better when they weren’t doing it intentionally.

Michelle was one of his favorite victims. She tried to take the route of adapting her diaper to her every day life. She was studying to be a doctor and wouldn’t let a temporary bout of incontinence ruin her life’s work.

But her padding had made her forgetful – and it was nearly two hours into her three-hour exam before she realized she hadn’t used the bathroom beforehand. She had gotten so used to peeing her pants like a toddler that she hadn’t even considered what to do if she had to poop. It was an online exam though, so any slight glance away from the camera would mean an automatic failure. She weighed every option multiple times before giving up, feeling the warm wet mush fill the backseat of her diaper. She let out a soft moan as her stomach emptied itself, the warm embrace of her shit filled diaper expanding over her entire backside.

That first messy accident was all it took for the rest of the training to kick in. The feeling of messing a diaper was so unique that it could be handled distinctly in the hypnosis tapes. Every girl who messed her diaper encountered the same fate.

They would return to their bed in the apartment and find a vibrating wand waiting for them. Their minds as mushy as their diapers, they would lay on the bed and get to work, humping the vibrations, desperate for sexual release. For some girls, it was easy, and they would break within minutes of the vibrations pounding against their pussies.

But for other girls, it was much harder. Some had never orgasm-ed before, and so would have to work even harder for this first one. Humping away as the vibrations enveloped their throbbing clits, they knew they wouldn’t be able to stop until they orgasm-ed.

The orgasm wasn’t just symbolic, it was a literal final step. The orgasm would release their remaining reluctance to serve. It would empty their heads of their old lives, allowing them to be transitioned into their new ones. Once they came into their messy (and almost always wet) diapers, their minds would be bound to him.

When the newest girl was subjugated, mind incapable of forming a thought without his approval, he would send the girl before to collect her. The funniest one was when he sent Marisa to collect her own sister! Marisa didn’t even look at her sister with an ounce of recognition as she gather the pathetic girl up, brought her to the nursery, and gave her the first diaper change of her new life.

He had the old girls spend a week helping the new ones adjust before selling the old and repeating the cycle. The stream of easily infantilized girls looking for cheap rent really seemed to be endless.

The babies of New York City were so stupid… but they looked so good in their diapers.

Whoa! That was a loud one. Did somebody just make a big poopie for his first date?

Don’t be shy about it. I was really hoping I’d get a nice number 2 today. Most guys take weeks before they break the poop barrier. I’m more into guys who really know their way around a pamper. We met for a reason right? MDLB means good boys use their diapers for Mommy.

Good thing we have time before the movie. This mall has great mothering rooms. Very private. I can change you and feed you some boobie milk before the show. These puppies are ready to pop! What a great first date! I can’t wait to see the present you made me.

I do have to warn you that dirty, stinky diapers make me really really horny. So you might get to 3rd base today as well LOL! Or whatever me sucking you off during a dirty diaper change in a public place is in a baseball terminology. I never was good at sports. I’ve had these ladies since I was 13. I was more into babysitting.

My little one starts to wake from his nap under the shade of our tent, warm and flushed from sleep, with his paci still gently bobbing between his lips. He stretches, bunny clutched tightly to his chest, and makes the softest whimpery noise — like he’s not quite ready to give up his dream but knows Mommy’s here.

I reach down, brushing a few grains of sand from his cheek. “There you are, sleepyhead,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss his forehead. He opens those big, sleepy eyes and blinks up at me like a confused little duckling — soft, dazed, and so precious.

As I lift him into my lap, I feel it right away. That heavy, soggy squish between his thighs — warm and unmistakable. “Mmm… baby,” I hum teasingly, running a hand over the swollen front of his diaper. “Looks like someone had a big nap-time accident, huh?”

He lets out a shy little whimper and hides his face in my chest.

I lay him back on the towel with a kiss to his temple, grabbing the wipes and a fresh swim diaper. As I tear the sides on the old one, I can't help but giggle. “Oh sweetie, you really filled this one up, didn’t you? Poor squishy bum.” His cheeks are rosy now, squirming just a little, but I know he secretly loves this part — being totally bare, soft and exposed, right where Mommy can take care of every little need.

But there's another problem. Sand. It’s everywhere — sticking to his thighs, between his butt cheeks, clinging to every spot on his body.

“Alright, baby,” I say gently, helping him to his feet, his bare bottom catching the sun. “Let’s get that sandy bum rinsed off.”

He toddles beside me toward the outdoor shower, one hand clutching my fingers, the other still gripping his bunny. His steps are slow, and his head stays ducked down as we pass a few other beachgoers. His face is bright pink by the time we get there — bashful little thing, trying to hide behind me even though his bare cheeks are on full display.

“Aww, are you blushing, sweetheart?” I tease, brushing his hair from his eyes. “It’s okay. Everyone knows you’re just Mommy’s baby.”

I guide him under the warm water, holding him steady as the gentle spray hits his skin. He squeaks a little at the first touch, wiggling in place while I crouch down behind him. My hands move carefully — rinsing the sand from his back, his legs, and then finally down to his bottom. I take my time with that part, using slow circles to make sure every bit of grit is gone.

“Can’t leave any sand in those cute little cheeks,” I murmur, watching his blush deepen. “Gotta keep my baby all clean and comfy.”

By the time we head back to the tent, he’s clean, damp, and even more bashful than before — but there's a smile peeking out around his paci.

Back at the towel, I lay him down again, his bare skin warm from the sun and smelling faintly of saltwater. I powder him slowly, thoroughly — soft clouds puffing in the breeze as I work it into every fold and crease. The fresh swim diaper has little sea turtles on it, soft and puffy, and I stand him up to have him step into the swim diaper. “There,” I coo, smoothing it over. “Snug, crinkly, and ready for round two.”

Instead of a swim shirt, I decide to leave him bare-chested — his skin is just too soft and kissable to hide. His belly’s still a little round from lunch, and the way he giggles when I blow a raspberry on it? Irresistible. I slide his tiny swim trunks up his legs, tugging them over that thick diaper. They don’t quite hide it — the waistband of the diaper pokes out over the top, white and crinkly under the bright blue trunks.

“Too cute for words,” I say softly, adjusting the trunks just a little so the diaper still peeks out. “Let everyone see how well Mommy takes care of you.”

Then comes the sunscreen — cool and creamy against his warm skin. I rub it gently over his arms, his chest, his soft round tummy, down his legs and even the tops of his feet. He wiggles and giggles through it, squealing when I get to his ribs. “Almost done, silly goose,” I tease, planting a kiss on his nose.

That’s when Daddy walks over, towel slung over his shoulder and a smile already on his face. “Hey, there’s my sunshine boy,” he says, crouching next to us. “You all ready to go splash with Daddy?”

Our little one lights up immediately, wriggling up into his arms. Daddy scoops him up, patting that thickly diapered bum with one big hand. “Looks like Mommy got you all set. You're such a lucky boy,” he says, kissing his cheek and leaning down to give me a kiss.

They’re halfway to the water when it happens.

A flash of movement in the surf — slow, graceful — and our baby gasps. “Tuh… tuh… turtle!” he squeals, eyes wide, pointing frantically.

Daddy stops in his tracks, cradling him close. “You see the turtle, buddy?” he whispers, turning so they can both get a better look. The sea turtle bobs gently in the shallows, paddling calmly while the waves roll in around it.

Our little one is absolutely enchanted — slack-jawed with wonder, clutching Daddy’s neck while his legs kick excitedly in the air.

I watch them from the tent, hand resting over my heart, completely full. My sweet, squishy, sun-kissed baby boy — safe in his Daddy’s arms, dressed in nothing but his swim trunks and a diaper, thrilled by the simplest magic of the ocean.