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Chapter Seven
Rachel sat on the blanket, making a small noise as she felt
the load compress beneath her buttocks. Strange feelings were radiating outward
from her diaper; feelings that made her heart spasm, her tummy flutter, and her
private parts moisten and throb. What she really wanted was some time to
herself to explore these new sensations… not to submit to a change from some
sadistic, satanic TV host with a diaper fetish. She tried to focus on something
else—but when he unzipped her skirt and tugged it off, she found herself
squirming on the floor, a sexy, ticklish embarrassment breaking out over her
body.
The Master tore
the tapes of her diaper dramatically and pulled down the front panel without
ceremony. “Phew! You little stinker,” he admonished, smirking and pinching his
nose closed. Rachel cringed, vividly aware of the mess squishing beneath her
squirming bottom. This is so embarrassing, she thought with a sigh, allowing
him to lift her legs and exposed the rounded cheeks of her bum, caked thickly
in a gooey brown mess.
“Just lay still,
my little potty-pants,” he said softly, making her shiver. “You’re an awful
mess, honey… did that pizza upset your tummy?” He began the long and difficult
task of wiping her bottom clean.
She groaned and
shut her eyes. His teasing made her feel all hot and blushy, and she was still
steamy from her thwarted masturbation session… Rachel prayed he wouldn’t
notice. Clenching her fists and gritting her teeth, she forced herself to lay
still and try to think about something, anything other than the embarrassment
of her position… and the arousal it was stoking. She dug her nails into her
palms and willed herself not to give any sign.
“There we go,” he
said, wiping between her cheeks where the mess was caked in thickly. “Soon
you’re going to be all clean. We’ll have you back to the meeting in no time…
don’t you worry.”
“Great,” she said
half heartedly, shivering from the cool of the wipe. She blushed furiously when
he powdered her butt and patted it into each cheek firmly… his large, strong
palm on her vulnerable bare backside made
her feel like she was two years old.
Her ankles were
grasped, her bottom was lifted effortlessly, and a new diaper was slid under
her rump. Rachel found herself blushing
furiously as she was once again taped into diapers.
She sat up with a
sigh and looked down at her bulging padded crotch, all gleaming and white.
Underneath the bulky plastic, her privates were still buzzing; Rachel closed
her eyes and sucked in deep breaths, trying to calm herself before returning to
the meeting. The Master helped her to her feet.
“You better scoot
on back, sweetie,” he said, ushering her out the door with a swat to her
thickly diapered tushy.
“Ow! Hey!” she
cried. Though the swat hadn’t hurt, it was very embarrassing to have her padded
and powdered butt casually spanked like a little girl. She pouted futilely over
her shoulder at him, but The Master was too busy gathering his supplies to
notice. Rachel reached back to rub her padded rump ruefully as she toddled back
to the meeting.
Rachel suspected
her previous diaper had been thicker than the one before it, and she was sure
this one was even bigger than that one—her crotch and butt bulged noticeably
under her skirt, and the padding between her thighs was so thick, she doubted
she could even touch her knees. Worse, the padding threw off her gait, and she
was forced the swing her hips and wiggle her butt when she walked… a diaper
waddle, she realized with a sigh. The crinkle was definitely noticeable now,
not the subtle rustle it had been when she’d walked back to the office after
lunch. Every step was accompanied by an audible, plastic crumpling from inside
her skirt. Blushing furiously, she waddled down the hall as quickly as she
could, desperate to get out of sight before someone happened across her.
“… And now,
looking ahead to next quarter…” Chad finished mid sentence as she re-entered.
The room went dead silent, and Rachel was sure she’d see every eye in the room
watching her toddle across the room to her seat—if she lifted her gaze from the
floor, that was. She waddled across the room, cursing the infernal crinkle that
accompanied each bow-legged step. She settled back into her seat and shot Chad
an apologetic look, but he just smiled kindly at her and went ahead.
It took her a moment to get used to sitting
with the massive bulk of the diaper beneath her bottom—Rachel had the sensation
of sitting on a phonebook, and at first, she felt like she was about to tip
over. But she quickly got used to it and settled back in with a smile. She was
easily prepared for any questions that might come her way—all she had to do now
was ride out the end of the meeting, get her stuff from her office, and get her
padded backside home without getting caught… piece of cake, she thought with a
smile.. You lose, you sick bastard, she thought smugly, stifling a giggle at
the thought of the disappointed look on the Master’s face. What was I ever
afraid of? She thought. This was the best decision I ever made—in a couple of
hours, I’ll be running this place!
She settled in,
visibly paying attention to every facet, even the stuff that didn’t directly
involve her. She listened, making sure to make eye contact with each speaker,
and project an air of confidence. Finally, Chad fixed her with his piercing
blue eyes and gave her that movie-star smile. “So Rachel—what did you think of
the project we left on your desk?”
She put on her
brightest smile and prepared to steal the show. I just hope I’m not too
dazzling and wind up intimidating them, she thought, taking a deep breath.
“Well Chad, I…”
A noisy,
aggressive bubbling emerged suddenly from her midsection, and Rachel
immediately went pale. Oh no, she thought, gritting her teeth against a sharp
intestinal cramp, I’ve got to go again! She felt the color draining from her
features: Oh God, she prayed, not here, not now! And I’ve used up all my
changes! She cursed, feeling her bowels gurgle, percolating inside her,
demanding release.
She sweated and
tried to remain calm. Her belly continued to gurgle and cramp… Rachel clenched
her buns and prayed that the urge would pass. Realizing that people were
beginning to stare, she pressed on. “Well… um… in regards to… uh… that is…”
An obnoxiously
loud burble emerged from her midsection. Rachel blushed, knowing that the
others must’ve heard. Inside, she could feel her bowels practically convulsing.
She tried to press on, stammering on for another long moment… but it was
quickly becoming horrifyingly apparent that she was facing a full blown emergency.
Rachel squirmed her pampered bottom,
oblivious to the low crinkle that emerged, and briefly thought of trying to
siege on. But further bubbling and spasms from within her belly quickly changed
her mind—her butt was a time bomb, and if she didn’t want to humiliate herself
in front of her co-workers, poor Rachel was going to have to think of a way out
of the room… fast. But how? If she excused herself to the bathroom so quickly
after the last time, people might guess that she had diarrhea!
“Oh! I made some…
notes about that! But I… forgot them… in… in my office! I’ll just go get them!”
She winced, her voice sounding pained and distressed in her own ears. She hoped
nobody else noticed, but everyone seemed to be staring at her as she quickly
stood and scurried out of the conference room in awkward, waddling baby-steps,
blushing bright red, accompanied by the ever present crinkle of plastic.
Rachel waddled
down the hall as quickly as she could, sweating, butt clenched, diaper rustling
noisily in her ears. Her colon spasmed-- she passed gas with a noisy rumble in
her pampers. “Oh my God!” she whispered, reaching back to press her hand
against her butt, fearing that an accident was imminent.
She squeezed her
sphincter tightly and baby-stepped her way down the hall, “ooo”ing and “ahh”ing
the entire way, the strain keeping her perched on the edge of an accident. I
can’t believe this is happening, Rachel thought. Even if she did make it to the
bathroom and have her accident in privacy, she couldn’t call for another change—she
wasn’t allowed to touch her diaper by herself either. She was going to be
trapped in a gross, smelly diaper for the rest of the day.
A strong cramp forced a disgusting noise
from the seat of Rachel’s diapers and her bottom lip quivered. She felt like
she might have had a small accident, but she couldn’t worry about it now… the
ladies room was in sight, and she was making slow, but determined progress
towards it.
Rachel trotted
toward the restroom in tiny, waddling baby-steps, grunting and moaning with
each stride, clenching her buttocks as tightly as she possibly could.
Periodically, she emitted a loud, rumbling fart, barely muffled by her diaper.
Her cheeks were red, and she could only
imagine the spectacle she was presenting… she was relieved that nobody was
watching, but then felt a stab of cold dread when she remembered she was being
recorded (wasn’t she? She hadn’t seen a camera yet. Then again, she’d never
seen any cameras or anything on the other series, and The Master hadn’t had any
trouble getting any of that on the air…).
In any case, she
had no desire to expose herself to further embarrassment by being seen by her
co-workers in this position, so she hustled toward the bathroom, panting and
farting, her every move accompanied by the sound of her diaper crinkling.
She burst into the
bathroom and let out a little laugh. But Rachel’s relief was short-lived: now
what? She couldn’t actually mess her diaper now—could she? With no opportunity
to get changed? What was she supposed to do? Try to hide in the bathroom?
Someone would surely discover her. Scurry off home, never to return? That would
mean losing the game… not to mention her job. What then? Just head back to the
meeting in a loaded diaper and hope no one noticed? Oh lord, she thought, how
did I ever get into this?
And before her sat
the toilet, silently mocking her. Here was her salvation, mere moments away—
and she was forbidden to use it like a normal person by the decree of an insane
TV producer with delusions of grandeur. This is insane! I can’t just stand here
and shit my pants with the toilet three feet away, she told herself, I just
can’t! Setting her jaw, she hobbled foreword and reached out to grasp the lid,
but she found herself unable to… the satin mittens on her hands kept her
fingers and thumb pressed tightly together in a bundle. Wait a second, she
thought, puzzled. Mittens? Where did those…?
Gripped by a cold
fear, Rachel felt her clothes beginning to move on her body…
