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THE PRICE OF IMMATURITY (PART 9)

Photo credit goes to the amazingly wonderful and beautiful @black-rasbaby

I blinked against the soft morning light seeping through the curtains, my body stiff and aching—not from physical exertion, but from the emotional weight of the past few days. As I shifted slightly, the unmistakable crinkle of the diaper encasing my supple, small bottom invaded my ears, a reminder of just how pathetic I'd become. The bars of the crib toward above me, trapping me in this twisted version of reality that I never thought possible. My hands made there way down to my padded crotch as I lightly pressed against the fabric of the infantile onesie Ethan had put me in. Despite my tendency to wet the bed, I was surprised and relieved that I stayed dry this time.

My mind churned in frustration. How did it come to this? How did I let it get this bad? The previous day's memories assaulted me, each one sharper and more painful than the last - spankings, public humiliation, the relentless infantilization. I’d let him win yesterday, let myself fall into this humiliating role because I didn’t have the strength to fight.

But now, with the clarity of a new day, the anger surged back inside me. I clenched my fists beneath the covers, my chest tightening with defiance. How could I have given in so easily? I was furious—furious at Ethan for putting me through this madness, but more than that, furious at myself for allowing it to happen. I had let him strip away my dignity, and now I lay here, dressed like a fucking overgrown infant, locked in this dumbass crib, and can't do a thing about it or I'm homeless.

Suddenly, a twinge in my lower abdomen broke through my thoughts. I needed to pee, and the realization made my heart race. I squirmed uncomfortably, trying to hold on, but I knew it was pointless. My gaze fell on the crib’s railing—it was just at eye level, taunting me. Desperation flooded through me as I clung to the bars, trying to haul myself up. But my arms trembled with the effort, and my body, weakened by months of sedentary living, gave out.

I dropped back down, tears stinging my eyes. I couldn’t even climb out of a crib.

A sob threatened to escape as the pressure in my bladder grew unbearable. I fumbled with the snaps at the crotch of my onesie, but it was futile. With a resigned breath, I squatted down and let go, the warmth spreading between my legs as the diaper began soaking it all up. The feeling was disgusting, humiliating, but it was no worse than everything else I’d been through.

Fine, I thought, gritting my teeth. You won’t break me. Not yet. I'm not letting one wet diaper dictate the rest of my day.

The sodden pampers between my legs was a strange sensation; the feeling of letting go, of giving up control over something so basic. But I was determined not to let it break me further. I focused on the rhythm of my breathing, trying to block out everything else around me as the stream became stronger and more forceful. The wetness spread between my legs, soaking through the absorbent material of my pampers before stopping at the plastic backed cover of the disposable diaper leaving a warm sensation against my skin. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on something else, anything else, as I filled my diaper.

The door creaked open. Ethan’s familiar presence filled the room, and I stiffened, keeping my eyes shut, pretending I wasn’t here. But I could feel him watching me, hovering near the crib with that nauseating calm.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he said, his voice soft but laced with that horrible condescension. I hated it. I hated him. His words crawled under my skin, reminding me just how powerless I was, squatting here like this—pathetic and helpless.

I didn’t move, but I could feel my diaper slowly sagging to the point of brushing against my ankle in my current deep squat. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me break any more than I already had. My heart raced, and my body ached from the tension, but I stayed still, refusing to engage, my eyes downcast. If I could just hold onto this tiny piece of defiance, maybe I could keep something—anything—of myself.

He moved closer, setting his coffee down on the changing table. “Oh, what’s this?” His voice was sickeningly sweet. “Looks like someone had a little accident.”

I heard his coffee mug get set on the changing table causing me to slightly jump at the sudden sound. Was I really that afraid of him?

He walked over to the crib, leaning over the bars like it was normal, like none of this was insane.

“You’ve got quite the pout on this morning,” he said, as I remained squatting and lightly shaking in place. “Someone must be upset about there pee pee diaper." He stated so plainly as his hand reached through the crib bars with his palm facing upward, prodding at my hot, heavy, wet, sagging diaper causing the padding to press into my intimate parts before allowing gravity to let the diaper fall back down into place only to repeat the action over and over again. He gave the padding a long squeeze before stating "But don’t worry, we’ll get my little baby all freshened up, okay?”

The words hit me like a punch. Freshened up. Like I was just some child who’d made a mess of herself. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as he lowered the crib’s side with a click.

“You’re upset because you’re uncomfortable,” he said, lifting me out of the crib. His voice was maddeningly calm, as if this was all routine. “But it’s okay. I’ll take care of it. What else are daddy's for?"

I wanted to scream at him, tell him this wasn’t okay, but I bit my tongue. The sting of yesterday’s spanking still echoed in my mind. I couldn’t afford to resist—not openly, at least. Instead, I let my body go limp, my defiance playing out in silence.

He laid me on the changing table, undoing the snaps on my onesie and peeling back the tapes of the soaked diaper. “You don’t have to worry about anything anymore,” he murmured. “No more decisions, no more responsibilities. You just have to be a good girl.” he stated with such sickening reassurance.

I felt so fragile laying there with the flap of my onesie pulled up against my tummy as he didn't hesitate to let the weight of my pissed soaked diaper open up upon being untapped. Moreover, each word was a reminder of what a total loser I was. Why couldn't I handle being an adult like all my friends my age? I squeezed my eyes shut, my breath shaky as he wiped me down with clinical precision. His touch was firm, detached, and I hated every second of it.

“This is where you belong now,” he continued as he fanned out a fresh cookie monster themed pampers cruiser. “No more pretending to be an adult when you couldn’t handle it. No more stress.” he stated while pulling my legs up by the ankle with his large rough hand. He did it with such ease that made me feel self conscious about my small size. And almost as if reading my mind he continued. "Teaching you how to be an adult and giving you more structure was my first plan, but after seeing you like this, how you've been behaving just this last day...It's obvious that you're too little to ever be treated like an adult. And I don't just mean because of your height" He teased before powdering my diapered area and giving my tender bottom a few pats causing me to clench and tense up as he lowered me onto the diaper and taped it around my hips, not bothering to rebutton my onesie. Ugh..."my" onesie. ridiculous.

I swallowed hard, trying to push down the anger that bubbled up inside me. I had to endure this. For now.

Ethan quickly, yet gently, sat me up on the changing table, and removed the pastel-colored onesie I’d woken up in, his hands methodical as he peeled the fabric from my skin, leaving me shivering in nothing but a fresh diaper. The cool air of the apartment washed over me, sending an unwelcome reminder of how vulnerable I was. I bit my lip, trying to keep my breathing steady as he set the onesie aside.

“There,” he said with a satisfied smile, his voice infuriatingly calm. “No need to get your clothes dirty during breakfast.”

My cheeks burned, but I kept my gaze fixed on the floor. There was no point in protesting. I’d learned that lesson the hard way. He lifted me from the changing table and carried me to the kitchen as if I weighed nothing, the gel like padding of the fresh diaper rubbing against my skin with every step. The quiet crinkling sound followed us, along with the occasional puff of powder escaping the elastic leg holes of my diaper since he insisted on patting my diapered ass with his ogre like hands.

In the kitchen, Ethan lowered me into the same degrading high chair from yesterday that I unfortunately fit snugly into. The smooth plastic was cold against my bare skin, and I winced as the tray snapped into place, locking me in. The chair’s restraints, though unnecessary, only added to the feeling of confinement. I was trapped.

“Time for babies num nums,” Ethan announced cheerfully, as if this were some routine family meal. He opened a jar of baby food with a soft pop, the faint smell of pureed vegetables immediately turning my stomach. For the life of me I could not find my voice this morning. I was just so afraid of him. It took all my strength and courage to just keep from shaking as I took long slow breaths.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my expression neutral. No matter how disgusting the food was, I had to eat it. I couldn’t afford another outburst, not after what happened yesterday. My body still ached from the brutal consequences of that mistake. I severely overestimated how defiant I would be today...maybe I am too little to be an adult....No! I really have to be more mindful of my thoughts. I can't slip into that way of thinking again.

Ethan scooped up a spoonful of the mush, holding it in front of my face. “Open wide for Daddy,” he said, his tone playful, but there was an edge of expectation behind the words.

I hesitated for a second too long.

His smile faltered, and I felt a cold, fresh wave of fear wash over me. I opened my mouth reluctantly as my body trembled, letting the spoon slide between my lips. The taste hit me immediately—bland, gritty, and utterly revolting. The texture clung to my tongue, making me gag, but I forced it down, keeping my eyes fixed on the table.

“There’s my good girl,” Ethan cooed, wiping a bit of food from the corner of my mouth with a bib. The bib itself was just as humiliating as the rest of this setup—pink, frilly, and oversized. The way he wiped my mouth, the gentle care in his touch, only made the situation worse. To him, this was normal or maybe even erotic. To me, it was a nightmare.

He scooped another spoonful, and I braced myself as he brought it toward my mouth. The taste was no better the second time, but I swallowed it quickly, trying to ignore the nauseating feeling building in my stomach.

“That’s it,” Ethan said, his voice filled with a sickening sweetness. “See? It’s not so bad when you stop fighting. This is what you need now, Mia. You don’t have to worry about anything. Focus on being what you are. Immature. Careless. Dependent. Emotional. A baby"

Every word felt like a knife twisting in my chest, but I kept my expression blank, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing my pain. Each spoonful of baby food felt like another step down into this humiliating spiral, but I had no choice. The more I fought, the worse things would get. I knew that now.

The jar of mush seemed endless, and with every bite, my anger simmered just below the surface. Ethan watched me carefully, his eyes never leaving my face as he spooned more and more of the bland mixture into my mouth. Each time I opened up, it felt like I was giving away a piece of myself, and I hated it.

When the jar was finally empty, I let out a shaky breath, trying to control the nausea that had settled in my gut. Ethan wiped my mouth again, his touch soft and patronizing.

“You're so good for me,” he said, setting the spoon aside and beaming at me like I was some kind of pet that had learned a new trick. “I’m proud of you.”

Proud of me. I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting the urge to scream. What was there to be proud of? That I’d swallowed spoonful after spoonful of baby food without throwing it back in his face? That I hadn’t lashed out in a fit of rage like I so desperately wanted to? I wasn’t proud. I was angry. I was broken.

But I didn’t let it show. Not yet.

Ethan leaned closer, gently tugging the bib off my neck and wiping his hands clean with a napkin. “See? It’s easier when you don’t resist.”

I stayed silent, my jaw clenched tight as I stared at the edge of the high chair tray. He wasn’t wrong. The more I resisted, the harder things became. But that didn’t mean I had to accept this.

Ethan stood up, moving to the sink to wash his hands, his back turned to me. For a brief moment, I let my eyes wander around the room, looking for any sign of escape, anything I could use. But there was nothing. I was locked in, trapped in this high chair, with no way out.

He finished washing his hands and turned back to me, wiping them dry on a towel. “Let’s get you cleaned up and ready for the day,” he said, his tone still light, as if this was all just another part of his twisted routine. “We’ll play a bit before your nap.”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep the fear from rising up again. Playtime. Another round of humiliating baby games that stripped me of any remaining dignity. But I couldn’t show weakness. Not now. I had to stay strong, even if every moment was a reminder of how powerless I’d become.

Ethan came back over to the high chair, unlocking the tray and lifting me out with ease. The fresh diaper crinkled beneath me as he set me on my little feet, his hands still firm on my shoulders, guiding me toward the living room.

“We’ll have a nice, relaxing morning,” he said softly, steering me toward a.... playpen. An honest to god playpen. What the actual hell? When did he put that together? “You’ve earned it after being such a good baby.”

I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, my fists clenching at my sides. I’d played along for now, but inside, I was still fighting. He hadn’t won. Not completely.

The feeling of my toes brushing against the living room carpet was quickly interrupted as Ethan, yet again, lifted me up, and lowered me into the large, padded playpen. The soft, pastel-colored sides were meant to look inviting, but to me, it was just another prison. Baby toys were scattered around inside—blocks, stuffed animals, a plastic rattle—how long had this stuff been here? It all looked brand new. I stared at the toys, refusing to engage with them, my chest tight with a mixture of shame and anger.

“I’ll be back to check on you in a little while, munchkin” Ethan said, his tone light, almost casual. He smoothed a hand over my hair before standing up straight. “ I know that look. Don’t make a fuss, alright? Be a good girl.”

I didn’t respond. What was there to say? My gaze stayed fixed on the floor as he left the room, his footsteps fading down the hallway. The sound of the door closing behind him sent a shiver through me. I was alone again, trapped in this ridiculous playpen, dressed in nothing but a diaper like some overgrown toddler. The humiliation pressed down on me like a weight, but I forced myself to keep breathing, to keep my head clear.

Minutes passed in silence, broken only by the occasional crinkle of my diaper when I shifted uncomfortably. My fingers absentmindedly fidgeted with one of the stuffed animals since there wasn't much else to do, but I quickly dropped it. I wasn’t going to give in. Not to the toys, not to the fake comfort Ethan tried to wrap me in. I wasn’t his baby, no matter how much he wanted me to be.

But then a different kind of discomfort started to build, creeping up on me slowly until it became impossible to ignore. My stomach churned, and a familiar pressure began to build deep inside me. My breath hitched in my throat as I realized what was happening.

I needed to poop.

Panic surged through me, clawing at my chest. I clenched my legs together, shifting my weight in a desperate attempt to hold it in, but the pressure was mounting fast. A cold sweat broke out across my skin, my heartbeat quickening as I glanced toward the door, praying that Ethan would come back soon.

My breath came in shallow, shaky gasps as I crawled to the edge of the playpen, gripping the soft padding tightly. The padding beneath me only added to the panic—there was nowhere to go. No escape. The anxiety of my situation making me all the more desperate to go.

By the time Ethan returned, I was a trembling mess, barely holding myself together. The sound of the door opening sent a wave of relief through me, but it was short-lived as I realized what I had to do next. I couldn’t hold it much longer.

“E-Ethan,” I called out, my voice trembling. I could feel my control slipping, the pressure in my stomach growing unbearable. Sweat dripping from the bottom of my buttcheeks. “Please, please let me use the bathroom. I can’t—please.”

Ethan’s expression darkened slightly as he walked toward me, his calmness suddenly unsettling. He knelt by the edge of the playpen, resting his arms on the padded side, his eyes locking onto mine with a firm, disapproving gaze.

“What did I tell you about addressing me, Mia?” he asked, his voice low but carrying a quiet authority. “You know better than that. It's Daddy, not Ethan. Do we need to go over that again?”

My breath caught in my throat, a wave of panic tightening in my chest. I could barely think, the pressure in my stomach growing worse with each passing second. “I—I’m sorry... Daddy, please. Please let me use the bathroom.”

His face softened, but there was no pity in his eyes, only a calm resolve. “That’s better,” he said, his tone still gentle but unyielding. “But you need to understand, Mia. This is part of your new life now. Only big girls get to use the toilet. You don’t get to decide when or where anymore. That’s over. And if you forget again, we’ll need to correct that, won’t we? Consider this your last reminder. The moment you get the urge to go it should already be in your diaper. Babies don't hold in their potty.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as his words settled in. The pressure inside me grew unbearable, but his gaze stayed steady, leaving no room for argument.

I felt my heart drop. My hands shook as I gripped the side of the playpen, my entire body trembling with a mix of desperation and fear. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. Tears welled in my eyes as the pressure in my stomach became unbearable, my muscles aching from the effort of trying to hold it in.

I shook my head, the tears spilling over as my body gave another sharp, painful spasm. I couldn’t hold it any longer. Panic surged through me, my breaths coming in frantic gasps as I tried to plead with him one more time.

“Please,” I begged, my voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t make me do this. Please.”

Ethan’s hand rested on my shoulder, his touch firm and steady, grounding me in the worst way possible. “This is for your own good,” he said softly, his words deliberate. “The sooner you accept it, the easier it will be.”

I could barely breathe, my body trembling as the pressure reached its breaking point. There was no escape, no way out. I was trapped, both by the playpen and by the reality that Ethan had imposed on me.

With a sob, I felt my muscles give way. My body betrayed me, the control I had fought so hard to maintain slipping through my fingers as I filled the diaper with a horrible, soft yet firm mass. The warmth spread across my skin, the soft padding of the diaper bulging out before pressing back against me as the elastic bands of the disposable diaper held my turds securely in place. I whimpered, the humiliation overwhelming as tears streamed down my face. I gagged a few times as the smell left the confines of my diaper and invaded my nostrils. The stench wasn't as intense as I thought it was going to be but the fact that I knew why and where the smell was coming from was enough to gross me out.

Ethan didn’t say a word, just kept his hand on my shoulder, watching as I crumbled. When it was over, my body felt heavy, exhausted from the effort and the shame. I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes.

“You see?” he said softly, his voice carrying that maddening calm. “It’s not so bad. You’ll get used to it. This is your first poo poo diaper, so I'll let the fact that you held it in slide this one time. But try to be a more mindful baby in the future, okay? ” He said giving my shoulder a harsh vice like squeeze causing my tears to spill from my eyes as I nodded and let out a meek almost inaudible "y-yes daddy".

I could barely think, my mind numb with shame. I felt dirty, disgusting, the weight of the soiled diaper pressing against me like a constant reminder of my failure. And yet, Ethan spoke to me as if this was progress—as if I was supposed to be grateful for this degradation.

“Maybe,” Ethan continued, his tone light, “some public exposure will help you get used to it faster. We’ll go out today. to do something fun”

My stomach dropped. I looked up at him, the fear in my eyes clear. “No— daddy please, don’t take me out like this,” I whispered, shaking my head hoping that calling him daddy would somehow get him to reconsider.

But his expression didn’t waver. “It’s for the best that you face the world early on, Stinky,” he said. “This is your life now. You need to accept it, not just in the comfort and privacy I offer indoors, but publicly as well."

I could barely process his words, the thought of being seen like this—paraded around in public with a diaper, treated like a helpless child—was too much to bear. My chest tightened, and my breath caught in my throat, the sheer panic of it making my hands tremble.

Ethan stood up, brushing his hands off as if this was just another task to check off his list. “Let’s get you cleaned up and dressed,” he said casually, his tone infuriatingly calm. “I think a trip to the playground would be nice. It’ll help you clear your head and get used to things.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and a sob ripped from my chest before I could hold it back. A trip to the park. Where anyone could see me. I could feel the panic rising, my heart pounding in my ears. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t be seen like this.

“No, please!” I cried, my voice cracking as the tears spilled down my cheeks. My hands gripped the edge of the playpen, knuckles white. “Please, I can’t go out like this. Please, don’t make me…” Flashbacks from yesterdays brief ordeal crashed into my head. Yesterdays outing lasted all of 10 minutes but it changed my life in a profound way. God knows how long he was planning on taking me to the local playground.

Ethan’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, it hardened, his calmness taking on a sharper edge. “Mia, tantrums won’t help you here. In fact, if you keep acting like this, I might not even bother changing you before we go.”

I froze, the threat hanging in the air like a weight pressing down on my chest. My whole body shook as I stared up at him, horrified. The thought of going out in public, in a soiled diaper, was too unbearable to even comprehend. The sobs came harder, my entire body trembling as the humiliation and fear overwhelmed me.

“Please, Daddy,” I begged, my voice barely a whisper through the sobs. “I’ll be good, I promise. Just… just don’t take me out like this. Please.”

Ethan knelt down, his gaze still firm as he wiped a tear from my cheek. “I’ll change you and take you out for some fresh air, but this is your life now, Mia. You need to get used to it, and sooner or later, you will. We can start with the park. It’ll be good for you.”

The tears kept falling, but I knew I had no choice. I was trapped, and he wasn’t going to change his mind. As he led me out of the playpen and toward the changing table, my legs felt like jelly beneath me. The sobs continued to wrack my body, and I couldn’t stop them. I was helpless, utterly powerless, and there was no way out. What was I even thinking about resisting this morning. Tremors ran through my body as I did my best not to hyperventilate.

This was my life now. And it broke me all over again.

If you made it this far thanks so much for the read! I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter of Mia's unfortunate "Price of Immaturity" A Nation in Transition will be on the way sometime in the next few weeks.

Additionally I have a fun collaboration planned for a new story series with a very adorable diaper girl. Thank you all for your support and kind messages! I really am just so so proud of this community❤️

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