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

Saturday, April 28, 2012

Morning In America Part 2


 Starring



Charlize Theron as Betty


    “I look like a mess,” she pouted as he shut the door behind them. The church was only about a block away. Usually by the time they left, there would be other perishes walking by their house many of them friends and acquaintances.
     But today they were running late… the crowd had already filtered inside, and the service itself may have even already begun.
     “Did you hear me?” she pouted. “I said I look like a mess!”
     He looked at her and chuckled. Betty was the sort of woman who could look good in a potato sack, and she’d certainly had more than enough time this morning to make herself look as radiant and lovely as usual (easily done when you were born radiant and lovely, he thought). “I look so hippy!” she complained bitterly, indicating her lower torso. “This diaper makes my butt look huge!” It was silly of course… she’d picked an outfit big enough to hide her big diapers almost completely, and while she may have been a tad bulky on the bottom, if you looked closely, one glance at her gorgeous face would dispel any suspicions… after all, how could such a beautiful, sophisticated woman be wearing pampers? The only outward clue was a small, telltale rustle when she walked… Louder than thunder to Betty on the walk to church on that warm summer morning.
      She forced herself to walk as smoothly and minimized her waddle as much as possible. The diaper was hot and humid and getting worse by the minute… by the time they finished church it would be like a sauna down there. Worse, the diaper was pressed up tightly against her privates, and the plastic pants constricted it even more… the stimulation she received just from walking was enough to drive her crazy. She sighed and realized it would be a very long service.
     Ordinarily, there would be a small group of parishioners gathered out front, chatting and gossiping; and on most Sundays, they would be out there chatting and gossiping with them… but today the crowd had already moved inside. The service would be close to starting—if it hadn’t already. “C’mon, we’re late,” he admonished, swatting her padded rear-end and making her squeal. She scowled at him, and increased her pace, the diaper crinkling loudly behind her as she went.
     They entered moments before the pastor took his place at the altar and snuck into a pair of seats near the back. They were fairly isolated, with nobody around for 6 feet or more in every direction… a plus for Betty. On most Sundays, she was more than content to mingle, understandably proud of her luxurious lifestyle, her handsome, successful husband, and her flawless beauty and she loved to flaunt it… to lord it over those unfortunate enough to have some (but not all) of the things that she had.
     The lifestyle was worth the private punishments and humiliation (which did turn her on, after all). But Betty would have been mortified if anybody found out… especially someone she’d so thoroughly lorded her wealth, status and beauty over.
     It was warm in the church; inside Betty’s diapers, it was like a greenhouse. The pastor began the service; Betty tried to listen, but her pussy was so moist she spent most of the service squeezing the padding between her thighs to stimulate her clit. She snuck sideways glances at her husband and her mind began conjuring all her darkest, dirtiest fantasies. She imagined herself spanked, infantilized, and well fucked.
     She tried to regain control, tried to force herself to focus on the pastor and sit still, but his boring sermon on forgiveness and charity became nothing but background noise to her steamy fantasies. She pictured herself paraded up to the front of the church in noting but her massive diaper; of being put on display, right next to the pastor, in front of everyone in the community—everyone she’d sneered and looked down her nose at, while her husband revealed all the embarrassing details of her punishment schedule. She pictured the pastor smiling and nodding approvingly as her husband detailed how he, as recently as that very morning spanked, given her an enema, and diapered her, discussing the biblical merits of her humiliating punishment. And she pictured the other wives shifting in their seats uncomfortably, blushing as their husbands eyeballing them with curious smiles.
     She began rocking back and forth slightly, desperate for stimulation. Her husband cast a suspicious eye in her direction, and she was forced to slow herself. The heat and moisture were intolerable… she wanted nothing more than to reach down the front of her diapers and bring herself to a quick climax.
     God, how much longer does this go on, she thought, feeling like she’d sat through two sermons already and was now halfway through a third. She prayed desperately for something, anything to distract her.
     There was a loud gurgle inside her, and she felt a bubbling in her stomach, followed by a sharp cramp in her side. Frowning, she made a small noise and bent over a bit. Her husband shot her an inquisitive look. She tried to give him a re-assuring smile, but another burbling emerged from her tummy, so loud she was sure he must’ve heard it. She doubled over in the pew and stifled a groan. There was a strange sound; Betty turned white as she felt a major gooey mass descending into her colon. Horrified, she realized she hadn’t gotten all the water from her enema out… now she had a huge mess brewing inside her.
     “Are you OK?” her husband whispered.
     “Uh-uh,” she whispered urgently, “I’m feeling sick.”
     “Are you going to throw up?”
     “No,” she said in a shaky voice, “not that end…”
     She made a desperate attempt to clench up, vividly aware that her husband was watching. But it was no use; Betty doubled over and ripped a fart, barely muffled by her pampers. She exploded, the hot mushy mess filling the seat of her diapers. Her husband watch, surprised but not shocked, as she filled the seat of her diaper with soft poop.
     She stared at him, mouth gaping, not sure what to say or do. She turned bright red as the stench emerged… not too noticeable, just a hint… but obvious enough for Betty to want to bolt out of church right then and there. She considered it, but a look from her husband riveted her to her place… she settled in, her stomach rolling as she felt the mess squish beneath her. She was pretty sure nobody except her husband had noticed, but she still felt her cheeks coloring bright red.
     She tried to hold still and ride it out, but it was so uncomfortable—she shifted her butt in the mushy mess, trying to find the right position; her stomach rolled. There was just a hint of poopy stench in the air—she crinkled her nose haughtily.
     There came another gurgle, a bloated, gassy cramp, and the sick sensation of her rectum filling. Another farting/squishing sound; Betty grunted, another mushy load pouring out of her and into the seat of her diaper. She gritted her teeth at the sensation of the warm mess creeping up her butt-crack, mushing across her buttocks, and squishing down the backs of her legs. She tried to keep a straight face and give no indication of what she’d done. Her husband glanced at her and delighted in the red hue of her cheeks. She looked at him. “Honey,” she whispered, “my diapers are getting really dirty.”
     “He’s just about done, sweetie.”
     Betty forced herself to sit still. Though the sermon only lasted another ten minutes, to Betty, in her squishy diaper full of poop, it seemed to go on for hours.
     At last the minister finished. She was up and heading toward the door before he was even off the podium, tottering away as quickly as she could. Her husband grinned, rose, and followed quickly.
     He caught up to her outside and took her hand, lacing his fingers between hers. She shot him a panicked look, but he just smiled, put her hand to his mouth and kissed the back sweetly. He leaned in close and whispered: “Be a good girl, or I’ll lay you down on someone’s lawn and change you in front of the whole neighborhood.” She gasped and looked at him. He was smiling, but she didn’t want to test him.
     They continued their slow walk back home. Betty’s heart sank as she felt another gurgle in her belly. She clenched desperately, but a powerful cramp doubled her over. She dipped on one leg and ripped a bubbly fart, uncontrollably dumping another mushy load into her diaper with a breathy gasp. Her husband laughed. “My goodness,” he chuckled, “you did have a lot left in you, didn’t you honey?”
     She shot him a look, outrage and accusing. “Hey, don’t blame me, sweetheart—I told you to make sure you were finished before you got off the toilet.”
     She hurried as fast as  his tight grip would allow. Betty held her face as perfectly still as possible, but her cheeks were bright red. Worse, a distinct poopy stench had enveloped her, and her husband would occasionally crinkle his nose as ask, with a teasing smile, if she smelled something.
     At last they were home. He released her hand and she waddled up the front steps as quickly as she could in her dirty diaper and quickly went inside. She waddled toward the bathroom, aching to get out of her super-messy diaper, already imaging how good it would feel to peel it off and climb into the shower…
     She felt a large hand on her shoulder, holding her firmly in place. “Ah ah,” she heard him chide behind her. He undid her dress and pushed it off her body and down to the floor. Sticking a finger into the top of her diaper and tugging it out a bit to peek inside. “Whew!” he exclaimed, making her blush. He spun her around to face him, chuckling at her expression—though embarrassed and disgusted by the squishy pile in her pants, Betty still maintained an air of snooty arrogance, her adorable upturned nose crinkling as she squirmed in her messy diapers. She struggled and fought, trying to get away, but he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her tightly against him. He grinned wolfishly, making her feel utterly helpless. “Now, before I let you out of this diaper,” he began, squeezing the seat and making her cringe as the mess squashed against her, “Are you sure you’re finished?”
      “Yeeesssss!” she hissed, squirming against him. She was desperate to get out of her stinky, squishy pampers and back into some normal panties.
     “Positive?” he murmured, placing his hand on her tummy and pressing firmly. She gasped, but bit her tongue and tried to force herself to stand still. He massaged gently, starting on the lower right, moving upwards and across the left and then downwards, all the time his eyes locked on hers. She gasped and squirmed; the process, while not painful, was certainly uncomfortable—especially since she was still squishing around in a messy diaper. Worse, the massage actually seemed to be working—she felt her bowels gurgling to life, a descending feeling in her guts, followed by a heavy weight in her colon… She stared into his eyes and emitted a small gasp as she involuntarily messed herself once more with a rude splattering noise. He gave her a cock-eyed smile. “I thought there might be more in there,” he said, patting the bulging, squishy mess in her pampers. “Come on now,” he said, turning her around and ushering her into the bathroom with a playful smack on the seat of her messy diapers. Squealing, she waddled into the bathroom as quickly as her massively messy diaper would allow.
     He followed her in; for a long moment, Betty stood in front of him, frozen, dreading and anticipating his next move. “Strip,” he commanded, a sly smile crossing his face when she blushed. She followed his instructions until she stood before him in nothing but a messy diaper. He helped her into the tub, the messy pamper wobbling behind her. He took the tabs and tore them open, chuckling when he saw the full extent of the damage. The entire back panel had been used right up, and Betty’s buttocks and thighs were completely smeared with greasy, mushy poop. She blushingly peered over her shoulder and watched him discard the soiled diaper into a trash bag. Grabbing a box of wet-wipes off the counter, he grinned and approached her.
     The cold, wet cloth pressed against her backside, making her gasp. Bracing herself, she tried to endure the embarrassment of having her husband clean off her messy bottom in silence, but she couldn’t stop from emitting the occasional embarrassed moan or squeal. He worked diligently, discarding wipe after wipe as he cleaned the mucky mess off his wife’s adorable pink rump. Betty went cross-eyed when she felt him slip one of the cloths between her butt-cheeks and clean the gooey mess out of her crack. Once she was wiped clean, he took the shower-head and some soap and washed her lower half thoroughly.
     He dried her off. “Now I want you to go into the bedroom and wait for me on the bed—and don’t you even think about getting dressed young lady,” he warned, sending her off down the hall with a swat on her jiggling backside.
     Betty crawled up onto the bed and stretched herself out on her stomach, bare bottom upturned behind her, still glowing pink. She pressed her cheek into the cool fabric. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to relax.
     She heard him enter, tightening her muscles—lying there, naked, her spanked bottom glowing behind her, she felt more vulnerable than she ever had before. He came over behind her and squirted a dollop of lotion on her back and began rubbing it in. She gasped, but soon settled in, squeezing her eyes closed and murmuring softly to herself. She sighed and wriggled in lazy delight, glorying in the decadence of it, positively melting as he massaged down her back, kneaded her tender butt, and all the way down her legs. She shivered, her flesh quivering involuntarily. He patted her glistening rump—“turn over baby,” he said.
     She heaved herself onto her back and stretched out, eyeing him lustily. He squirted the lotion across her chest and massaged it in, kneading it into her breasts. She sucked in a breath, squirming, lust bubbling up inside her. Her thighs were slick… he rubbed the lotion into her smooth belly, lower and lower, until he was rubbing her clit…
     He bent down and kissed her… Moments later he was inside her… Her first orgasm arrived in world record time.


     She lay on the bed, spent and exhausted. “Mmmm… darling, that was marvelous,” she purred lazily. “Exactly what I needed,” she added, smirking slyly.  All of her earlier stresses had been forgotten—stretching, she squirmed on the bed, delighting in its comfort and warmth. She was actually considering a nap when she heard him come in again. Back for more already? She thought, wiggling her toes excitedly at the notion. She opened her eyes, looked at him, and froze at what she saw.
     Her husband was spreading another fresh, clean diaper out at the bottom of the bed. He set a container of powder on the bed next to it, fixed her with a smoldering look, and pointed down at the diaper. “C’mon, honey—can’t have you running around naked all day, can we?”
     She looked at him, confused. “But—but—but,” she stammered, trying to think of something to say in her defense.
     But he was having none of it. “Let’s go, sweetie,” he said firmly, taking her by the ankles and dragging her down to the bottom of the bed.
     She pouted and looked up at him. “But I don’t wanna wear a diaper!” she whined petulantly.
     “Now now,” he said, lifting her ankles and slipping the diaper under her quivering tushy. “You’ve been acting very silly, and I think a little diaper discipline is the best thing for you.”
     “But…”
     “The only ‘butt’ around here young lady,” he warned sternly, giving her upturned rump a blast of powder, “is the one that’s going into diapers right now—with or without a spanking.” He patted the powder into her upturned backside—Betty squirmed uncomfortably. She wasn’t looking forward to going back to diapers… but she wasn’t exactly in the mood for another spanking either. She forced herself to lay still and allowed the diaper to be drawn up between her legs and taped around her waist.
     She sat up on the bed and frowned down at the crinkly disposable diaper around her loins. An exact duplicate of a pampers disposable, sized for her voluptuous adult body. She looked up at her husband with a pout, hoping to make him feel guilty, but he was smiling down at her, beaming like a proud father-- It filled her with such shame and arousal that she had to look away. He tucked a finger under her chin and tilted her head back. She looked up at him pleadingly.
     He popped a pacifier into her mouth, then took a frilly bonnet and tied it under her chin. “There,” he proclaimed with a satisfied smile, “that’s perfect.”
     Betty turned and looked at herself in the mirror. She nearly burst into tears— she realized that she looked like an infant, grown old but not grown up. He reached down and scooped her up into his arms, lifting and carrying her from the from, easily as though she where a rag-doll. She surrendered herself, nuzzling her head against his chest and savoring the strength of his arms around her.
     He carried her into the living room and took a seat on the couch, Betty nestled, warm and soft and almost entirely nude in his lap. She wanted to be angry at him—to resent this transgression against her womanhood. How dare he steal her adulthood like this? How dare he transform her from a capable, modern woman into a helpless oversized baby—with an embarrassing oversized diaper to match? And most of all, how dare he turn her lust against her and make her enjoy it?
     But her righteous indignation disintegrated when he began to scratch his nails lightly across her belly, she jumped and squealed and tried to fight back the urge to giggle. But Betty was highly ticklish, and she soon found herself chortling and writhing helplessly, her anger forgotten. “That’s a good girl,” he said with a smile. “That’s what I like to see— a happy big baby girl!” she blushed, but he grinned and bent down to kiss her forehead.
     “Now honey,” he began, cradling her close, “I think you’re going to need at least a week of diapers.”
     Her heart sank… she’d never gotten more than a couple of days of diaper discipline before now. “If you want to do anything at all like a big girl, you’re going to have to ask permission first.”
     “But… Sally is having some people for tea on Wednesday…”
     “Well, you better be on your best behavior until then, sweetie,” he said, kissing her softly, “or else you’re going to be waddling over there in your diapers and that pretty pink dress of yours.”
     She blushed furiously, imaging the humiliation of having to walk to the neighbors with a massive bulky diaper bulging out from under her frilly baby party dress. Her heart thundered inside her when she thought of what her friends would say when they saw her reduced from a gorgeous woman to an overgrown baby.
     “OK, sweetheart,” he said, patting her bottom and helping her to the floor, “you sit there and play quietly while I make us some lunch.” He took a small stuffed bear from a nearby shelf and handed it to her, smiling warmly as she clutched it to her naked body. He stalked from the room, leaving her sitting on her massively padded bottom on the living room floor. The fluffy, padded seat of her diaper felt nice on her spanked tushy, but inside, it was getting warm again. With a sigh, she stretched out on her back and held the bear above her, swaying it back and forth listlessly, trying to sort out this crazy situation in her mind. Her husband had no right to do this to her… that was clear. Wasn’t it a form of abuse? This wasn’t the ‘50’s, after all—if she had any sense at all she’d report him.
   So why didn’t she?
     Betty began to blush. She had to admit: she did love all the attention. And some of her husband’s punishments, eccentric though they may have been, were actually quite sexy. She would die from embarrassment if she had to say so out loud, but it did make her unimaginably horny when he spanked, diapered, and treated her like a cherished little girl…
     But even that was only part of it. No it went even deeper than that. The reason she enjoyed it so much—and a major part of the reason it turned her on—was because she knew she actually needed it. All her life, people spoiled and indulged her because of her stunning beauty—her husband was the first person who looked past that to see what she was on the inside—a naughty little girl, who needed someone stronger than her to keep her innate naughtiness in check.
     He walked in and stood over top of her, looming like a giant… she shivered. He held a bottle out toward her. Reluctantly, she reached up and took it from him. Under his watchful gaze, she stuck the nipple into her mouth and started sucking slowly, allowing the cool milk to fill her mouth and trickle down her throat.
     He walked back into the kitchen. Betty lay on her back on the carpet, nude but for her big, bulky diaper and frilly baby bonnet. The sunlight was warm—Betty yawned and stretched and sucked her baba. She considered curling up and going to sleep, but resigned not to embarrass herself by dozing off on the rug like a toddler. So she continued slurping away slowly on her bottle, scratching her lily white belly lazily and wondered what her husband would make her for lunch. She was in the mood for something sweet… she hoped he’d give her some cookies, or maybe some ice cream. And then, back to the bedroom for another round of hot, steamy lovemaking before a nice nap. She grinned at the thought.
     She lay on the floor daydreaming about sweets and sex, so wrapped up in her fantasy that she didn’t notice her husband until he was standing over top of her again. She smiled up cheerfully at him around the nipple of the bottle.”Time for lunch baby,” he said, helping her to her feet and leading her to the kitchen by the hand. She toddled along behind him, slurping the last of the milk in her bottle, her bulky diaper crinkling loudly behind her the whole way.
     She frowned when she saw the he’d set up the high-chair for her, but she wasn’t surprised. She toddled over and climbed up without argument, encouraged by a pat on her diapered bottom. She settled in, her husband sliding the tray in place in front of her. She pouted when he placed a steaming bowl of porridge in front of her, but her husband was adamant: “after what happened to you in church this morning, darling,” he said pointedly, “I think we can both agree you need more fiber in your diet.”
     She fell silent, pouting as he tied a bib around her neck and slowly fed her the entire bowl of mush, her lips, cheeks, and chin getting smeared in the process. She finished the bowl with a sizable burp, making her blush even more when her husband smiled at her.
     She perked up considerably when she saw the chocolate pudding he’d gotten her for desert. She relished its creamy deliciousness, smiling brightly under her bonnet, her face and bib smeared with food, grinning contentedly.
     She finished and sat by quietly, allowing her husband to wipe her face clean. Sliding the tray out of place, he scooped her up into her arms once more. She yawned and snuggled against him, her eyelids drooping as she felt herself being carried upstairs and down the hall toward the bedroom. He laid her on the bed—turning down the corner of the quilt, he looked at her and pointed. She slowly crawled across the bedspread, deliberately pointing her diapered bottom at him and wriggling it provocatively behind her. She crawled beneath the covers and allowed him to tuck her in. He undid the strings of her bonnet and pulled it off her head. He bent down and kissed her firmly, making her sigh. “Honey?” she asked tentatively.
     “Yes darling?” he murmured, touching her hair gently.
     “Will you lay down with me?” she asked sweetly, “just until I fall asleep?”
     “Of course I will honey,” he said. He reached over and turned out the bedside lamp and crawled onto the bed beside her. She rolled over and smiled excitedly as she felt him press in close behind her and put a strong arm around her. She couldn’t remember feeling safer or more relaxed in her life.
     “Sleep tight baby,” he whispered, kissing the back of her neck softly.
     She sighed contentedly and shut her eyes and drifted softly to sleep.

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