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

Friday, June 27, 2014


(Please let me know what you think.)

Chapter One

Six months earlier:

“Amanda? I’m sorry, am I boring you?” Henry Smiley’s voice was sincere and concerned… as usual, Amanda thought with a pang of disgust.
     She immediately regretted it, feeling guilty. Most women would give their right arm to be engaged to a man like Henry Smiley. There were so many women who were neglected or abused by men who treated them like they were nothing but property—she was fortunate to have found a man as decent and morally upstanding as Henry, who treated her as an equal and respected her opinion, and she knew it. And she was grateful—not just because her was wealthy and cultured and good looking, but because he did treat her like a human being and an important part of his life instead of a possession or a servant. It was just that he could be so predictable… so inhibited… so…
    “Boring? No, dear, not at all,” she sighed patronizingly. It was their last night together before she was off to the country to visit her parents for two weeks, and Amanda had been hoping for a grand romantic evening, followed by a night of passion that would satisfy her desires until she got back. Instead, she was getting yet another night at the opera, followed by another chaste kiss goodnight before they parted. “You know I find your work… fascinating.”
     He beamed with pride, ready as always to lecture his enraptured fiancée. “Well, it’s simple really—when it’s ready the potion will magnify the positive aspects of my personality. If I’m successful, we’ll be able to manufacture a perfect personality for everyone. Think of it—a world where every man and woman has infinite patience and tolerance… where criminals can be instantly, chemically rehabilitated into society, where every child can be brought up to be a morally upstanding citizen as easily as administering a dose of cough medication!”
     “Mmmm… riveting,” said Amanda, whose mind, as usual was wandering toward naughtier things. Would that Henry was just a little more wild, she thought, admiring his masculine build with a smirk. I bet he’d bent me over this bench, hike up my dress, pull down my knickers and give it to me right now…
     She giggled at her naughtiness. She knew it wasn’t lady-like, but what harm did a little daydreaming do? It wasn’t likely to make the transition to reality any time soon, she thought with a heavy sigh. She began looking over the nearby test-tubes with a dispassionate eye. Each one had some characteristic or trait printed on the side: One said Intelligence, and next to it was Muscle Mass. Decency, she read, going down the line, Conscience, Confidence… hello, what have we here?
     She inspected the vial of green fluid in its stand, clearly labeled Libido. She smirked to herself. It was devious, she knew, but how could she resist the urge to create the perfect fiancée? She reached out toward the vial.
     “Sweetie?” Amanda cursed looking up towards the door. “Are you coming?”
     “Just a moment, my love,” feeling for the vial with her free hand as she turned towards the door to answer him. Without looking down, she opened it and started pouring it into Henry’s concoction. “I’m just… looking for an ear-ring I dropped!”
     She finished, satisfied with herself… but when she was putting the vial back, she realized she’d made a mistake. “Wait a second, what’s this? ‘Paternal Instinct,’” she read aloud. She placed it gently back in its place, then took the correct tube and gave Henry’s potion a good shot, paused for thought, then added another shot with a smirk. She placed it back on the shelf and hurried up the stairs to meet Henry for another dreary night at the opera—not making out in Henry’s private box, as usual, she thought with a sigh.

     The Opera had been a bore, as usual. Amanda sat up straight and fought off the urge to nap by fantasizing about the hot tenor in his tight pants. I swear, I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight, she thought, scolding herself for her improper and unladylike thoughts. She’d been feeling randy, recently, there was no doubt… and Henry, the big jerk, had been the perfect gentleman as always, never even trying to take advantage. Didn’t he understand that she was going away? Wasn’t he even a little sorry to see her go?
     She studied him in the dim opera box, riveted to the stage as usual. When she’d first met him, she’d found him attractive—knowing that he came from a good family, had money, an education and a respectable, profitable trade had certainly helped. But the thing that ultimately drew her to him was the sense that there was something dangerous lurking beneath… something wild, that could set free the thing she had always  know lurked inside of her…
     What a joke, she thought bitterly, giving half-hearted applause with the rest of the audience as the aria wrapped up. She sighed… it was going to be a long night.

     The rest of the evening had been sort of a bust.
     Amanda, who had been frosty all evening, turned positively icy when she suggested skipping dinner to go straight back to her place for “dessert” (Henry, who had missed the implication as usual, reminded her that they had reservations, and they would have to hurry to make them.) She’d refused to talk during dinner and had retreated into her apartment from the carriage without saying goodnight.
     When he finally returned to his lab, Henry stared at the formula in the beaker despondently, then turned away. Although he loved Amanda, he just couldn’t figure out how to make her happy. Would it get any easier after they were married? Probably not, he realized sadly-- he was likely going to go through the rest of his life never living up to what she wanted him to be.
     There was the formula. The serum had been designed to sharpen his mind and enhance his senses… could it possibly provide some fresh insight?
      That, or drive him stark raving mad…He’d checked and re-checked the calculations; he knew it was as ready as it would ever be… but this was totally unknown territory he was walking into. Every component had to be measured carefully—if they weren’t, who knew what catastrophic changes his personality would undergo? The problem was: who knew for sure what the right proportions were in something nobody had ever tried before?
     Yet he knew it had to be tested on himself first; that was it was his risk to take and his ethical responsibility to bear… especially if something went wrong. Perhaps he was just nervous about taking the first step into the unknown… and was it his imagination, or had the color changed? Yes, he thought he could see it when he held the liquid up to the light—a little flare of green that he was sure wasn’t there before. He stared at it for a quarter of an hour, cursing his hesitation… and cowardice.
     Steeling himself, he brought the beaker to his lips and drank deeply…

     He sat and waited… who knew how long it would take to work (or if it even worked at all?) Fifteen minutes crawled by, a half an hour and nothing. Was it even something you’d notice, he wondered? Would one even be able to detect a shift in one’s own personality? Maybe it’ll be something subtle… or gradual, slowly revealing itself over a number of days?
     Fire… it came upon him all at once—a burning in his veins like lava pumping through his heart. He opened his mouth, tried to scream… but before he could even utter a noise, his brain was burning, and he was on his back on the floor, writhing in agony so intense he couldn’t even force himself to utter a sound. He made an attempt to claw his way across the floor, but made it only a few feet before his muscles locked up. His entire body went painfully ridged, muscles and bones locked into position. Behind his eyes, his brain burned, and inside him, something screamed and chewed its way through its bonds.
     At last, mercifully, he lost consciousness…

     He awoke a couple of hours later, clawing his way back to the waking world. He had no idea how long he’d been out, but the rays of the sun were falling through the window to his office, scalding him awake. He opened his eyes and gave a cry, the light burning them like open sores in his face. He rolled desperately back into the shadows, crying with relief as they doused the burning. He staggered to his feet unsteadily, his ears ringing. He could hear small noises… somebody was humming. It took him a moment to realize it wasn’t in his head, but Constance, the maid, humming to herself as she cleaned in some far corner of the house.
     His eyes were adjusting to the light… Smiley reached for his glasses, discovered they only made things blurry. Taking them off, he realized his vision had seemingly corrected itself. He felt something inside him—an itch he couldn’t scratch, a hunger he’d never had before. Or had he and simply always denied it existed?
     Smiley slowly walked from the room, moving toward the sound of Constance’s humming…

     Constance swayed her hips gently as she dusted, singing softly to herself and thinking about her impending lunch break. Even with her long blonde hair tied up in a bun and her soft, petite curves hidden beneath her conservative maid’s uniform she was still a radiantly lovely young woman. Employed by Dr. Smiley for only a few weeks now, Constance found her employer to be a kind and respectful man, if somewhat shy and utterly devoted to that fiancé of his. Too bad, Constance thought—after years of being pawed by her piggish, married employers, she’d finally found one she’d actually like to be with and he was true blue. She sighed and continued her dusting.
     She wasn’t sure how long he was there before she noticed his presence, but there he was suddenly, like a shadow on the wall. She turned with a startled gasp and found the doctor staring at her… just watching her from the doorway with the strangest expression on his face.
     “Oh! Hello, Doctor,” she said brightly to him before going back to her work. Cold fish or not, Dr. Smiley was the best boss Constance had ever had, and she was always careful to work extra hard when he was around.
     Smiley stalked silently across the floor of the library, his eyes fixed on the back of her long, supple neck. He couldn’t explain it, didn’t know how he’d missed it before, but when he looked at Constance now, he saw not his employee, a woman who had worked with him for almost two months now and proven herself an excellent addition to the staff… a wonderful girl with a sweet personality and a bright, open manner…
     But now, all he could focus on was the smell, the delicious scent emanating from her direction. Not her perfume or the soap she used…. Beneath all that, he could detect the smell of her sweat, and the scent of her body beneath it… it intoxicated him, pulling him across the floor toward her, until he was almost on top of her.
     Constance froze when she felt his shadow fall across her. She knew she should turn to face him, but she was paralyzed, both thrilled to be so close to the man she had a crush on, and suddenly, inexplicably frightened—he was acting so out of character, she couldn’t help feeling a little disturbed. She stiffened, feeling him place his hands gently on her hips.
     “Constance…” he said, his voice deep and rich. It was a statement… like he was rolling the word around on his tongue to see how he liked it. He studied her neck, elegant and smooth and begging to be kissed.
     He leaned forward. “You look delicious,” he murmured, and she stiffened a little, expecting to feel his mouth on her…
     …Instead, he took a long, slow sniff. Constance felt surprised and amused and a strange, tingling embarrassment… there was something about it that seemed both shockingly bestial and invasive about it, like he was an animal sniffing at his prey…
     …So why was she getting so wet?
     He sniffed a little lower, and then a little lower still, working his way down her spine… Constance caught her breath when he paused near her bottom, giving a few long sniffs before returning to an upright position behind her. In spite of herself, Constance began feeling aroused. He looped an arm around her, robbing her soft belly through her uniform.
     “Constance,” he said huskily, “when was the last time I gave you a panty inspection?”
     Her eyes widened. Was he serious? She wanted to turn around and look him in the face, but she was still frozen… worst of all, she felt herself going gooey at the thought. “A… did you say a panty inspection, sir?”
     “Mmmm,” he murmured in affirmation, still lightly rubbing her belly slowly and lightly, his hand trailing further downward with each pass.
     “I—I don’t know sir,” she said, swallowing heavily. “I—I can’t say as I recall ever having a—panty inspection, sir,” she blushed at the thought.
     “Well,” said Dr. Smiley, reaching around to enfold her tiny digits in his massive palm, “I guess that means you’re probably overdue for  one, right?” he said, leading her across the room to the plush couch in the center.
     Constance trailed behind him in a daze. She’s just been thinking about how she’d enjoy a little ‘special attention’ from her employer—and this is what happens? She felt like she should stand up to him… felt that the idea of a “panty inspection” was demeaning to her as a grown woman… but that same nervous/sexy tickle she’d felt before kept her silent and compliant as he pulled her face-down over his lap. Dazed, she had a sudden, embarrassing revelation that she was in perfect spanking position, and she frantically shot him a panicked look over her shoulder. He chuckled, taking the hem of her skirt and raising it up her thighs and over her bottom, until it rested on her back. Her white bloomer clad bottom was stuck-up high in the air behind her, quivering and vulnerable, and her cheeks burned as he gave each buttock a few firm pats through the seat of her bloomers. “Better lay still,” he chuckled, like he was reading her mind. “You’re in the perfect position for a good spanking.” He firmly patted both cheeks demonstratively, making her squeal and kick her legs.
     Without another word, he put his fingers inside the waistband of her bloomers and pulled them down over her squirming derriere, down her legs and into a puddle at her ankles. He spent a few moments admiring her lily white rump as is squirmed across his lap. He stroked and patted and pinched each tender cheek, savoring their downy softness. Constance twitched and squirmed across his lap, part of her wanting him to stop—and part of her wishing that she could stay there, draped over his knee like a bratty schoolgirl forever. She mewed softly and rubbed her thighs together, praying he wouldn’t notice how wet her pussy was getting. It was embarrassing, but nice, too, and she murmured and sighed in response to his teasing and caressing
      Finally, he retrieved the undergarment from the floor and brought it up for a closer inspection. “Oh dear,” she heard him tisk, making her blush, “I can see we’ve got our work cut out for us,” he said. “I can tell just by glancing that the crotch is stained,” he said, making her ears burn, “and I see a big brown streak at the back here, too,” he chided. Constance was so embarrassed, she thought for a moment that she might literally die. She woken late that morning, had been forced to rush through her daily routine… including her usual BM—now she was paying the price for her carelessness. She was absolutely mortified when Henry took the panties and used them as a cloth, wiping her pussy before starting on her butt-crack in order to get her clean. “Hmmm, just as I thought”, he said to himself, folding them over and going for another pass at her butt-crack. “You’re very messy down here, young lady,” he informed Constance, making her squirm and blush. What she’d wanted to last forever just moments ago now couldn’t end fast enough. Over her sexy bosses lap so she could get her butt wiped for her, and on the one day she hadn’t had time to clean herself properly properly: If it wasn’t Constance’s most embarrassing moment, it would do.
     “I can see that I have my work cut out for me with you, little girl,” Smiley told her, making her blood run cold. He took a final pass at her rump with the cloth and inspected it before declaring her clean and tossing the bloomers into the wastebasket. Constance let out a squeak of protest, but he just chuckled in response: “You’re not going to be wearing anything like that again for a while, my dear,” he said softly. He snaked his left arm around her waist and held her gently in place, then patted her bare bum, all pink and jiggling and vulnerable. She looked over her shoulder at him frantically, wanting to beg him to both stop and continue at the same time.
     “I know you want to be a good girl for me, Constance,” Henry said, bringing his palm down quickly across her bottom with a noisy crack. She chewed her lip… it wasn’t very painful, really more of an icy-hot prickle—at least for the moment. But again, the humiliation of the situation—dangling over the knee of an attractive man she not only knew and worked for, but that she nursed a serious crush on— was almost too much for her. She opened her mouth to protest, but couldn’t force herself to say anything.
     Another swat fell, and then another, and another. His pace was slow and deliberate, giving her plenty of time to think about the heat slowly building in her hindquarters. She knew it was naughty of her, knew that she should cry out for him to stop… but she couldn’t. She knew she shouldn’t be enjoying the shame of being a grown woman getting spanked over her boss’ lap like an unruly four year old… but she was. Most of all, she realized that she shouldn’t be sopping wet between the legs from having her hindquarters summarily roasted by his large, firm palm… but she could feel herself practically dripping back there.
     The heat and sting continued to build, the icy prickle becoming warmer every second. Constance was kicking now, her legs scissoring in the air behind her. She started to emit little involuntary yelps and squeals in time with the clapping of his broad palm against her tushy. She writhed and wriggled on his lap, thrilled by the sensation of grinding her bare pussy against his thigh while his lovely, firm hand made her buns blaze behind her. Periodically, he would stop to rub and squeeze her bottom firmly, and it was all Constance could do to keep from reaching down to play with herself.
     By the time he stopped, Dr. Smiley had scorched Constance’s backside and lit a warm, glowing bonfire in her loins. He allowed her to lay across his lap for a moment, sighing and cooing contented.
     Henry furrowed his brow… the spanking had been marvelous, and the aftermath was delightful. But he still felt unsatisfied, like there was something missing. Looking down at Constance’s reddened bottom, he knew that her slate had been cleaned, her naughtiness absolved. He wanted very much to provide her with some after-care… needed to, in fact, help her sooth and cool her bottom.
     At last, he patted her butt and ordered her to her feet. He turned her away from him, took the hem of her skirt, lifted it and tucked it into the waistband, grinning at the site of her spanked tushy, shiny and red as an apple. “I want you to plant yourself in that corner young lady,” he said, pointing, “hands on your head and no rubbing. Come on, now; don’t dawdle,” he said, delivering a brisk swat to her vulnerable bare bottom. She leapt into the air with a squawk and hustled over to where he had indicated, lacing her fingers together on top of her head, vividly aware of her naked bum, all red and spanked and on display for anyone who might happen by. She heard him rise, but didn’t dare turn around.
     “I’ll be back soon,” he said sternly, “I want you to wait there until I return… then your punishment will be over,” he said, smiling when he saw her relax.
     She listened to his footsteps departing and sighed, wondering how long she was going to have to wait for him.

     Henry staggered into the bathroom, short on breath. What had happened down there? He struggled to find his focus, to stop himself, to try and think rationally, for god’s sake! He splashed his face with cold water and stared at himself in the mirror, shocked by the leering, animalistic features staring back at him. Wasn’t it the face he’d know his entire life, the one he saw in the mirror every morning? Yes… but the expression was all wrong, sharp and mocking and predatory. He had the distinct sensation of something not quite human lurking behind his eyes…
     He closed his eyes, suddenly nauseous. He felt a sudden pang of guilt for what he’d done to poor Constance… and Amanda, he moaned… how can I ever look at her sweet face again after…
     Against his will, he thought of the sensation of his palm clapping against Constance’s tiny, jiggling buns, of the warmth of her body across his lap, and the satisfaction of watching her bottom go from white and unblemished to a sore, angry red. Henry squeezed his eyes shut, trying to drown it out, but it was too late, all he could hear was the slow, rhythmic slap of his palm against her vulnerable bare bottom, his raging manhood throbbing in time with it.
     It wasn’t enough, he realized.
     He thought of Constance, of her tiny little body and her sweet, shy manor, and all at once he knew he must possess her. Not in the sense of marriage, not even in a sexual sense (not entirely, anyway.) Henry tried to think rationally, but found only one thought pounding like a headache: He had to make Constance his… he had to protect her from the cold, hard world beyond the walls of his home, and nurture her against its cruelties. He needed her to understand how powerless she was… that it really was for her own good.
     He tore the bathroom apart until he found a cooling salve for Constance’s roasted tushy. He’d also uncovered a handful of safety pins, which he turned over in his hand, inspecting them, trying to think of what they reminded him of…
     He slid them into his pocket, not entirely sure what he intended to do with them. He turned to leave… but on the way out, the towel hanging on the wall near the shower caught his eye. Henry walked over to it stiffly, took its material in his hand and felt it between his fingers, savoring she soft, sensual fluffiness of it. He felt the towel with one hand, reached into his pocket with the other and started running his thumb over the safety pins… and knew what he had to do.
     Gathering the towel under his arm, he took the cream in his free hand and started back toward the library.

     Constance shifted from foot to foot, waiting for the Doctor to return. She squirmed and wriggled in place… her tushy wasn’t all that sore, but not being allowed to rub the sting away was slowly driving her mad. She shuffled and wiggled her bottom behind her, trying to use the air to cool it down. She briefly considered stealing a rub, but heard his footsteps returning… Damn, she thought, waited too long and missed my opportunity!
     She heard him enter and shut the door behind him. She expected to hear him address her… but instead, she just heard him pacing back and forth a bit, occasionally moving something around. Eventually she stole a glance over her shoulder, saw him re-arranging a couple of pillows on the couch, but she quickly turned back to the corner before she got caught… and spanked again (Constance tried, unsuccessfully, to deny her excitement at the thought of going over his knee again.)
     “Constance?” he said, gently but firmly, “would you come here, please?”
     With her stomach doing nervous summersaults inside her, Constance turned away from the corner and came toward him slowly, vividly aware of her bare butt blazing behind her. She stood before him and looked up at him nervously, not entirely sure what to expect. She stiffened when he reached out toward her, wrapping his powerful arms around her and pulling her tightly to his chest. She hesitated only for a moment before melting into him, resting her head against him. He was so strong, his arms around her made her feel like glass. He bent down and kissed the top of her head… Constance moaned.
     “Does it hurt much, sweetheart?”
     “A-a little,” she stammered.
     He made a sympathetic noise. “Poor baby,” he said softly, reaching down to rub her bottom for her. “I’m sorry I had to do that.” He pulled back a bit; taking her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, he tilted her head back so he could look into her amber colored eyes. “You know it was only because I care about you… don’t you?”
     “Y-yes doctor,” she said softly.
     “Good girl,” he said, bending down to kiss her lips. “Come,” he said, taking her hand and leading her toward the couch once more. She went along nervously, noting that he’d stacked a pair of pillows in the middle. He kneeled down and tugged her skirt off entirely before helping her get her shoes off, and finally her stockings, leaving her bare below the waist. “Put your tummy here,” he said patting the cushions. Constance complied, slowly draping herself over the downy-soft pillows, very conscious of her bare bottom sticking up in the air behind her, glowing like a pink moon. She let out a gasp when he bent down to kiss it.
     She gave a little cry when the cool cream first hit her burning bottom, then let out a liquidy moan when he started working it into her seat. She oooed and ahhed, suspended between discomfort and relief. It hurts so bad… but it feels sooooo good, she thought to herself, heeling herself getting moist again.
     “Is that nice, honey?” he asked, gently rubbing and kneading her tiny, round buttocks with his big, strong hands.
     “Ooh… yes sir,” she said lazily, stretching herself out… a girl could certainly get used to this kind of treatment.
     He massaged the cream into her buttocks until he’d worked it into her skin. She noticed his fingers drifting between her legs to play with her pussy, and Constance eagerly spread her thighs with a groan. All her modesty had been set aside, and she was desperate for a release. “Please… oh please,” she sighed, feeling his fingers probing her depths and tickling her soft, fat little bud.
     He entered her from behind, suddenly, but slowly and sweetly. Constance, her restraint, her sense of shame and modesty abandoned, was more than happy to give in to him and let him have his beautifully wicked way with her.

     Once they’d finished Constance was like putty, compliantly laying back and allowing him to clean her off with his usual gentle care. Once he had her all clean and glistening, he patted her tummy and gave her a serious look. “Constance,” he said sternly, “I’m still very concerned about your personal hygiene… there’s no reason for a big girl like you to have a dirty bum like that.”
     She said nothing, merely blushing and wishing the couch would swallow her up—and worst of all, she knew he was right. He continued: “So from now on, I’m going to be keeping track of how clean you are down there, missy. So to help me do that, I’ve got something special here for you to wear…
     “Lift your bottom, that’s a good girl,” Henry said, taking her ankles and lifting them suddenly into the air above her, making her squawk as her naked butt came into view. Almost as quickly as she’d been lifted, Constance felt herself replaced flat on the couch… but now something felt different—there was no longer the soft cushions of the couch beneath the tender cheeks of her squirming bottom, she realized, but something thick between them, like a pad of some sort.
     She lifted her head when she felt something pulled up tight between her legs, but she was too late—he’d already pulled the sides tight and fastened one side with a safety pin, followed closely by the other. And like that, Constance found herself swaddled in a towel, like a baby in a giant diaper!
     She gaped down at herself disbelieving at first, then looked up at Dr. Smiley, sure it was all some kind of joke.
     His expression froze all questions in her throat and made it clear that it was no laughing matter. He reached out, touching her hair gently. “This is how I want you dressed around the house at all times from now on, Constance,” he said firmly. “I’ll be making random nappy cheeks from now on… if you resist, you’re going to get a spanking.”
     Constance listened, wide eyed, her heart fluttering as he continued: “of course, touching your nappies yourself is forbidden. If you have to use the toilet, you must come and find me and ask me to take you… otherwise you’ll be expected to use your diaper.
     “You may not change your diaper, but also you won’t be punished for having accidents, since that’s only to be expected of a girl like you. You may wear panties outside of the house, however these will be inspected for cleanliness upon your return, and any stains, specks, or streaks will be met with a spanking. Is all of that clear, darling?”
     Constance’s mouth hung open—she wanted to shout, to rebel, to take this horrible nappy off and throw it in his face!
     At least, that’s how she told herself she should feel. The truth was, his little arrangement sounded quite appealing to her. Could it hurt to at least try it? She finally forced out a shaky “y-y-yeas sir.” To which Henry smiled and admonished her:
     “Call me Daddy, sweetheart.”
     “O-OK—D-D-Daddy,” she whispered, making her heart leap in her chest. He chuckled and helped her to her feet.
     “Good girl. Let’s have a look at you,” he said, spinning her around about to inspect her diapered bottom. “So pretty,” he said, rising and wrapping her up in another big hug. He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent. He could feel her tiny heart pounding against him.
     “Now: you’ve had a big day, so I think you should go and have a little nap… I’ll come and wake you in a little while. OK?” he touched her cheek softly and watched her blush.
     “OK… daddy,” she said quietly.
     Constance tuned and waddled away...  Smiley couldn’t resist giving her padded tushy a little pat as she padded off towards her room.

Wednesday, June 25, 2014


This one was inspired by my friend Mandy, who lamented that she thought the daddy in my Ultimate Surrender stories was “kind of a wimp” and was in market for a daddy character that was more forceful, dominant, and masculine… So to Mandy and the rest of you I present my attempt at creating the ultimate Daddy-Dom—a dark character with sinister intentions… but hopefully a little sympathetic at the same time (and maybe a bit likable, too.) It’s pretty dark, not to mention a bit spicier than my other stories, with a fair bit of sexy-bouncy-naughtiness, so those of you who like your stories chaste may have to skip over some parts here and there.
     (This story was also inspired by a Bugs Bunny cartoon, and to a lesser extent the novel upon which said cartoon is based.)
     (Oh, by the way, the author would like to paraphrase Mark Twain in informing readers that persons attempting to find historical accuracy or fidelity with the source material will be shot. Enjoy!)

England, 1886:
Nestled in the far end of a quiet country lane in Cheshire County near the welsh border sat a house, modest in comparison with some of its neighbors, but still large enough to be called a mansion, tucked away behind a thick line of trees and bushes. It was out of the way, its nearest neighbor almost ten minutes away by coach. Once he’d moved in, the new occupant set about buying up as much of the surrounding land as he could, to ensure they would never be built upon—to maintain privacy.
     It wasn’t that he was an unpleasant man or a recluse… on the contrary, he was young, rich, and handsome; had been, in fact, quite the eligible bachelor when he’d lived in London (rumors abounded of an ill-fated engagement, but if anyone in the neighborhood had learned the truth, they’d kept it to themselves.) A Doctor to boot, as it happened; chemicals and the like, they said-- on the fast track to a life of prominence and respect in the community, that was the scuttlebutt.
     But then something happened-- he’d withdrawn to the country, purchased his house and his lands and moved in, with truckloads of specialized equipment and furniture; to care for and study his patients, you understand.
     It seemed that back in London, the Doctor had run across a rash of cases so perplexing as to stump even a formidable talent such as his. To better study these cases, he said, so similar in nature among people with little or no contact, he had to move them into a specialized facility—one as far away from the city as possible, lest it prove contagious.
     And what was the nature of this disorder? The doctor hadn’t revealed any details of the illness or of his patient’s identities, but Mrs. Astor down the lane watched them unpacking, and swore up and down that she saw a young woman looking “quite addled” being led into the home by the Doctor after dark one night.
     Whatever went on in the house, people were happy to give it a wide birth… especially once a rumor circulated that the Doctor may have been treating patients with a rare, highly contagious disease—people decided not to take the risk and kept their visits to the Doctor’s home to an absolute minimum, contenting themselves to admire his simple decency and dedication to his professional duty from afar.
In the study, Edward Daddy took advantage of the quiet of naptime to write in his journal:
Recent blood tests confirm my suspicions—daily exposure to the serum has caused a build up in the body— I hypothesize that very soon, perhaps within the next few weeks, the change will be permanent and no further exposure to the serum will be required.
     He smiled at the thought—it had been a hard road, fraught with personal and professional perils, but now, it was all about to pay off. He’d walked through the minefield and come out a winner. Now there would be government grants and funding from wealthy philanthropists, on top of his own not inconsiderable fortune (which had taken a hit from his recent property acquisitions, but was still more than enough, even without the other money coming it.) He could ensure that his charges had the best possible care and the highest level of comfort available to them. He could tend to their needs individually, as they deserved.
     There was a small noise in the hallway by the door… he turned quickly, just in time to see a flash of dirty blonde hair whip out of sight. He smiled to himself and watched, his patience quickly rewarded with a face peeking at him from around the corner with one big brown eye at a little above knee height, like they were sitting on the floor, whoever it was… Edward had his suspicions.
     “Who’s that?” Daddy asked, faux stern. He was rewarded with a breathy giggle as the eye quickly retreated around the corner. “Who’s that little girl crawling around when she should be napping?” He said, suppressing a good natured chuckle. “Hmmm? Someone who wants her bottom spanked, I think,” he said, smiling at the excited laugh that emerged.
     He saw her peek around the corner again, this time enough to see her shy smile. “Come along, darling,” he said, holding out his arms invitingly. “Come to Daddy!”
     He smiled when Amanda appeared in the doorway on all fours and came crawling toward him. Edward watched his former fiancée with amusement. Six months ago, Amanda thought that by this point, she’d be quickly adjusting to life as a married woman. He remembered her as she’d been then: fairest maiden in all of London, the proud, cultured, daughter of a prominent family, and clearly destined for great things.
     He watched her crawl across the rug to him on hands and knees, face bright, excited, but free from the concerns of the adult world. She was accompanied, as always, by the omnipresent crinkle of her rubber pants, their baggy dimensions stretched taunt over the massive, bulging diaper below. The nappies were extra thick for naptime, and Edward couldn’t help but smile, watching her crawl toward him, her massively padded rump waggling in the air lazily behind her, like she’d stuffed her baby-pants with thick, downy pillows.
     She stopped on the floor in front of him and folded her legs beneath her, sitting on her knees and gently bouncing her padded tushy on the floor of his study. “What are you doing out of your crib, missy?” he asked sternly.
     In response, she held out her arms emphatically toward him. “Up!” she demanded, bouncing up and down on her diapered butt for emphasis.
     In response, Edward reached down, scooped her up under the arms, and with seemingly impossible strength, lifted the giggling diaper girl off the floor and into his lap, easily as he would a real toddler. Amanda squirmed and shifted, adjusting her nappy into a comfortable position before leaning back into him with a heavy sigh, resting her head on his chest contentedly. Edward wrapped his arm around her bare torso and held her to him, savoring the sweet smell of soap and baby powder emanating from her, mingled with light hints of a wet (but not soaked) diaper and the unmistakable scent of her moistened sex. His senses had slowly gotten sharper over the past few months, his sense of smell especially; both a blessing and a curse when caring for an adult baby, he mused, savoring the warmth of her body against him and inhaling deeply once more. She purred and wriggled in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and snuggling against him, almost aggressively. He smiled contentedly, gently patting her bare thigh with his free hand.
     They sat like that for about five minutes before Amanda shifted to look up at him, regarding him with the same mixture of awe and expectation she’d worn ever since she’d finished her regression. She seemed to see him as both an all-powerful deity, capable of things she could never achieve with her regressed mentality… and a servant to be at her beck and call and cater to her whims—after all, who else did she know who could take care of her needs in her diminished state? Of course, Daddy handed out punishments for excessively naughty behavior, but it didn’t seem to be much of a deterrent…. Edward was beginning to suspect she sometimes acted up on purpose, just for attention.
     She started to squirm and fuss in his lap. Edward grinned—he knew what she wanted. “Oh—is my little darling wet?” he asked rhetorically, not waiting for an answer before he stuck his hand down the front of her rubber pants to feel the front of the nappy for dampness (rubbing the front of her diaper far more than was necessary as he did.) Amanda gurgled and pressed her hips foreword, spreading her thighs as far as they’d go. Daddy grinned and rubbed the front of her diaper in response. “Oh yes… you’re soaking, baby-doll.” He worked his hand faster against her crotch, getting Amanda all excited. “If daddy gives you a diaper change, will you go back to sleep?” He rubbed her gently through the front of her bulging, soppy nappy. “Hmmm? Will you be a good girl for me if daddy takes care of you?”
     “Mmmm… Yeth Daddy,” she lisped breathily.
     Edward sighed and rose, hefting Amanda as easily as a rag-doll, and taking her towards the corner of the study where he’d had a changing station installed (one of four he’d had put in outside the nursery: he also had one in the downstairs bathroom, one in the living room, and one in the master bedroom.) Carrying her on his hip like a real baby, he smiled when she snuggled against him. He easily carried her across the room, patting her thickly padded diaper-butt the whole way. He laid her on the table and secured the side rail so she wouldn’t roll off. Amanda grinned lustily and squirmed on her back, her feelings of security and confinement sending a sexy, ticklish excitement throbbing through her.
     After taking a few moments to gather the changing supplies, Edward pulled the rubber pants over her nappy, down her long, sexy legs, and off her feet (which he paused to tickle a little, making Amanda twitch and chortle). She smiled shyly and sucked her thumb when he undid the pins and pulled the diaper down, possessing just enough modesty to get a sexy thrill from the exposure and embarrassment of having her nappy changed by an attractive man—especially one as ruggedly handsome as Daddy.
     “Oh my… very wet indeed,” said Edward, raising an eyebrow when her glistening pussy came into view. He gave her crotch a going over with a warm, wet cloth, then hoisted her ankles into the air to expose her plump, white bottom. He went over each cheek, then wiped up between them, making her coo and squirm. Throughout this process, he was careful to brush against her clit, and his probing fingers penetrated into her pussy far deeper than was required for anything other than keeping her stimulated… probably unnecessary, considering the way she groaned and thrust her hips suggestively. Edward smiled: the formula had reduced her mental capacity to that of a toddler, and restricted access to much of her memory. However, Amanda was still physically a grown woman, with all the needs and appetites inherent in other women. Although the formula had not worked directly on her libido, Edward had noticed a distinct rise in Amanda’s sexual appetites—or maybe she had just regressed to the point where she no longer felt any reason to repress her desires. At any rate, she was virtually insatiable, and Daddy was sure the naughty little minx sometimes spent half the day playing with herself.
     At last she was clean and fresh, wriggling on her back on the table, all pink and naked, looking up at him with a lazy grin. “There we are—all clean,” said Edward. He bent down and pressed his mouth against her sopping pussy, giving it a big, wet kiss. Amanda moaned and thrashed, gurgling her approval, delighting in the sensation of his tongue gently lapping at her moist sex.
     Edward looked up and smiled at her. He began to rake his finger-nails gently over her naked torso. “You naughty girl,” he chided, watching her chortle and squirm helplessly. He tickled her arm-pits and made her scream with laughter, writhing helplessly to get away. “Daddy’s going to tickle the naughtiness right out of you, young lady!” His fingers danced and scratched up and down her ribs, then across her chest until he was tickling maddeningly at the sensitive skin under her firm, ripe breasts. Amanda was kicking and squirming, chortling and groaning in torturous ecstasy, both desperate for him to stop and praying it would never end. Her breath caught sharply when her started playing with her nipples, first tickling, then squeezing and gently thumbing them. Soon giggling had turned back to groaning. Edward reached down with one hand and deftly undid his pants, freeing his raging manhood.
     He took her by the hips and pulled her closer to the bottom of the table. She gave a surprised and delighted gurgle when she felt him push inside her. It was tight, even with all the lubrication and Amanda sighed contentedly as Daddy got into his rhythm, slowly at first, drawing out each thrust and withdrawal. She spread herself as wide as she could and moaned, partly as an involuntary expression of pleasure, but mostly out of frustration—she wished Daddy would stop teasing her and give her an orgasm already! She started rocking her hips impatiently, trying to hurry the process along.
    Finally, he started to pick up the pace, and Amanda groaned and grunted enthusiastically, loving every moment of it—just what she needed before a nice nap!
     They finished within moments of each other.

     Edward cleaned himself first, then set to work on Amanda (who, he noted with a satisfied smirk, was far less animated now—was, in fact, almost asleep.) Once that had been completed, he took the fresh diaper, folded it expertly, and secured it to her loins, followed by another and another, until she was diapered for her nap again. A new pair of rubber pants were selected and pulled them into place over her big diapered butt. He lowered the side-rail and hefted her into his arms, holding her against his hip once more. He smiled when she wrapped her arms around him lazily, nestling against his shoulder with a contented sigh. Edward kissed the top of her head lovingly and carried her down the hall toward the nursery with ease, patting her diapered bottom all the way.

     The nursery was a symphony of conflicting odors, the air filled with the scent of lotions and ointments and powders, diapers and rubber pants and the subtle, but unmistakable scent of female flesh… and, if he wasn’t mistaken, at least one dirty diaper. A line of three large cribs sat against the far wall, two of them taken, their occupants slumbering gently. Edward crossed the darkened room silently, dodging the toys strewn around the floor with ease. One of the cribs, he noted had been opened. So that’s how she got out. “Naughty girl,” he scolded gently. “What are we going to do with you?”
     He’d allowed Amanda to remain a little more mature than the others, so she could serve as a big sister to them. There were only brief moments when he regretted it. He laid Amanda down in the crib and pulled the bars back into place— he would have to think of a new, more complicated locking system for her, but in the meantime she didn’t look like she’d be making any more escapes during this nap.
     He tucked her in tight and smiled as he watched her fight sleep as best she could for a moment before succumbing, drifting off adorably before his eyes. Works every time, Edward thought to himself. Now to find out who had the messy diaper.
     He made his way over to Constance’s crib. Supple and blonde, she generally didn’t fuss much during sleeping periods, and when she did wake she usually just masturbated until she fell asleep again. The exception to this pattern was when she wet or mess during her sleep, which caused her to fuss loudly until someone came and changed her. Watching her sleep peacefully, Edward was sure she wasn’t the culprit, but he checked anyway. He found Constance clean and only a little soggy (and noted, with some amusement, that she’d fallen asleep with one hand down the front of her nappy.)
     That just left poor Jasmine, and Edward knew even before her checked her diaper that she was the guilty party— his enhanced sense of smell picked up her mess with increasing clarity with every step he took. It wasn’t much of a surprise since she’d been regressed the fastest and the farthest; Edward guessed her current mental age to be just a few months—barely old enough to crawl. She also had frequent messy accidents during sleeping periods, so Daddy wasn’t very surprised by the thick stench currently emanating from Jasmine’s crib.
     He crept up quietly and peeked over the side at her. With her jet-black hair and lovely dark eyes, she had just a bit of an exotic look about her. Edward pulled back the blanked a bit to look at her, noticing with satisfaction the small but colorful tattoo on her shoulder blade— a souvenir of her former life.
     Edward lifted the blanket gently and was rewarded with the sight of a bulging, messy diaper—that, and an increase in the poopy smell. Edward was forced to fan his face, but still managed a smile at the sight of the lumpy seat of the rubber pants. With great care, he tucked a finger into their waistband and pealed it down a bit to expose the seat of her nappy, which he noted had a small, but obvious brown stain. He chuckled to himself… six months ago, she would have been so mortified to be seen in this position, it would have driven her to Bedlam. Now, she hardly even noticed.
     Edward heard Jasmine make a little noise, and he stiffened, worrying that she was waking. She grunted, followed by a noisy, rumbling fart in her diapers. The Nappy grew visibly lumpier, the stain growing wider and more noticeable. He smiled, realizing he’d caught her mid bowel movement. He quietly stood and watched as Jasmine grunted in her sleep and filled her britches, occasionally letting out another loud, gassy emission… It’s a wonder she hasn’t woken herself up, he thought, suppressing a laugh. Or the other two, he realized, checking to make sure Amanda and Constance were still slumbering peacefully.
     He heard Jasmine strain briefly before she filled her diaper to capacity with a gooey blast. Edward heard her sigh in relief and shift a bit without waking. Chuckling, he slid the waistband of the rubber panties back into place and tucked her in again gently. The mess would keep until after she woke, he knew all too well, and he still had some things to take care of during the relative peace of nap-time.
     Slipping out of the nursery quietly, he returned to the study. He took his place back at the desk, made a note about the latch on Amanda’s crib, and then pulled out his checkbook from the desk drawer. He set about paying the schools various bills with a sigh… the responsibilities of fatherhood, he thought sardonically as he signed the check ‘Dr. Henry Smiley.’

Monday, June 23, 2014

Baby Got Back

Please enjoy this completely stupid, totally unofficial entry into RFSwitched's Butt Month (and please tender my apologies to Sir Mix-A-Lot):
I like big butts and I can not lie
You other brothers can't deny
That when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist
And a round thing in your face
You get sprung, wanna pull out your tough
'Cause you notice that butt was stuffed
Deep in the jeans she's wearing
I'm hooked and I can't stop staring
Oh baby, I wanna get with you
And take your picture
My homeboys tried to warn me
But that butt you got makes me so horny
Ooh, Rump-o'-smooth-skin
You say you wanna get in my Benz?
Well, use me, use me
'Cause you ain't that average groupie
I've seen them dancin'
To hell with romancin'
She's sweat, wet,
Got it goin' like a turbo 'Vette
I'm tired of magazines
Sayin' flat butts are the thing
Take the average black man and ask him that
She gotta pack much back
So, fellas! (Yeah!) Fellas! (Yeah!)
Has your girlfriend got the butt? (Hell yeah!)
Tell 'em to shake it! (Shake it!) Shake it! (Shake it!)
Shake that healthy butt!
Baby got back!
 (LA face with Oakland booty)
Naughty Diaper Girls
 Baby got back!
Diapered Online
I like 'em round, and big
And when I'm throwin' a gig
I just can't help myself, I'm actin' like an animal
Now here's my scandal
I wanna get you home
And ugh, double-up, ugh, ugh
I ain't talkin' bout Playboy
'Cause silicone parts are made for toys
I want 'em real thick and juicy
So find that juicy double
Mix-a-Lot's in trouble
Beggin' for a piece of that bubble
So I'm lookin' at rock videos
Knock-kneeded bimbos walkin' like hoes
You can have them bimbos
I'll keep my women like Flo Jo
A word to the thick soul sisters, I wanna get with ya
I won't cuss or hit ya
But I gotta be straight when I say I wanna *fuck*
Till the break of dawn
Baby got it goin' on
A lot of simps won't like this song
'Cause them punks like to hit it and quit it
And I'd rather stay and play
'Cause I'm long, and I'm strong
And I'm down to get the friction on
So, ladies! {Yeah!} Ladies! {Yeah}
If you wanna roll in my Mercedes {Yeah!}
Then turn around! Stick it out!
Even white boys got to shout
Baby got back!
I Luv Diapers
Baby got back!

Yeah, baby ... when it comes to females, Cosmo ain't got nothin'
to do with my selection. 36-24-36? Ha ha, only if she's 5'3".
So your girlfriend rolls a Honda, playin' workout tapes by Fonda
But Fonda ain't got a motor in the back of her Honda
My anaconda don't want none
Unless you've got buns, hun
You can do side bends or sit-ups,
But please don't lose that butt
Some brothers wanna play that "hard" role
And tell you that the butt ain't gold
So they toss it and leave it
And I pull up quick to retrieve it
So Cosmo says you're fat
Well I ain't down with that!
'Cause your waist is small and your curves are kickin'
And I'm thinkin' bout stickin'
To the beanpole dames in the magazines:
You ain't it, Miss Thing!
Give me a sister, I can't resist her
Red beans and rice didn't miss her
Some knucklehead tried to dis
'Cause his girls are on my list
He had game but he chose to hit 'em
And I pull up quick to get wit 'em
So ladies, if the butt is round,
And you want a triple X throw down,
Dial 1-900-MIXALOT
And kick them nasty thoughts
Baby got back!
(Little in the middle but she got much back)