mellowsadistic

[mellowsadistic]

Babe Or Billionaire - Chapter 6

“That’s it for voting this round!” Jacob called out. “Let’s see the results!” He turned to face the giant screen. “For Isabelle, the winning penalty is… Babyish Expressions! Congratulations, Izzy! I’m sure you’re going to look adorable!”

Isabelle felt the now-familiar tingling in her head as the nanites did their work, and only a few moments later, the results became clear. An exaggerated-looking frown appeared on her beautiful face, and her bottom lip jutted out in a childish pout.

“No!” she whined, as the mirror was brought out from behind stage and stood in front of her. “I look like such a stupid-head!” She tried to control her facial muscles, to settle her absurdly babyish expression into something more mature, but all she managed to do was scrunch up her face even more, like she was a toddler on the verge of throwing a tantrum. Combined with the frilly bonnet that framed her face and the bonnet that covered her cleavage, she looked completely ridiculous.

“Awww,” Jacob cooed tauntingly, “you’ve got such a cute grumpy-face, Izzy! It’ll be worth teasing you just to see that precious little pout of yours!”

Isabelle just whimpered in reply. What was she going to do?! Even if she won, she’d be stuck with one of her penalties forever! Why on Earth had she agreed to come on this stupid show?

“Moving on to Eily,” Jacob said, “the winning penalty is… Oral Fixation! A very fitting choice for our faux-innocent little minx!”

Eily felt her head beginning to tingle. She shifted uncomfortably in her skimpy little schoolgirl outfit. It felt so horrible, so invasive, knowing there were machines fiddling about inside her head, changing her behaviours.

“It’s almost a shame we won’t be hearing that innocent little voice so much, Eily,” Jacob went on, “but I think you’ll be far too busy putting those plump lips of yours to good use.”

Eily scowled at him furiously and opened her mouth – forgetting momentarily that her new voice would pass whatever insults she tried to use though a pathetic little-girly filter – but before any words could come out, she suddenly felt a strange emptiness between her lips. Her chest seemed to tighten with anxiety. All she could think about what how empty she felt. A hole waiting to be filled. And before she even knew what she was doing, the businesswoman had shoved her thumb into her mouth and begun sucking on it eagerly.

The audience cheered and wolf-whistled as Eily’s thumb started sliding wetly in and out of her mouth. Eily felt her face turning bright red. She wanted to stop, but it was as though her thumb was being pulled into her mouth like a magnet, and the more the audience laughed and jeered, the more her anxiety built, and the more her anxiety built, the more desperately she wanted something between her lips.

“You look very cute, Eily,” said Jacob, “although I would have thought you were a little old to still be sucking your thumb. But you just don’t feel right without something shoved between those lovely red cockwrappers of yours, do you?”

“No, Sir,” Eily said demurely, her words barely audible around her thumb. Fuck you, she thought inside her head. Fuck this evil game! When she won she was going to sue the pants off all of them!

“Good girl,” said Jacob with a wink. He turned back to the audience. “Remember everyone!” he called, gesturing towards the giant screen. “These are the points as they stand thus far – every round the girls win, or rather don’t lose, earns them a point. And there are only five more rounds to go!”

The screen displayed their scores:

Isabelle – 1

Kimberly – 1

Eily – 2

“Now, let’s move on to the sixth round, shall we?” Jacob grinned. “The theme for this round-”

But he was suddenly cut off by a gasp from Isabelle. All eyes turned to the bonnet and bib-clad young woman as one hand shot to her lower belly and the other to her bottom. There was a moment of silence, and then the gorgeous swimsuit model let out a loud, involuntary grunt. Her beautiful face scrunched up, her knees wobbled and bent, and Isabelle started helplessly loading her nappy in front of all of them.

The crowd burst into laughter while Isabelle continued to grunt and strain, her crimson face screwed up, as if in concentration, as she pooped her pants in front of the whole studio audience and the millions of people watching at home.

“Noooo!” Isabelle wailed, breaking down into hysterical tears as she finished filling her diapers. “I made a stinky!” she sobbed. “I don’t wanna be incon… incon… I wanna be potty trained again! I don’t wanna make yuck-yuck in my pants! Waaaaah!”

Kimberly and Eily watched with nauseous expressions on their faces as their fellow contestant messed herself like a baby, knowing it could easily have been them in her place.

“There, there, darling,” Jacob cooed gently, walking over to stroke Isabelle reassuringly on her back. “It’s okay. That’s what your nappies are for, sweetheart.”

Isabelle just cried incoherently, and Jacob, grinning broadly, lifted up the back of her tight black dress to expose her sagging nappy to the cameras. Then he hooked a finger into the waistband and pulled it out to peek instead.

“Oh wow, you really had to go, didn’t you Izzy?” he asked, chuckling. “Aren’t you glad we put you in Pampers? You would have made such a big mess otherwise!” He let the waistband of her diapers snap back into place. “But I think you can wait a little while for a change. Since you’re incontinent now, you’ll have to get used to squishing around in stinky pants, and we’ve got to move onto the sixth round!” He walked back into the center of the stage with a horrible look of sadistic satisfaction on his face. “Fittingly, the theme for this round will be… Nappies! Now of course, two of our contestants already have padded bottoms, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get a little creative! Let’s get going, girls! It’s time for Babe! Or! Billionaire!”

Eily frowned nervously, her thumb bobbing away in her mouth. What would losing this round mean for her? She wasn’t stuck in potty training like that brat Kimberly, nor was she a disgusting little incontinent pants-pooper like Isabelle. Did that mean she was safe?

The rock, paper, and scissor icons appeared on the screens on the backs of the girls’ podiums, and the three women made their choices, Isabelle barely able to see what she was selecting through her tears.

A moment later, their choices appeared on the front of their podiums for all to see. Eily felt an icy coldness spreading through her body at once. She’d chosen paper, and both other girls had chosen scissors. Kimberly and Isabelle sighed with relief, but Eily looked up at Jacob with fear in her eyes. If she hadn’t lost the potty training round, surely this one wouldn’t affect her, right?

“Uh-oh!” said Jacob happily. “I guess it’s back to nappies for you too, Eily! Let’s see…” He turned to the giant screen. “The choices for Eily’s new underwear are… Cloth Nappies! Or… Disposable Diapers! And for the third option… Training Pants!”

Eily mumbled something urgently behind her thumb. Then she yanked the drooly digit out of her mouth, blushing hotly. “But Sir!” she shrieked girlishly, “I don’t need to wear them!” She didn’t even have time to feel humiliated at how she’d automatically addressed him.

Jacob just chuckled. “You don’t understand, silly,” he said condescendingly. “That doesn’t matter. You’re going to wear nappies from now on. This is just to decide what kind.”

“But we already had the potty-training round!” Eily squealed.

“You’re still not understanding, sweetheart,” Jacob said, smiling sinisterly. “This isn’t about your potty-training level. You’ll still be completely continent after the audience makes its decision. You just won’t be able to use the toilet. You’ll be able to hold it as long as you like, of course, but sooner or later you’ll be going in your pants. I imagine you’ll lose your potty training over time anyway, but it will be by a more natural method. No nanites needed!”

He turned back to the crowd. “So which is it going to be for our favourite schoolgirl slash businesswoman?” he asked them, grinning broadly. “Thick cloth nappies with oversized safety pins? Cute packs of pull-ups in her underwear drawer? Or crinkly disposables to fill her diaper pail with? Vote now!”

[mellowsadistic]

Babe Or Billionaire - Chapter 5

“And the results are in!” Jacob announced happily. “Let’s see what’s going to happen to the voices of these three little cuties! Up first is Eily! The penalty for our sexy schoolgirl will be… Sweet and Innocent!”

Eily gasped as she felt a tingling inside her skull. “No!” she squealed, and her commanding, sneering tone had already changed. Her voice was now high-pitched and little-girlish. “Pretty please don’t make me sweet and innocent! Oh gosh, that would be awful!”

For a moment she just stood there, her expression frozen, but then she clapped her hand over her mouth and blushed to the roots of her hair.

The audience laughed, and Eily felt herself shaking with anger. They were treating her like a joke!

“Please don’t laugh at me!” she whined. “I promise I’m a good little girl!” Her mouth dropped open in horror. That wasn’t what she’d tried to say at all! She’d tried to shout, to yell at them to stop laughing, to insist that she was a serious businesswoman! What had these bastards done to her?!

She rounded on Jacob, but he just smirked at her. “I think your new voice suits you, Eily,” he said. “Although I’m not sure I believe you’re a ‘good little girl’. That skimpy little outfit of yours says otherwise!” Eily was still trembling with fury, but there was nothing she could do. She had no way to express herself except to scowl. She just had to win this competition and get back to normal! She had to! Nobody would ever take her seriously again if she ended up stuck like this! Her subordinates would laugh themselves stupid!

“And moving on,” Jacob called, turning back to the crowd with a grin, “the penalty for little miss pee-pee pants will be… Childish Vocabulary!”

Isabelle’s lip trembled. Little miss pee-pee pants? Her soggy nappy squelched between her thighs as she squirmed on the spot, and she shivered in disgust. But at least Baby Babble hadn’t one, she thought miserably. Although the prospect of speaking like a little girl for the rest of her days was still enough to send a thrill of horror down her spine. She felt the tingling inside her head again as the changes took effect. Just how childish did it mean?

The audience were cheering again. Cheering and laughing at her punishment, at her new nickname. Isabelle felt her anger rising. Who cared what the crowd thought of her? It didn’t even matter anyway when the penalties were all as bad as each other!

“Stop laughing you stupid poo-poo heads!” she shouted, and then she turned as bright red as Eily. The crowd’s laughter seemed to double in intensity. “Nooo!” Isabelle wailed. “Everyone’s gonna think I’m a big dumb-dumb baby if I talk like this!”

“Yes, they certainly will,” Jacob agreed happily. “But it’s only fitting. You’re not even potty trained, Isabelle! Aren’t you supposed to be twenty-seven? What does that make you if not a ‘big dumb-dumb baby’?” he mocked.

Isabelle seethed with anger, but Jacob was already moving on.

“And lastly,” he said, “the penalty for the cutest little tot on stage will be… Cute Lisp! Congratulations, Kimberly! And congratulations to all you girls! It seems like all three of you are going to sound absolutely adorable from now on!”

Kimberly too felt the strange tingling inside her brain as the nanomachines did their work. “A withp?!” she squealed, blushing as hard as either of the other girls as the crowd’s laughter crashed over her. She couldn’t even say it right! How would anyone be able to understand her?! “No!” she shrieked. “I don’t wike thith! I thound tho thtupid!” How could she ever become a lawyer with this ridiculous lisping voice? She imagined herself striding around the courtroom, trying to look serious. My cwient ith innothent! Nobody would hire someone like that! But that meant she’d have to keep her stupid pigtails for the rest of her life! Because there was no way she’d be keeping toddler clothes and training pants. And that was still assuming she won every single round to come! Kimberly felt an icy coldness creeping over her as she realised she may well be facing a life of pissy pull-ups and utter dependence on her loving but domineering boyfriend to take care of her. She couldn’t think of anything more demeaning!

But then she felt a sudden pressure in her bladder, a pressure that became almost uncontrollable as soon as it had appeared. Kimberly let out a squeak of surprise, and her hands shot to her crotch at once, pressing down on the front of her pull-ups through her overalls.

“What’s the matter, Kimmy?” Jacob asked lightly, but there was a knowing smile on his face. The audience were beginning to titter and cheer as well.

“I gotta… I need to…” Kimberly looked up into his face desperately. She had to go to the bathroom now! “Pweathe!” she begged, “I weally need to pee!”

Jacob chuckled and snapped his fingers, and Kimberly turned in time to see one of the stagehands hurrying out from backstage with a pink, plastic training potty in his hands.

“No!” Kimberly shouted at once, watching as the stagehand deposited the toddler’s potty right in the middle of the stage, facing the audience. “I want… I want a toilet!”

Jacob just chuckled again. “You’re far too little for toilets, Kimmy!” he said with delight. “Potties are much more suitable for little girls who still need pull-ups!”

Kimberly wanted to retort, but at that moment she was a spasm from her bladder, and she felt a tiny squirt of pee enter her training pants. She bit her lip and whined. She didn’t have a choice! She tottered forwards awkwardly, her hands still pressed against her crotch. Was she really going to use a training potty in front of everyone in the audience? In front of everyone watching at home?!

But when she reached the little plastic seat, she realised that her head was blank. She looked down at the potty in confusion. What did she have to do next?

“What’s the matter, Kimmy?” Jacob taunted. “Don’t you need to do a wee-wee?”

“I don’t… I don’t…” Kimberly searched through her mind frantically. “I don’t know how!” She squirmed on the spot. It was getting harder and harder to hold in her pee. There was another spasm in her bladder, and another trickle of pee-pee into her padded pants. What did she have to do?! Did she wear the potty like a hat? She picked up the plastic thing and placed it upside down on her head. Was this right?

The crowd roared with laughter, and Kimberly wished she could sink into the floor and disappear. But more than anything she wished she knew how to use the potty!

“Pweathe!” she begged in her lisping baby voice as she clutched between her legs and hopped from foot to foot in a ridiculous potty dance, the plastic potty sitting atop her pigtailed head completing the look, making her appear utterly absurd. “Pweathe help me go pee!”

With tears of laughter in his eyes, Jacob stepped forward and lifted the potty off Kimberly’s head. “Let me help, sweetheart,” he said kindly, but there was a note of mocking condescension in his voice. He unhooked the straps of her overalls and pulled them expertly down her body, exposing her slender legs and the puffy pair of pull-ups wrapped around her bottom.

He tutted as he probed the front of her training pants with his fingers. “Uh-oh!” he announced. “It looks like someone’s already had a wittle accident! Some of your flowers have faded, Kimmy!”

Tears were falling down Kimberly’s cheeks now. “Pweathe!” she sobbed. There was yet another spurt of pee into her pull-ups, stronger this time. “I gotta go! I can’t howd it!”

“Alright then, Kimmy,” said Jacob gently, and he tugged her training pants down her legs to pool at her ankles with her overalls, and he lowered her bottom quickly onto the pink potty seat beneath her. At once, Kimberly let out a loud sigh of relief, and the sound, picked up by Jacob’s microphone, of tinkling liquid filled the hall.

The crowd continued to laugh and cheer while Kimberly did her tinkles on a plastic potty like a toddler. Isabelle and Eily watched with queasy expressions on their faces. Even in her icky wet diapers, Isabelle was glad she wasn’t in Kimberly’s place.

When the trickling finally came to a stop, Kimberly burst into tears as the full weight of what had just happened hit her. Jacob helped her to her feet, cooing softly at her and pulling her slightly wet training pants back up her legs and into place. He redressed her in her childish overalls and led her, still sobbing, back to her place behind her podium.

“There, there, Kimmy,” he cooed, patting the crying young woman’s bottom. “You were such a big girl for going pee-pee on the potty! And only a little bit of tinkle in your pull-ups! I’m sure your Daddy will be very proud of you.” He turned back to the audience. “Sorry about that interruption, folks!” he said. “But when you’ve gotta go, you’ve gotta go! But why don’t we move on to the fifth round? The theme of the penalties this round will be… Habits! That’s quite a wide category of embarrassingly babyish little traits our ladies could end up with! Now, are you ready girls? It’s time to play… Babe! Or! Billionaire!”

The three women made their choices, and a moment later they lit up on the front of their podiums. Kimberly drew a shaky breath of relief when she saw the results – she’d chosen rock again, and both the other girls had chosen paper. Her first success!

Eily clenched her jaw tightly. What kind of ‘habits’ did these freaks have in mind?

Isabelle gulped, and with a nasty jolt in her stomach, she realised this was her fourth penalty, meaning she was going to be stuck with one of her alterations forever, even after she won the competition. She felt sick to her stomach. Which one would she keep? She had to get rid of the diapers. The yucky, pissy thing felt horrible drooping between her legs. But she couldn’t be stuck wearing ridiculous bibs and bonnets permanently either! Would she have to be stuck with the vocabulary of a dumb toddler for the rest of her days? Isabelle squeezed her eyes shut. She could only pray that her new habit wasn’t too bad…

“And the options for Isabelle,” Jacob called, “are… Little Nudist! Or Babyish Expressions!”

Isabelle felt her chest tighten, and tears sprang to her eyes. Little Nudist sounded like she’d be ending up naked a lot, and preventing that was one of the reasons she’d come on this stupid show in the first place! But Babyish Expressions sounded awful as well!

“And the options for Eily,” Jacob continued, “are… Oral Fixation! Or I Love My Teddy!”

Eily cringed. She had a good idea what the game meant by Oral Fixation, and I Love My Teddy seemed like it would make her carry around a stuffed animal like some stupid, anxious little girl. She couldn’t decide which would be worse.

“So what will it be?” Jacob asked the audience. “Will the woman who never wants to do another nude photo-shoot end up with a compulsion to strip off all her clothes and run around with her bare bottom and boobies out? Or will she find her beautiful face making babyish expressions on a regular basis – pouting when she’s grumpy, grinning dimly whenever she’s happy, and scrunching up cutely whenever she fills her nappy? And what about everyone’s favourite slutty schoolgirl? Will she develop the urge to have something between her pretty lips to suck on at all times? Or will she be stuck carrying around an adorable little friend to talk to and play with wherever she goes? Vote now!”

[mellowsadistic]

Babe Or Billionaire - Chapter 4

“Voting’s over, ladies and gentlemen!” Jacob shouted. “Let’s see the results! Starting with little Kimmy this time, the winning penalty is… Stuck In Training!”

Kimberly hadn’t stopped crying since the options were announced, but now her sobbing seemed to double in intensity. The crowd roared its approval.

“There, there, Kimmy,” Jacob cooed. “It’s not so bad. It just means you’re going to need a bit of help going potty from now on. More specifically, you’re going to find that your bladder and bowel control is roughly equivalent to that of a three-year-old in the middle of her toilet training, meaning that pull-ups are going to become a necessity. And more than that, you’ll find yourself totally unable to use a toilet without a grown-up to take you, to hold your hand while you do your business, and wipe your clean afterwards. I hope you have someone special in mind!”

Kimberly wailed, imagining having to toddle up to her boyfriend with her hands pressed between her legs, hopping from foot to foot and begging him to help her tinkle. She could feel a funny tingling in her head and her nether regions as the changes took effect. Then, all of a sudden, she felt her panties beginning to thicken beneath her overalls – she couldn’t see them, but she could tell by the bulk that her adult underwear had just turned into a pair of thick, puffy training pants.

“And moving on to baby Isabelle in her pretty bonnet, the winning penalty is… Totally Incontinent! Congratulations, Isabelle! You’re going to be diaper-dependent!”

“No!” Isabelle screamed, while the audience cheered loudly. She clutched at her bonnet-clad head in panic as she felt a tingling inside her skull, the nanomachines working to erase all her knowledge of how to go to the bathroom like a grown-up. Then she felt the tingling in her lower parts, and the thickening of her underwear, and with a girlish shriek of terror she bolted away from the podium, trying to make a run for it.

Jacob and the audience merely laughed as the two stage-hands from earlier caught her under the arms and dragged her back onto the stage, kicking and screaming.

“That’s not going to work, silly girl,” Jacob chuckled. “The nanomachines are inside you! They won’t stop working just because you run away! And I can assure you that the effects are quite permanent – unless of course you win tonight’s game and choose your incontinence as one of the penalties you want to reverse. So staying here and competing is the only way you’re not guaranteed to spend the rest of your life in stinky diapers, sweetie.”

Isabelle burst into tears, looking just as pathetic as Kimberly, but she knew Jacob was right. She could feel her panties, or what had once been her panties, bulging between her thighs, thick and crinkly, ready to contain all her babyish messes. She was wearing a nappy! And no sooner had she been dragged back to stand in front of her podium, Isabelle felt her bladder let go. She knew she ought to keep quiet, to not alert anyone else to what was happening, but as the stream of warm pee-pee gushed into her pants and soaked into her new padded underwear, she couldn’t help herself.

“Ewww!” she whined, hiccupping between her breaths and hopping awkwardly on the spot as if she was trying to jump away from the icky, wet feeling between her legs. “Ew! Ew! EW! Make it stop! Please! I don’t wanna be incontinent! I don’t wanna wear diapers! EWWW!”

“Awww,” Jacob cooed. “Does little Isabelle have a soggy nappy? This is just part of your life now, sweetie. Unless you win the game you’ll just have to get used to it.” He walked up to the crying model and yanked up her dress, exposing the droopy diaper hanging between her thighs. He squeezed the front. “You sure did lots of pee-pee, baby!” he said happily. “But I think you can wait a little while longer for a change.” He turned back to the audience, grinning gleefully. “Just to remind everyone, the scores are as follows!” he called out, gesturing to the giant screen that was displaying their points:

Isabelle – 1

Kimberly – 0

Eily – 2

“And a quick refresher on the rules: the lady with the most points at the end of the game – that’s after all nine rounds – will win our fabulous cash prize, and get the opportunity to remove three of her penalties!”

Kimberly couldn’t stop sniffling pathetically. She’d lost all three of the rounds so far – now if she wanted to get out of this without any permanent changes, she’d have to win every single round that followed!

“Eily,” Jacob said suddenly, turning to the third woman on the stage, “although you’ve had a bit of a downgrade in the outfit department, you’re doing pretty well! How do you feel about Kimmy and Isabelle’s penalties?”

The truth was that Eily felt nothing but relief at not having ended up in nappies herself, but she knew she ought to press her advantage while the other girls were too busy crying like babies.

“I think they’re perfect,” she said, and she realised that she wasn’t even lying. “I think ending up in diapers for the rest of her life is exactly what someone as arrogant as Isabelle needs. She’s going to find it pretty hard to strut her stuff in a skimpy bikini now she’s not even potty trained, not to mention how ridiculous her bib and bonnet make her look.” Eily felt herself redden slightly as she thought about how absurd it was for her to be criticising another woman’s outfit when she herself was dressed up like a ditzy bimbo in a schoolgirl outfit, but she quickly pressed on. “And I told everyone before not to fall for Kimberly’s innocent act – she’s a college slut who’d steal your boyfriend in a second, and all the ladies out there should be relieved she’ll be too busy begging people to take her to the toilet to be thinking about seducing anyone.”

Kimberly and Isabelle shot her looks of fury through their tears, but Eily ignored them. She didn’t need them on her side. It was the audience she had to work on, and they were cheering and laughing along in agreement.

Jacob laughed as well, apparently delighted by her nastiness. “Well, thank you for your comments, Eily! But if you ask me, you’re just pleased Kimberly and Isabelle are off the playing field so all the fucking and sucking will be left for you – why else would you dress like such a whore?” He smirked at her, and Eily gritted her teeth in anger. That bastard!

“But we’ve spent too much time talking! It’s time to move onto the fourth round. The theme this time is… Voice! So let’s see who’ll be learning to talk in a whole new way, shall we? Girls, you know what to do.”

The screens on their podiums light up, and Isabelle, Kimberly, and Eily made their choices. There were a few seconds of tense silence, and then the symbol’s they’d selected appeared on the front of their podiums for everyone to see. All three women felt their stomachs drop. Isabelle had chosen paper, Kimberly had chosen rock, and Eily had chosen scissors.

“Ooh, sorry girls,” Jacob said, not looking sorry at all, “but that means it’s another triple loss!” The crowd roared with pleasure. “Let’s see what penalties we’ve got in store for the three of you this time, shall we? Starting with Eily, the penalties for everyone’s favourite sexy schoolgirl are… Sweet and Innocent! Or Dirty Talk!”

Eily cringed. It was bad enough that she was dressed up as a slutty schoolgirl – would she have to talk like one as well? It seemed like her choices were to speak with the ridiculous voice of a chaste little girl, to contrast her skanky outfit, or to lean into the theme even more and end up sounding like sound sex-crazed fucktoy. She felt sick to her stomach at the thought of either. What was the point of getting the audience on side if all her options were going to be terrible?!

“And for our resident diaper-dependent baby-woman,” Jacob continued, “the choices are… Childish Vocabulary! Or Baby Babble!”

Isabelle felt her heart sink even further. The game was trying to turn her into some kind of babyish freak!

“And for the cutest adult toddler on stage,” Jacob went on, flashing a wink at Kimberly, “the options are… Cute Lisp! Or Always Rhyming!”

Kimberly’s kip trembled, but she supposed the options weren’t as bad as what the other two had. Still, she couldn’t decide which was worse. Always Rhyming sounded like she’d be forced to speak in stupid rhymes whenever she spoke! The very idea of it made her face redden. But was talking with a dumb, babyish lisp really any better?

“Cast your votes everyone!” Jacob called, “Let’s see just how adorable we can make our three little ladies!”

[mellowsadistic]

Babe Or Billionaire - Chapter 3

“And that’s it!” Jacob called. “Voting is done! Let’s see what kind of outfits our little ladies are going to be wearing from now on!” He turned to the giant screen that faced both stage and audience. “Starting with our favourite swimsuit model, it looks like Isabelle will be sporting some stylish Bibs and Bonnets from now on! Oh dear… I can’t imagine those are going to match your sexy bikinis, are they sweetie?”

Isabelle felt a shiver of horror run down her spine. Then she gasped in shock as the shivers continued, spreading across her chest and around her head. As if from nowhere, fabric materialised around her neck and spread down over her breasts, forming a large, pale-pink bib that hid her generous cleavage from view. At the same time, the periphery of her vision was obscured with cloth as a knitted bonnet grew over her head like a hood over her luscious blonde hair, and snaked down two pieces of string that tied themselves securely beneath her chin.

The crowd cheered and applauded, while Isabelle stood behind her podium, her face contorted with distress. The stage hands who had brought out the mirror for Kimberly last round brought it out for her now, and Isabelle could only stare in shock and embarrassment at her new look. Her pink bib and bonnet clashed absurdly with her tight black dress. In only a few moments, she had gone from looking like a beautiful, stylish young woman to a ridiculous fusion of sexy model and adult baby. This couldn’t be permanent!

With a sudden thrill of terror, Isabelle’s hands sprang to her new accessories, and she attempted to rip them off and hurl them away – but her hands wouldn’t cooperate. The moment her fingers touched her bib and bonnet, they instantly became so weak and feeble that they couldn’t even grasp the material. It was as if some part of her knew she was trying to take them off, and wouldn’t let her! She let out a squeal of dismay, patting her hands uselessly against her new bib while Jacob joined in the audience’s laugher and chuckled at her futile efforts.

“I’m afraid that’s not going to work, darling,” he said patronisingly. “I meant what I said before. Your new clothing style is permanent, unless you win the game and remove the penalty. You’ll still be able to take them off to have a bath and things like that, but you’ll find that whether it’s a bikini at the beach, lingerie in the bedroom, a sexy dress at the club, or even just casual lounging-about clothes, no outfit of yours will be complete without an adorable bib and bonnet to top it off.”

Isabelle’s hands fell limply to her sides, and she felt tears of anger and shame welling up in her eyes. Her lower lip trembled, but she held herself together. She wasn’t going to give Jacob or the audience the satisfaction of seeing her bawl her eyes out. How dare they do this to her! But it was no matter… It was only one penalty after all. She could easily undo it once she’d won!

“Now then, I’d normally ask what Kimberly and Eily think of your cute little bonnet,” Jacob went on, grinning horribly as he turned to the other contestants, “but they’ve got some new outfits of their own to be dealing with. Next up is Kimberly, our cute little wanna-be lawyer!” He looked back to the giant screen. “And it looks like the winning penalty is…. Toddler Style! Congratulations, Kimmy! Your new look is going to go perfectly with those precious pigtails!”

Kimberly let out a whimper, and the changes began right away. Her white crop top lengthened to conceal her slim tummy, and her jeans expanded up the front of her body, looping straps over her shoulders, becoming a set of denim dungarees. Then colour burst into life on her chest as a large yellow duck appeared emblazoned on the front, and clipped to one of the strap-buttons of her new outfit, a bright pink pacifier materialised into being on the end of a chord.

Kimberly wailed as the stage hands moved the mirror in front of her, and she was able to take in her new appearance fully. She looked so stupid! It had only been two rounds and the game had already turned her into a dumb, pigtailed toddler dressed up in babyish overalls! There was no way anyone would trust her with legal matters dressed like this. Tears leaked down her cheeks and she sniffled pathetically, even while the audience clapped and screamed its approval. Her boyfriend was going to laugh himself silly when he saw her, she thought miserably. If he didn’t just dump her. What guy would want to go out with a girl who always dressed like she was three years old?! Kimberly looked down at her feet and sobbed. She’d never be able to practise law looking like this!

“Awww, don’t cry, Kimmy,” Jacob cooed condescendingly. “I think you look absolutely precious!” He laughed, then turned his attention to the giant screen once again. “And last but not least, our very own bitchy businesswoman, Eily! And it looks like she’s going to be swapping that boring old pantsuit for a hot new uniform! The winning result is Sexy Schoolgirl!”

Eily gripped the podium to steady herself. She felt nauseous. This couldn’t be happening… not to her! But when she looked down, she saw that her beige suit had already started to melt away. Her trousers disappeared from the ankles up, transforming into a scandalously short plaid miniskirt that barely reached her mid-thighs, and exposed her long, slender legs. Her suit jacket vanished entirely, as did her sensible bra, and her white shirt became semi-transparent as it rose up to reveal her well-toned stomach and tie itself in a knot just under her breasts. The outlines of her nipples were just about visible through the thin fabric. Her smart shoes became buckled high-heels that lifted her at least two extra inches off the ground, and her grey socks whitened and stretched up all the way above her knees, ending in a ring of frills and a pair of scarlet bows. To top it off, a stupidly short plaid tie materialised around her neck, hanging loosely between her breasts, and when the stage hands brought the mirror out in front of her, she saw what looked like a small school crest just above her left breast. She peered at the reversed letters and made out the words, “Babygirl Academy of Bitches”.

Eily gritted her teeth furiously while the audience cheered, and promised herself that when she won the game, she’d use a portion of the money to make sure everyone responsible for this was punished. She looked like a vapid college bimbo!

“Very nice, Eily!” Jacob called approvingly over the jeers and wolf-whistles of the crowd. “I wouldn’t mind giving you a few remedial lessons, if you know what I mean…”

Eily shot him a look of utter loathing, but he just chuckled and winked.

“Well then,” Jacob went on, “there’s no use in wasting time! Let’s move on to the next round! An audience favourite, the penalties for the third round will be… Potty Training!”

The crowd cheered louder than they had done so far, and Isabelle, Kimberly, and Eily felt their hearts drop into their stomachs. Potty training?!

“You know the drill, girls,” said Jacob, as the screens on their podiums came to life.

Kimberly was still sobbing quietly. She could barely see the screen through her tears, but what difference did it make? There was no strategy here! She made her choice with a trembling finger, praying that she couldn’t lose this round as well. Even if she won the game, there were only two more penalties she could remove in addition to the ones she already had – any more than that and she’d have to start prioritising. Did she want to dress like a toddler for the rest of her life, or just have the hairstyle of one? She hiccupped pathetically.

Isabelle and Eily made their choices too, and a moment later, the screens on the front of their podiums illuminated their choices.

Kimberly wailed, Isabelle let out a whimpering moan, and Eily sighed with relief. The businesswoman turned schoolgirl had chosen scissors. Both the other girls had chosen paper.

“Uh-oh!” Jacob sang happily. “It looks like we’ve got two little ladies who might be saying bye-bye to pottying like big girls! Let’s see what the penalties are! Starting with Isabelle, we have… Always Wet! Or Totally Incontinent!”

“No!” Isabelle shrieked, her eyes wide and terrified, but Jacob just shot her a smirk and carried on.

“And for Kimmy, the choices are… Pants-Wetter! Or Stuck In Training!”

Kimberly burst into a fit of hysterical tears.

“So what will it be, ladies and gents?” Jacob asked. “Will Isabelle lose her bladder control and find herself unable to keep her diapers dry for more than a second, peeing them without fail the moment she ever changes into a new one? Or will she lose her potty training completely and end up totally diaper-dependent for the rest of her days? And what about Kimberly? Will she become a girl who frequently wets her pants, but who’s too proud for pull-ups and constantly leaves little puddles on the floor? Or will she end up stuck in a state of perpetual potty training, never graduating out of training pants, forever dependent on a caregiver to take her to the toilet? Vote now!”

[mellowsadistic]

Babe Or Billionaire - Chapter 2

“And the votes are in!” Jacob called happily, turning towards the giant screen again. “The winner, by a considerable margin is… Pigtails! Congratulations, Kimmy! You’re swapping that long, sophisticated hairdo for something a little more age appropriate. You’re still a student, after all! Although unless you win tonight’s game, you’re going to be stuck with your new look long after you graduate… But I’m sure you’re going to look absolutely adorable. Now let’s get those nanites to work!”

Kimberly squealed as she felt a sudden tingling all over her scalp. She reached up to clutch at her hair, only to feel it moving by itself, twisting out of her grip and rearranging itself into two pigtails high on either side of her head. The nanites were real! She shrieked and grabbed at the neon-pink hair bobbles that had suddenly materialised around her hair, holding it in its new shape, and tried to tug them off. But they wouldn’t budge. All she managed to do was yank painfully on her hair, although not a strand left her head.

“What have you done to me?!” Kimberly cried.

“Bring the mirror out!” Jacob called happily, and a couple of stage hands immediately rushed forwards holding a floor-length mirror, which they stood directly in front of Kimberly.

She stared at her reflection, aghast. She looked absurd. Her beautiful brown hair was tied up in a pair of scruffy pigtails that gave her the look of an oversized toddler. They weren’t even symmetrical! She looked like a little girl who’d had her hair hastily done up for her by her Mummy!

“But… But…” she stammered, unable to take her eyes of her new hairstyle. “But this can’t be permanent! It can’t!”

The audience tittered, and Jacob chuckled along with them. “You did read the contract, didn’t you Kimmy?” he smirked. “I wasn’t joking earlier. This is what your hair will be like from now on, unless you win the game and choose it as one of your three penalties to remove.”

Kimberly’s lower lip trembled, and she felt her tears welling up in her eyes. She didn’t want to look like a stupid child for the rest of her life! She couldn’t practise law like this! And what would her boyfriend say if she showed up back at their apartment looking like a giant six-year-old? He already teased her for being dependent on him! If she looked like a child, he’d never take her seriously again!

Isabelle was looking very nervous too, and even Eily’s cold demeanour had slipped at a little at the sight of Kimberly’s penalty. Both of them knew it could just have easily been them standing in front of their podiums with ludicrous toddler hairstyles.

The giant screen displayed the current scores:

Isabelle – 1

Kimberly – 0

Eily – 1

“What do you think of Kimmy’s new hairstyle, Isabelle? Jacob asked, and the swimsuit model looked frightened at having been addressed so suddenly. She quickly rearranged her features into an easy smile, however. She knew this was the kind of game where it paid to have the audience on side. She had to convince them to pick on the other girls and give her the penalties that weren’t so bad.

“I love it!” she said, smirking nastily at the tearful Kimberly. “I think silly little pigtails suit her very well. Of course, nobody’s ever going to think of her as an adult when she’s got the same hairstyle as my two-year-old niece, but she sure is cute! Even if she does hate it!”

Many in the audience murmured and clapped in agreement. Kimberly only whimpered.

“And what do you think, Eily?”

Eily raised an eyebrow. “Don’t be fooled by her little teary-eyed act, Jacob. She’s a twenty-three-year-old student. She’s probably used to having her hair up in a pair of little slut handlebars. This is just going to make her more popular with all the boys.”

The audience chuckled appreciatively, and Kimberly stared at Eily in shock. How dare she!

“Of course, a change in hairstyle is hardly the worst thing that can happen to you,” Jacob said, turning back to the crowd. “But don’t worry, there’s going to be an awful lot more excitement for these ladies this evening – which brings us onto our next round! The theme for the penalties this time will be… Clothing!”

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, and all three girls on stage felt their stomachs drop. What had they gotten themselves into? The screens on their podiums lit up once again with the images of rock, paper, or scissors.

Isabelle looked up and tried to catch one of the other women’s eyes. Was there some way they could signal some sort of agreement? Would that even help, when it was just rock, paper, scissors? Was this really just a stupid game of chance when it had so much on the line?! Neither Kimberly nor Eily noticed her, however. They were already making their decisions. Isabelle looked down at her screen, a knot of anxiety in her stomach, and made hers.

The fronts of their podiums lit up, revealing their choices. Isabelle had chosen rock again, Kimberly had chosen paper, and Eily had chosen scissors.

The audience roared with pleasure, and Jacob laughed. “Oh dear! A three-way tie! Sorry girls, but I’m afraid that means you all lose this round. All three of you will be getting a brand-new theme for your outfits, and you’re going to find it utterly impossible to wear anything else. If you try to wear something that doesn’t conform to your new clothing style, it will automatically morph on your body into something more suitable! Isn’t that wonderful?”

Isabelle, Kimberly, and Eily all stared at him in horror.

“Let’s look at what the audience’s options are shall we? Starting with Isabelle, the penalties are… Bibs And Bonnets! Or Adorable Slogans!

Isabelle’s felt sick. Bibs And Bonnets sounded like she’d be dressed up like a baby! And Adorable Slogans… She thought of the clothes her niece used to wear, the ridiculous onesies with phrases like Mummy’s Little Stinker written on the front. Was that what that meant?! Either one of those penalties would ruin her modelling career! They’d ruin her whole life!

“For Kimberly,” Jacob continued, “the options are… Princess Obsessed! Or Toddler Style!”

Kimberly whimpered. It looked like either way she was getting something to match her new hairstyle, whether it was Disney princesses or dungarees. She was only two rounds in and she’d already lost both. At this rate even if she won, she’d still be stuck with a load of penalties! Who cares how much money she had if she couldn’t even dress like an adult?!

“And for Eily,” Jacob went on, “it’s a choice between… Sexy Schoolgirl! Or Slutty Secretary!”

Eily’s mouth fell open. Sexy Schoolgirl? Slutty Secretary? She was a CEO! She was a respectable adult woman! She didn’t play dress-up like some kind of fetish pornstar! The idea of either of the options was enough to turn her stomach.

“Well there you have it, ladies and gentlemen,” Jacob said. “Those are your options! Now it’s time to vote on a new clothing style for all three of our lucky contestants!”

[mellowsadistic]

Babe Or Billionaire - Chapter 1

Three women compete in a game show where the penalties are humiliating, infantilizing, and possibly permanent.

When I first released this story, I let readers vote on what happened to the contestants in a series of polls, so that’s why the structure is the way it is. All voting is now concluded!

***

“Welcome everybody!” called a strong, male voice. “I’m Jacob, your host, and this is Babe or Billionaire, the game show where our contestants either walk away with more money than they could ever dream… or they say bye-bye to their big girl privileges forever!”

There were loud cheers and applause from the live studio audience as a spotlight lit up Jacob’s tall, well-built frame and ruggedly handsome features.

“Before we start, let me fill you in on the rules! The contestants will compete in a game of rock, paper, scissors each round. The winners will gain points, and the one with the most points at the end of the game will win our fabulous cash prize! But when one (or more) of our girls loses, our game master behind the scenes will bring up a selection of delightful penalties that you the audience get to vote on!”

More shouts and woops echoed throughout the studio.

“Now let’s meet the contestants!” said Jacob, turning to face the three women who were each standing in front of a podium, suddenly illuminated by the stage lights. Jacob gestured towards the one on the left, a beautiful blonde woman in a short black dress that exposed her slender legs and gave particular focus to her generous chest.

“Isabelle here is a twenty-seven-year-old model, known for her saucy swimsuit sets and her demanding attitude during a shoot! She wants to win the prize money so she can attend the finest events and galas in the country and get the respect she deserves – and so she never has to do another nude set!”

The audience laughed and began catcalling and wolf-whistling.

Isabelle scowled at Jacob’s comments and surveyed the crowd with distaste. She’d happily have given them all the middle finger, but she knew it wasn’t a good idea to piss off the audience in a game like this, so she forced a bright smile and blew a kiss at them instead.

Jacob moved on to the girl in the middle, a pretty, nervous-looking girl dressed in skinny jeans and a white crop-top that exposed her tummy.

“Kimberly is a twenty-three-year-old law student. She’s the top of her class, and she hopes to use her prize money to start her own legal practice! That will make a nice change from relying on your boyfriend financially, won’t it Kimmy?”

The crowd cheered and roared again. Kimberly smiled at the audience, trying to conceal the way their eager, almost hungry expressions unsettled her. She felt a prickle of anger and shame at Jacob’s words as well. Her boyfriend was just helping her out! She couldn’t stand the thought of people thinking she was some sort of trophy-girlfriend who couldn’t get by without a man. It wasn’t as though she was going to be dependent on Paul forever!

“And lastly, we have Eily!” Jacob continued, moving on to the third and final contestant, a slightly cold and serious looking woman dressed in a beige pantsuit, her dark hair tied up in a neat bun behind her head. “Eily is a thirty-one-year-old businesswoman so devoted to her career that she staged a hostile takeover of her own now ex-husband’s company! But there’s always room for growth, and she wants to take her business to new heights with the prize money from today’s game!”

The audience applauded and cheered again, and Eily was sure she could hear jeering mixed in as well. She nodded coolly at the crowd. She wasn’t like those two little bimbos sharing the stage with her, and she was going to make sure the audience knew it. There weren’t just men in the seats opposite them – there were a fair number of women too, and Eily was sure she could get them on side with her calm, professional demeanour. Eily knew how to deal with other women; they didn’t like it when younger girls dressed and acted like ditzy little sluts.

“Each of them has been dosed with our special nanomachines,” Jacob went on, a smirk playing across his mouth, “and our tech boys behind the stage will be responsible for giving our little ladies their penalties – we can alter their outfits, their bodies, even their minds! And remember, the one with the most points at the end of the game will be allowed to remove three of her penalties, but the losers will be stuck with theirs for the rest of their lives… Now it’s time to play – Babe or Billionaire! The theme for tonight’s first penalty will be… Hairstyle!”

At once, the screens on the girls’ podiums lit up, displaying a picture of a rock, a piece of paper, and a pair of scissors. All three women snuck glances at each other, but it was impossible to see what anyone else was selecting. With three pings, they made their decisions, and the fronts of their podiums lit up to reveal their choices to each other and the audience.

Kimberly’s heart sank when she saw them. She’d chosen scissors, but both Isabelle and Eily had chosen rock. What exactly did a hairstyle penalty mean? Were they going to dye her hair a ridiculous colour or something?

“Ooh, sorry Kimmy!” said Jacob, with faux pity in his voice. “But it looks like you’re the loser of our first round! And that means you’ll be getting a change in hairstyle. Rest assured, once your new hairstyle gets chosen, our nanites will make sure you can never style your hair any other way. Your hair will force itself into a predetermined look no matter how hard you try to alter it!”

“I... I… What?!” Kimberly squealed. She ran her hands through her long, luscious brown hair almost automatically, an anxious expression on her face. She felt a horrible wave of fear wash over her. What exactly had she got herself into? Was all that talk about nanomachines actually real? When she’d looked over the contract, she’d just assumed it was some stupid fake gimmick!

“Let’s see what the options are!” said Jacob, turning towards the large screen that faced half to the audience and half to the stage. “So ladies and gentlemen, your choices are… Pigtails! Golden Curls! Or Baby Tuft! Oh dear, Kimmy. It looks like you’ll be saying goodbye to that lovely long hair of yours one way or the other! Now everyone, vote on the tablets attached to your chairs and let’s decide what pretty Kimmy’s locks are going to be like from now on! Will she have a pair of adorable pigtails sticking out from either side of her head? A set of golden curls to make any toddler jealous? Or will she be left with some little tufts of baby hair on a mostly bald head? Vote now!”

[mellowsadistic]

Mantras I think are important to say everyday....

“Grown-up clothes are for grown-ups. I wear what makes changing easier.”

“My accidents aren’t mistakes. They’re reminders that I’m not in control.”

"I’m not allowed to act grown when I can’t even keep my diapers clean".

"I'm not dressed for independence — I'm dressed for supervision".

[mellowsadistic]

Weekend vibes! 🤗

Just chilling in bed. Coffee and cuddles, playing with stuffies, and letting her night diaper get fuller and fuller 😇💦 Yes daddy, I can take it off myself! Oh don't you love the sight of her silk skin and her beautiful bummie, boobies and blonde hair? 😍 

Enjoy the whole photoset on our Patreon and JFF!

[mellowsadistic]

Daddy, I had an accident 😳💦

Littlegirl was in a very naughty mood. She was showing her new cute outfit and she was so excited that she wet herself. Then we started dancing, having a good time and daddy just let her do it in her wet pants! 💦😍

Enjoy this photoset on Patreon and JFF!

[mellowsadistic]

The Regression Sentence - Part 4

Five Years Later

Hannah opened the door to her old office and toddled inside, carrying a load of files in her arms. “Here you go, Mith Vivian,” she said, blushing at her stupid lisp as she deposited the paperwork on her former secretary’s desk. She was legally an adult again, but she was finding a lot of the babyish habits she’d developed over the last five years hard to shift.

“Good girl, Hannah!” Vivian cooed, glancing up briefly from her work to flash her a smile.

Hannah pouted, and had to resist the urge to stamp her foot in frustration. It wasn’t fair! Her sentence was over! She was supposed to have her old life back, and yet here she was stuck as her ex-secretary’s “little helper”. Hannah fidgeted with the edge of her frilly dress, and heard a faint crinkling sound coming from beneath it. Her face reddened. That was another thing that was supposed to be over.

She turned away, intending to go and sit quietly in her play corner until Miss Vivian needed another errand running, but her former secretary’s voice stopped her. “One moment, little one,” she said sweetly, and Hannah turned back around to see her dotting the ‘i’s of her report and closing the cover. Then she looked up and smiled broadly. “I was just wondering…” she began in a stage whisper, “if there were any little girls in this room who need their nappies changed.”

Hannah turned scarlet, and this time she really did stomp her foot. “I’m nodda widdle girl!” she whined petulantly.

Vivian chuckled. “You’re right, sweetie,” she said, her smile widening even further. “I should rephrase what I said. Let me try again – are there any thirty-four-year-old ex-businesswomen in this room who’ve pissed in their adult nappies and need their former secretaries to wipe their asses for them?”

Hannah’s lower lip wobbled. She didn’t want to let Miss Vivian see she was upset, but five years of tantrums had reduced her emotional control to nothing, and she couldn’t stop herself bursting into tears like a little girl. “WAAAAAAAH!” she wailed. “IT’S NOT FAIR! I DON’T WANNA WEAR NAPPIES ANYMORE! I’M S’PPOSED TO BE A BIG GIWL!”

Vivian chuckled again, looking satisfied, but she put on an expression of mock-sympathy and pulled the crying woman into a cuddle. “Poor baby,” she cooed. “Is someone having a widdle waah-waah? Let it all out, darling. Miss Vivian’s here to hold you.”

Hannah sobbed miserably into her former subordinate’s cleavage, and felt Miss Vivian’s hand sneak down her back to squeeze the sodden diaper between her thighs. She could practically sense the grin on her face as she checked her ex-boss’s nappy and found it used.

“Whoopsie-daisy!” Vivian sang happily. “It looks like the pee-pee fairy came to visit your nappy, didn’t it darling? Your diapee’s full of yucky-wucky wee-wee!”

Hannah cried even harder at that. She was legally an adult again! This was all supposed to be over! She was allowed to have a career again and be self-sufficient, but it turned out most places weren’t willing to hire a woman who’d spent the last five years living as a two-year-old. Mummy had insisted she try to get a job though, and the only place that would take her was her old work, where she was treated like some combination of lowly intern and office mascot, earning minimum wage to waddle around the office running errands, getting teased and cooed over by all the people who’d once been beneath her.

She was technically an adult again, but nobody treated her like one. She was even allowed to have sex, something she’d been denied for half a decade, but Mummy said boys wouldn’t want to go out with a girl who still needed nappies. Silly girl, they’re gonna run a mile when they find out you still poop your pants! Best to just forget about icky boys and play with your dollies instead. She’d tried to seduce Peter when she’d come back to the office, but he’d just laughed and tickled her under the chin.

Her nappies were the worst. Even after five years she hadn’t gotten used to them. They were yucky and bulky and loud and stinky. She hated them. She’d tried desperately to get potty trained again, of course, but the ability to plant her adult bottom on a little plastic potty seat before she had an accident had proved to be beyond her. When she’d been taken to the doctor and told that the effects of the special formula on her bladder and bowels were likely irreversible, she’d had the biggest meltdown of her life. She’d spent the last five years looking forward to the day when she could finally be rid of nappies forever, only to be told right at the end that soaked and stinky diapers would forever be part of her wardrobe.

“Come along, sweetheart,” Miss Vivian cooed, unable to keep the sadistic delight out of her voice as she pulled out of the cuddle and led the still tearful woman over to the corner of the room where an adult-sized rocking cradle sat waiting. “You’ll feel better after a little nap-nap, okay miss potty pants? Have a little sleep and Miss Vivian will change that soggy nappy later. I’m afraid I’m far too busy to do it right now.”

Hannah sobbed pathetically, but allowed herself to be laid down in the cradle and have a bright pink pacifier shoved into her mouth to keep her quiet. Her pissy diaper squelched between her legs.

“That’s a good girl,” Vivian crooned, grinning down nastily at her former bitchy boss. “Have a lovely sleep, little one. Maybe you’ll even get to dream about being a grown-up!”

The End

[mellowsadistic]

The Regression Sentence - Part 3

“Bad girl, Hannah!” Mrs Whitehouse scolded her daughter, delivering a smack to the top of her thigh and making her squeal indignantly. “You do not ask for a nappy change, little lady! And you especially do not demand one! Mummy will decide when it’s time to change you out of your icky wet diaper.”

“But Mummyyyy,” Hannah whined, whimpering and trying to protect her bottom with her hands as her mother delivered another swat to her rear, “It’s so disgusting! And you made me take a stupid nap in it!”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s a little bit yucky, Hannah,” Mrs Whitehouse said sternly. “You’re just a baby.”

Hannah clenched her mouth shut to stop herself yelling at her mother. She was a grown woman!

“Besides,” Mrs Whitehouse went on, “your nappy’s only wet. The pamphlets the court gave me recommend not changing you at least until you’ve made a poo-poo.”

Hannah went scarlet. “I’m not gonna poop my pants!” she screeched.

“Oh yes you will,” her mother said. “Your special formula does more than just weaken your bladder, little one. And Mummy feed you an awful lot of yummy baby food. After your little nap, I’d say it’s only a matter of time before the poopy express arrives.”

Hannah cringed at her mother’s words and shook her head desperately. She would never do that in her pants. But she squirmed uncomfortably on the spot when she realised her mother was right – she did need to go. She could already feel the growing pressure building in her bottom.

“But there’s no need to worry about that now, baby,” her mother said. “It’s time to go downstairs! While you were napping, some visitors arrived to see you!”

“Visitors?!” Hannah squealed, feeling as though someone had just dumped a bucket of ice over her head. She couldn’t be seen like this!

“That’s right, sweetie,” said Mrs Whitehouse, ignoring her daughter’s protests and grabbing her by the arm and dragging her out of her nursery. “Now come along or Mummy will have to spank you again.”

“But Mummy,” Hannah whimpered, “I’m not dressed!”

“Yes you are, honey,” her mother said, glancing over her nearly naked body. “Silly babies like you don’t need to wear anything but their diapers.”

Hannah’s bottom lip trembled as she focused on the sore, red bottom hiding beneath her pee-soaked nappy. She didn’t want to go through that again. But she didn’t want anybody to see her looking like an oversized toddler either! What exactly did visitors mean? Someone from the court come to check up on her, to make sure she really was being treated like a two-year-old?

But when her mother led her downstairs and into the living room, Hannah felt as though her heart had stopped. It wasn’t someone from the court. Half a dozen people were stood around waiting for her, and she recognised all of them.

Her coworkers, her former coworkers, all burst into laughter at the sight of her.

Hannah just stood there, bowlegged in her sodden nappy, with her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ of surprise. She felt almost dizzy with shame. This couldn’t be real. It had to be some sort of nightmare!

“That look really suits you, Hannah!” Peter laughed. He was a handsome man around her own age. They’d slept together sometimes, but now he was looking at her with a mixture of amusement and disbelief, his eyes travelling over her bare breasts and down to her sagging nappy.

“Yeah, nice diapers!” Beatrice taunted. She and her friends had never got on with Hannah – they’d made no secret of how much they disliked what they called her ‘superior attitude’, and now they were all cackling like witches together, clearly overjoyed by her little demotion.

“I think someone needs a change!” somebody tittered.

“It wooks wike baby has a vewy wet nappy!” another cooed.

“Awww, look how red she’s getting! That’s adorable!”

Hannah wished she could sink into the ground and disappear. She wished she could turn the tables on the whole lot of them! Her entire body was trembling with shame and fury. She opened her mouth, intending to shout, to scream that she was a grown woman who deserved respect. But a moment later, her bowels suddenly lurched into life. The pressure in her bottom became impossible to control almost immediately. For half a second, Hannah clamped down on her sphincter and tried to hold it in. But then it was too late.

Before she could do a thing to stop herself, as if her body were acting on autopilot, Hannah scrunched up her bright red face, stuck her thickly padded bottom out behind her, and started pooping her diaper.

She was barely aware of it as her audience shrieked and roared with laughter. She was too busy squatting there in disbelief as her body filled her nappy with the yuckiest of messes. She felt absurd. She felt like a joke. Come and see! The amazing, pants-filling adult baby! She’s gone from boardrooms to baby pants! How could anyone ever take her seriously again?! How could she take herself seriously? She’d been turned into a big, stinky baby!

“WAAAAAAAH!” Hannah cried pathetically, as she finished messing her pants and straightened up with a heavy load in her britches. She could feel it weighing down the back of her nappy, causing it to sag even lower between her legs. “WAAAAAAH! I don’t wanna be a BABY! I don’t wanna! I wanna be a GROWN-UP!”

Her former coworkers just laughed even harder, and her mother came up to her with a satisfied smile, then led her gently over to the large changing may laid out in the middle of the floor. “Come on, stinky pants,” she said gently, wrinkling her nose a little. “Time for a nappy change.”

Hannah didn’t have the energy to resist as her mother lowered her down onto the mat and started undoing the tapes of her loaded diaper. She was too busy sobbing. But even her crying couldn’t block out the sound of the laughs and ‘ewwws’ as her mother opened her nappy, lifted her legs into the air by her ankles, and started wiping her clean with a back of baby wipes.

“Oh hush, little one,” Mrs Whitehouse said, swatting her daughter’s bare bottom playfully while she sobbed and wailed. “You have to get used to your new life, sweetie, because it’ll be a long, long time before you get to go back to being an adult. No more business for you, baby. No more boys either. Just staying with Mummy and being a good little baby 24/7 for the next five years!”

Lying on her back with her legs in the air, in the middle of the first of many nappy changes, the businesswoman-turned-baby could only cry at the top of her lungs.

[mellowsadistic]

The Regression Sentence - Part 2

“Mummy, please!” Hannah sobbed, kicking and squealing over her mother’s knee as her plump bare bottom got redder and redder. “I’m sorry!”

“You’d better be sorry, young lady,” her mother said, still raining smacks down on her exposed rear. Hannah’s nappy had been pulled down to allow more access to her rapidly reddening tushy. “I’m not going to tolerate naughty tantrums, missy! Mummy didn’t set up a lovely nursery for you just to have to stomp your feet and say it’s too babyish! You’ll be sleeping in a crib for the next five years, so you’d better get used to it!”

“I’m sowwy!” Hannah cried, her diction falling apart as tears fell down her cheeks and she started taking in heaving, gasping breaths. “Pwease, Mummy! I’ll be a good giwl!”

Finally, Mrs Whitehouse stopped. “That’s better, sweetheart. Mummy knows you just need a little time to adjust. You need to start thinking of yourself as a big two-year-old, okay darling? Nothing’s too babyish for you anymore.”

Hannah sobbed and nodded her head, even as she cringed and seethed on the inside.

“Now, come along, baby.” Her mother taped her diaper back into place and pulled her to her feet. “It’s lunchtime! Off we go to the kitchen. There’s a good girl.”

With her mother holding tightly onto her hand, Hannah was led out of her new pastel-pink nursery and down the stairs. She hated the way her nappy bulged between her legs, giving her the awkward, unsteady gait of a young toddler – if he mother wasn’t holding onto her hand, she’d probably topple right over and fall on her bottom. She hated too how loud it was, how it crinkled noisily with every step she took, a constant reminder of what she’d been demoted to.

The two of them entered the kitchen, and Hannah stopped dead. “What… what’s that, Mummy?” she asked, falteringly staring at the thing in front of her.

“That’s your highchair, silly!” said her mother brightly. “It’s where Mummy feeds you.” She patted her daughter’s bottom – even through the thick padding of her nappy, it was enough to make Hannah wince. “Now climb in, honey. Time to get some num-nums in your tummy.”

Her face nearly as red as her bottom, Hannah clambered into the oversized highchair that sat at the kitchen table while her mother busied herself with the cupboards. She winced again as she sat down; her bum was throbbing painfully. A few moments later, Mrs Whitehouse approached her daughter with a broad smile and plonked an enormous bowl of baby food down on the tray in front of her. She scooped up a spoonful and said, “Open wide, baby! Here comes the aeroplane!”

Hannah kept her mouth sealed shut. She wasn’t going to eat baby food!

“Come on, sweetheart,” her mother cooed, pressing the spoon against her daughter’s lips, leaving a smear of baby food over them. “I promise it’s very yummy. It’s specially designed for women undergoing regression sentences, so it has all the nutrients you need. I’ve used your bank account to pay for a whole five years’ worth in advance!”

“You did wha-?!” Hannah demanded, but before she could get all the words out, her mother had shoved the spoonful of baby food into her open mouth. The taste wasn’t as bad as she’d been expecting, but something about the mushy texture turned her stomach.

“There’s a good girl!” her mother praised. “Good baby, Hannah!”

Meekly, Hannah allowed herself to be fed the rest of the bowl, and by the end of it, her stomach felt full to bursting. She was normally very careful about her diet, making sure never to overeat and ruin her figure – how many calories were in baby food?

But her meal wasn’t over. Her mother went away to put something inside the microwave, and thirty seconds later, she took out a large bottle of warm baby formula. Hannah felt queasy just looking at it. It was huge!

“Back to your nursery now, little one,” her mother said sweetly. “Mummy will feed you there and we can have a little cuddle.”

Hannah cringed again, but her sore, red bottom was still fresh in her mind, and she obediently allowed her mother to take her hand and lead her back upstairs, into her new bedroom. It was the room she’d had as a child, only her bed had been replaced with an enormous crib, complete with a hanging mobile above, the walls had been painted a soft pink and decorated with various babyish designs that matched the ones on her nappy, and an adult sized changing table stood in the centre of the room, with a large diaper pail squatting beside it. Her mother took her over to a rocking chair that sat in the corner, and, pulling Hannah face-up across her lap, she took a seat.

Hannah squirmed in her mother’s lap. She felt so helpless, so exposed, so infantilised being held like this, with her mother’s arm cradling her head.

“Time for your baba,” Mrs Whitehouse cooed, gazing down adoringly at her adult daughter, reduced to a babe in arms. She pressed the nipple of the bottle to Hannah’s mouth and slipped it between her lips. There was a moment’s pause, when Hannah looked as though she might be about to protest, but then she averted her eyes and began to suck.

The rich, sweet baby formula slipped down her throat, settling heavily in her stomach with the baby food, and as she suckled, Hannah started to feel so warm and relaxed that she thought she might even drift off, no matter how humiliated she was at being bottle-fed like an infant. Slowly she sucked and sucked until all the milk was gone, and her mother continued to hold her in her lap. She was half asleep when something suddenly jolted her back to full awareness. A powerful, growing achiness in her bladder.

She started squirming almost unconsciously, and before her mother could stop her, she’d slid out of her lap and stood up, pressing her hands to her groin.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” her mother asked lightly, but there was a note of amusement in her tone.

“I’ve got to… I really have to…” She had to get to the bathroom now! Hannah blushed furiously and turned to leave the room, but her mother reached out to grab her arm.

“Uh-uh, little one. Where do you think you’re running off to? You need to stay where Mummy can see you.”

“But Mummy,” she whined, “I need to use the toilet!”

“Silly baby,” her mother tittered. “That’s what your nappies are for!”

But Hannah was barely listening. She was doing a full on potty dance now, squirming and bouncing on the spot with one hand pressed against her crotch. She wasn’t even sure she’d make it even if her mother let her go! “I can’t hold… Please! I need to go right now! Why do I need to go so badly?!”

“Just a little something in your baba, baby,” her mother said sweetly.

Hannah looked up quickly, her mouth hanging open. “What did you do to me?!” she shrieked.

Her mother cocked her head innocently. “It’s nothing to worry about, sweetheart. It’s just a little cocktail to help you lose that pesky potty training a bit faster. It’s recommended for all girls going through a regression sentence. Once you’ve been drinking it for a few weeks, you’ll be right back to where you were when you were two years old – not toilet trained at all!”

“No!” Hannah cried, looking utterly horrified. Her mother wanted to drug her up and make her incontinent!? “You can’t!”

Her mother raised an eyebrow at her sternly. “Hannah,” she said warningly, “Mummy’s already had to give your naughty bum-bum a spanking once today. If you think you’re too grown-up to use your pants as a potty then you’ve got another thing coming, young lady. You’re just a big two-year-old now, and two-year-olds aren’t potty trained.” Mrs Whitehouse delivered a sharp smack to the top of her daughter’s thigh, and Hannah gasped as her bladder released, and she started flooding her nappy with a powerful rush of pee. She felt the warmth spreading across her crotch, soaking into the thirsty padding of her diaper and causing it to sag down between her thighs.

“Ew! Ew! Ewww!” she cried. She reached for the tapes, intending the rip the disgusting thing off her bottom, but her mother slapped her hands away.

“No-no, Hannah,” she said slowly, shaking a finger at her like she was scolding an actual toddler. “That’s a no-no. You don’t play with your nappy. Mummy will change you when you need it. But right now, you’re acting very fussy, and I think you could do with a nap.”

“But it’s so disgusting!” Hannah cried, shifting from foot to foot and screwing up her face in revulsion as the heavy, pissy padding squished and sagged between her legs. “And I don’t need a nap! And I don’t want to drink any of that formula ever again!”

Mrs Whitehouse just shook her head with a patient smile on her face. “Babies don’t know what’s best for them,” she said condescendingly.

Hannah gritted her teeth with fury, but her bottom gave another painful throb, and she bit back her retort. She felt pathetic, but the truth was she didn’t want to go over her mother’s knee again. And she didn’t want to go to prison either. And she especially didn’t want to be sent to a state run adult discipline nursery. Was this really going to be her life for the next five years of her life? Being spanked like a child and made to take naps in a crib wearing wet fucking diapers?

Her mother stripped her until she was standing in her bedroom in nothing but her drooping baby pants. With an encouraging pat to her padded bottom, she climbed into her crib and lay on her back while her mother pulled up the side and locked it into place, leaving her trapped. She flicked a switch, and the mobile above Hannah’s head came to life. Cartoonish farmyard animals dangled from it. It started turning gently, and a sweet, tinkling, irritatingly infantile tune began to play.

“Have a good nap-nap, baby,” her mother said in a sickeningly sweet voice, and she turned out the lights and left Hannah alone in her nursery.

Clenching her eyes shut and holding her pillow over her ears to block out the tinkling lullaby sounds, Hannah did her best to ignore the hot, wet mass of padding between her legs, and slowly drifted off to sleep in her soggy pants.

[mellowsadistic]

The Regression Sentence - Part 1

A businesswoman is given a regression sentence by the court after her fraud and embezzling are discovered. Hannah is used to a high-powered, high-status lifestyle, but after her sentencing she’ll have no choice but to adjust to her new life as an adult toddler.

***

“Listen, the judge is probably going to give you a regression sentence. You need to be prepared for that.”

“What are you talking about?” Hannah asked her lawyer impatiently. “What the fuck is a regression sentence?” Then she frowned. “Wait a minute… I think I’ve heard of that. But isn’t… Isn’t that when…” Her eyes widened.

Her lawyer avoided her gaze, busying himself with the papers on the desk in front of him. The rest of the courtroom bustled around them, all waiting for the judge to finish deliberating.

“What the fuck, Eric?!” Hannah demanded. Her heart was beating very fast in her chest. “What am I paying you God-knows-how-much an hour for?! Do something!”

“I’ve done all I can, Hannah,” he said flatly. “But to be honest, this is an open and shut case. You should count yourself lucky you’re not getting ten years in prison. I’m pretty sure I’ve got you out of that. Besides,” he continued, still not meeting her eyes, “regression sentences aren’t so bad. You’ll be much more, uh, comfortable than you would be in a prison cell.”

“Comfortable?!” Hannah spat. She remembered hearing about a woman from a rival company who’d been given a regression sentence. Apparently she’d been brought along to a social function by her mother and paraded around in front of all her former coworkers dressed like a toddler. Now that Hannah thought about it, she had a feeling that woman had been convinced of some kind of financial crime as well. She remembered having a good laugh at the time, imagining one of her competitors swapping business suits for baby rompers, but there was nothing funny about it now. She felt as though her heart had dropped into her stomach. That couldn’t happen to her!

She wanted to get more information out of Eric, but at that moment a loud, deep voice carried across the hall. “Attention everyone!” the judge shouted, banging his gavel down on his desk to bring order to the room. “I’ve reached my verdict! Will the accused please stand!”

The courtroom was suddenly quiet, and Hannah got to her feet nervously. Please let the sentence be lenient.

“Miss Whitehouse,” the judge addressed her, “I’ve had some time to consider what kind of sentence would best suit someone of your position. You’re clearly a powerful figure in the corporate world.”

A fine, Hannah prayed. Community service. Anything!

“And I think a little demotion is in order,” he said, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve decided that you would benefit most from a regression sentence.”

“No!” Hannah shrieked.

“Oh yes,” the judge went on, clearly enjoying himself. “Miss Whitehouse, for the crime of fraud and embezzlement, I sentence you to spend the next five years living as a two-year-old.”

Hannah could only stare at him in silent horror, her mouth hanging open. Five years as a two-year-old?! This couldn’t be happening!

“You appear to have no remorse for your crime whatsoever,” the judge went on, “but you’re still young, and it’s my belief that little girls like yourself deserve a softer alternative to the prison system. Maybe half a decade of nappies and bottles will sort you out, young lady. You’ll be released into the custody of your mother forthwith, and will live under her care and supervision for the duration of your sentence – although she reserves the right to deliver you into the hands of a state-run adult discipline nursery, or alternatively have your sentence converted to ten years in prison should you prove unruly. That is all.” He banged his gavel three times, and got up to leave.

The courtroom started buzzing with noise, and Hannah turned on her lawyer with panic in her eyes. “You have to stop this! Call a mistrial or something! This can’t happen!”

“It doesn’t work like that, Hannah,” Eric said resignedly, packing his notes away into his briefcase. “There’s nothing we can do now. You’ll just have to take your sentence and count yourself fortunate it wasn’t worse.”

“I’m not going to let myself be treated like a baby for the next five fucking years!” Hannah screamed. There were some titters from the rows of seats behind her, and she gritted her teeth in anger. “What did he mean by… by nappies and bottles?” she asked. “Surely they don’t… they can’t actually expect me to…”

“I’m sure it will all be explained to you soon, Hannah,” said her lawyer. He finished packing away his things and straightened up. “Good luck.” His eyes flicked upwards to a point just behind her, and Hannah turned to see the policeman who’d escorted her earlier that day smiling at her.

“Time to get going, sweetie,” he said, and she bristled at his condescending tone.

“Don’t call me sweetie,” she hissed, but the officer just chuckled, grabbed her arm, and started dragging her out of the courtroom through a side door. “Hey!” she squealed, trying to wriggle free. “Stop! You can’t manhandle me like this!” But it was no use. He was much bigger and stronger than she was. Hannah looked around for her lawyer, intending to shout for help, but all she could see of Eric was the back of his head disappearing into the crowd exiting via the main doors.

“Don’t be fussy, darling,” said the policeman. “I’m just taking you to your Mummy.”

Hannah blushed furiously and writhed in his grip, but he easily pulled her out of the courtroom and into the room beyond, where her mother was waiting with a wide smile.

“Hi, baby!” she cooed. “Aren’t you a lucky girl, avoiding prison time? Are you looking forward to five years back with Mummy? I certainly am! I can’t believe I get to have my baby girl back!”

“Mum!” Hannah squealed. “This is ridiculous! I’m twenty-nine years old! You can’t let them do this to me! I don’t care if the law says you’re my legal guardian again or whatever, but there is no way I’m letting… OWWIE! What the FUCK?!”

Her mother had strode up to her, yanked down her smart suit pants along with her thong, and delivered a sharp smack to each of her bum cheeks.

“Language, young lady!” she scolded, taking her daughter from the smiling policeman and holding onto her arm just as tightly. “Naughty words like that are a no-no! And this underwear is absolutely unacceptable! Thankfully the court’s provided me with something much more appropriate.”

She reached into a bulky pink bag that Hannah only just noticed she had slung over her shoulder, and pulled out an enormous disposable diaper, pure white but for the little teddy bears, rattles, blocks, and safety pins that decorated the outside.

“I’m not wearing that!” Hannah screeched. “I’m not!” but her mother delivered several more stinging swats to her bare bottom, making her yelp in pain.

“Settle down, little lady,” she said sternly. “Or I’ll pull you over my knee and give you something to really scream about.”

Hannah whimpered. Had her mother gone mad? She was an adult woman, not a little girl, no matter what the stupid judge said!

Mrs Whitehouse led her daughter over to a large changing mat on the floor and lowered her down onto it. Hannah sniffled and rubbed her bottom where her mother had smacked her, still not quite believing what was happening. Her mother pulled her pants and underwear all the way off, along with her plain socks and stylish black heels. She patted her daughter’s bum lightly, and Hannah instinctively lifted it up, allowing her mother to slip the giant nappy beneath her bottom.

“Please, Mum!” Hannah begged, as her haughty façade began giving way to genuine terror. “You don’t have to do this! We can just pretend you did and I can live a normal life!”

But her mother ignored her, humming merrily to herself as she sprinkled baby powder over Hannah’s nether regions. “This will keep your nappies smelling nice and sweet!” she said cheerfully. “Until you make a big, smelly mess in them of course!” she tittered, leaning forwards to plant a kiss on her adult daughter’s nose.

Hannah cringed. Wearing nappies was bad enough, but she would certainly not be using them!

“And there we go!” her mother announced happily, doing up the tapes of the giant diaper and patting the front in a satisfied way. “All ready for your wees and poos!”

Hannah felt sick as she looked down at the infantile thing bulging between her legs, so thick that she didn’t have a hope of properly closing her legs. Her mother helped her to her feet, and she stood there bow-legged, the bulk of her diaper pressing her thighs so far apart that she felt unsteady on her feet. But the horrors weren’t over yet. Her mother quickly stripped her of her jacket and shirt, and her bra followed soon after, leaving Hannah totally naked but for her nappy. But when she saw what her mother had in mind for her to wear, she almost wished she could stay topless.

Out of the pink bag, Mrs Whitehouse pulled an incredibly short pink frock, the skirt of which was so frilly that it looked more like a tutu than anything else. The sleeves were puffy and stupid-looking, and when her mother pulled it over her head, Hannah’s lower lip trembled as she realised the dress left at least three inches of her nappy peeking out of the bottom. She felt an icy fear spreading through her body. She couldn’t be stuck looking like this! Not for five whole years!

Her luscious dark hair was pulled out of its sensible bun and tied into a ponytail, frilly white socks were slipped onto her feet, and after them a pair of light-up trainers, just her size. Once she was done, her mother stood back to take in the sight of her adult daughter dressed up like a nursery schooler on her way to visit granny.

“You look perfect, baby!” she gushed. “Now, I think it’s about time we took you home! I can’t wait to show you your new bedroom!”

[mellowsadistic]

soooooo, in addition to being years late to the party i am also *really* not good at this whole quick cut video thing. but for my dear tumblr friends, i try!

what's underneath? what's always underneath? you guessed it... 🙈

PS. Imagine if this is how checks had to be done. omg. no gentle pats. or subtle waistband peeks. just a stern demand and a requisite pant rip-off for all to see. i am actually blushing. why brain, WHY must you operate like this!?

[mellowsadistic]

One of Papa's favorite ways to make a little one feel truly small is setting counter-intuitive rules.

Do you want a diaper change? Not only are you not allowed to ask for one, but Papa expects that you will fight getting changed every step of the way.

Exhausted and want to go to bed? You're much too little to understand what exhaustion is. No, if you want Papa to tuck you in, you need to throw a tantrum, railing about how you're not really tired.

Are you desperate for a meal other than goldfish, apple sauce, and cookies? You better be begging Papa for more snacks instead of dinner.

But, why would Papa subject his little ones to such silly rules?

Well, my sweet little goslings, being little isn't about being docile, submissive, and well-behaved.

It's about letting yourself feel and act on all of those big emotions, no matter how silly or meaningless they are.

It's about being seemingly irrational just because that's how you want to feel.

It's about being vulnerable.

Sometimes, little ones just need that extra push to remember that they're not expected to be well-behaved little boys or girls. All it really takes to be Papa's perfect little princess or prince is to let yourself fully embrace the silly, sticky, selfish little monster you were born to be.

[mellowsadistic]

Your arms are crossed.

Your eyes are rolling back in your head.

You're letting out a sigh of indignation.

But, despite your petulant little show, you know better than to disobey me. You stand in place, obediently sticking your cute little tushy ever so slightly out as I tug back the elastic waistband of your diaper.

You're certain this is ridiculous. It's unnecessary. You're a big girl. You'd know if you messed yourself.

However, as I click my tongue in disappointment and press the warm, soft mess into you with the palm of my hand, your indignation fades. It's replaced with a deep blush of shame and wave of confusion.

The transformation is sudden, and I love it.

There is nothing like watching your immediate transition from a confident, bratty teen--too big to believe you need the diapers I taped you into--to a confused, embarrassed little toddler, wondering where your potty training went and if you'll ever get it back again.

[mellowsadistic]

Yes she’s in her 30’s but we treat her like she’s 3. Oh the diapers? Yes she fully uses those as well. Does she enjoy it? That’s of no concern to us.