18+ only! 100% NSFW! Dedicated to age play, spanking, domestic discipline, corporal punishment, medical fetishism, and, of course, beautiful women in diapers. If you like what you see here, leave a comment or drop me a line at: parkerlongabaugh@yahoo.ca

Thursday, December 2, 2010

New Poll

Hey gang,
I've got some spare time coming up, during which I plan to begin a new story. With that and the end of the year looming, I thought would be a good time to take stock of what we've done so far. Please take the time to vote on your favorite story here at Babes in Diapers and, if the mood strikes you, maybe jot a quick word or two in the comments section about why you chose it.
Thanks again for reading, everyone.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Messy Jessie


I co-wrote this with someone else on commission (which I don’t normally do, but this was the proverbial offer I couldn’t refuse). I wasn’t going to post it, but it’s been such a slow month for me for various reasons, I figured I’d post it as a little bonus for loyal readers. As you may be able to tell from the title, it does involve messy diapers, which I’m pretty ambivalent about, but I know that many of you don’t go for that… if you fall into this category, I’d suggest giving it a pass.

Messy Jessie    

     “C’mon, Jessica; come to big sister!” Amy cooed mockingly, bending down and holding  out her arms encouragingly.  “That’s it-- that’s my good, big girl! Crawl to big sis like a good baby!”
      She smiled sweetly, but her eyes glowed with smug condescension as she watched me crawl down the hallway toward her, my big, bulky, diaper waggling behind me, plastic panties crinkling loudly as I went, tears of shame rolling down my cheeks. Amy had tied a huge, frilly, powder-pink baby bonnet under my chin and popped a pacifier in my mouth, and I knew exactly how ridiculous I looked; just like an overgrown infant.
     I continued crawling down the hallway, the massive diaper behind me not only making it look like my butt had swelled to the size of a medicine ball, but also rubbing up against me under the plastic pants, chafing  my dainty buns. I realized grimly that I was probably going to get a rash down there, then almost laughed at the absurdity of a 25 year old woman worrying about diaper rash on her derriere.
     “C’mon Jessie-- crawl to big sis!”  Amy cooed again, and though I tried with every ounce of my will to order myself to stand up and go to my room and change out of this ridiculous diaper, I couldn’t resist her command to crawl down the hall like a puppy any more than I could stop her from spanking me and putting a diaper on my tushy.
     Crawling into the living room, I stopped and sat dumbly for a second, then burst into tears. Sitting around me were my step-sister’s bitchy little friends: Kristi, Justine, Suzie, and Anna. They stared at me for a long moment,  disbelieving; apparently, this was as much of a shock for them as it was for me.
     Suddenly, they burst out laughing, and I could only sit and sob, my face growing redder and redder, as my diapered condition was trotted out for the entertainment of a bunch of giggling 16 year olds.
     “Oh my god,” Kristi stammered disbelievingly between her guffaws. “Is that Jessica!?”
     “She looks so cute,” Anna gushed, reaching out to pat my head.
     “Yeah, those pampers really suit her!” Justine giggled.
      I stared at the floor, miserable. Amy reached into my big diaper bag. “Aw, cheer up little sis.”  She pulled out a stuffed bunny. It was just a cheep little thing from the dollar store, but I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Amy’s friends were laughing at my intense focus on the toy, but I didn’t care.  Even as I began drooling down my chin like a three year old, I never took my eyes off it.
     “Do you want to play with Mr. Bunny, Jessica?” Amy asked with a superior smirk, knowing full well that I did.
     I tried to resist, to retain a small measure of dignity, but almost immediately after Amy had finished speaking, I heard my own tiny lisping voice say “yes, pwease, big sister Amy, pwease let me pway with Mr. Bunny.”
     I nearly burst into tears again as the girls started laughing at my childish words, but when Amy tossed me Mr. Bunny, it was like I was lost in a world of my own, only vaguely aware of their conversation behind me.
     “This is incredible, Amy,” Suzie said . “She’s like a totally different person now.”
     “Amazing what 300 dollars worth of hypnosis tapes and a little persistence can do,” Amy laughed.
     I tried ignoring them, focusing my attention on Mr. Bunny. But it wasn’t long before I felt an uncomfortable gassy cramp in my belly.  I tried, unsuccessfully, to clench my butt.
     Involuntarily, I let a few farts escape into my diaper, causing Amy and her friends to burst out laughing. I was embarrassed, but I was so focused on Mr. Bunny that the feeling was somehow diluted.
     “P-U!” Kari cried. “Smells like someone’s got a poopy brewing!”
     “Jessie’s a farty baby today!” Suzie chuckled.
     “Phew! You sure have a stinky bottom, little girl,” Anna said, patting me on the head.
       Amy smirked. “Oh, that’s just a little gas. Watch this.” She stood up and approached me. Taking me by the hands, she helped me to my feet. I was a little unsteady, but soon I was standing in front of Amy and her snickering friends. Amy fixed me with a solemn look. “Jessie,” she asked seriously, looking me right in the eye, “Do you smell something?”
     Frowning, I stared at her, feeling a pang of recognition. Something about what she’d said resonated inside me. Groggy, I looked at her questioningly.  “Smell… something?” I repeated quietly just before I felt the phrase click into place in my mind.
     Moments later, I felt a cramped, rolling in my bowels, and a sensation like my intestines were boiling. Groaning, I doubled over, gas building up inside me. With Amy and her friends tittering, I bent my knees, stuck out my bulky, diapered butt and started grunting. “UUUUUhhhhhh…”
     I grunted out a juicy fart, which brought more laughter from the girls. I tried to clench my butt-cheeks, to stop what I knew was coming, but my body wasn’t responding to my brain’s commands. 
     Passing gas with a loud rumble, I  felt my buttocks part. I began to uncontrollably poop my pants. Amy and her friends stood by and laughed uproariously as I dumped a major load into my  diaper, a symphony of toots emerging from the seat of my pampers.
     “Sounds like she’s making popcorn in her pants!” Justine mocked, making the others laugh even harder as the seat of my diaper inflated, the folds and creases beginning to stretch and puff out as I filled it.
      I wanted  to dig a hole and burry myself in it, never to be seen again.
     But I still felt a little full down below, and even though my diaper was now so loaded that it sagged low enough to reveal the top of my butt-crack, I began grunting again: “UUUUUHHHH! EEEerrrrrrr…”
     Laughing, Amy patted and rubbed the back of my loaded diaper. “C’mon, sweetie; make a really big poopy in your dides for big sister to change…”
     The encouragement was unnecessary: grunting again, I pushed out the remainder of my mushy bowel movement into my diaper with a messy fart, causing my pampers to sag even lower. Amy continued to pat and squeeze the load in my seat, her friends mocking and laughing.
     “PEE-YEW! Someone’s got a messy diaper!” Anna cackled.
     Sweat and tears dripped down my face. My lips quivering, I peeked back over my shoulder, staring at the inflated seat of my diaper with disbelief. I searched my diminished vocabulary to find the right words to express my feelings on the ordeal.
     “Poopy,” I finally declared weakly, making the girls shriek with laughter.
     “You got that right, honey!” Justine laughed.  “SHO-WEE! Maybe we ought to crack a window!”
     “Show auntie your load, precious,” Kari smirked , turning  me around to display my droopy, poopy diaper to the girls, who giggled at the mess in my pants.
     “PHEW! You loaded this diapy right up, didn’t you sweetie?” Anna smirked, reaching out to pat my full diaper.
     They stood around making fun of me, but I wasn’t listening. Mr. Bunny, lying at my feet, had caught my attention again. I slowly lowered myself to the floor, feeling my enormous mess squashing under my butt as I sat, the soft load squishing audibly all over my backside and down my thighs.
     Picking up Mr. Bunny from the floor, I began to cuddle and play with him, ignoring the warm, squishy pile in my pants.
     By now, Amy and her friends were laughing so hard they had tears rolling down their cheeks. “I can’t believe she just did that!” Suzie howled. “I don’t envy you, having to clean up that mess, Amy.”
     Smirking, Amy came over to me, took my hand, and pulled me to my feet. I felt groggy, almost drugged. I was aware that I was 25 years old, a college grad,  and a successful executive at a respected Corporation, and that Amy was only 16 and still in high school.
     I just couldn’t remember what any of that actually meant.
    “C’mon, Messy Jessie,” Amy said, “time to put you in a fresh diaper.”
     Laughing, her friends chimed in.
     “Bye-bye, Messy Jessie!”
     “Have a nice diaper change, Messy Jessie!”
     “Make sure you use plenty of powder, Amy,”
     “Yeah, wouldn’t want Messy Jessie to get a rash on her tushy, would we?” Anna laughed as Amy started dragging me from the room.
          I was only dimly aware of what a sight I must have been: 25, sporting a frilly baby bonnet, a pacifier, and a tight, white t-shirt hemmed above my belly button, holding my 16 year old step-sister’s hand and being lead away to have a messy diaper changed. Behind me, my fully-loaded pamper wobbled with every step, it’s distended seat sagging half way down my butt-crack. Despite its thickness, some brown stains had begun to appear on the back panel.
     “Wave ‘bye-bye’ to your aunties, Messy Jessie,” Amy urged me as she lead me away.
     And I did; I waved to Amy’s snotty little friends like I was on parade, laughter ringing out behind me as I was lead away.

Update: Read the sequel to this story here.

I'm Back!

Ok, got my computer problems solved, I'm not sick anymore, and things at work are finally slowing down a bit. I should finally be able to get some work done on the blog.
The bad news is: During my recent computer troubles, I did indeed loose the last part of Therapy. I'll probably rewrite it at some point, but right now the thought is just too daunting. I'll probably move on to other things for the moment, but don't worry; I will finish it some day in the not too distant future.
In the meantime, stay tuned. I hope to have some new material shortly.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Disaster!

Hey gang,

had a major problem with my computer. Won't have it back for probably another week, and possibly as long as a month! Worse, I may have lost some of my data... including the final part of Therapy!

I won't have time to check on any of my sites or respond to any mail/messages until I get this settled. Sorry, all.

Please check back soon for updates.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Bettie Page


 


Hi guys,
First off, apologies once again to everyone who’s sent e-mails and comments and still haven’t seen a reply. I’ve been sick all week, but I’m hoping to be better by the weekend, when I’ll try my best to get caught up on my correspondence.
Anyway, in absence of any new material, here are a few vintage shots of everybody’s favourite  pin-up queen, Bettie Page.
I’m a big fan of Bettie’s work. On top of being gorgeous and sexy, she helped bring kink into the mainstream... something everyone reading this blog owes her for!
Bettie was the mistress of expressions: weather she’s doling out the spanks or having her own luscious bottom warmed, Bettie’s expression always tells the story.
To my knowledge, Bettie never wore diapers in any of her photos, but I think you’ll agree that looking at these photos, it’s easy to imagine the next logical step: Bettie going from a spanked tushy over the knee of another beautiful woman and straight into diapers. Listen hard and you can almost hear: “Just a few more swats and then it’s into pampers for that rosy bottom, young lady!”



 
“If you think this is bad, wait’ll I put you back in pampers!”
“But you just CAN’T put me back in diapers!”
“No more dates for you, young lady! From now on, you’re spending your weekends in diapers, baby clothes, and a playpen, and if one of your little boyfriends stops by, he can stay to watch me feed you your bottle and change your little pampers!”
“Can you believe she says she's gonna put me back in diapers?!”

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Babes in Public

An older video from German TV: two girls play soccer in public wearing nothing but diapers:


video

Enjoy.

Busy, busy, busy...

Apologies for being incommunicado recently, but real life has been busy lately. Sorry to everyone who sent comments and e-mails who hasn't received a reply yet; I'll get back to you ASAP.

Currently, I'm working on the last part of Therapy, planning a new story centering on mental age regression... and I've been tinkering with the idea of maybe writing some ABDL comics: Would anybody be interested in something like that, or am I wasting my time? Drop me a line and let me know.

Anyway, thanks for reading, and watch for a new update soon.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Tempy Time!

 
Ladies,
Dr. Parker says it’s time to take your temperature. Turn over on you tummy and let’s get these panties down-- yes, we’re going to take it in your bottom. Hush, honey, it really is the most accurate way. Let’s see that bare bum... stop squirming, baby, or I may have to spank you. Yes, we’ll take your temperature quickly and then it’s back to diapers and into bed for the rest of the day, little lady...


Bottoms up!

Hold Still For Nursey...

Two For One

Warm Bottom, Cold Thermometer

It's For Her Own Good... Honest!

Ever Heard Of Knocking?!

Embarrassment Or Anticipation?

(All photos copyright their respective owners. I do not claim ownership of any of these pictures and I don’t post them for personal profit.)

Doctor Tushy
Enemas.com
Naughty Diaper Girls
Xtreme Diaper

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Financial Planning Or: The Heiress Embarrassed

(Yes, I`m still working on the final part of Therapy. But this one jumped into my head so cleanly and fully formed, I just had to get it done. Enjoy, and let me know what you think.)

          In the past, stopping by the Galleria for a mid-afternoon shopping-spree was Nikki’s idea of paradise. Something about spending money after a nice lunch gave her a real rush—an almost sexual surge of energy. She didn’t need (or, often, even want) most of the things she bought. It was about status and power: the ability to flaunt what she had, and lord it over those who didn’t.
     The decision to have plastic surgery had come from the same place: It’s not that she wasn’t a knock-out before. It was her compulsive need to have the best that drove her to take her already gorgeous face and body and turn it into a temple of sensuality. She revelled in every longing glance she’d ever received from a man who’d never have a shot at her, and the icy glare she’d give in return, just like she thrilled at every angry stare from jealous women, and the smug, condescending smirk she’d send back their way.
     And, upon returning to her opulent home after another successful shopping expedition, she’d scurry upstairs to try on her latest purchases and stare at herself in the mirror, drinking in her own beauty, imagining the reactions of the peasants around her. She imagined herself a beautiful princess, immune from all consequences...
     And now look where it’s gotten me, she thought with a pout.
     The parking lot as the Galleria was bursting at the seams. For a moment, Nikki was hopeful that Jim would be unable to find a space, that they’d be forced to turn around and go home... That he’d have to find some other way to punish her...
     But then, just as she felt he was about to give up, a red jeep pulled out. Nikki’s heart felt frozen in her chest as Jim manoeuvred the car into the spot. “Right by the entrance, too,” he said with a grin.
     Panic welled up in her. Clutching the plain, brown overcoat around her, she turned to plead: “Please Jim; Please don’t make me do this...”
     “I’m sorry, princess,” he said, shutting the car off, “but you made a deal, you signed the contract, and now you gotta pay the piper.”
     She groaned and moved to open the door. “Just a moment, young lady; we need to complete your outfit.”
     Confused, she turned toward him. “What do you mean?” she asked, her face growing pale when she saw what was in his hand: a frilly, pink, and utterly adorable baby bonnet. Nikki groaned. “Oh, come on,” she whined, “I’m begging you, Jim; don’t make me wear that thing...”
     “Hush.” He shoved a pacifier into her mouth. She pouted at him from behind it, eyes shooting flaming darts of hatred toward him as he tied the bonnet neatly under her chin. “Perfect. Ok, sweetheart: time to go.”
     She thought briefly about locking the car door and trying to outlast him. But when Jim continued to watch her patiently from the driver’s seat, waiting for her to go first, she knew it was futile. She climbed out and slammed the door behind her. She stood beside the car, sucking her pacifier and pouting nervously beneath her bonnet, pulling the long, brown coat, so unlike anything you’d ever expect to see a woman like her wearing, tightly around her middle, as though she were freezing.
     In actuality, it was quite hot inside the parkade, and Nikki’s attire was drawing a few looks, even before the show had officially begun.
     Jim reached into the back and brought out a fistful of bags, each bearing the logo of a different, high-end boutique somewhere in the Galleria. These he handed over to Nikki before withdrawing a heavy canvas bag and slinging it over his own shoulder before locking the car and slamming the door.
     “Ok,” he said, ushering Nikki along with a sweep of his arms, “Let’s go.”
     He walked off toward the elevators, Nikki trudging along beside him.



     Once in the elevator, he turned to her. “Ok, let’s get that coat off.”
     Nikki pulled the coat even tighter around her. Pouting behind her soother, she shook her head petulantly. “Nuh-uh!”
     Jim fixed her with a serious look. “Let’s not make this any worse than it has to be, little lady,” he admonished, holding out his hand expectantly.
     With a small, self-pitying groan, Nikki stripped off the coat and handed it over to Jim, who stuffed it into his bag. Beneath the coat and it’s unflattering folds, Nikki was dressed like a two-year old, her bonnet and soother well complemented by the little-girl’s party dress she had on beneath it: a frilly creation of bows, lace, and taffeta that any three year old girl would be proud to own. Its hem barely came down past the seat of her matching bloomers, the lace around the leg-holes and ruffles across the fanny clearly visible. Her seat and hips budged comically, and is was obvious to even the most casual observer that she was heavily diapered; a fact confirmed by the loud, crinkly plastic pants beneath, which would be clearly audible, even in the noise of the Galleria. Her long, smooth legs were bare all the way down to her ankles, and on her feet she had a pair of frilly socks, and oversized Mary Jane shoes, shined and polished like new.
     “You look adorable,” he said with a grin. She fumed behind the pacifier, her fury in a race with her embarrassment to see which would overwhelm her first. “Something on your mind, honey?” he asked sweetly, removing the pacifier.
     “Jim, please, I learned my lesson! Please don’t make me go through with this!”
     “I’m sorry honey, but you hired me to do a job. I told you before: in order to work with the money you have left, you have to stay within your budget. When you signed me on as your financial advisor, you give me carte blanche to get you back on track. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but, since I can’t convince you to reign in your spending any other way, I think a little humble pie is in order.”
     “But it’s so embarrassing,” she whined.
     “Hush,” he said, pushing the pacifier back into her mouth. “Take your medicine like a good girl.”
     The elevator dinged. The doors slid open.
     Nikki emitted a small whine as Jim pulled her into the Galleria.

     It was business as usual at first: People strolled through the shops, clerks and maintenance workers going about their business absent mindedly.
     But Nikki knew it would be impossible to remain unnoticed for long. Sure enough, she caught the eye of a young woman walking by with her boyfriend, who did a double take, stopped speaking in midsentence, and stopped to gape, open-mouthed, at the bizarre spectacle. Her boyfriend followed her gaze, and soon he was staring, too.
     And so it went, until Nikki realized, with a fierce blush, that every eye in the Galleria was on her, her lovely, beautiful, womanly body squeezed into these ridiculous baby clothes. She was light-headed with humiliation.
     As Jim led her through the crowd toward the first store on their list, the customers began to come out of their shock. Some whispered amongst each other, speculating: was this a performance art piece? Some kind of reality TV stunt? A few people laughed outright, the sight of a fully grown woman in diapers and baby clothes too much for them to handle. A few of the women in the crowd, Jim noticed, hung back and watched with cautious fear: could something like this happen to me? they thought, some worried about the possibility of being diapered, dressed like a baby, and dragged into public, others worried they might enjoy it.
     A group of teenage girls pointed and laughed as Jim walked by hand in hand with Nikki, who toddled along behind him, her thickly padded bottom making her waddle.
     “I told you,” said one, clearly the leader, “she’s totally wearing a diaper!”
     The other girls burst out laughing. Nikki looked at her feet and preyed she would wake up in her nice, cozy bed at any moment.
     “Do you have to change her pampers, mister?” The lead girl asked Jim while the others stifled their giggles behind her.
     “Yes,” he answered matter of factly, “and you girls will want to make sure you don’t spend too much of your mummy and daddy’s money, or they might hire me to do the same to you!”
     The girl’s ceased their giggling at once, their faces pale at the suggestion. Could something like this really happen to them, too?
      “Yeah, f-fat chance,” the lead girl finally managed with false bravado. But the idea of their parents hiring the handsome Jim to diaper them like babies for spending too much money was burned into their minds. They disbanded for the evening shortly thereafter; more than a few were eager for the chance to lie in bed imagining it was them in Nikki’s position.
     At the entrance to the first store, they passed a mother with two small children, a boy and a girl. The boy made a farting noise with his mouth as Nikki walked past. “Ewww!” He cried mockingly, “The big baby messed her diapers!”
     The crowd laughed, and Nikki blushed. Desperate to defend herself, she blurted out “I did not!” adamantly, drawing even more laughter.
     “Yes she did,” the boy’s sister chimed in, waving her hand in front of her face, “I can smell it!”
     “No I didn’t!” she cried seriously, nearly bursting into tears when her insistent defence simply brought more derisive laughter from the gathered onlookers.
     But now, in spite of their mother’s attempts to shush them, the children began chanting “Poopy-butt Baby! Poopy-butt Baby!” over and over. Their mother dragged them off screaming down the Galleria.
     By the time they entered the store, the taunts and accusations of the children had brought Nikki to the brink of tears.  Inside the neatly maintained Belford-Hawlet Boutique, the staff and customers slowly stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at the bizarre spectacle of an overgrown-infant moving across the sales floor. Jim pulled Nikki toward the counter. She resisted, tugging at his hand and trying to free herself.
     “Come now, Nikki, let’s get this over with and get you back home for your nap,” he chided, delivering a loud swat to her bulging, ruffled tushy.
     They stopped in front of the counter. The manager, a no-nonsense woman in her 40’s whom Nikki had seen many times before, surveyed the scene before her without a trace of a reaction. The clerks and customers, on the other hand, gathered to watch, whispering and tittering in the background.
     Olga, the manager, looked Nikki up and down with distaste.  She addressed Jim. “Can I help you?”
     Jim prodded Nikki foreword. “Go on, honey,” he coaxed,  “Tell the nice lady what you want.”
     Taking the Belford-Hawlet bag, she walked up to the counter. “I—I gotta return this stuff.”
     “Do you have a receipt, madam?” If Olga recognised Nikki or noticed her bizarre outfit, she had yet to let on.
     Reaching into the bag, Nikki produced the receipt and handed it over. For some reason, this woman’s non-reaction to her current state was as embarrassing as the laughter and cat-calls of the spectators.
     “And what is the reason for the return?”
     “I... um...” She took a deep breath. “I... Went over budget and spent too much money this month...” Nikki felt a twinge in her abdomen that had nothing to do with her seemingly unending embarrassment. She realized grimly that her bladder was beginning to feel quite full.
     Olga filled out the necessary paperwork, being sure to take her time about it and prolong Nikki’s exposure. She slowed even further as she noticed Nikki beginning to squirm.
     “Nikki, stop fidgeting,” Jim scolded, landing another loud wack across her ruffled bottom. “Can’t you sit still for five minutes?”
     “I gotta go!” she blurted, turning red as the assembled crowd laughed at her predicament.
     “I’m sure you can hold it.”
     “But I really gotta go,” she whined. Unable to help herself, she reached under her dress and pressed her palms against her crotch through her diapers and baby bloomers, stepping up and down in place frantically.  Everybody burst out laughing at her desperate pee-pee dance.
     “We’ll be done in just a minute, Nikki.”
     “I don’t think I can hold it!” she whimpered.
     “You’ll be fine—weren’t you just telling me just a few minutes ago about what a big girl you were?”
     “Well, yeah...”
     “Well, this is the perfect opportunity to prove to everyone that you don’t really need diapers, isn’t it sweetheart?” Jim asked with a knowing grin.
     Gritting her teeth, she redoubled her efforts, determined to wipe that smug smirk off his face. Around her, clerks and customers were whispering amongst themselves, placing wagers on whether or not poor Nikki was about to douse her diapers.
     Meanwhile, Olga simply continued taking her time, pretending not to notice the commotion around her. Finally, she slid the paper over to Nikki. “Sign here, please.”
     Snatching the pen up, Nikki hastily scratched her name. She threw the pen down and was about to commence her desperate dash for the potty when her bladder erupted.
     It left her in a long, hot gush, bringing with it a telltale hiss and the pitter-patter of liquid striking the bulky cotton between her legs, loud enough for everyone to hear. At first, she struggled to retain control, to prove to everyone that she didn’t really need these diapers. But it soon became apparent she had no control left, and as the utter relief washed over her, she no longer cared. She couldn’t resist letting out a loud “Ahhhh!” which brought even more derisive laughter.
     In moments, it was over. Nikki stood before everyone, the warm crotch of her diaper sagging heavily against her baby pants.
      Jim swatted her rear-end. “Naughty girl!” He admonished. “I thought you said you didn’t need diapers! Look at this,” he reached beneath her dress and stuck his fingers into the leg band of her diapers. “Just as I thought! You’re soaked, little girl!
     “Well, get down on the floor young lady. I’ll have you changed in no time.”
     Nikki’s face went white, even as she other women began to murmur and cackle excitedly around her, each and every one thrilled at the prospect of seeing Nikki submit to a soggy diaper change from the handsome Jim. “But... No... You can’t change me here!”
     “Let’s go, little girl, or you’ll get a spanking along with it.”
     The crowd hooted with laughter at the thought, and Nikki was just about to comply when Olga finally piped up.
     “Stop!”
     Every eye in the store was soon on her. “You can’t change her on the floor.”
     Even though she was standing in a wet diaper in front of a laughing crowd, Nikki felt a surge of relief. Finally, she thought, a little Sanity around here!
     “Mandy, Allison,” Olga began, addressing two clerks, “clear off that sale table over there so that everyone can get a good look at the baby getting a change.”
     Nikki shot her a desperate, pleading look. “No, please don’t do that,” she whined.
     “Quiet sweetie,” said Jim cheerfully, returning her pacifier to her mouth.
     The clerks sprang into action, quickly clearing the clothes and signs from the table and getting it ready for Nikki’s change. Jim spread out a blanket, then turned to Nikki and pointed. “Up you get, precious,” he said, coaxing her along with a couple of pats on her soggy, padded bottom.
     She sat up on the table, staring out with her beautiful blue eyes pleading, imploring them the leave her with some dignity intact. But as the crowd gathered about her, joking and laughing amongst each other, it was obvious that was a remote possibility.
     “Lay back, honey,” Jim instructed. Nikki was soon staring at the ceiling, the clerks and customers gathered around in a ring above her, staring down with malicious delight. She felt Jim flip up her little dress, exposing her frilly baby pants and soggy diaper.  He tugged the panties down her thighs and off her feet, setting them down close by. One of the clerks pointed to them and nudged another.
     “I think my baby sister has the same ones!” she laughed.
     Nikki’s diaper had an obvious yellow stain on the front. Jim tisked and undid the pins. Olga leaned down and whispered in Nikki’s ear.
     “Now we’re all going to see what you’re made of, you little brat.” Despite her composed, detached demeanour, Olga knew exactly who Nikki was; she’d dealt with the spoiled rotten little bitch on more than one occasion. Like the other clerks in the store, she was sick and tired of Nikki’s demands and obnoxious manner. Truth was, she was as delighted as anybody at Nikki’s humiliation, and she was determined to stretch the experience out as long as she could to ensure maximum embarrassment for the bratty heiress.
     Jim opened the diaper, exposing the thoroughly soaked crotch to the crowd. The women in front immediately burst out laughing.
    “Her pussy’s shaved!” One laughed hysterically. “She’s bald as a cue ball!”
     The other women exploded into laughter and crowded in to get a look. Jim took a wipe and began cleaning Nikki’s crotch carefully, making sure to get in every nook and cranny. “Bottoms up,” he said, taking her ankles and bending her legs back. Nikki groaned as her full, rounded derrière came into view, quivering in the cool air. Jim took his time wiping off each chubby cheek. Nikki thought she would faint from the humiliation when he took another cloth, stuck it in her crack, and used it to wipe her butt in front of the cackling crowd. The next thing she knew, he was sprinkling her upturned tushy with baby powder and patting it in firmly. The process was quickly repeated on her front.
     “Diaper time,” Jim said with a smile, sliding a thick, disposable adult pamper under her squirming backside. He taped it up, and Nikki gave a defeated whimper as she found herself trapped in diapers again.
     After putting her baby pants back on, he looked to the assembled people. He pulled her
unsteadily to her feet. Nikki began to cry silently as the audience burst into applause. “Anybody else up for a change?”
     He scanned the faces in the crowd, until he came upon a sales girl in her mid 20’s, looking nervous (and perhaps even a trifle faint). He gave her a wolfish grin. “What about you, miss? Hop up here, sweetheart, I’ll have you toddling around here with a diapered bum in no time!”
     Wide eyed, the girl shook her head nervously, even as her co-workers whooped and egged her on, excited at the prospect of seeing their cute colleague in a diaper and baby clothes.
      “What do you say, Ms. Manager?” Jim asked Olga.
     Olga’s shrug was casual. “As long as I don’t have to change any diapers...”
     The sales girls whooped and grinned sinisterly at their blushing co-worker.
     Jim led Nikki back over to the counter on wobbly legs. “I’ll leave you ladies with a few pampers before I go, how does that sound?”
     Another of the sales-girls, a tall brunette who towered over her nervous, blushing co-worker, spoke for the rest of them. “I think that’ll be just fine, mister,” she said with a leering grin, the other women clucking their approval and moving to form a circle around their trembling co-worker.
     Back at the counter, Nikki stood by sobbing quietly while Olga counted her money back, unable to believe how completely she’d been humiliated. She’d never be able to show her face around here again. She suddenly became hyper-aware of every eyeball on her, every snicker, every snide remark, every single fibre of the diaper rubbing up against her bottom. She knew there would be no turning back.
     No matter how she dressed or where she went, she was a baby forever, now.
     Jim collected the money and slipped it into his bag. After Thanking Olga, he took Nikki’s hand and lead her out the door. “Come along, precious,” he said with a smile, “only four more stores to go.”
     Nikki burst into tears as she was lead away, mocking laughter following her out the door...


Monday, October 25, 2010

New Poll: For Women Only

Let's try a little experiment.

This next poll is for our female readers only (that is, preferably, exclusively human beings born with female reproductive organs. It's not that I don't necessarily like people who don't fit that description, I'm just not that curious about what they like.)

If you are a woman, even if you found your way here by accident and are currently searching frantically for the exit, please take time to vote.

Thanks in advance.

I'm nearly done a new short story. I should have it finished in the next couple of days, followed (hopefully) quickly by the last part of Therapy.

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Therapy: Phase 3

(Apologies for taking so long with this one, and for being incommunicado for so long: real life has been hectic of late, so I haven’t had much time for online stuff. Apologies also to everyone who’s written who hasn’t gotten a response: I’ll write back soon, I promise!
     Anyway, here’s phase 3. I think I may wind up doing another short story between this part and the epilogue, so watch for it. As always, comments are much appreciated.)





     A year passed.
     Sitting in Dr. Stone’s office, Sarah beamed brightly as he lavished praise on her for all her progress. It was true... one year later, Sarah was a changed woman, humble, polite, hard-working and considerate. She had enrolled in university again, was working part-time, and maintained a modest apartment. Her mood swings and brattyness had all but disappeared, she felt better than she ever had in her life... and she owed it all to Dr. Stone and his program.
     Sarah would have been utterly mortified to have to admit to anyone else that she owed her success to oversized little girl underpants and getting her bare-butt spanked every week by her attractive, older therapist. But it was true... Her sessions had become confessionals, where she could confide all her fears, desires, and, most importantly, her sins, before finding absolution over Dr. Stone’s lap. Sitting on his knee afterwards, she always felt clean and ready to re-enter the world.
     “I must say, I’m very pleased with your progress, Sarah,” he told her. “You’ve come a long way since you first walked through that door.”
     “Thank you, Dr. Stone,” she replied with a slight blush. When she began coming to her sessions, Sarah’s attitude toward Dr. Stone had been very informal: she joked with him, played the brat, pouted and flirted brazenly. It was funny: though their relationship was more intimate now than it had ever been, the thought of being informal—of being immature in front of him—filled her with shame. She was determined to prove her womanhood to him.
     At the same time, she luxuriated in the “little girl treatment,” and had no intention of stopping. In fact, even as she lay awake at night rubbing away the warm, pink glow of her spanked bottom, Sarah often found herself wanting more...
     “Having said that,” he began seriously, “There is always the possibility of a backslide. I’d hate to see that happen here, Sarah. I know how hard you’ve worked to change.”
     She nodded solemnly, eyes wide.
     “Therapy is like any other type of medicine: over time, you begin to develop a tolerance and it becomes necessary to up the dose. With that in mind... I’d like to start you on phase three today.”
     Sarah felt an excited thrill pulsating through her body. “What is...?”
     “I’m sorry,” he told her, taking a stack of forms from his desk, “I can’t discuss the details of the treatment until you’ve signed the usual confidentiality agreement and waivers...”
     Snatching the papers, she hastily scribbled her name and practically threw them back at him.
     Dr. Stone grinned. “Always a pleasure to see a patient so eager about their treatment,” he said with a chuckle.
     She looked up at him, pale and nervous. “When do we start?” she asked, a small tremor in her voice.
     “As soon as we’re finished with your spanking, dear,” Dr. Stone said, patting his lap with a grin. Sarah slowly rose from her seat. She stood by his side, hesitated for only a moment, then draped herself over his lap. He placed his hand on the back of her skirt; Sarah took deep breaths and tried not to squirm on his lap as he started rubbing her butt through the seat. Whap! She sighed softly at the now familiar tingle began to spread across her upturned backside.
     “Of course, you’re much better behaved these days,” Dr. Stone conceded, settling into a brisk, rhythmic spanking on Sarah’s delectable bottom, “but I think a girl like you can never have too many reminders, can she, Sarah?”
     “Uh-Uh,” Sarah concurred, relishing each swat and the way it made her dainty rump jiggle and the icy-hot prickle that came with it.
     “That’s what I thought you’d say,” Dr. Stone chuckled, raising her skirt to expose her lacy panties.
     Whap whap whap whap! Sarah’s smile grew wider with each swat. Periodically, he would stop and give her pink tushy a gentle squeeze, or trace a finger up her butt-crack through her panties. Whap whap whap whap! She bit her lip and fought back a groan. She hoped he wouldn’t notice how moist her panties were getting.
      He took her waistband at the back and pulled it out a bit. It snapped back against her pink tushy, drawing a squeal. Dr. Stone chuckled. “Time to take these down, baby,” he whispered, tugging her frilly undies down to her knees in one swift move.
     She gasped and blushed, the sudden breeze against her bare butt giving her a charge of erotic embarrassment. She lay across his lap, positively glowing from the doctor’s spanking, radiating warm, loving contentment from every pore. How could phase three be any better than this? she wondered idly, delighting in the small sensations: the tingle across her butt, the warmth of his lap beneath her, the warm throb between her legs.
     He slowed, finishing her spanking. She lay across his lap, limp, more relaxed than she’d felt all week, luxuriating at the way the doctor rubbed and stroked her tushy. She purred and squirmed over his knee, powerfully, achingly aroused.
     “Alright Sarah, stand up,” he said, encouraging her with a couple of firm pats to her blushing derrière.
     She climbed to her feet, standing in front of him with her panties hanging around her knees. After rubbing the dull ache in her bottom for a moment, she bent to retrieve her panties.
     “No.” Dr. Stone’s voice was so firm it froze her in place. “Take them down, Sarah.”
     She hesitated, but one look at Dr. Stone and she was positive he wasn’t kidding. She allowed the silky panties to drop around her ankles.
     “Now the rest.”
     She felt an implosion of embarrassment in the pit of her stomach, but it wasn’t enough to stop her from dropping her skirt, unbuttoning her shirt, and slipping off her bra. In minutes, she stood before him, pink and naked in the afternoon light. He rose and gently took her hand. “Come here, Sarah.”
     He led her across the room. Sarah padded nude behind him on the carpet toward the door behind his desk.
     She had always half-wondered about that door. Until now, she’d always just assumed that it was a closet.
     But when he took the key out of his pocket, her curiosity was piqued. What could he possibly have behind that locked door?
     He smiled at her and turned the key in the lock. “Welcome to the playroom, Sarah,” he said with a smile and opened the door.
      Sarah could hardly believe her eyes: the room beyond was decorated in soft pinks and yellows. On the wallpaper, powder-blue bunnies frolicked in green fields. The floor was littered with stuffed animals, rattles, and building blocks.
     He ushered her through the door with a couple of pats to her bare bottom.
     Sarah was stupefied. She began to ask Dr. Stone the reason for this room, which seemed so bizarre and out of place, when she noticed how large the playpen in the center of the room was. The bars were almost five feet high, the pen accessible via a latching door on one side. The crib in the corner was a twin bed, with a similar set of extra-high bars all around it. The changing table next to it looked more like an examining table from a doctor’s office.
     It was a giant nursery. Just right, she realized, for a baby about her size.
     It was almost funny, but Sarah didn’t feel like laughing. Standing here, in this strange room, naked, her bare, spanked bottom exposed to the world, she felt a building nervousness.
     She nearly jumped out of her skin when Dr. Stone put his hand on her shoulder. “Come on, Sarah,” he said gently, leading her toward the changing table.
     She dragged her feet. “I’m not sure about this,” she said warily.  Her heart was pounding in her chest; the situation was taking on the qualities of a nightmare.
     “Come now, Sarah. It’s time to get you ready for phase three. Come on, sweetheart, up you go,” he said, delivering a few encouraging pats to her bare, jiggling backside. Sarah reluctantly climbed up on the table and lay face down, pouting, her lovely, curvy buns glowing bright pink behind her. She squirmed on her tummy apprehensively, unsure of what exactly she had gotten herself into.
     She gasped and moaned at the feel of Dr. Stone drizzling warm oil across her shoulder blades, pouring it ever so slowly along her spine and down the crack of her ass. She shuddered and sighed as his hands took up their position on her shoulders, rubbing the pink skin firmly, but gently. Sarah could feel the tension melting away, her muscles melting like butter at his touch. She lay on her tummy as still as she could, murmuring softly to herself as the massage continued. Over her shoulders, down her back, his hands finally came to a rest on her bare, upturned butt. Sarah groaned and giggled gently to herself as Dr. Stone kneaded, rubbed and squeezed her naked, spanked tushy until it glistened, pink and delicious, in the dim light.
     She groaned when the massage finished. Sarah heard movement. She could feel the doctor standing behind her. “Time to take your temperature, Sarah,” he said gently.
     Her eyes popped open. She checked over her shoulder. Dr. Stone stood next to her, shaking down a thermometer. She felt a sudden chill, her heart jack hammering in her chest. “In my butt?!” she half cried.
     “That’s the most accurate way, honey.”
     “NNOOO!” she squealed, reaching back to cover her buns with both hands.
     “Yes,” he insisted firmly, taking her wrists and pinning her hands to her lower back. “You be a good girl, Sarah, or I might have to spank you again.” Placing the thermometer on a nearby table, he demonstrated, delivering a series of teasing, but stingy spanks on her upturned derrière. Lying prone on the table, Sarah could do nothing but giggle and squeal helplessly as Dr. Stone once again brought an embarrassing blush to her butt.
     “You lay there like a good girl,” he said firmly as he finished. Taking a tube of KY, he made sure the thermometer was well lubed. “Just relax, honey,” he told the squirming Sarah. Using one hand to separate her buns, he ran the cool, greasy tube down her oily butt-crack to the entrance of her cute, puckered anus.
     She half squealed, half moaned as he pushed the tube home. Sarah squirmed, her sphincter throbbing around the cool glass of the thermometer. The feeling wasn’t uncomfortable—in fact, she would have described it as a tickling sensation. But the shame of the situation—lying there, face down, while her handsome doctor checked her temperature rectally like a naughty, bratty child, brought a blush to her face.
     The minutes crawled by, each second feeling like an eternity to Sarah. Lying there, spanked, thermometer peeking out from between her buns, Dr. Stone’s warm, wonderful hand resting on her tush, Sarah thought that she’d never felt more delightfully babyish in her whole life.
     She had no idea, how long she lay like that, but eventually, Dr. Stone gave her gleaming tushy a pat. “I think we’re just about done, sweetheart.” He took the cold tube and pulled it out quickly, making Sarah gasp. Dr. Stone studied the thermometer. “Everything seems alright here,” he said casually. Sarah wondered how he could be so laid-back when he’d just finished taking her temperature like a helpless little baby.
    “Ok, precious, time to turn over.” She groaned, not wanting it to end. “C’mon, honey; let’s go,” he encouraged, giving her a quick spank for emphasis. Soon, Sarah lay on her back looking up at him with wary exhaustion. Between the massage and her embarrassing temperature-taking, the fight had been taken out of her. Sarah resigned herself to laying here and allowing Dr. Stone to have his way with her. She was not only naked, but totally exposed: lying squirming on the table, there was no part of her the doctor now lacked immediate access to.
     The thought made her shiver. She squeezed her eyes shut.
     “Hold still, Sarah.” She smelt the talcum powder before she felt it raining down lightly on her. She squirmed, suppressing a giggle; it tickled as he dusted it up and down her front from her feet to her chest.
     “Legs up,” he said, taking her feet and lifting her legs, exposing her bottom and giving it a sprinkle of powder. She squealed when he patted it into her upturned cheeks. This whole treatment had been embarrassing, but her feelings of helplessness made it easier for her to process.
     He lowered her back to the table. Sarah felt immediately that something had been slid underneath her.  She opened her eyes, just in time to see Dr. Stone pull the thick, cloth diaper up between her legs. “Hold still, honey,” he admonished, pinning the soft, fluffy pamper into place.
     Sarah bolted up in bed and stared down at herself in disbelief. Part of her had known all along that this was coming, but it was still a shock. She looked up at Dr. Stone in shock, unable to process what had been done to her.  Seeing this man she’d desired for over a year now grinning at her as she sat naked but for a ridiculous, bulbous diaper that he’d pinned onto her brought a fiery blush to her cheeks. “But... Dr. Stone, I... I...” She found herself near tears, “I don’t need a d-d-d-diaper!”
     “Diapers will remind you of a simpler time,” he explained patiently, tugging a pair of girlish baby panties up over the pamper. “It’ll help you relax.”
      She could only sit passively as he finished dressing her. When he’d finished, she was wearing a pink baby nightie that exposed most of her diaper beneath, and a frilly pink bonnet.
     Dr. Stone helped her off the table and led her over to the far side of the room. “See how cute you look?” he asked, standing her in front of the mirror.
     Sarah stared, her face growing redder by the second. In just a matter of minutes, she’d been reduced from a sexy, young woman to a helpless, over-grown toddler in diapers. She stared at herself until she couldn’t stand it anymore. She begged Dr. Stone to let her be a big girl again, but the doctor was firm. “As your doctor, I think a little diaper down-time is exactly what you need.”
     Sarah didn’t know what came over her, but soon her bottom lip was quivering and she began to sniffle. “But I don’t wanna wear a diaper!” she whined petulantly before bursting into tears.
       Dr. Stone, somewhat shocked by this outburst, put his hands on her shoulders.  “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
     She struggled to find the words. She couldn’t articulate the vague fear that gripped her—the fear that she‘d never be able to go back to being a woman again. But even that wasn’t it entirely. She stood in front of him, sobbing softly for over a minute. Finally, she looked up at him and forced herself to speak. “I wanted you to like me!” she blurted, following it up with another burst of tears.
     “I do like you, honey!”
      “No, No,” she bawled, “I mean, I wanted you to want to go to bed with me, but, but, you just think I’m a big baby and... and...”
      She began sobbing again. Dr. Stone put his arms around her. “There there, precious,” he whispered, slipping a pacifier into a surprised Sarah's mouth. “This is just a relaxation technique that’s all. Nobody thinks you’re really a baby.” He comforted her for a few more minutes.
     “Come on, darling,” he coaxed once he’d gotten her calmed down. “Some time in the playpen will do you a world of good.”
     Leading her over to the adult playpen, he opened the door, ushered her inside, and latched it closed behind her. Sarah gripped the bars firmly: she was trapped now until he decided she’d had enough. “Just relax for a bit, Sarah," he said as he made his way over to the door. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
     He shut the door behind her, leaving Sarah on her own.
     She took a seat on the floor and waited for his return. Board, she began cuddling a stuffed bear and was surprised by how reassured it made her feel. The floor of the playpen was padded, and soft, with comfy pillows strewed it. Sarah propped herself up and stared into space, sucking her soother, fondling her little bear, and struggling to process everything that had happened to her. Part of her wanted to strip off her embarrassing diapers, leave the office and never come back.
     Another part wanted nothing more than to stay and be treated like a baby forever.
     After a few minutes, the door opened, and Sarah was mortified to see Dr. Stone accompanied by his secretary Janet. Tears began leaking down her cheeks again as Janet crouched down to regard her through the bars of the playpen.
     “Oh, doesn’t she look so cute?” she gushed to Dr. Stone. “You look so sweet, honey,” she giggled. She reached through the bars to caress Sarah’s cheek.
     Sarah couldn’t believe Dr. Stone let Janet see her like this! Mortification flooded her body, and she almost felt like she was going to cry again.
     Dr. Stone delivered a stinging crack to Janet’s seat, making her straighten and squeal. “That’s right, sweetheart; and you’re next!”
     He ushered her over to the table, quickly stripped her (revealing the warm glow of a recently spanked bottom to Sarah), and lifted her onto the padded surface. From there, Janet was given the same treatment Sarah found herself subjected to just moments before. Sarah watched in fascination as Janet received a massage, had her temperature taken rectally, and finally, was powdered and pinned into diapers. Is that what I looked like? Sarah thought with a blush, watching Janet squirm on the table with a thermometer peeking out of her butt crack.
     Minutes later she was placed into an outfit very similar to Sarah’s. Janet was taken over to the playpen and placed inside, the door latched tightly behind her. “You girls play nicely now,” he chuckled, making his way to the door, “I’ve got some paperwork to finish.” 
     Still in a state of shock, Sarah passively watched Janet crawl across the playpen, gurgling happily around her pacifier. Janet plopped down on her well-padded butt in front of her, took out her pacifier and beamed happily at her. “This is so great!” she surprised Sarah by throwing her arms around her and squeezing her tight. “Now we can be like sisters!”
     Sarah played it over in her head: Her new family, with Dr. Stone as the father and she and Janet as his coddled, pampered little baby princesses. “We’ll be one big, happy family,” Janet gushed. She leaned forward and kissed Sarah sweetly on the mouth. “C’mon,” she squealed excitedly, “let’s play dolls!”
     The girls played for a little while. Sarah overcame her initial self-consciousness and was surprised to find playing dolls very relaxing-- like a trip back to a simpler time.
     She found herself studying Janet, savouring her complete regression from sexy young woman to overgrown infant, even as she grew more and more embarrassed at the knowledge that Janet’s regression mirrored her own. With her sexy legs bare between her ankles and the tops of her thighs, her ample bust straining against her nightie, her lovely, delicate features beneath her baby bonnet, there was no question that she was a beautiful, full-grown woman under that infantile attire—Just like me, Sarah thought, turning red.
     Janet turned and caught her looking. “You are just too cute,” she murmured, crawling across the floor toward Sarah. “The cutest little baby sister a girl could ever want.”
     She kissed Sarah again, slowly. Sarah felt herself being gently pushed back onto the floor. Janet lay next to her, touching her face softly. She flipped up the bottom of Sarah’s nightie and began gently prodding the front of her diapers. “I just know we’re going to have all sorts of fun together.”
     They kissed and touched each other in the afternoon sun. Though she found herself getting aroused, to Sarah the situation didn’t seem sexual—they were merely sisters enjoying each other’s company.
     Janet rubbed the front of Sarah’s diapers, making her squirm and giggle. Part of her resisted: how could she ever face herself in the mirror again after being brought to orgasm in diapers, in baby clothes, sitting in a giant playpen in a giant nursery? How could she willingly relinquish her adulthood like that?
     The answer, as it turned out, was “quite easily”: she soon shivered on her back, an orgasm rushing over her like a stampede.
     “Wasn’t that nice?” Janet asked, beaming as she bent to plant a kiss on Sarah’s forehead.
     Sarah could only groan in response. A sudden exhaustion overcame her. Yawning and stretching, she drifted off to sleep, nestled on the floor of the playpen, just like a real baby.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Worth a Thousand Words part 2






Another little thank you for everyone who's left comments and sent e-mails.

Today's piece is by phenomenal spanking artist Eric Stanton. I've always loved this one; it captures just one, single, brief moment in time... Yet it's impossible (for me anyway) to look at it without being filled with ideas.

Think about it: what would you give to be watching from a spot behind that glass?

(In other news, work on Therapy: phase 3 continues. I hope to have it finished sometime this week.)