My friends and I sometimes have challenges where we find the most over-the-top, most bizarre, most depraved pieces of erotic fetish literature on the Internet, then try not to get disgusted.
I figured this would fit well here.
RULES AND REGULATIONS:
-Those weird self-published e-books you find on Amazon are okay...if you can find at least one fucked-up line from the free pages they give you. Failing that, does it involve something that you would never expect to see in smut?
-Fan fiction is okay. Bonus points if it's kids show fanfic. But for the love of god, limit the amount of Brony shit. We all know the depths of depravity they manage to plumb.
-If there's an image that goes with the story, post that shit. Don't be a pussy.
-Put everything in spoiler tags so this thread doesn't end up becoming huge.
-If comments are enabled, feel free to include the ones you find the most hilarious and/or disturbing.
-If you want to put a link to a story, use an archive.md link or something like that, because there is no way we will give these bastards any traffic.
Now that that's out of the way, let the boner-killing commence!
I'll start with this weird shit, by somerepressed pedophile I mean diaper fetishist who was dumb enough to use his real name (Parker Longbaugh).
And as a bonus, here's some weird shit I found on Amazon:
I figured this would fit well here.
RULES AND REGULATIONS:
-Those weird self-published e-books you find on Amazon are okay...if you can find at least one fucked-up line from the free pages they give you. Failing that, does it involve something that you would never expect to see in smut?
-Fan fiction is okay. Bonus points if it's kids show fanfic. But for the love of god, limit the amount of Brony shit. We all know the depths of depravity they manage to plumb.
-If there's an image that goes with the story, post that shit. Don't be a pussy.
-Put everything in spoiler tags so this thread doesn't end up becoming huge.
-If comments are enabled, feel free to include the ones you find the most hilarious and/or disturbing.
-If you want to put a link to a story, use an archive.md link or something like that, because there is no way we will give these bastards any traffic.
Now that that's out of the way, let the boner-killing commence!
I'll start with this weird shit, by some
Sorry for the delay everyone, but getting this one finished has been a real struggle. I hope to have part two posted next week.
Most of the students of Chesterton High considered it a fluke that the three most popular girls in school– Veronica Marshal, Amanda Wilson and Rebecca Barns– were born in tandem over three consecutive nights in June 18 years before. Their parents often joked that the girls had been friends since the maternity ward, and it was only a slight exaggeration.
Only a small minority of students attributed this coincidence to the work of Satan, and of that minority, only a few discussed the possibility openly.
Spending any extended periods of time with Veronica, Amanda, and Rebecca, and it was easy to see how they could come to this conclusion…
***
The party was going even better than they’d predicted.
It was a warm afternoon near the beginning of summer, and the garden of the Wilson’s palatial home was bustling with activity. The girls watched smugly; absolutely everyone in town worth knowing was here to bow and scrape to them on their birthdays. Their families had spared no expense, the caterer had lain out a truly magnificent spread and at the far side of the yard, a large table had been piled high with presents.
“Did you see Marcie Benet?” Veronica began casually.
“I know; that dress looks like a garbage bag with spaghetti straps,” said Amanda, making her friends laugh.
“Veronica, do you think I could open my presents first this year?” Rebecca asked sweetly.
“God, Rebecca,” Veronica growled, “did someone slip an extra chromosome into your cappuccino this morning? I was born first, today is my birthday, so I get to open presents first. It’s only fair.”
“Well,” Amanda began, “It’s my house, so technically I think I should be allowed to go first.”
Veronica shot her a withering glare. “But it’s my birthday!”
“So? It’ll be my birthday tomorrow!”
“Maybe we could take turns?” Rebecca suggested meekly.
“SHUT UP!” Veronica and Amanda roared in unison, making Rebecca cringe.
They locked eyes, neither one wanting to back down. The air went still, and Rebecca was sure that it was only a matter of time before someone got slapped.
“Amanda!” Mrs. Wilson called across the garden, “would you come in here, please?”
“Moth-ER!” the girl huffed back, “can’t you see I’m talking with my friends?!”
“Oh, I’m sorry honey,” her mother apologized, “it’s just that I’ve got something special for your birthday, and I wanted to give it to you before the party gets into full swing.”
Amanda rolled her eyes to her friends. “This had better be good,” she grumbled, stomping her way over to the back-door after her mother. Veronica and Rebecca watched Amanda disappear inside and close the door behind her.
Nearly half an hour passed. “Where is she?” Veronica huffed impatiently, checking her watch. “Think maybe she stopped by the bathroom to purge before she came back?”
Rebecca giggled. “The way she was pigging out on that cake, it wouldn’t surprise me. “
They chatted amongst themselves, occasionally accepting a “happy birthday,” and some complements on their appearance from the other guests, which they accepted with their usual self-satisfied, self-important attitude. Nearly 45 minutes had passed before they realized Amanda hadn’t come back yet.
“What’s taking her so long?” Veronica huffed. “I wanna open presents already!”
“Girls…”
Veronica and Rebecca spun to face the back door. Their mothers stood on either side of the frame. “Come inside for a minute, girls,” Mrs. Barns beckoned, “we want to give you our presents first.”
“About time,” Rebecca huffed. “I thought we were never going to get to the good stuff.”
They followed their mothers into the kitchen. On the table sat two glasses of champagne. Veronica crossed her arms and huffed. “God, mom, I thought you said there’d be presents! Where are the presents? And what happened to Amanda, anyway?”
Her mother smiled. “Never mind that right now, dear,” said Mrs. Marshal. “Here; have a drink before you open your presents. You’re only 18 once.”
Rebecca took the glass from her mother. “Down the hatch, honey,” she said sweetly.
Watching their daughters swig down the liquid, the older women exchanged a pair of knowing smiles. “Now,” said Mrs. Barns, setting the glasses aside. “Let’s go get those presents.”
The girls followed their mothers down a long hallway, each imagining what extravagant gift their wealthy families would lavish on them this year. When they got to the end of the hall, Mrs. Marshal opened a door. “Go on inside, girls; Amanda is waiting for you.” Veronica and Rebecca went inside, followed by their moms, who closed the door behind them.
Everything was pink.
The entire room had been decorated in the color of strawberry cotton-candy. The floor was strewn with stuffed animals, building blocks, baby rattles and other assorted toys. On the far side of the room stood a crib, far too large for any normal baby. Across from that, a trio of massage tables lined the far wall.
But that wasn’t what caught Veronica and Rebecca’s attention.
In the center of the room, Amanda Wilson, their best friend since childhood, one of the most popular girls in school, cheerleader and treasurer of the fashion club, sat strapped into an oversized highchair. The 18 year old girl chortled and squealed like a happy baby as her mother fed her oatmeal from a steaming bowl. Much of the mush overfilled her mouth, smeared her face, and dripped down her front. The girl was nude, her tight, athletic body almost entirely exposed in the warm afternoon air, except a tiny bib which left most of her firm breasts exposed, and a massive, bulky cloth diaper covered by plastic pants that crinkled loudly with her every move.
Veronica and Rebecca could only stare in stunned silence as Mrs. Wilson brought another heaping spoonful of oatmeal to Amanda’s mouth. “Open wide sweetie. That’s it—we’re almost done—good girl!” she sang as Amanda opened her mouth widely to let the spoon in. She smacked her lips as she chewed, grinning widely as her mother praised her. Mrs. Wilson scooped the remaining oatmeal into one final, heaping spoonful. “C’mon, baby; one more. Open up for nummy-nums.” Amanda took the warm mush into her mouth, oatmeal filling her cheeks like a chipmunk and overflowing her lips, dripping off her chin and plopping against her breasts or bare tummy. “Good girl! All gones!” Mrs. Wilson praised her daughter, beaming proudly and holding up the empty bowl for Amanda to see. “Did you like your din-din, precious?”
Amanda responded with a loud, uninhibited belch. The mothers laughed.
“That sounds like a hearty yes!” Mrs. Barns giggled.
Mrs. Wilson removed the tray from the high-chair and helped her daughter down. The girl seemed unsteady, and her legs wobbled as though unused to her own weight, but soon she stood in front of her two best friends and their mothers, resplendent in her big, bulky diaper. Rebecca regarded the scene before her in silent horror, unable to believe what she was seeing. She could sense that something was very wrong.
Veronica, however, did not share her intuition. The sight of her friend in diapers was too much for her. That she and Amanda were supposed to be best friends wouldn’t stop her from recounting this embarrassing incident to the whole school.
“Oh my God!” she howled. “This is just too much! Where’s the camera? I’ve gotta get this up on my Facebook page. Chic diaper, Mandy,” she cooed mockingly. “You keep ’em clean for your mommy like a good girl, ok, sweetie?” Grinning, she reached out and patted Amanda’s bulky, padded butt, plastic pants crinkling.
Suddenly, Amanda ripped a loud, bubbling fart that echoed in the nursery. “EEWW!” Veronica cried, pulling her hand away from Amanda’s butt as quickly as she could. “Amanda!” she scolded, unable to believe her best friend just passed gas in front of her. “That’s disgusting!”
Amanda wasn’t listening. Her belly was full, and she would be warm and content except for this rumbling presure down below her. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she knew what the gassy cramping in her stomach meant, but the more she tried to define the feeling, the dimmer her memories became.
She knew, somewhere deep inside, that she was suppose to hold in her gas in company. She tried to tighten her sphincter, but found that the more she tried, the harder it became, as though she was literally forgetting how to control herself. Her efforts to restrain her gas were rewarded by another loud fart, only barley muffled by her diaper. The mothers gathered around her, murmuring and chuckling to each other.
“Oh oh,” Mrs. Wilson chuckled, patting Amanda’s padded rump, “Sounds like the poopy express is about to pull into the diaper depot!”
The women burst out laughing. Amanda turned to face her mother. “Ma-ma?” she asked innocently, “what’s the poopy express?”
Suddenly, she felt a bubbling mass moving through her bowels. Instinctively, she bent her knees and stuck out her butt behind her, and the adults chuckled at the sight of an 18 year old girl adopting the posture of a two year old about to make a messy in her pamper.
Without warning, she felt her sphincter open. A sustained, involuntary contraction rocked her bowels, squeezing out another juicy fart. Amanda’s lips contracted into a tight, surprised ‘o’ as she uncontrollably voided her bowels into the seat of her diapers. The audience crinkled their noses collectively as the first poopy smells emerged from the seat of the teen-toddler’s diapers. The back of her pampers inflated as Amanda tooted noisily; her cheeks grew red as she felt the back of her diaper growing heavier and warmer every second. Another contraction, another involuntary surge of poop into her diapers, making the seat bulge and sag behind her.
Passing gas with a gurgle, Amanda straightened. She glanced over her shoulder; behind her, her diaper bulged and sagged, the waistband of her pampers and plastic pants drooping below the top of her butt-crack.
A potent aroma blanketed the room. “Phew! Baby Mandy certainly made a stinky!” Mrs. Barns cried.
“She really loaded this diape up,” Mrs. Marshal concurred, patting the loaded seat. Looking over, she noticed Rebecca looking on with an expression of morbid fascination—as though unable to process what happened to her friend. “Why don’t you go ahead and give baby Amanda’s poopy diapers a pat, Rebecca?”
The girl shot her mother a doe-eyed expression. “Go ahead, sweetie,” Mrs. Barns encouraged, and though she didn’t want to do it, Rebecca reached out and patted the seat of Amanda’s poopy pampers. Feeling the warm, squishy softness beneath her palm, her stomach rolled. Amanda looked back at her, her vacant smile chilling Rebecca. With her face smeared with food and a warm, poopy load in her pants, she looked just like and over-grown toddler. Rebecca shivered when she saw the blank look in Amanda’s eyes. Something was terribly wrong here.
“Amanda,” Rebecca began nervously, “are—are you okay?”
“Done a poo-poo in my pants,” Amanda announced matter-of-factly with a certain amount of pride.
“God, she smells worse than anything!” Veronica announced, fanning her face.
“Veronica,” Mrs. Marshal smiled at her daughter, “maybe you’d like to pat Amanda’s poopy pants, too?”
Veronica rolled her eyes. “No thanks, mom; I think I’ll pass.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Marshal, “I guess you’ll be dealing with your own poopy pampers soon enough…”
Veronica stared, incredulous. “What? What are you talking about? I’d never do a thing like that!”
“You won’t have a choice, sweetheart.” Reaching into her purse, she removed a vile containing a clear liquid. “When the formula kicks in, you’ll be just as sweet and innocent as little Mandy.”
Amanda’s mother led her over to the nearest changing table. After bending her daughter over the padding, she tugged off her plastic pants, revealing the loaded, bulging diaper beneath. Unpinning it, she dropped it into a nearby diaper pail with a heavy thud. Amanda’s messy backside was revealed to the watching audience. Her mother began cleaning her 18 year old daughter’s butt with wet wipes.
“Great plan mom. Like I’m really going to take that after watching stinky-pants get her butt wiped by her mom over there,” Veronica scoffed, watching Amanda’s mom tend to her messy state.
Rebecca just stood by quietly, taking everything in. She was beginning to feel funny.
“You already took it honey… remember? The champagne?”
Veronica’s blood turned cold. She shot her mother a panicked look, then started giggling. “Oh, mommy,” she said dismissively, “that’s a bunch of doo-doo.”
The smile disappeared from her face. Looking slightly embarrassed, she tried to correct herself. “Er… Doody.” With the women looking on, cackling like hens, Veronica touched her throat. She visualized the word SHIT in her mind. “Poo-poo!” she declared firmly. Her embarrassment was obvious now. She tried to visualize each letter in her mind, but the more she tried, the faster it slipped away. “Poopy! Ca-ca! Dookie!”
“That’s how it starts, honey,” her mother told her with a smile. “Adult words vanish off the tip of your tongue, vocabulary restructures itself, and before you know it…”
She was disrupted by a loud, hissing noise.
Rebecca looked around for the source of the sound. The afternoon was getting weirder and weirder, and unlike Veronica, Rebecca didn’t think there was anything funny about Amanda’s predicament. Looking at the gorgeous, fully grown brunette giggling and cooing her way through a messy diaper change from her mommy, she couldn’t shake the awful thought: what if that was me? She shivered, imagining the horror of being unable to control her body, of being rendered a helpless infant like Amanda.
The hissing grew louder. Rebecca was suddenly aware that everyone was looking at her.
Fidgeting nervously, she felt a warm wetness down her front.
By the time she realized she was wetting herself, her bladder was nearly empty. Squeaking, she tried to clamp down to no avail. Her mother and Mrs. Marshal chuckled to each other as they watched the stream trickle to a stop.
“Becky!” her mother mock-scolded with a grin, “you weren’t supposed to do that until we had a diaper on you!” Reddening, Rebecca shifted from foot to foot in the puddle beneath her. Her mother chuckled. “Then again, I seem to recall we DID have quite a hard time getting you potty trained the first time around, didn’t we sweetheart?”
Rebecca shot her mother a glance, as though she were about to plead with her not to tell anyone about her embarrassingly extended potty training.
When she was unable to find the right words, she sought comfort by sticking her thumb in her mouth.
“C’mon, precious,” said Mrs. Barns, leading her over to the second changing table. In moments, she had her vivacious daughter undressed and laying on the table’s padded surface. Beside her, Amanda’s mother had slid a fresh diaper beneath her and was powdering her daughter’s bottom.
“There you go, you little stinker,” she cooed affectionately. On the table, Amanda giggled and squirmed as her mother heaped praise on her for being such a good girl during her change. Helping her to her feet, she began dressing her.
Rebecca writhed helplessly on the table’s padded surface, her mother raining powder down on her privates. She wanted to stand up and run away, or at least put up a fight, but her arms and legs were heavy and numb. Her skin tingled all over, particularly her fingers and toes, and she found herself hypersensitive to every sensation: the tickle of the powder on her privates, the breeze on her soft skin, the softness of the table beneath her, the texture of the open diaper against her squirming buns— each feeling was dialed up to 11. Taking her ankles, Rebecca’s mother lifted her legs, exposing her cute bottom to the room. The pretty blond could only blush as Mrs. Barns powdered her backside, taking her time to pat the talc firmly into each cheek. “Good girl!” her mother praised, lowering her tushy back onto the diaper. “What a good girl you’re being for your diaper change!”
She tickled her daughter’s sensitive bare skin, raking her nails lightly over her tummy, ribs and armpits. Rebecca writhed and chortled helplessly.
Across the room, Veronica stuck her thumb in her mouth and began sucking nervously. She watched one of her best friends wriggle on her back, giggling like a baby as her mother changed her diaper, while standing two feet away, her other best friend was being dressed in a ridiculous, over-sized little girl party dress. Amanda cooed and gurgled as her mother tugged a frilly pair of pink baby panties up her legs and over her bulky diaper. The scene horrified Veronica. Her knees wobbled as she realized she’d be next.
In moments, Rebecca’s mom had her diaper pulled up and pinned in place. Dazed, her mind floating through a haze, Rebecca’s body attempted to obey her commands to stand up and run, but the most she could muster was some weak flailing of her hands and feet. She could still remember the broad outlines, the foundations of her identity— her name, age, friends and family…
But the details—her vocabulary, the years of facts and information learned at school, how to walk and talk— hell, even her toilet training— all of it was swirling down the drain, and the tighter she tried to hold on, the more she felt her intellect slipping away.
Her mother pulled her up and sat her on the edge of the table. A tight, white t-shirt was tugged over her head, her hair was banded into pig-tails, and a pacifier was popped into her mouth. Before she knew it, Rebecca was sitting in front of everyone, dressed like an overgrown infant. Beside her, Amanda’s mom finished tying a bonnet under her chin, completing her outfit.
The gorgeous, fashionable young ladies who had arrived at the party smug in their standing as the most popular, lusted-after women in town had vanished. In their place, two adorable, oversized 18 month old girls had appeared, helpless and innocent. They sucked their soothers and gazed about in doe-eyed wonder, their reduced IQ’s unable to process the strange and sudden turns their lives had made.
Across the room, Veronica sucked her thumb vigorously. Watching the women put the finishing touches on their daughter’s party outfits, her stomach rolled sickly; in just a few moments, they’d been utterly infantilized: In her matching pink bonnet and little party dress, her ruffled pink diapers prominently displayed beneath, Amanda looked like a two year old on her way to grandmother’s house for a visit. Which left her in better shape than Rebecca; with nothing but a skimpy t-shirt and crinkly plastic pants over an enormous cloth diaper, her golden hair banded up in pigtails, she looked like little more than a great big baby.
Mrs. Marshal placed her hands on Veronica’s shoulders, making her jump. “It’s your turn now, honey,” she crooned, softly running her fingers through her black hair. “Come on—time to join your friends.”
Finally tearing her gaze away from the scene in front of her, she looked at her mother with big, wet eyes. “Mommy,” she pleaded, “please don’t make me like—“ She nodded toward her friends. “Like them!”
Mrs. Marshal smiled. “Ok, honey, I’ll make you a deal.” She opened the closed. Veronica’s heart withered when she saw what her mother was pulling out. A large, plastic potty that was just her size.
“Show mommy you can use the potty like a big girl,” said Mrs. Marshal, pulling a nearby dresser drawer open, “And I’ll let you wear these to the party instead of diapers.”
She then held up a giant pair of padded training panties—the kind little girls wore. Veronica moaned. Her bladder was feeling full. Pressing her palms against her crotch, she bounced in place and looked frantically from her diapered friends to the training panties her mother held, and then back to the potty.
“Well?” Mrs. Marshal asked, “What’s it going to be, honey?”
Veronica shot her mother a desperate look. “Mommy—I gotta go potty!” she blurted.
“Ok, sweetheart,” Mrs. Marshal said calmly, taking her daughter’s hand and leading her over to the potty. “Let’s get these panties down,” she said, calmly reaching under her daughter’s skirt, drawing her underwear down her legs, and removing them.
Veronica rushed over and hiked her dress up above her waist, revealing her neatly trimmed pussy and jiggling backside to the room. She was too desperate to care, however, and quickly slammed her dainty backside onto the cool plastic seat. A loud hiss emerged immediately, accompanied by the sound of her steady stream striking plastic. “AAAAAHHHHHH!” she gushed enthusiastically, her relief nearing orgasmic levels.
Soon she was done. Pulling her to her feet, Mrs. Marshal bent veronica over and used a baby wipe to clean between her legs. Mortified, Veronica was allowed to straighten. In moments, her mom had her stripped to her birthday suit, and was holding open the large purple trainers for her to step into. “Mommy, please… no,” Veronica begged.
“We had a deal sweetheart. C’mon,” she scolded, reaching behind and giving the girl’s bare bottom a smack. “Let’s go.” Reluctantly, the girl stepped into the bulky training panties, and could only stand by as her mom pulled them up her legs until they fit snugly against her bottom. A pair of translucent white tights was next, and Veronica nearly died of shame when she noticed the ruffles across the backside. A pretty, red and white party dress was next, followed by a bright red ribbon for her hair.
“There! All done!” Mrs. Marshal pulled her wayward daughter over to the mirror for a look.
Veronica nearly fainted. The dress looked like something out of a second-graders closet. The hem was high, and Veronica burned with shame as she realized her ruffled tights and baby pants would be on prominent display. She looked like a five year old—which, she reflected, still left her in better shape than Rebecca and Amanda.
She turned away from the mirror, cheeks burning with shame. Grinning, her mom kissed her on the forehead. “OK, girls,” she gushed, “time to go see the guests!”
Most of the students of Chesterton High considered it a fluke that the three most popular girls in school– Veronica Marshal, Amanda Wilson and Rebecca Barns– were born in tandem over three consecutive nights in June 18 years before. Their parents often joked that the girls had been friends since the maternity ward, and it was only a slight exaggeration.
Only a small minority of students attributed this coincidence to the work of Satan, and of that minority, only a few discussed the possibility openly.
Spending any extended periods of time with Veronica, Amanda, and Rebecca, and it was easy to see how they could come to this conclusion…
***
The party was going even better than they’d predicted.
It was a warm afternoon near the beginning of summer, and the garden of the Wilson’s palatial home was bustling with activity. The girls watched smugly; absolutely everyone in town worth knowing was here to bow and scrape to them on their birthdays. Their families had spared no expense, the caterer had lain out a truly magnificent spread and at the far side of the yard, a large table had been piled high with presents.
“Did you see Marcie Benet?” Veronica began casually.
“I know; that dress looks like a garbage bag with spaghetti straps,” said Amanda, making her friends laugh.
“Veronica, do you think I could open my presents first this year?” Rebecca asked sweetly.
“God, Rebecca,” Veronica growled, “did someone slip an extra chromosome into your cappuccino this morning? I was born first, today is my birthday, so I get to open presents first. It’s only fair.”
“Well,” Amanda began, “It’s my house, so technically I think I should be allowed to go first.”
Veronica shot her a withering glare. “But it’s my birthday!”
“So? It’ll be my birthday tomorrow!”
“Maybe we could take turns?” Rebecca suggested meekly.
“SHUT UP!” Veronica and Amanda roared in unison, making Rebecca cringe.
They locked eyes, neither one wanting to back down. The air went still, and Rebecca was sure that it was only a matter of time before someone got slapped.
“Amanda!” Mrs. Wilson called across the garden, “would you come in here, please?”
“Moth-ER!” the girl huffed back, “can’t you see I’m talking with my friends?!”
“Oh, I’m sorry honey,” her mother apologized, “it’s just that I’ve got something special for your birthday, and I wanted to give it to you before the party gets into full swing.”
Amanda rolled her eyes to her friends. “This had better be good,” she grumbled, stomping her way over to the back-door after her mother. Veronica and Rebecca watched Amanda disappear inside and close the door behind her.
Nearly half an hour passed. “Where is she?” Veronica huffed impatiently, checking her watch. “Think maybe she stopped by the bathroom to purge before she came back?”
Rebecca giggled. “The way she was pigging out on that cake, it wouldn’t surprise me. “
They chatted amongst themselves, occasionally accepting a “happy birthday,” and some complements on their appearance from the other guests, which they accepted with their usual self-satisfied, self-important attitude. Nearly 45 minutes had passed before they realized Amanda hadn’t come back yet.
“What’s taking her so long?” Veronica huffed. “I wanna open presents already!”
“Girls…”
Veronica and Rebecca spun to face the back door. Their mothers stood on either side of the frame. “Come inside for a minute, girls,” Mrs. Barns beckoned, “we want to give you our presents first.”
“About time,” Rebecca huffed. “I thought we were never going to get to the good stuff.”
They followed their mothers into the kitchen. On the table sat two glasses of champagne. Veronica crossed her arms and huffed. “God, mom, I thought you said there’d be presents! Where are the presents? And what happened to Amanda, anyway?”
Her mother smiled. “Never mind that right now, dear,” said Mrs. Marshal. “Here; have a drink before you open your presents. You’re only 18 once.”
Rebecca took the glass from her mother. “Down the hatch, honey,” she said sweetly.
Watching their daughters swig down the liquid, the older women exchanged a pair of knowing smiles. “Now,” said Mrs. Barns, setting the glasses aside. “Let’s go get those presents.”
The girls followed their mothers down a long hallway, each imagining what extravagant gift their wealthy families would lavish on them this year. When they got to the end of the hall, Mrs. Marshal opened a door. “Go on inside, girls; Amanda is waiting for you.” Veronica and Rebecca went inside, followed by their moms, who closed the door behind them.
Everything was pink.
The entire room had been decorated in the color of strawberry cotton-candy. The floor was strewn with stuffed animals, building blocks, baby rattles and other assorted toys. On the far side of the room stood a crib, far too large for any normal baby. Across from that, a trio of massage tables lined the far wall.
But that wasn’t what caught Veronica and Rebecca’s attention.
In the center of the room, Amanda Wilson, their best friend since childhood, one of the most popular girls in school, cheerleader and treasurer of the fashion club, sat strapped into an oversized highchair. The 18 year old girl chortled and squealed like a happy baby as her mother fed her oatmeal from a steaming bowl. Much of the mush overfilled her mouth, smeared her face, and dripped down her front. The girl was nude, her tight, athletic body almost entirely exposed in the warm afternoon air, except a tiny bib which left most of her firm breasts exposed, and a massive, bulky cloth diaper covered by plastic pants that crinkled loudly with her every move.
Veronica and Rebecca could only stare in stunned silence as Mrs. Wilson brought another heaping spoonful of oatmeal to Amanda’s mouth. “Open wide sweetie. That’s it—we’re almost done—good girl!” she sang as Amanda opened her mouth widely to let the spoon in. She smacked her lips as she chewed, grinning widely as her mother praised her. Mrs. Wilson scooped the remaining oatmeal into one final, heaping spoonful. “C’mon, baby; one more. Open up for nummy-nums.” Amanda took the warm mush into her mouth, oatmeal filling her cheeks like a chipmunk and overflowing her lips, dripping off her chin and plopping against her breasts or bare tummy. “Good girl! All gones!” Mrs. Wilson praised her daughter, beaming proudly and holding up the empty bowl for Amanda to see. “Did you like your din-din, precious?”
Amanda responded with a loud, uninhibited belch. The mothers laughed.
“That sounds like a hearty yes!” Mrs. Barns giggled.
Mrs. Wilson removed the tray from the high-chair and helped her daughter down. The girl seemed unsteady, and her legs wobbled as though unused to her own weight, but soon she stood in front of her two best friends and their mothers, resplendent in her big, bulky diaper. Rebecca regarded the scene before her in silent horror, unable to believe what she was seeing. She could sense that something was very wrong.
Veronica, however, did not share her intuition. The sight of her friend in diapers was too much for her. That she and Amanda were supposed to be best friends wouldn’t stop her from recounting this embarrassing incident to the whole school.
“Oh my God!” she howled. “This is just too much! Where’s the camera? I’ve gotta get this up on my Facebook page. Chic diaper, Mandy,” she cooed mockingly. “You keep ’em clean for your mommy like a good girl, ok, sweetie?” Grinning, she reached out and patted Amanda’s bulky, padded butt, plastic pants crinkling.
Suddenly, Amanda ripped a loud, bubbling fart that echoed in the nursery. “EEWW!” Veronica cried, pulling her hand away from Amanda’s butt as quickly as she could. “Amanda!” she scolded, unable to believe her best friend just passed gas in front of her. “That’s disgusting!”
Amanda wasn’t listening. Her belly was full, and she would be warm and content except for this rumbling presure down below her. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she knew what the gassy cramping in her stomach meant, but the more she tried to define the feeling, the dimmer her memories became.
She knew, somewhere deep inside, that she was suppose to hold in her gas in company. She tried to tighten her sphincter, but found that the more she tried, the harder it became, as though she was literally forgetting how to control herself. Her efforts to restrain her gas were rewarded by another loud fart, only barley muffled by her diaper. The mothers gathered around her, murmuring and chuckling to each other.
“Oh oh,” Mrs. Wilson chuckled, patting Amanda’s padded rump, “Sounds like the poopy express is about to pull into the diaper depot!”
The women burst out laughing. Amanda turned to face her mother. “Ma-ma?” she asked innocently, “what’s the poopy express?”
Suddenly, she felt a bubbling mass moving through her bowels. Instinctively, she bent her knees and stuck out her butt behind her, and the adults chuckled at the sight of an 18 year old girl adopting the posture of a two year old about to make a messy in her pamper.
Without warning, she felt her sphincter open. A sustained, involuntary contraction rocked her bowels, squeezing out another juicy fart. Amanda’s lips contracted into a tight, surprised ‘o’ as she uncontrollably voided her bowels into the seat of her diapers. The audience crinkled their noses collectively as the first poopy smells emerged from the seat of the teen-toddler’s diapers. The back of her pampers inflated as Amanda tooted noisily; her cheeks grew red as she felt the back of her diaper growing heavier and warmer every second. Another contraction, another involuntary surge of poop into her diapers, making the seat bulge and sag behind her.
Passing gas with a gurgle, Amanda straightened. She glanced over her shoulder; behind her, her diaper bulged and sagged, the waistband of her pampers and plastic pants drooping below the top of her butt-crack.
A potent aroma blanketed the room. “Phew! Baby Mandy certainly made a stinky!” Mrs. Barns cried.
“She really loaded this diape up,” Mrs. Marshal concurred, patting the loaded seat. Looking over, she noticed Rebecca looking on with an expression of morbid fascination—as though unable to process what happened to her friend. “Why don’t you go ahead and give baby Amanda’s poopy diapers a pat, Rebecca?”
The girl shot her mother a doe-eyed expression. “Go ahead, sweetie,” Mrs. Barns encouraged, and though she didn’t want to do it, Rebecca reached out and patted the seat of Amanda’s poopy pampers. Feeling the warm, squishy softness beneath her palm, her stomach rolled. Amanda looked back at her, her vacant smile chilling Rebecca. With her face smeared with food and a warm, poopy load in her pants, she looked just like and over-grown toddler. Rebecca shivered when she saw the blank look in Amanda’s eyes. Something was terribly wrong here.
“Amanda,” Rebecca began nervously, “are—are you okay?”
“Done a poo-poo in my pants,” Amanda announced matter-of-factly with a certain amount of pride.
“God, she smells worse than anything!” Veronica announced, fanning her face.
“Veronica,” Mrs. Marshal smiled at her daughter, “maybe you’d like to pat Amanda’s poopy pants, too?”
Veronica rolled her eyes. “No thanks, mom; I think I’ll pass.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Marshal, “I guess you’ll be dealing with your own poopy pampers soon enough…”
Veronica stared, incredulous. “What? What are you talking about? I’d never do a thing like that!”
“You won’t have a choice, sweetheart.” Reaching into her purse, she removed a vile containing a clear liquid. “When the formula kicks in, you’ll be just as sweet and innocent as little Mandy.”
Amanda’s mother led her over to the nearest changing table. After bending her daughter over the padding, she tugged off her plastic pants, revealing the loaded, bulging diaper beneath. Unpinning it, she dropped it into a nearby diaper pail with a heavy thud. Amanda’s messy backside was revealed to the watching audience. Her mother began cleaning her 18 year old daughter’s butt with wet wipes.
“Great plan mom. Like I’m really going to take that after watching stinky-pants get her butt wiped by her mom over there,” Veronica scoffed, watching Amanda’s mom tend to her messy state.
Rebecca just stood by quietly, taking everything in. She was beginning to feel funny.
“You already took it honey… remember? The champagne?”
Veronica’s blood turned cold. She shot her mother a panicked look, then started giggling. “Oh, mommy,” she said dismissively, “that’s a bunch of doo-doo.”
The smile disappeared from her face. Looking slightly embarrassed, she tried to correct herself. “Er… Doody.” With the women looking on, cackling like hens, Veronica touched her throat. She visualized the word SHIT in her mind. “Poo-poo!” she declared firmly. Her embarrassment was obvious now. She tried to visualize each letter in her mind, but the more she tried, the faster it slipped away. “Poopy! Ca-ca! Dookie!”
“That’s how it starts, honey,” her mother told her with a smile. “Adult words vanish off the tip of your tongue, vocabulary restructures itself, and before you know it…”
She was disrupted by a loud, hissing noise.
Rebecca looked around for the source of the sound. The afternoon was getting weirder and weirder, and unlike Veronica, Rebecca didn’t think there was anything funny about Amanda’s predicament. Looking at the gorgeous, fully grown brunette giggling and cooing her way through a messy diaper change from her mommy, she couldn’t shake the awful thought: what if that was me? She shivered, imagining the horror of being unable to control her body, of being rendered a helpless infant like Amanda.
The hissing grew louder. Rebecca was suddenly aware that everyone was looking at her.
Fidgeting nervously, she felt a warm wetness down her front.
By the time she realized she was wetting herself, her bladder was nearly empty. Squeaking, she tried to clamp down to no avail. Her mother and Mrs. Marshal chuckled to each other as they watched the stream trickle to a stop.
“Becky!” her mother mock-scolded with a grin, “you weren’t supposed to do that until we had a diaper on you!” Reddening, Rebecca shifted from foot to foot in the puddle beneath her. Her mother chuckled. “Then again, I seem to recall we DID have quite a hard time getting you potty trained the first time around, didn’t we sweetheart?”
Rebecca shot her mother a glance, as though she were about to plead with her not to tell anyone about her embarrassingly extended potty training.
When she was unable to find the right words, she sought comfort by sticking her thumb in her mouth.
“C’mon, precious,” said Mrs. Barns, leading her over to the second changing table. In moments, she had her vivacious daughter undressed and laying on the table’s padded surface. Beside her, Amanda’s mother had slid a fresh diaper beneath her and was powdering her daughter’s bottom.
“There you go, you little stinker,” she cooed affectionately. On the table, Amanda giggled and squirmed as her mother heaped praise on her for being such a good girl during her change. Helping her to her feet, she began dressing her.
Rebecca writhed helplessly on the table’s padded surface, her mother raining powder down on her privates. She wanted to stand up and run away, or at least put up a fight, but her arms and legs were heavy and numb. Her skin tingled all over, particularly her fingers and toes, and she found herself hypersensitive to every sensation: the tickle of the powder on her privates, the breeze on her soft skin, the softness of the table beneath her, the texture of the open diaper against her squirming buns— each feeling was dialed up to 11. Taking her ankles, Rebecca’s mother lifted her legs, exposing her cute bottom to the room. The pretty blond could only blush as Mrs. Barns powdered her backside, taking her time to pat the talc firmly into each cheek. “Good girl!” her mother praised, lowering her tushy back onto the diaper. “What a good girl you’re being for your diaper change!”
She tickled her daughter’s sensitive bare skin, raking her nails lightly over her tummy, ribs and armpits. Rebecca writhed and chortled helplessly.
Across the room, Veronica stuck her thumb in her mouth and began sucking nervously. She watched one of her best friends wriggle on her back, giggling like a baby as her mother changed her diaper, while standing two feet away, her other best friend was being dressed in a ridiculous, over-sized little girl party dress. Amanda cooed and gurgled as her mother tugged a frilly pair of pink baby panties up her legs and over her bulky diaper. The scene horrified Veronica. Her knees wobbled as she realized she’d be next.
In moments, Rebecca’s mom had her diaper pulled up and pinned in place. Dazed, her mind floating through a haze, Rebecca’s body attempted to obey her commands to stand up and run, but the most she could muster was some weak flailing of her hands and feet. She could still remember the broad outlines, the foundations of her identity— her name, age, friends and family…
But the details—her vocabulary, the years of facts and information learned at school, how to walk and talk— hell, even her toilet training— all of it was swirling down the drain, and the tighter she tried to hold on, the more she felt her intellect slipping away.
Her mother pulled her up and sat her on the edge of the table. A tight, white t-shirt was tugged over her head, her hair was banded into pig-tails, and a pacifier was popped into her mouth. Before she knew it, Rebecca was sitting in front of everyone, dressed like an overgrown infant. Beside her, Amanda’s mom finished tying a bonnet under her chin, completing her outfit.
The gorgeous, fashionable young ladies who had arrived at the party smug in their standing as the most popular, lusted-after women in town had vanished. In their place, two adorable, oversized 18 month old girls had appeared, helpless and innocent. They sucked their soothers and gazed about in doe-eyed wonder, their reduced IQ’s unable to process the strange and sudden turns their lives had made.
Across the room, Veronica sucked her thumb vigorously. Watching the women put the finishing touches on their daughter’s party outfits, her stomach rolled sickly; in just a few moments, they’d been utterly infantilized: In her matching pink bonnet and little party dress, her ruffled pink diapers prominently displayed beneath, Amanda looked like a two year old on her way to grandmother’s house for a visit. Which left her in better shape than Rebecca; with nothing but a skimpy t-shirt and crinkly plastic pants over an enormous cloth diaper, her golden hair banded up in pigtails, she looked like little more than a great big baby.
Mrs. Marshal placed her hands on Veronica’s shoulders, making her jump. “It’s your turn now, honey,” she crooned, softly running her fingers through her black hair. “Come on—time to join your friends.”
Finally tearing her gaze away from the scene in front of her, she looked at her mother with big, wet eyes. “Mommy,” she pleaded, “please don’t make me like—“ She nodded toward her friends. “Like them!”
Mrs. Marshal smiled. “Ok, honey, I’ll make you a deal.” She opened the closed. Veronica’s heart withered when she saw what her mother was pulling out. A large, plastic potty that was just her size.
“Show mommy you can use the potty like a big girl,” said Mrs. Marshal, pulling a nearby dresser drawer open, “And I’ll let you wear these to the party instead of diapers.”
She then held up a giant pair of padded training panties—the kind little girls wore. Veronica moaned. Her bladder was feeling full. Pressing her palms against her crotch, she bounced in place and looked frantically from her diapered friends to the training panties her mother held, and then back to the potty.
“Well?” Mrs. Marshal asked, “What’s it going to be, honey?”
Veronica shot her mother a desperate look. “Mommy—I gotta go potty!” she blurted.
“Ok, sweetheart,” Mrs. Marshal said calmly, taking her daughter’s hand and leading her over to the potty. “Let’s get these panties down,” she said, calmly reaching under her daughter’s skirt, drawing her underwear down her legs, and removing them.
Veronica rushed over and hiked her dress up above her waist, revealing her neatly trimmed pussy and jiggling backside to the room. She was too desperate to care, however, and quickly slammed her dainty backside onto the cool plastic seat. A loud hiss emerged immediately, accompanied by the sound of her steady stream striking plastic. “AAAAAHHHHHH!” she gushed enthusiastically, her relief nearing orgasmic levels.
Soon she was done. Pulling her to her feet, Mrs. Marshal bent veronica over and used a baby wipe to clean between her legs. Mortified, Veronica was allowed to straighten. In moments, her mom had her stripped to her birthday suit, and was holding open the large purple trainers for her to step into. “Mommy, please… no,” Veronica begged.
“We had a deal sweetheart. C’mon,” she scolded, reaching behind and giving the girl’s bare bottom a smack. “Let’s go.” Reluctantly, the girl stepped into the bulky training panties, and could only stand by as her mom pulled them up her legs until they fit snugly against her bottom. A pair of translucent white tights was next, and Veronica nearly died of shame when she noticed the ruffles across the backside. A pretty, red and white party dress was next, followed by a bright red ribbon for her hair.
“There! All done!” Mrs. Marshal pulled her wayward daughter over to the mirror for a look.
Veronica nearly fainted. The dress looked like something out of a second-graders closet. The hem was high, and Veronica burned with shame as she realized her ruffled tights and baby pants would be on prominent display. She looked like a five year old—which, she reflected, still left her in better shape than Rebecca and Amanda.
She turned away from the mirror, cheeks burning with shame. Grinning, her mom kissed her on the forehead. “OK, girls,” she gushed, “time to go see the guests!”
The party was turning out to be a major success.
The garden had been neatly manicured and decorated; the catering had been superb; even the weather was cooperating. The guests mingled and chatted, enjoying the fresh air, sunshine, and great food. The entire affair, everyone agreed, was going perfectly, except for one small detail…
“Where did they go, anyway?” one guest asked, checking her watch. “They’ve been gone for over an hour now.”
“Who?” asked another.
“Veronica, Amanda, and Rebecca, dummy!”
“Oh. Hadn’t noticed,” sniffed another.
“No wonder I was enjoying myself so much,” muttered another, not quite quietly enough.
The patio door slid open. Mrs. Barns appeared. “Ok everyone,” she announced, “here come the birthday girls!”
Mrs. Marshal and Mrs. Wilson appeared, leading Veronica, Amanda, and Rebecca along with them. The guests gasped when they saw the three most popular and fashionable girls in town resplendent in diapers and baby clothes.
Amanda and Rebecca lead the group, hand in hand with their mommies, beaming proudly, even as the assembled group began coming out of their shock and started laughing. Amanda and Rebecca didn’t mind: today was their special day, and they couldn’t wait to open their presents and have some cake, diapers or no diapers. It would have been impossible to disguise their dramatic demotion in status from freshly-minted womanhood to second infancy, even if the thought had crossed their diminished minds. One by one, the guests gathered around them to examine the outfits a little more closely. The hem of Amanda’s dress was lifted and her bulging, ruffled baby panties displayed. The girl stood by passively as she was examined and prodded from every angle, the amused spectators making snarky comments as they did. Amanda didn’t care—she was delighted her outfit was garnering so much attention.
Rebecca’s simple ensemble was equally adored by the gathered crowd. People played with her pretty blond pigtails, patted her big diapered butt, and tickled the exposed flesh around her belly-button, revealed by the gap between her diaper and t-shirt. Rebecca squealed and giggled in delight: Like Amanda, the fact that she was dressed like an infant in front of nearly every person she knew didn’t bother her one iota. She squirmed and sucked her paci, thrilling inwardly at all the attention.
Bringing up the rear, Veronica did not look anywhere near as delighted as her two friends. Sucking her soother sullenly, she gazed out at the crowd from behind blurry, tear-filled eyes. Unlike her friends, Veronica knew exactly what was going on, knew that she and her friends were being laughed at, not with. Watching Amanda and Rebecca squeal and giggle obliviously as they were mocked and insulted by the partygoers just made it worse. Couldn’t they see how foolish they looked? Didn’t they care?
But watching as they were fondled and tickled and teased and spanked playfully, laughing like carefree toddlers, Veronica knew they didn’t.
Veronica felt her hem being lifted at the back. She turned just in time to see Sarah Hays, her hated rival on the cheerleading squad, lift her dress above her waist at the back and examine her bulky training panties. “Hey,” she said loudly, reaching out to give Veronica’s seat a firm pat, “this baby’s not in diapers!” She roughly squeezed Veronica’s bottom, then gave it a firm swat. Veronica began to cry silently from the shame of it all.
“I’ve tried to leave Ronnie with her potty training, Sarah,” Mrs. Marshal informed her. Veronica cringed at the use of her hated childhood nickname. “I trust you’ll help me keep an eye on her?”
“Gladly, Mrs. Marshal,” she said, flashing Veronica a cold grin before giving her padded bottom another squeeze. She returned to the party, aglow in her rival’s defeat.
Veronica burned with shame, sulking miserably as the partygoers examined her dress, pinched her cheeks and patted her bulky, ruffled panties. She looked on as Amanda and Rebecca were subjected to the same treatment, giggling and squealing with delight as they were poked and prodded by the chuckling crowd.
“Ok, precious,” Mrs. Marshal exclaimed, “time for nummy-nums!”
Veronica turned, emitting a choked sob when she saw a pair of highchairs had been arranged in the center of the garden. She struggled half-heartedly, trying futilely to pull her hand away from her mother’s as she was dragged across the lawn toward them. “Don’t dawdle, Veronica,” her mother scolded, landing a whack with her palm across the seat of her daughter’s ruffled panties. Though she hardly felt the blow through her padded underpants, she still began sobbing anew at the humiliation of having her bottom openly swatted like a naughty little girl.
Soon, she found herself sitting in one of the chairs, locked in behind the tray. Rebecca sat next to her, grinning stupidly and eagerly awaiting her lunch. Veronica felt something tied around her neck, feeling sick when she realized it was a bib.
“C’mon, Mandy,” Mrs. Wilson said, taking her by the hand, “let’s visit the guests.” Veronica watched the adorable baby woman was lead over to an eager audience, who immediately surrounded her to make snide remarks and dispense backhanded complements. Amanda grinned and giggled, delighted by the attention.
“OK, Ronnie.” She turned toward her mother’s lilting voice. “Lunchtime.”
She turned just in time to have a heaping helping of applesauce spooned into her mouth. She closed her lips, cheeks bulging. Applesauce dribbled out the corners of her mouth and down her chin as she struggled to swallow the sweet mush. She’d nearly gotten it all down when her mother forced another big spoonful into her mouth, yellow slop dribbling out her mouth and down her bib.
Beside her, Rebecca’s mother navigated the plane into the hanger. She closed her lips around the spoon eagerly, ending up with at least half of the applesauce smeared around the edges of her mouth. She smacked her lips noisily, sauce dribbling out from between her lips and down her chin.
“You are such a sloppy eater today,” Her mother chided sweetly, using the spoon to push some of the escaping applesauce back into Rebecca’s mouth. Rebecca giggled at her mother’s words, not fully understanding them, but picking up on the playful tone immediately.
Soon, the bowls were empty, and Veronica was a very full girl. Beside her, Becky’s mom chuckled as her daughter belched loudly. Taking a wet-wipe, she began cleaning the girl’s face off. “Did you like that sweetie?”
“Um!” Rebecca replied affirmatively.
“Good girl! Open…” Rebecca did as she was commanded and soon found a bright blue pacifier popped into her mouth and clipped to her shirt by a string of beads. “Now let’s go see your friends,” Mrs. Barns said, taking the girl by the hand and leading her into a crowd of her smirking classmates.
As her mother took her time wiping her hands and face, Veronica watched in horror as Rebecca was paraded around in front of the smirking teens. A couple of the girls made catty comments, but Rebecca wasn’t listening; she had her eye on Mike Bailer, the star quarterback. They’d been seeing each other for about a month, and in the recesses of her vastly dimmed intellect, she could remember the times when they’d fooled around, the way his strong arms felt around her, his hands on her breasts and ass…. Beneath her diaper, the toddler woman was experiencing some decidedly adult sensations. Though she could no longer put a name to it, she definitely remembered sex and sexuality, and now she was focused on having her desires satisfied with the single-mindedness a child applies to any of their needs. Smiling coyly, she toddled her way over to mike and began hoisting herself into his lap.
The gathered students snickered and guffawed, particularly when they saw the surprised/nervous look on Mike’s face. Mike, for his own part, was unsure about how he felt. He’d been going with Rebecca for a while now, and she did look undeniably cute in her outfit. Actually, Mike was forced to admit that she looked more than cute: With her legs entirely bare from ankle to crotch, her trim midriff on display, and her Elvin features adorably framed by her pigtails, she was actually pretty damn sexy. But it was totally wrong to get off on his sexy, mature girlfriend crammed into diapers and baby clothes… wasn’t it?
Letting the pacifier fall from her mouth, Rebecca Looked into his face and smiled shyly. “Hi,” she said simply, her voice tiny and breathy. Giggling, she wriggled her diapered bottom in his lap and nestled against his chest. In spite of his earlier misgivings, Mike couldn’t deny the absolute thrill of having the nearly naked beauty cuddled up in his lap. “I wanna pway,” she pouted, pressing herself firmly into him. Sweat beading down his face, he thought he’d die when she looked up sweetly and said in her sexiest husking voice: “Will yew pway wif me, Mike?”
He couldn’t resist anymore; with his friends and classmates whooping and egging him on, he rested a large hand on her bare thigh. She gazed longingly at him, butterflies frolicking in her tummy. Bending down slightly, he locked his lips on hers. Leaving one hand on her thigh, he wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her in tight with a moan.
Even in her confused and diminished state, Rebecca could still feel a sexual charge coursing through her body. While she’d been mentally reduced to toddlerhood, her body was still that of a very developed and mature young woman, complete with its own needs and desires. Her neither region tingled: She began squirming on Mike’s lap, desperately trying to increase her stimulation. Mike, for his part, couldn’t believe how sexy it was to have a gorgeous grown woman infantilized and writhing on his lap in an erotic frenzy. Rebecca moaned, her pleasure increasing to new heights. Twitching and writhing sensuously, she abandoned herself to the pleasure, moaning and pressing herself against Mike.
She began to feel a slight cramping inside her. At first she ignored it, happily continuing her make-out session with Mike. Moaning, she tightened her grip around him, her arousal growing. But the discomfort inside her was growing, too. Soon the mounting, cramping pressure insider her grew to match, then exceed her arousal. Abruptly, she ceased kissing Mike, doubling over and wrapping her arms around her middle with an uncomfortable groan.
“Sweetie?” he asked cautiously.
She looked up at him, searching her reduced mental faculties for the right thing to say. Her insides were all bubbly and crampy, and she was beginning to feel very strange down below. The sensation was so familiar… “I feel… funny,” she said softly.
All at once, the pressure doubled; Rebecca gripped her stomach and moaned. The bubbling cramps were becoming unbearable now. She doubled over with an anguished groan.
“Becky? Sweetheart? Are you OK?”
She turned toward him and opened her mouth to answer. With a rumbling gurgle in her tummy, a cramp stabbed her in the side making her double over as her insides violently contracted and spasmed. Clenching her tummy and emitting a low moan of discomfort, she farted loudly, drawing giggles and whispered cries of “ew!” in the warm afternoon air.
She sighed, relieved. Her regressed mentality possessing no capacity for shame, Rebecca smiled and turned to Mike, ready to resume making out.
Her relief was short lived however. The cramps returned swiftly, this time stronger than before. Frowning, Rebecca instinctively doubled over, rubbed her tummy and lifted her thickly diapered bottom off of Mikes lap. She felt the massive, cramping contraction inside of her, which she followed immediately by involuntarily passing gas loudly. A thick, mushy wetness settled into the seat of her diapers; Rebecca wriggled her backside momentarily, confused about the source of the muddy ooze in her pants.
Another contraction; Staring ahead blankly, Rebecca grunted as another round of mushy poop surged into her diapers uncontrollably, a loud fart announcing its arrival. The crowd watched eagerly, their chuckles turning to outright laughter as Mike unsuccessfully tried to climb out of his seat and away from the overgrown teenage toddler currently messing her diapers in his lap.
Another sustained contraction, another surge of mush farting nosily into her seat, spreading her butt cheeks and loading her diapers to capacity. Rebecca groaned, unashamed, her relief orgasmic; the crowd chuckled, then gagged and moved away as the poopy smell began to emerge.
Rebecca didn’t care. She settled back into Mike’s lap, the mess squishing audibly against her as she did. The look she gave Mike was utterly adorable. “All done,” she assured him, nestling in close. Mike, for his part, was still trying desperately to escape as everyone stood around him and laughed at his obvious discomfort.
Rebecca hadn’t caught on yet. She puckered up and moved in to kiss Mike, already forgetting the warm, mushy load in the back of her pants. Just like a real baby, she’d become a slave to her immediate needs: her need to move her bowels had been satisfied, the messy diaper was comfortable enough, and she still wanted Mike. In fact, the more she went over her dim and dusty memories of what she and Mike used to get up to, the more desperately aroused she felt.
“Whooo-weee!” Rebecca heard from behind her. She turned to see her mother standing over her, wrinkling her nose and regarding her with a smile. “Smells like somebody could use a change around here.” She reached out and took her daughter’s elbow, and though she was reluctant to leave Mike’s lap, Rebecca rose unsteadily to her feet, her bulging diaper sagging noticeably in the back, the very top of her butt crack peeking out from over the top of her waistband.
“You really loaded this diapee up, didn’t you sweetie?” Mrs. Barns chuckled, pulling out the waistband a bit at the back and peeking inside. “Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed when she saw the mess inside. She waved her hand in front of her face and gave a good-natured laugh. “What did you do?” she asked sweetly, laying the change mat out on the ground. Rebecca could only stand, shifting from foot to foot on the grass, obsessing over the heavy weight in the seat of her big diapers, and the greasy sensation of the big, mushy pile against her buttocks.
Mrs. Barns took her daughter’s hand, guided her down to the ground and popped her pacifier in once more. “Here honey,” she said sweetly, handing the girl a little teddy bear, “you play with this while mommy gets you nice and clean.
In a flash, she had ripped the tabs open and lowered the diaper’s front panel. The gathered crowed gave a collective groan of disgust when her messy diaper came into view, then gagged as the stench wafted up toward them. Rebecca didn’t mind: she liked the cool breeze on her bare skin.
Mrs. Barns pulled the diaper out from under her, folded it up and set it aside before beginning the monumental task of cleaning her grown daughter’s messy bottom like an infant. “PEE-YEW!” she exclaimed, “I forgot what a stinky bottom you could have, sweetie!”
Rebecca chortled in response, utterly without a clue as to what her mother was actually saying. She stretched and sighed, wriggling her toes as her mother lifted her legs, exposing her completely to the crowd, before she began wiping the girl’s messy backside. “Such a messy little girl,” her mom sighed, “I think you’re going to be in dides for the foreseeable future. Don’t you think so, honey?”
Rebecca nodded solemnly and squeezed her bear a little tighter, drawing chuckles from the assembled crowd. Her mom dusted baby powder across her glistening backside and playfully patted it into both cheeks, making the girl squeal and squirm.
Finally, Mrs. Barns slid a huge disposable diaper under Rebecca’s rump and sealed it shut tightly before pulling her to her feet.
Once more Rebecca stood before the crowd. Her massive diaper was an exact copy of a disposable baby diaper. “And plenty of room in the seat for your next big accident,” her mom informed her, patting her butt. “right sweetie?”
“MMM!” she agreed enthusiastically from behind her paci.
She turned round to face Mike, so they could finish what they’d started. But he’d already left, no doubt during her very public diaper change. She was disappointed, but quickly forgot when she heard her mommy say from behind her “C’mon honey; Almost time for cake and presents!”
Becky squealed with excitement and eagerly allowed herself to be lead off by her mother, visions of cake, ice-cream and toys dancing through her head..
Veronica watched the spectacle with mounting horror. She felt every moment of shame and humiliation that Becky was currently unable to feel herself, knowing full well that it was only a matter of time before a similar fate befell her. She could only pray her mother hadn’t been kidding when she’d said Veronica still had her potty training.
As if on cue, she felt her guts lurch. A cramped rolling emerged, and within seconds the urge to go was on her. She clenched her cheeks, determined to deal with it in the quietist, most dignified way possible. She would tiptoe her was over to her mother and ask quietly if she could use the potty. She began making her way across to where her mom sat sipping tea with the other women from the neighborhood.
But before she could even get close, the cramping doubled. The pressure inside her began to build to increasingly intolerable levels. Clenching her buttocks harder than she ever had in her life, she hobbled toward her mom. All thoughts of dignity abandoned, she cried out to her mother: “MOM-EEEE!” she shrieked, “I GOTTA GO POTTY RIGHT NOW!”
Everyone within listening distance turned to stare at her, but Veronica was beyond caring. She’d been left with just enough of her toilet training to know that she was in major trouble if she didn’t get to the potty right now. Her stomach gurgled, and she was forced to reach behind herself and press her hands against her butt-cheeks.
“OK, sweetie,” her mother said, jumping up. “Hang in there,” she soothed, coming toward her, “mommy will make it all better.”
In her mind, Veronica had already taken her mother’s hand. She was in the process of being lead inside where her mother would pull down her training pants, sit her on the potty, and she’d be able to explode and let it all out in private.
But her mother didn’t take her hand. She walked right past her into the tool shed, emerging seconds later with Veronica’s potty. The plastic stool looked as though it had been designed with someone Veronica’s size in mind.
Veronica watched in horror as her mom carried the potty across the yard and set it at her feet. Looking up at her daughter expectantly, Mrs. Marshal patted the seat. “C’mon precious,” she cooed encouragingly, “show everyone how you potty like a big girl.”
Veronica felt herself going redder and redder. Everyone was standing around laughing at her. Her discomfort was reaching its peak, her stomach gurgled insistently, her buns shook from the exertion of clenching her ass shut, and she knew she was moments away from having an accident… but she couldn’t stop her rage and embarrassment from boiling over into a full-fledged tantrum.
“No!” she shouted, “No, I won’t! You can’t do this, you can’t embarrass me like this mommy!” she stamped her foot impotently, her tantrum shifting into full-gear. “I won’t potty in front of them! I won’t! I… Uhh!”
She felt the pressure increase and knew she’d missed her chance. She doubled over and instinctively stuck out her derriere, her ruffled, pink-pantied bottom on full display beneath the hem of her party-dress. Veronica struggled mightily, determined to spare herself the utter humiliation that was about to befall her. With one final anguished grunt, she squeezed her butt as tight as it would go.
Her cheeks parted, and Veronica Marshal, head cheerleader and most popular of the popular girls, exploded into the seat of her oversized training panties. Unleashing a massive fart, a warm, semi-solid mush oozed out of her and settled heavily into her panties. Veronica let out an anguished cry; a further installment came farting nosily out of her, adding to the pile in her pants. Beneath the hem of her party-dress, her pink panties noticeably inflated and began to sag and discolor.
“MA-MA!” she wailed helplessly, one final bowel-movement squishing into her loaded undies, accompanied by more loud gas. Veronica could only stand helplessly by and weep. The load in her pants was massive and messy, squishing into every open space. She sobbed and quivered, the poopy smell enveloping her, making the audience groan and hold their noses once more. Mrs. Marshal approached and placed her hand on her daughter’s shoulder reassuringly.
Veronica could only stand by and weep as she felt her bulging, messy panties drawn down her legs. Her mother discarded them into a nearby garbage with a heavy thump. Taking a handful of wipes, she bent Veronica over, presenting everyone with an unobstructed view of her messy butt, and began to clean her off.
A changing mat was spread out on the grass, and the sobbing Veronica was lowered down onto her back on it. Her mother came into view, looking down on her with benevolent sympathy.
“I’m sorry honey,” Mrs. Marshal consoled the sobbing girl, stroking her soft cheek. “Mommy tried to leave you with your potty training. Looks like I overdid it with the formula just a bit, so…”
She held up an enormous disposable diaper of the girl to see. “Looks like you’re headed back to pampers like your friends!”
Veronica immediately began weeping anew. “Mommy, please, no, don’t make me like them!” she begged.
But she was too late: Mrs. Barns handed Veronica’s mom a small vial capped with an eyedropper. Mrs. Marshal filled the dropper and brought it toward her daughter’s mouth. “Open wide baby; Mommy promises it’s for the best.”
She squeezed the bulb. Veronica felt a few drops hit her tongue and roll sweetly down the back of her throat and knew it was over.
She began sobbing once more as a tingling sensation spread out from her mouth and enveloped her whole body, mourning a womanhood that she knew was being forever revoked. As her mother began powdering her butt and pussy, she felt it happening, felt everything that defined her slipping away. Her memories began receding with alarming speed, first her favorite movies and music disappearing, then what little education she’d accumulated in 12 years of not really paying attention at school evaporated, leaving her a virtual blank slate.
She began forgetting the names of common things; one moment she knew what the sun, the trees and the grass were, the next those identifiers had evaporated from her mind entirely.
Finally, she even forgot what she’d been crying about. Her tears stopped; she lay passively on the grass for her diaper change, still upset but no longer sure why. She passively allowed her mother to bend back her legs, exposing her freshly cleaned and powdered backside and pussy to everyone, while a big, crinkly adult disposable was slid beneath her tushy. Within moments, her mom had her diapered up tight.
Whatever it was that had her so upset before had been completely forgotten. In its stead, a feeling of warm satisfaction spread through her. She lay on her back for a moment, cooing to herself and letting the sun warm her up, squirming in delicious contentment.
Mrs. Marshal helped Ronnie to her feet. The bulk between her legs made her a bit wobbly, but soon she was standing before her mother, a wide, satisfied grin on her face. Unable to hold back anymore, her mother gathered Ronnie in her arms and gave her a big hug. Ronnie reciprocated enthusiastically, giggling sweetly while she basked in her mother’s love. Her pride, arrogance, and self-centeredness had been washed away, leaving a loving, adorable teenage toddler in her place. Her former life, so competitive and shallow, was gone now. From here on out, all she wanted was a full tummy, a clean diaper, and the company of her mommy and her friends.
“OK, girls,” Mrs. Barns gushed, leading Becky over to the large pile of packages on the other side of the party, “time to open presents!”
And with that, the three teenage toddler girls were gathered in front of the neatly wrapped packages, the crowd gathered around them. Several guests were taking pictures and video. Ronnie, Becky, and Mandy smiled and waited eagerly to open their presents and begin their new lives.
The garden had been neatly manicured and decorated; the catering had been superb; even the weather was cooperating. The guests mingled and chatted, enjoying the fresh air, sunshine, and great food. The entire affair, everyone agreed, was going perfectly, except for one small detail…
“Where did they go, anyway?” one guest asked, checking her watch. “They’ve been gone for over an hour now.”
“Who?” asked another.
“Veronica, Amanda, and Rebecca, dummy!”
“Oh. Hadn’t noticed,” sniffed another.
“No wonder I was enjoying myself so much,” muttered another, not quite quietly enough.
The patio door slid open. Mrs. Barns appeared. “Ok everyone,” she announced, “here come the birthday girls!”
Mrs. Marshal and Mrs. Wilson appeared, leading Veronica, Amanda, and Rebecca along with them. The guests gasped when they saw the three most popular and fashionable girls in town resplendent in diapers and baby clothes.
Amanda and Rebecca lead the group, hand in hand with their mommies, beaming proudly, even as the assembled group began coming out of their shock and started laughing. Amanda and Rebecca didn’t mind: today was their special day, and they couldn’t wait to open their presents and have some cake, diapers or no diapers. It would have been impossible to disguise their dramatic demotion in status from freshly-minted womanhood to second infancy, even if the thought had crossed their diminished minds. One by one, the guests gathered around them to examine the outfits a little more closely. The hem of Amanda’s dress was lifted and her bulging, ruffled baby panties displayed. The girl stood by passively as she was examined and prodded from every angle, the amused spectators making snarky comments as they did. Amanda didn’t care—she was delighted her outfit was garnering so much attention.
Rebecca’s simple ensemble was equally adored by the gathered crowd. People played with her pretty blond pigtails, patted her big diapered butt, and tickled the exposed flesh around her belly-button, revealed by the gap between her diaper and t-shirt. Rebecca squealed and giggled in delight: Like Amanda, the fact that she was dressed like an infant in front of nearly every person she knew didn’t bother her one iota. She squirmed and sucked her paci, thrilling inwardly at all the attention.
Bringing up the rear, Veronica did not look anywhere near as delighted as her two friends. Sucking her soother sullenly, she gazed out at the crowd from behind blurry, tear-filled eyes. Unlike her friends, Veronica knew exactly what was going on, knew that she and her friends were being laughed at, not with. Watching Amanda and Rebecca squeal and giggle obliviously as they were mocked and insulted by the partygoers just made it worse. Couldn’t they see how foolish they looked? Didn’t they care?
But watching as they were fondled and tickled and teased and spanked playfully, laughing like carefree toddlers, Veronica knew they didn’t.
Veronica felt her hem being lifted at the back. She turned just in time to see Sarah Hays, her hated rival on the cheerleading squad, lift her dress above her waist at the back and examine her bulky training panties. “Hey,” she said loudly, reaching out to give Veronica’s seat a firm pat, “this baby’s not in diapers!” She roughly squeezed Veronica’s bottom, then gave it a firm swat. Veronica began to cry silently from the shame of it all.
“I’ve tried to leave Ronnie with her potty training, Sarah,” Mrs. Marshal informed her. Veronica cringed at the use of her hated childhood nickname. “I trust you’ll help me keep an eye on her?”
“Gladly, Mrs. Marshal,” she said, flashing Veronica a cold grin before giving her padded bottom another squeeze. She returned to the party, aglow in her rival’s defeat.
Veronica burned with shame, sulking miserably as the partygoers examined her dress, pinched her cheeks and patted her bulky, ruffled panties. She looked on as Amanda and Rebecca were subjected to the same treatment, giggling and squealing with delight as they were poked and prodded by the chuckling crowd.
“Ok, precious,” Mrs. Marshal exclaimed, “time for nummy-nums!”
Veronica turned, emitting a choked sob when she saw a pair of highchairs had been arranged in the center of the garden. She struggled half-heartedly, trying futilely to pull her hand away from her mother’s as she was dragged across the lawn toward them. “Don’t dawdle, Veronica,” her mother scolded, landing a whack with her palm across the seat of her daughter’s ruffled panties. Though she hardly felt the blow through her padded underpants, she still began sobbing anew at the humiliation of having her bottom openly swatted like a naughty little girl.
Soon, she found herself sitting in one of the chairs, locked in behind the tray. Rebecca sat next to her, grinning stupidly and eagerly awaiting her lunch. Veronica felt something tied around her neck, feeling sick when she realized it was a bib.
“C’mon, Mandy,” Mrs. Wilson said, taking her by the hand, “let’s visit the guests.” Veronica watched the adorable baby woman was lead over to an eager audience, who immediately surrounded her to make snide remarks and dispense backhanded complements. Amanda grinned and giggled, delighted by the attention.
“OK, Ronnie.” She turned toward her mother’s lilting voice. “Lunchtime.”
She turned just in time to have a heaping helping of applesauce spooned into her mouth. She closed her lips, cheeks bulging. Applesauce dribbled out the corners of her mouth and down her chin as she struggled to swallow the sweet mush. She’d nearly gotten it all down when her mother forced another big spoonful into her mouth, yellow slop dribbling out her mouth and down her bib.
Beside her, Rebecca’s mother navigated the plane into the hanger. She closed her lips around the spoon eagerly, ending up with at least half of the applesauce smeared around the edges of her mouth. She smacked her lips noisily, sauce dribbling out from between her lips and down her chin.
“You are such a sloppy eater today,” Her mother chided sweetly, using the spoon to push some of the escaping applesauce back into Rebecca’s mouth. Rebecca giggled at her mother’s words, not fully understanding them, but picking up on the playful tone immediately.
Soon, the bowls were empty, and Veronica was a very full girl. Beside her, Becky’s mom chuckled as her daughter belched loudly. Taking a wet-wipe, she began cleaning the girl’s face off. “Did you like that sweetie?”
“Um!” Rebecca replied affirmatively.
“Good girl! Open…” Rebecca did as she was commanded and soon found a bright blue pacifier popped into her mouth and clipped to her shirt by a string of beads. “Now let’s go see your friends,” Mrs. Barns said, taking the girl by the hand and leading her into a crowd of her smirking classmates.
As her mother took her time wiping her hands and face, Veronica watched in horror as Rebecca was paraded around in front of the smirking teens. A couple of the girls made catty comments, but Rebecca wasn’t listening; she had her eye on Mike Bailer, the star quarterback. They’d been seeing each other for about a month, and in the recesses of her vastly dimmed intellect, she could remember the times when they’d fooled around, the way his strong arms felt around her, his hands on her breasts and ass…. Beneath her diaper, the toddler woman was experiencing some decidedly adult sensations. Though she could no longer put a name to it, she definitely remembered sex and sexuality, and now she was focused on having her desires satisfied with the single-mindedness a child applies to any of their needs. Smiling coyly, she toddled her way over to mike and began hoisting herself into his lap.
The gathered students snickered and guffawed, particularly when they saw the surprised/nervous look on Mike’s face. Mike, for his own part, was unsure about how he felt. He’d been going with Rebecca for a while now, and she did look undeniably cute in her outfit. Actually, Mike was forced to admit that she looked more than cute: With her legs entirely bare from ankle to crotch, her trim midriff on display, and her Elvin features adorably framed by her pigtails, she was actually pretty damn sexy. But it was totally wrong to get off on his sexy, mature girlfriend crammed into diapers and baby clothes… wasn’t it?
Letting the pacifier fall from her mouth, Rebecca Looked into his face and smiled shyly. “Hi,” she said simply, her voice tiny and breathy. Giggling, she wriggled her diapered bottom in his lap and nestled against his chest. In spite of his earlier misgivings, Mike couldn’t deny the absolute thrill of having the nearly naked beauty cuddled up in his lap. “I wanna pway,” she pouted, pressing herself firmly into him. Sweat beading down his face, he thought he’d die when she looked up sweetly and said in her sexiest husking voice: “Will yew pway wif me, Mike?”
He couldn’t resist anymore; with his friends and classmates whooping and egging him on, he rested a large hand on her bare thigh. She gazed longingly at him, butterflies frolicking in her tummy. Bending down slightly, he locked his lips on hers. Leaving one hand on her thigh, he wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her in tight with a moan.
Even in her confused and diminished state, Rebecca could still feel a sexual charge coursing through her body. While she’d been mentally reduced to toddlerhood, her body was still that of a very developed and mature young woman, complete with its own needs and desires. Her neither region tingled: She began squirming on Mike’s lap, desperately trying to increase her stimulation. Mike, for his part, couldn’t believe how sexy it was to have a gorgeous grown woman infantilized and writhing on his lap in an erotic frenzy. Rebecca moaned, her pleasure increasing to new heights. Twitching and writhing sensuously, she abandoned herself to the pleasure, moaning and pressing herself against Mike.
She began to feel a slight cramping inside her. At first she ignored it, happily continuing her make-out session with Mike. Moaning, she tightened her grip around him, her arousal growing. But the discomfort inside her was growing, too. Soon the mounting, cramping pressure insider her grew to match, then exceed her arousal. Abruptly, she ceased kissing Mike, doubling over and wrapping her arms around her middle with an uncomfortable groan.
“Sweetie?” he asked cautiously.
She looked up at him, searching her reduced mental faculties for the right thing to say. Her insides were all bubbly and crampy, and she was beginning to feel very strange down below. The sensation was so familiar… “I feel… funny,” she said softly.
All at once, the pressure doubled; Rebecca gripped her stomach and moaned. The bubbling cramps were becoming unbearable now. She doubled over with an anguished groan.
“Becky? Sweetheart? Are you OK?”
She turned toward him and opened her mouth to answer. With a rumbling gurgle in her tummy, a cramp stabbed her in the side making her double over as her insides violently contracted and spasmed. Clenching her tummy and emitting a low moan of discomfort, she farted loudly, drawing giggles and whispered cries of “ew!” in the warm afternoon air.
She sighed, relieved. Her regressed mentality possessing no capacity for shame, Rebecca smiled and turned to Mike, ready to resume making out.
Her relief was short lived however. The cramps returned swiftly, this time stronger than before. Frowning, Rebecca instinctively doubled over, rubbed her tummy and lifted her thickly diapered bottom off of Mikes lap. She felt the massive, cramping contraction inside of her, which she followed immediately by involuntarily passing gas loudly. A thick, mushy wetness settled into the seat of her diapers; Rebecca wriggled her backside momentarily, confused about the source of the muddy ooze in her pants.
Another contraction; Staring ahead blankly, Rebecca grunted as another round of mushy poop surged into her diapers uncontrollably, a loud fart announcing its arrival. The crowd watched eagerly, their chuckles turning to outright laughter as Mike unsuccessfully tried to climb out of his seat and away from the overgrown teenage toddler currently messing her diapers in his lap.
Another sustained contraction, another surge of mush farting nosily into her seat, spreading her butt cheeks and loading her diapers to capacity. Rebecca groaned, unashamed, her relief orgasmic; the crowd chuckled, then gagged and moved away as the poopy smell began to emerge.
Rebecca didn’t care. She settled back into Mike’s lap, the mess squishing audibly against her as she did. The look she gave Mike was utterly adorable. “All done,” she assured him, nestling in close. Mike, for his part, was still trying desperately to escape as everyone stood around him and laughed at his obvious discomfort.
Rebecca hadn’t caught on yet. She puckered up and moved in to kiss Mike, already forgetting the warm, mushy load in the back of her pants. Just like a real baby, she’d become a slave to her immediate needs: her need to move her bowels had been satisfied, the messy diaper was comfortable enough, and she still wanted Mike. In fact, the more she went over her dim and dusty memories of what she and Mike used to get up to, the more desperately aroused she felt.
“Whooo-weee!” Rebecca heard from behind her. She turned to see her mother standing over her, wrinkling her nose and regarding her with a smile. “Smells like somebody could use a change around here.” She reached out and took her daughter’s elbow, and though she was reluctant to leave Mike’s lap, Rebecca rose unsteadily to her feet, her bulging diaper sagging noticeably in the back, the very top of her butt crack peeking out from over the top of her waistband.
“You really loaded this diapee up, didn’t you sweetie?” Mrs. Barns chuckled, pulling out the waistband a bit at the back and peeking inside. “Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed when she saw the mess inside. She waved her hand in front of her face and gave a good-natured laugh. “What did you do?” she asked sweetly, laying the change mat out on the ground. Rebecca could only stand, shifting from foot to foot on the grass, obsessing over the heavy weight in the seat of her big diapers, and the greasy sensation of the big, mushy pile against her buttocks.
Mrs. Barns took her daughter’s hand, guided her down to the ground and popped her pacifier in once more. “Here honey,” she said sweetly, handing the girl a little teddy bear, “you play with this while mommy gets you nice and clean.
In a flash, she had ripped the tabs open and lowered the diaper’s front panel. The gathered crowed gave a collective groan of disgust when her messy diaper came into view, then gagged as the stench wafted up toward them. Rebecca didn’t mind: she liked the cool breeze on her bare skin.
Mrs. Barns pulled the diaper out from under her, folded it up and set it aside before beginning the monumental task of cleaning her grown daughter’s messy bottom like an infant. “PEE-YEW!” she exclaimed, “I forgot what a stinky bottom you could have, sweetie!”
Rebecca chortled in response, utterly without a clue as to what her mother was actually saying. She stretched and sighed, wriggling her toes as her mother lifted her legs, exposing her completely to the crowd, before she began wiping the girl’s messy backside. “Such a messy little girl,” her mom sighed, “I think you’re going to be in dides for the foreseeable future. Don’t you think so, honey?”
Rebecca nodded solemnly and squeezed her bear a little tighter, drawing chuckles from the assembled crowd. Her mom dusted baby powder across her glistening backside and playfully patted it into both cheeks, making the girl squeal and squirm.
Finally, Mrs. Barns slid a huge disposable diaper under Rebecca’s rump and sealed it shut tightly before pulling her to her feet.
Once more Rebecca stood before the crowd. Her massive diaper was an exact copy of a disposable baby diaper. “And plenty of room in the seat for your next big accident,” her mom informed her, patting her butt. “right sweetie?”
“MMM!” she agreed enthusiastically from behind her paci.
She turned round to face Mike, so they could finish what they’d started. But he’d already left, no doubt during her very public diaper change. She was disappointed, but quickly forgot when she heard her mommy say from behind her “C’mon honey; Almost time for cake and presents!”
Becky squealed with excitement and eagerly allowed herself to be lead off by her mother, visions of cake, ice-cream and toys dancing through her head..
Veronica watched the spectacle with mounting horror. She felt every moment of shame and humiliation that Becky was currently unable to feel herself, knowing full well that it was only a matter of time before a similar fate befell her. She could only pray her mother hadn’t been kidding when she’d said Veronica still had her potty training.
As if on cue, she felt her guts lurch. A cramped rolling emerged, and within seconds the urge to go was on her. She clenched her cheeks, determined to deal with it in the quietist, most dignified way possible. She would tiptoe her was over to her mother and ask quietly if she could use the potty. She began making her way across to where her mom sat sipping tea with the other women from the neighborhood.
But before she could even get close, the cramping doubled. The pressure inside her began to build to increasingly intolerable levels. Clenching her buttocks harder than she ever had in her life, she hobbled toward her mom. All thoughts of dignity abandoned, she cried out to her mother: “MOM-EEEE!” she shrieked, “I GOTTA GO POTTY RIGHT NOW!”
Everyone within listening distance turned to stare at her, but Veronica was beyond caring. She’d been left with just enough of her toilet training to know that she was in major trouble if she didn’t get to the potty right now. Her stomach gurgled, and she was forced to reach behind herself and press her hands against her butt-cheeks.
“OK, sweetie,” her mother said, jumping up. “Hang in there,” she soothed, coming toward her, “mommy will make it all better.”
In her mind, Veronica had already taken her mother’s hand. She was in the process of being lead inside where her mother would pull down her training pants, sit her on the potty, and she’d be able to explode and let it all out in private.
But her mother didn’t take her hand. She walked right past her into the tool shed, emerging seconds later with Veronica’s potty. The plastic stool looked as though it had been designed with someone Veronica’s size in mind.
Veronica watched in horror as her mom carried the potty across the yard and set it at her feet. Looking up at her daughter expectantly, Mrs. Marshal patted the seat. “C’mon precious,” she cooed encouragingly, “show everyone how you potty like a big girl.”
Veronica felt herself going redder and redder. Everyone was standing around laughing at her. Her discomfort was reaching its peak, her stomach gurgled insistently, her buns shook from the exertion of clenching her ass shut, and she knew she was moments away from having an accident… but she couldn’t stop her rage and embarrassment from boiling over into a full-fledged tantrum.
“No!” she shouted, “No, I won’t! You can’t do this, you can’t embarrass me like this mommy!” she stamped her foot impotently, her tantrum shifting into full-gear. “I won’t potty in front of them! I won’t! I… Uhh!”
She felt the pressure increase and knew she’d missed her chance. She doubled over and instinctively stuck out her derriere, her ruffled, pink-pantied bottom on full display beneath the hem of her party-dress. Veronica struggled mightily, determined to spare herself the utter humiliation that was about to befall her. With one final anguished grunt, she squeezed her butt as tight as it would go.
Her cheeks parted, and Veronica Marshal, head cheerleader and most popular of the popular girls, exploded into the seat of her oversized training panties. Unleashing a massive fart, a warm, semi-solid mush oozed out of her and settled heavily into her panties. Veronica let out an anguished cry; a further installment came farting nosily out of her, adding to the pile in her pants. Beneath the hem of her party-dress, her pink panties noticeably inflated and began to sag and discolor.
“MA-MA!” she wailed helplessly, one final bowel-movement squishing into her loaded undies, accompanied by more loud gas. Veronica could only stand helplessly by and weep. The load in her pants was massive and messy, squishing into every open space. She sobbed and quivered, the poopy smell enveloping her, making the audience groan and hold their noses once more. Mrs. Marshal approached and placed her hand on her daughter’s shoulder reassuringly.
Veronica could only stand by and weep as she felt her bulging, messy panties drawn down her legs. Her mother discarded them into a nearby garbage with a heavy thump. Taking a handful of wipes, she bent Veronica over, presenting everyone with an unobstructed view of her messy butt, and began to clean her off.
A changing mat was spread out on the grass, and the sobbing Veronica was lowered down onto her back on it. Her mother came into view, looking down on her with benevolent sympathy.
“I’m sorry honey,” Mrs. Marshal consoled the sobbing girl, stroking her soft cheek. “Mommy tried to leave you with your potty training. Looks like I overdid it with the formula just a bit, so…”
She held up an enormous disposable diaper of the girl to see. “Looks like you’re headed back to pampers like your friends!”
Veronica immediately began weeping anew. “Mommy, please, no, don’t make me like them!” she begged.
But she was too late: Mrs. Barns handed Veronica’s mom a small vial capped with an eyedropper. Mrs. Marshal filled the dropper and brought it toward her daughter’s mouth. “Open wide baby; Mommy promises it’s for the best.”
She squeezed the bulb. Veronica felt a few drops hit her tongue and roll sweetly down the back of her throat and knew it was over.
She began sobbing once more as a tingling sensation spread out from her mouth and enveloped her whole body, mourning a womanhood that she knew was being forever revoked. As her mother began powdering her butt and pussy, she felt it happening, felt everything that defined her slipping away. Her memories began receding with alarming speed, first her favorite movies and music disappearing, then what little education she’d accumulated in 12 years of not really paying attention at school evaporated, leaving her a virtual blank slate.
She began forgetting the names of common things; one moment she knew what the sun, the trees and the grass were, the next those identifiers had evaporated from her mind entirely.
Finally, she even forgot what she’d been crying about. Her tears stopped; she lay passively on the grass for her diaper change, still upset but no longer sure why. She passively allowed her mother to bend back her legs, exposing her freshly cleaned and powdered backside and pussy to everyone, while a big, crinkly adult disposable was slid beneath her tushy. Within moments, her mom had her diapered up tight.
Whatever it was that had her so upset before had been completely forgotten. In its stead, a feeling of warm satisfaction spread through her. She lay on her back for a moment, cooing to herself and letting the sun warm her up, squirming in delicious contentment.
Mrs. Marshal helped Ronnie to her feet. The bulk between her legs made her a bit wobbly, but soon she was standing before her mother, a wide, satisfied grin on her face. Unable to hold back anymore, her mother gathered Ronnie in her arms and gave her a big hug. Ronnie reciprocated enthusiastically, giggling sweetly while she basked in her mother’s love. Her pride, arrogance, and self-centeredness had been washed away, leaving a loving, adorable teenage toddler in her place. Her former life, so competitive and shallow, was gone now. From here on out, all she wanted was a full tummy, a clean diaper, and the company of her mommy and her friends.
“OK, girls,” Mrs. Barns gushed, leading Becky over to the large pile of packages on the other side of the party, “time to open presents!”
And with that, the three teenage toddler girls were gathered in front of the neatly wrapped packages, the crowd gathered around them. Several guests were taking pictures and video. Ronnie, Becky, and Mandy smiled and waited eagerly to open their presents and begin their new lives.
And as a bonus, here's some weird shit I found on Amazon:
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