25-year-old man who likes to write captions and stories about female infantilization/mental regression. I'm also on DeviantArt. More writing on SubscribeStar. (18+ only!)
As Grace stared at Jessica, angry and confused, she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her.
âWhat are you doing?â she mumbled. âWhatâs goingâŚâ
But Jessicaâs presence suddenly seemed magnified tenfold. It was as if Grace was looking up at someone much bigger than her, even though she and Jessica were the same height. There was a strange tingling in her brain, a rush of sudden vertigo. She imagined she might fall over, right onto her bottom. She giggled. That would be silly! She shook her head vigorously from side to side, trying to clear it.
âNot your⌠Not your big day,â said Grace, frowning. âIâm the bride.â
Jessica let out another one of her tinkling laughs. âSilly baby, youâre not the bride! Rob canât get married to a silly little girl like you. This is my wedding, but Iâm being very generous and letting you be the flower girl. Arenât you lucky?â
Grace felt her head nodding enthusiastically. âFank you!â she heard herself lisp. What the hell was happening?! The flower girl? Her head was clearing, but it felt as though she couldnât control herself, like she was nothing but a passenger in her own body!
âLook what I got for you to wear, sweetie,â said Jessica, and she held up the dress sheâd been carrying.
It was silly, frilly, and very small. The sleeves were puffy, the short skirt looked more like a tutu than anything else, and it had a large bow on the back.
Grace felt sick at the sight of it. No self-respecting woman would ever wear something so childish, something clearly meant for the youngest of children. But her body seemed to think differently. She heard herself gasp with excitement, and she thrust out her arms and made grabby hands at the ridiculous thing.
âAwww!â Olivia and Caroline cooed.
What was going on?! What was happening to her?! Her head was fully clear now, but Graceâs body still was completely out of her control. Why were Olivia and Caroline acting like nothing was wrong?!
âAlright, Gracie,â Jessica laughed. âLetâs get you changed. Olivia, Caroline, could you help her out of my dress?â
The two women hurried forwards and got to work. Grace could only stand there obediently, smiling vapidly and crying on the inside while her bridesmaids worked together to strip off various pieces of her attire and lift the beautiful dress back up over her head, leaving her in nothing but her underwear â and she didnât get to keep those for long either.
âI canât believe we ever thought you were an adult,â Olivia said, unclasping Graceâs bra and letting her large breasts spill out. She tittered at the sight of Graceâs tits wobbling on her chest. âIsnât it funny how such a silly little girl has such big boobies? These massive knockers must have been how you tricked Rob into thinking you were a grown-up.â
To Graceâs horror, she started giggling and jumping up and down on the spot, making her bare boobs jiggle about madly.
Everyone laughed at her, and Olivia said, âI thought so! Youâre just a naughty little brat, arenât you sweetie? Just like Jessica said. Iâm so glad youâve come to your senses, Gracie. Jessica is clearly the one whoâs meant to marry Rob, not you.â
Olivia would never say those kind of things to her! Grace was sure of that. Jessica must have done something to her, and Caroline as well!
Once Grace was standing in nothing but her undies, Olivia went over to Jessica with her wedding dress and started to help her change into it. Meanwhile, Caroline took the flower girl dress and held it up again for Grace to see.
âYouâre going to look just like a princess, Gracie!â she said brightly.
Just like before, Grace couldnât take her eyes off the mirror in front of her. But this time, her transformation was very different. Caroline slipped the tiny little flower girl dress over Graceâs head and started making adjustments to it, brushing down the skirts and squeezing Graceâs tits into the bodice.
Grace winced. It was so tight across the chest that it was painful. Her breasts bulged out obscenely through the fabric, and the puffy, frilly, tutu-like skirt barely reached past her bottom.
âThere we go!â Caroline said. âDonât you look pretty?â
Grace looked at herself in the mirror. She wanted to rip the ridiculous dress off her body and scream at everyone until someone told her what the fuck was going on. She wanted to smack Jessica hard across the face and throw her out of the venue. Instead she smiled stupidly. âUh-hu!â
âDonât forget to do her hair,â Jessica smirked, and Caroline nodded.
Grace could only stand there with a dumb grin on her face while her bridesmaid tied her sleek blonde hair into ridiculous pigtails sticking out from either side of her head.
There was a knock on the door and Annie, her third bridesmaid, finally came back into the room.
âHi girls!â she said.
Grace prayed that maybe, this time, someone was going to come to her rescue. But then she saw that Annie was carrying something. Something large and white and rectangular.
When she realised what it was, Grace felt as though her heart had dropped into her stomach. Even the stupid little girl in charge of her body didnât like it.
âDonât need dat!â she heard herself whine as Annie came towards her, unfolding the crinkly, adult-sized disposable diaper as she went.
âOh yes you do!â said Jessica loudly, and Grace looked over at her, her bottom lip trembling. âToilets are a thing of the past for you, Gracie,â she said, a malicious look in her eyes. âStupid little girls like you go potty in their pants, and that means you need a nappy on.â
Annie lifted up Graceâs flower girl dress, slipped a finger into the waistband of her underwear, and started sliding them down.
Grace looked on in horror, a stupid little pout still on her face, as her lacy white lingerie, a sexy surprise for Rob on their wedding night, was tugged down her legs. No, she thought, watching as Annie tossed them aside, come back!
But Annie was already slipping the bulky diaper between Graceâs legs, holding it up while she taped it into place. Grace could feel the soft, thirsty padding pressing against her pussy, ready to soak up all the pee-pee accidents she might have. This couldnât be happening to her!
âThere we go!â Annie cooed. âThis suits you much better than that little lacy number. Your undies need to be designed in terms of how many potty accidents they can hold, not sex appeal.â
Once Graceâs nappy was on, Caroline stepped forwards again and, in case there was any doubt about Graceâs new position, placed a flower crown on top of her head.
âThereâs just one more thing she needs,â Jessica said, walking over to her old clothes and fishing in the pockets. âHere we go!â She came back over and shoved a bright pink pacifier into Graceâs mouth, where it immediately started bobbing between her lips. âPerfect,â Jessica purred, drinking in Graceâs appearance like she couldnât get enough of it. âWeâll be ready to go very soon.â
While her bridesmaids made the finishing touches to Jessicaâs outfit, Grace toddled around impatiently, her thick diaper rustling noisily between her legs.
Then, without warning, she felt a sudden pressure in her bladder. She clutched her hands to her crotch, but the urge to go had become uncontrollable almost the moment it had appeared. Grace felt pee rushing into her pants, drenching the thick padding between her legs. The front of her Pampers discoloured, sagging until the yellow-tinged padding peaked out below the hem of her dress.
âUh-oh,â she said softly, wrinkling her nose as the sharp smell of piss reached it. Inside her head, Grace was shrieking in horror. She wanted to throw up. Sheâd never been so disgusted in her life! It was awful, the feeling of her pee sloshing around in her pants, the sopping wet padding pressed against her nether regions. Someone had to save her! They had to!
At last, Jessica was done. She smirked down at Grace in her ridiculous little flower girl dress, dummy in her mouth, her hair in ludicrous pigtails. âI think someone had better check the babyâs nappy,â she said.
Caroline stepped forward, lifted up Graceâs dress, and probed the front of her diaper.
âSheâs done a wee-wee,â Caroline announced. âShould I change her?â
âIs she about to leak?â asked Jessica.
âNo, I think it can take a bit more,â Caroline replied, as Grace fidgeted in place like an impatient little girl, praying desperately that her bridesmaids would come to their senses, that someone would rescue her.
âLeave her for now,â Jessica instructed, a note of delight just detectable in her voice. âWe donât want to waste nappies.â
âYouâre in charge,â said Caroline, and she actually did a little curtsey.
âThatâs right,â said Jessica, her smile widening. âI am. Itâs my big day, after all.â
Grace is getting married and sheâs determined not to let Jessica, her husband-to-beâs ex, ruin the wedding. But if this is her big day, why is she being dressed as the flower girl?
***
Grace was walking around the reception, greeting her guests, when she spotted her out of the corner of her eye. Jessica. Grace had invited her out of politeness, but sheâd really hoped the woman wouldnât come. What was she thinking, turning up here? Surely sheâd known Grace hadnât really wanted her to be at her wedding!
She was talking with Sophie, one of Graceâs old schoolfriends, and Sophie seemed to be listening raptly to whatever it was she was saying.
Grace continued to wander around, accepting congratulations and beaming at everyone, tossing her beautiful blonde hair behind her and feeling like the prettiest woman in the room. Eventually she reached Sophie herself.
âHi, Sophie!â she said. âIâm so glad you could make it!â
âHi sweetie!â Sophie said, turning to look at her. She spoke in an oddly high-pitched, overly-enthusiastic voice, like she was talking to a nursery-schooler. âAre you looking forward to the ceremony?â
Grace didnât know what to say. Sheâd been expecting Sophie to say âcongratulationsâ. Why the hell was she talking in such a stupid way? âUh, yes!â she managed, deciding it was best to just ignore her friendâs odd behaviour. âIâve been waiting for this for so long! I hope itâs everything I imagined!â
âAwww!â Sophie cooed. Grace felt herself going red. Was Sophie mocking her? âThatâs so cute! Are you going to wear a pretty dress, honey?â
âUh, yes of course. I⌠In fact, Iâd better go and get dressed now. It takes a while and I need my bridesmaids to help.â
âOf course you do,â Sophie said patronisingly.
âWell⌠See you later, Sophie!â
âBye-bye, cutie!â Sophie waved.
Grace turned and walked away. What was that about?! She frowned, thinking. Jessica had been talking to Sophie not long ago. Could she have convinced Sophie to talk to her like that for some reason? Grace hoped the most special day of her life wasnât going to be tainted by some stupid practical joke. But she couldnât imagine Sophie taking part of something like that. Sophie had never even liked Jessica!
It was probably just nerves, Grace told herself, trying to push the matter from her mind. She needed to get her bridesmaids and go into the back to change into her wedding dress. She felt excitement bubbling up inside her. Sheâd never really stopped fantasising about the perfect wedding, ever since she was a little girl, and now she was finally getting it! And Rob was the most wonderful man sheâd ever met. She flushed at the thought of her gorgeous husband-to-be. She wouldnât see him until she walked down the aisle though. She wanted everything to be perfect.
âGood luck, Gracie!â someone said to her as she made her way through the crowd, and she smiled awkwardly back in the general direction of the voice. She hated being called Gracie - she wasnât a two-year-old for goodness sake! But nothing was going to ruin her good mood today. She was determined of that.
She slipped past a group of guests and found the people she was looking for; Olivia, Caroline, and Annie. Her three bridesmaids. At least the three of them were acting normally. They hurried up to her the moment they saw her, looking almost as excited as she felt.
They put their heads together, giggling.
âReady?â asked Olivia, grinning.
Grace grinned back and nodded.
The four of them moved through the guests and into a room in the back of the venue where Grace could get changed. Her wedding dress was hanging on a clothes rack waiting for her. She beamed at it. It was beautiful â pure white, of course, with a floral-patterned bodice and a flowing, floor-length skirt. Elegant and sophisticated, sexy but still classy. The perfect dress.
Grace would barely contain her excitement as Olivia, Caroline, and Annie helped her change into it. She couldnât take her eyes off the mirror in front of her as she was steadily transformed into the bride sheâd dreamed about being ever since she was a little girl.
She was almost done when Caroline suddenly said âOh!â
âWhat?â Grace asked, worried something had gone wrong.
âYour veil! I think your mother has it. Or maybe itâs still in the carâŚâ
âDonât panic,â Olivia soothed, seeing Graceâs face. âThe three of us will go and look for it. Iâm sure itâs around. Weâll be right back.â
Her bridesmaids left the room, leaving Grace alone. But a few moments later, the door opened, and Jessica stepped inside.
âHi sweetie!â she said, with a smile that didnât reach her eyes.
âHello Jessica,â said Grace, looking at her warily.
âDonât you look pretty!â Jessica cooed, but her eyes were sparkling malevolently. âLooking forward to walking down the aisle?â
âListen Jessica,â said Grace firmly, âwhatever it is youâre here for, whatever youâve got plannedâŚâ
âPlanned?â asked Jessica, cocking her head.
âI just donât want you ruining things by trying to make this all about you,â Grace said coldly. âThis is a very special day for me.â
âOf course it is, Gracie,â Jessica said. Her smile widened. âThe wedding couldnât happen without you!â She let out a light, tinkling laugh, and then she turned and left the room.
Grace scowled. Gracie again. And she didnât like the way Jessica had been smiling. Did she really not have anything planned? Theyâd been friends once, but Grace had got together with Rob shortly after heâd broken up with Jessica, and Jessica hadnât liked that one bit. Grace remembered Jessica screaming at her, calling her a big-titted whore whoâd stolen her boyfriend.
Grace adjusted her large breasts in her wedding dress. It was true she had a better figure than Jessica, but she hardly thought that mattered. She and Rob had been meant for each other, and that was all there was to it.
What else was it that Jessica had said to her? Stupid little girls shouldnât steal other peopleâs things, that was it. Grace smirked. Rob was hers now anyway. They were getting married and there was nothing Jessica could do about it. Sheâd only been invited in the first place because it would have seemed rude not to invite her after Grace had invited all her other old friends â it would make it seem like she was the one still carrying a grudge.
Grace shook her head. What was she doing? She shouldnât even be thinking about Jessica right now. Not on her big day! She admired herself in the mirror, picturing how sheâd look walking smoothly down the aisle on the best day of her life.
Minutes past, and her bridesmaids still hadnât returned. But just when Grace was starting to get worried, the door opened again. She look around eagerly as Olivia and Caroline stepped into the room, but her smile faltered when they were closely followed not by Annie, but by Jessica. She was holding something white and semi-transparent in her arms. Was that stupid bitch carrying her veil?! Hadnât she got the message that she wasnât wanted?
But as Jessica stepped forward, Grace realised the thing she was holding wasnât a veil at all. It was a dress. A very different dress from the beautiful, elegant, sophisticated wedding dress she was currently wearing.
âWhatâs going on?â asked Grace. Sheâd just noticed that her two bridesmaids were looking at her rather strangely. They were both smiling, but Olivia was shaking her head from side to side, like a kindergarten teacher amused by the antics of a misbehaving toddler, and Caroline was looking at her with the same sort of sickeningly sweet eagerness that Grace had seen earlier on Sophieâs face. âWhat are youâŚ?â
âCome on, sweetie,â Jessica interrupted, and her eyes were glinting darkly. âItâs time to get you into your proper clothes. Thatâs enough playing pretend. I need my wedding dress for my big day.â She smiled broadly. âBut donât worry. Iâve found something much more appropriate for you to wear!"
đź Littles taking a few minutes to do their business while on their potty, because theyâre so used to using their diapers that theyâre shy about going anywhere else. So they need some encouragement, maybe some belly rubs/presses to get them to go~.
đź Tiny grunts and whines when they push themselves, puffing out their cheeks and buckling their knees together. ..Mostly a messing thing but still cute!
đź Littles being so desperate when they run to the potty that they canât just pull their pants/diaper/what have you right away, theyâre still standing with buckled knees, holding hands against their crotch and hopping from foot to foot. One wrong move and theyâll have an accident!
đź Running to the potty and forgetting to take their clothes offâgotta go so badly that they just sit right down and go!! âŚBut then blush as soon as they realize thereâs no pitter-pattering of liquid hitting plastic, and their nethers feel a lot warmer~.
đź â I gotta go potty!! â, â I hav'ta potty!! â, â I need the potty right now!! â, â Ohhh, Iâm gonna potty in my pants-..!! â, â Take me to the potty..! â Desperate, whiny and fussy statements ( ⢠ĚĎâ˘Ě )â§
đź â Ii, I really need to potty⌠â, â Um.. I need the potty..! â, â Will y-you take me to the p-potty, pleaseâŚ? â, â Uu-uh-oh, I think I need the potty!! â, â Uuuuh, I hav'ta goooâŚ! â Quiet Littles who need to go, but are shy about asking/telling~
đź â I didnât make it to the pottyâŚ. â, â I, I need a change⌠I missed the potty â, â I was too busy playing to go potty.. â, â I had a potty accident⌠â Accident phrases~
đź â Baby, do you need to potty? â, â Letâs try using the potty. â, â Can you go potty like a big boy/girl/kid? â, â No, no. You canât use the adult potty. Youâre too Little for that~. â, â Do you need Mommyâs/Daddyâs/Caretakerâs help to use the potty? â, â Uh-oh, does somebody need the potty? â, â Uh-oh, did someone forget to use the potty? â
đź â We canât use the potty right now, you have to hold it. â, â Weâre almost home, you can hold it baby! â, â Shhh, if you really need to go that bad, use your diaper. Mommy/Daddy/Caretaker wonât be mad~. You did your best. â
đź â Good boy/girl/baby!! You used the potty~! â, â Whoâs making piddles and/or pushies in the potty like a good boy/girl/baby? â, â Looks like someoneâs getting stickers on their Potty Chart~! â
Ashley rolled her eyes as she lifted her legs into the air. âWhat does it look like Iâm doing, Daddy? Iâm getting ready for you to change my nappy."
"You don't need changing just yet, little girl," her Daddy said, trying to sound firm. "Why don't you go back to playing with your friends, sweetie? You're only a bit soggy, and the other girls all look wet too."
Ashley gave him a sour look. "I don't care if their nappies are dragging along the ground, Daddy. I want to be changed now."
"Honey, please..."
After the new laws came into place stripping women of their adult rights and privileges, most of those with bossy temperaments underwent quick and significant changes in their attitudes - often at the end of a hairbrush - but not all of them gave in so easily. Despite her youth, Ashley had been a high-ranking executive at a successful company, and after some initial shock and horror at being demoted to diapers and adopted by her former assistant, she soon learned to adapt.
Spankings and other punishments proved to be totally ineffective, and only encouraged her to show her new Daddy just how much of a little terror she could be if she didn't get her way. She screamed loudly in the middle of the night, she threw tantrums in public, she trashed expensive furniture and ripped up important documents, until eventually her Daddy realised the truth; even if she ate her meals in a highchair, slept in a crib, and wore thick diapers and plastic pants 24/7, she was still in charge.
Sometimes, however, he needed a little reminder. Ashley took a deep breath. "Daddy... Here's what's going to happen. In a few minutes, I'm going to go back out there with a clean nappy, so all those dumb brats understand that I'm the queen bee of this park. Then later, when you and the other Daddies are sitting together talking about whatever it is you like to talk about, I'm going to come over and sit in your lap and say how much I wuv sucking my Daddy's big dick, and they're all going to think you're the luckiest man in the world, which you are. We're going to have cuddles, and youâre going to tell me how much you love me, and Iâm going to say I love you too, because I do, and it will be a perfect afternoon. But first, before we do any of that, you are going to change. My. Nappy!"
"Alright, princess..." her Daddy said resignedly, but as he started pulling off her plastic pants, there was the faintest smile on his face that suggested he wasn't entirely unhappy with the situation. "Youâre the boss," he sighed.
âThatâs right, Daddy." Ashley lay down on her back, smirking. "I am.â
Once they were through the front door, Daddy started taking her clothes off. She was a nakie girl when she was in the house, Angela knew. A silly nakie girl, except for her diaper. She had to wear that all the time unless Daddy was changing her or giving her a bath.
Eric pulled her frock up and over her head, letting her bare boobies spill out. She didnât wear bras. Those were for big girls. She fidgeted impatiently while he slid her shoes and socks off her feet, playing absent-mindedly with her tits.
âThere we go, sweetie,â he cooed. âAll done.â
Angela giggled happily, but the moment she took a step further into the house, she felt a dizzying sense of vertigo, and there was a sudden weakness in her knees. She looked at her husband, confused.
âYouâre too high up, sweetie. Remember what we discussed in therapy?â
Angela nodded as understand came to her. She needed to look up to him. She got down on her hands and knees, her bare breasts handing down like udders, her wet nappy hanging between her thighs. She looked up at him, blushing when she saw the smile on his face, the satisfied glint in his eyes. Her face burned with humiliation, but it also felt right. This was where she belonged. Stupid baby. Dumb bitch.
Her husband leaned down and patted her firmly on her bottom. âTime to crawl, sweetie. Crawl to the living room.â
She set off, crawling awkwardly on her hands and knees, feeling utterly ridiculous. Daddy walked slowly behind her. She could feel his eyes on her rear, and her pussy wettened. She hoped he would tug down her diaper and fuck her like the cheap whore she was. She wasnât sure why, but she knew she was a nasty skank who never said no. She was a dirty girl.
Once she reached the middle of the living room, Daddy smacked her bottom again. âHold still, sweetie. Your nappy needs changing.â
Angela rolled onto her back submissively. Her breasts wobbled alluringly on her chest while Daddy prepared the changing supplies. She shoved her thumb into her mouth and started sucking on it wetly, drooling down her chin. Messy girl.
Daddy undid the tapes of her diaper with a loud snapping sound and pulled down the front. Then he lifted her legs into the air by her ankles and started wiping her wet pussy. She wiggled in place, moaning around her thumb while he stroked her no-no spot with a baby wipe. Dirty girl.
âHold still, wiggly worm,â he chuckled, smacking her sharply on her upturned rump yet again.
She squealed but did her best to lie still while Daddy finished wiping her clean. He slipped a fresh, dry, fluffy nappy under her bottom and sprinkled her liberally with baby powder, just like heâd done the night before. Just like heâd done in the therapistâs office earlier that day while sheâd been glued to the bright, shiny tablet. He taped her up, and helped her to her knees. She didnât need to be any higher when she was in the house. And in any case, this was the perfect height. The perfect height for⌠forâŚ
Daddy stood up. Then he undid his fly and pulled out his cock.
For a moment, Angela felt sick. She didnât do blowjobs. That was one of her rules, wasnât it? What was the point if she wasnât getting any pleasure out of it? Blowjobs were horrible and demeaning and disgusting.
But then her mind started to feel fuzzy again. Silly girl. Dumb bitch. That was the old Angela. She stared at Daddyâs cock and realised she was drooling. She needed to suck. Good girls liked to suck, and she was a good girl. She needed something in her mouth at all times; her thumb, her toes, her pacifier, and best of all, Daddyâs cock. Stupid baby. If she didnât have something to suck on sheâd cry! She could already feel it building up inside her, a horrible emptiness that she needed to fill.
She leant forwards to take him into her mouth, and he grabbed the back of her head and forced his cock down her throat. She gagged and sputtered, drooling even more down her chin, but Daddy didnât let up. He face-fucked her viciously, pulling her hair and pumping his cock between her lips.
âIâll have those pumped up,â he grunted. âYour lips. Okay Angela? Youâre going to have a pair of thick, dick-sucking lips. And Iâll book you in to get your tits done as well. The doctor says he knows someone whoâll do it, the same one who did his own little girl. Iâm sure youâll look perfect with a ridiculous bimbo rack.â
Angela moaned around his cock. She didnât want filler in her lips, or silicon in her tits, but if thatâs what Daddy wanted then thatâs what sheâd become. Good girls never said no.
Daddyâs pumping became faster and faster. âYouâre getting exactly what you deserve, Angela. Youâre going to be my little. Bimbo. Baby!â With the final word, he pulled out of her mouth and came all over her face.
Angela gasped for air and shut her eyes as his cum spattered across her cheeks, her nose, her mouth, even her hair. Her princess parts burned needily, but Angela knew her own pleasure didnât matter anymore. She was just a dumb bitch, and Daddy got to use her however he liked.
Daddy got himself cleaned up while Angela lay on the floor, breathing heavily. After a while, she got to her knees blearily. Daddyâs cum was still on her face. She was about to wipe it off when something stopped her. She was a messy girl. A dim-witted smile spread over her face, and she giggled. She liked being messy. Dirty girl. But there was something else she needed to do, something that would make her even messier.
Grinning stupidly, the twenty-seven-year-old woman thrust her padded bottom out behind her and started grunting and straining to mess her diaper while her husband looked down at her, smirking.
âPoo-poo!â Angela screeched, with no concept of an inside voice. Something told her she had to let Daddy know what she was doing, and little girls like her didnât care if they made too much noise. âMakinâ poo-poo, Dada!â
He laughed, and she giggled along with him even though she didnât get what was funny. Dumb bitch, she thought. Stupid baby. She grunted loudly and pooped her pants, making the seat of her nappy bulge out behind her. Even though she was happy, her face was scarlet with shame. She knew on some level that she was supposed to be an adult woman, that what she was doing was disgusting and babyish, but she didnât know what else she could do. Grown-ups used the potty, but she was too stupid for that. She just had to go in her pants like the dumb baby she was.
Eventually she finished dirtying her diaper, and she stared vacantly up at Daddy. She was still down on her knees. He looked so high up. So much higher than she was. His rightful place above her. He smiled down at her, and she grinned back at him, a line of drool dripping down onto her bare tits, cum on her face and dribble down her chin, and a stinky nappy sagging heavily between her legs. Her rightful place. She shoved her thumb into her mouth again. She felt a little funny in her head, as if somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice was screaming at her that this was wrong. But the feeling went away the moment Daddy tickled her under the chin. She giggled happily.
âI think youâre finally done,â he said. âYouâve lost your big-girl privileges forever, Angela. Youâre just a big dumb baby now. Okay, sweetie?â
Angela popped her thumb out of her mouth. ââkay, Dada!â
âGood girl. I think Iâll give your friends a call and see if any of them are available to babysit you. Would you like that, sweetie? Would you like your friends to feed you and play with you and change your dirty diapers while I go out and hook up with girls?â
Angela nodded, giggling and cooing happily at the pleasant tone of his voice.
âI thought you would,â he said, smiling. He took out her phone. âNow which of your friends should Daddy call first?â
Angela wasnât listening. She was too busy blowing raspberries and giggling at the way her full nappy swung heavily between her legs when she wiggled her bum-bum.
Her Daddy chuckled, patted his mentally reduced wife on her bottom, and started scrolling through her contacts.
The End
***
If you want to read more evil stories about women being transformed into overgrown babies, I also post on SubscribeStar.
When Angela arrived at the therapistâs office, she waved happily at the receptionist.
âYou look, like, totally pwetty today!â said the bimbo.
âYou look pwetty too!â said Angela. And she meant it. The receptionistâs pigtails were so cute! For a moment Angela wished her own hair was in pigtails, but then she remembered that was only really meant for little girls, even if they did look really good on the woman in front of her. Her own hair was in a ponytail today, tied back with a large pink scrunchie. That was much more respectable and grown-up. She wasnât a ditzy receptionist after all.
Eric led her by the hand into the office itself, where the therapist was waiting with the tablet in his hands.
Angela squealed excitedly when she saw it, and the two men laughed.
âHere you go, sweetie,â the therapist said, handing her the screen once sheâd settled down on the sofa next to Eric. Her husband had his arm around her waist, holding her body close to him.
âIs it safe if I see the screen?â he asked the therapist.
âItâs fine. The program only affects girls like little Angela here.â
Angela didnât understand what they were talking about, but she didnât care. The tablet had come to life, and she was engrossed in the wonderful, beautiful sparkling spirals once again.
âYou like your pretty lights, donât you Angela?â the therapist asked her.
She nodded. They were so pretty.
âGood girl. Weâre going to have another talk, sweetie, just like we did yesterday. You wet the bed last night, didnât you Angela?â
Angela turned red, but nodded again. It was so embarrassing to talk about, even though she knew the therapist was a professional. It was much easier to let herself be drawn in by the bright colours.
âThatâs right. You woke up in a yucky wet diaper. Youâre such a stupid baby, arenât you Angela?â
Angela blushed even more brightly. Stupid? She wasnât stupid, was she? She wasnât a stupid baby. She shook her head, frowning.
âLook at the lights, little one. A clever, grown-up woman wouldnât have wet the bed. She wouldnât have soaked her night-time nappy like a silly little two-year-old, Angela. Only a baby would do something like that. A stupid, overgrown baby like you. We already agreed that youâre a dumb bitch, remember? Well, being a stupid baby too isnât much different, is it?â
Angela shook her head again, but she couldnât tell whether she was agreeing with him or not. Maybe she was stupid. A stupid baby.
âThatâs right, itâs very similar. Youâre just a stupid baby. A stupid baby who wets the bed. But itâs not so bad being a baby. You get to be taken care of all the time, and you like being taken care of, donât you Angela? Like a princess?â
Angela nodded, still staring at the swirling lights. That was what she wanted, wasnât it? To be treated like a princess? Thatâs why sheâd married Eric in the first place, she remembered. So heâd look after her. So she could live like a princess.
âYes, youâre a stupid baby who needs someone to take care of her. You need someone to look after you because youâre a dirty girl, arenât you Angela?â
Angela focused, trying to clear her mind of the fuzziness. Something about this didnât feel right. Was she a dirty girl? She wasnât sure. It sounded familiar. In fact, sheâs sure sheâs thought of herself as a dirty girl before. A bit dirty. A bit naughty. Sheâd done some dirty things hadnât she? Sheâd done some dirty things with men who werenât her husband. But the therapist didnât know about that, did he?
âYouâre a dirty girl, Angela. A messy girl. A messy girl who needs someone to take care of her and clean her up.â
Angela frowned. Messy? No⌠she was dirty. Not messy. But werenât they the same thing? Her head felt like it was full of cotton candy. She was probably confused. She could be so stupid sometimes. She was a stupid baby.
âYou make all kinds of messes, sweetie. You make messes in your diapers, and not just at nightâŚâ
The therapist kept talking, but Angela lost herself in the colours on the screen. She was such a silly, messy girl. She needed her Daddy. She needed her Dada.
She became vaguely aware that someone was taking off her clothes. Was it Eric? Were they going to fuck? Even though she was a stupid baby, she was also a dumb bitch. And dumb bitches got fucked whenever a man wanted to fuck them. But no, she wasnât getting fucked. Someone was changing her into her nappy. Was it bedtime? No, it didnât matter that it was bedtime. Stupid babies needed to wear their nappies all the time.
ââŚbut when youâre at home, there wonât be any need for other clothes,â the therapist was saying. âYou like it when Daddy looks at your naked body. Youâre a dirty girl. Itâs silly to have your boobies out all the time, and you love being silly. And your Daddy needs to be able to see if you need your diaper changed too, because youâre such a stupid baby that you wonât even tell him if youâre wet or messy. Youâll wait to be checked like a silly little girl.â
Angela nodded. She was so silly. So stupid.
ââŚand if Daddyâs going to be taking care of you, itâs only fair that you treat him with respect, wouldnât you agree? You need to look up to your husband more, Angela, and I know the perfect way to do that. All you have to do isâŚâ
The therapistâs words echoed in the back of her mind, settling there. She felt dumb. She felt ditzy. Ditzy like the receptionist. Was Angela like her? She frowned. She wasnât sure she wanted to be like her. Hadnât Angela hated her at the beginning? Hadnât she thought the receptionist was a bimbo? A vapid, overgrown six-year-old?
She realised she was still staring at the swirling patterns on the tablet with her mouth open, a line of drool hanging from her lips. âSomethingâs wrongâŚâ she mumbled, interrupting the therapist. âIâve been acting wike⌠like a child. Youâve been doing something to me⌠Ericâs beenâŚâ
She had to look away from the lights. She had to stop this. Otherwise she was going to end up like that moron on reception, some sick little fetish fantasy for her husband. Worse. Sheâd be lucky to end up as mature as that brainless bimbo. Daddy⌠Eric had something else in mind for her. Bedwetting. Nappies. He wanted to take away her adulthood. He wanted to punish her for cheating on him! Thatâs what all this was about!
âNot to worry,â said the receptionist, chuckling. âThis always happens around this point. The suggestions get a bit much for the poor little girls. They still have their dignity, somewhere deep down. But itâs no use.â
Before Angela could do anything, the lights on the tablet became even brighter, brilliantly bright. They swirled faster on the screen, and Angela felt herself slipping back into them. No⌠She had to stop looking. She didnât want to be turned into a big baby! She didnât deserve this⌠She deserved⌠She deserved to be looked after. Yes. She deserved to be treated like a princess. A little princess⌠A sweet, innocent little princess who never says no to Daddy.
Angela blinked, and the session was over. The pretty lights had gone! She pouted and looked up at the two men. Eric was on his feet and the therapist was talking to him, saying some grown-up stuff she didnât understand. Something about a womanâs rightful place, whatever that was.
Angela got up too, her diaper crinkling loudly under her frock and squishing between her legs. She must have peed in it at some point, but she didnât remember when. Little girls like her couldnât tell when they went potty in their pants. The soggy thing peaked out below the hem of her dress by at least two inches. Angela blushed. It was embarrassing, but she knew it didnât matter if people saw her wet nappy. She was just a stupid baby.
âAnd she wonât need any more sessions?â Daddy asked the therapist.
âNo. The conditioning takes a little time to fully sink it, but sheâll be all done by tonight.â
The two men shook hands.
âReady to go home, baby girl?â Daddy cooed, turning to look at her.
Angela replied with a big smile, and held out her hand for Daddy to hold.
âGood girl,â he said, and her princess parts tingled delightfully.
They walked home together just like they had yesterday. He walked smoothly while she toddled along beside him, her diaper pushing her thighs apart like the big dumb baby she was, and she didnât let go of his hand once until they were all the way home.
Angela spent most of the afternoon watching cartoons. Sheâd been insulted when Eric had sat her in front of the television and put on a little kidsâ channel for her, but sheâd barely managed to start complaining before the bright colours of the show drew her in. Even if it was a silly plot about a little baby bear leaning to be good for her Daddy, it was actually quite fun to watch.
Later, she made a bit of a mess at dinner, and Eric needed to wipe her mouth clean for her and send her off to change her top. Heâd even joked about getting her a bib. Angela had giggled, but really sheâd been a bit scared. She didnât want to wear a bib like a baby, and she didnât know why sheâd had such a hard time getting her food in her mouth like a big girl.
But it wasnât until she was getting ready for bed that evening that Angela really started to get upset, when she walked into their bedroom and saw the large disposable diaper waiting for her on the bed. She froze immediately at the sight of it. Even though she knew she wore them every night (didnât she?), there was something about seeing it this time that was different. âI canât⌠I donât want to⌠Iâm not wearing that.â
âSweetheart,â said Eric, like he was explaining something very simple to someone stupid. âYou have to wear your nappy otherwise youâll make a big mess. Youâll go pee-pee all over the sheets, darling, just like you do every night, and I donât want to have to wake up in wet sheets.â
Angela blushed. She felt utterly pathetic.
âBut itâs okay, baby,â Eric cooed, and Angela felt butterflies fluttering in her tummy at the gentle tone of his voice. âI still think youâre adorable, even with a yucky wet diaper on. I donât care that youâre not fully potty trained at night, sweetie.â
Angelaâs face went even redder, but at the same time a pleasant tingle ran down her spine. Lucky girl. She was a lucky girl to have Eric. She held out her arms hopefully, and he responded by pulling her in for a big cuddle. His hand reached down to cup her bottom possessively.
Angela felt dizzy, she felt drunk, and she didnât even resist as Eric stripped off all of her clothes and laid her gently down on the bed, with her bare bottom planted right on the seat of the bulky adult nappy. âGood girl,â he crooned as he sprinkled her nether regions with baby powder and patted it into her skin. âThatâs a good girl.â He taped her diaper tightly around her waist, and pulled her back to her feet. She stood there awkwardly, her legs spread apart by the thickness of her nappy, shifting from foot to foot. Eric started to undress as well, down to his boxer shorts. But he didnât have any babyish underwear to change into because he was a grown-up.
Angela was about to get into bed when she realised she hadnât put a top on. Did she usually go to bed topless? She looked down at her large bare breasts and felt a bizarre urge to start jiggling them, to start bouncing them up and down. She giggled. She was such a silly girl!
âWhat are you giggling at, sweetie?â her husband asked, smiling.
âNufing!â Angela blushed and shook her head. âI mean, nothing.â She was just being dumb. She was being a silly girl. She couldnât tell him sheâd been thinking about bouncing her boobies â that would be so embarrassing! It definitely wasnât something that a big girl would do. But then it wasnât something a little girl would do either, was it? Because they didnât even have boobies! Angela screwed up her face in concentration.
Eric laughed. âSilly girl! Are you trying to do thinkies? Itâs bedtime, sweetie. Time to turn that sweet little brain off.â
Angela scowled. Eric knew she hated being talked down to. She stuck out her bottom lip and stomped her foot to show him how angry she was. âDonât patwonise me!â she whined.
âSorry, sweetheart,â he said, but there was something about his eyes that made Angela feel like he was still laughing at her. She got into bed grumpily, her tits jiggling and her diaper crinkling loudly. Eric got into bed next to her and immediately pressed himself right up against her body, reaching round to grab one of her boobs so tightly that she winced. She almost moved away instinctively. Werenât they fighting about something? Werenât they angry with each other for some reason? But then she remembered that good girls didnât do that. Good girls didnât say no with their mouths or their bodies.
Angela frowned. That didnât sound right. She wasnât her husbandâs property⌠was she? But she felt herself getting wet at the thought. It had been a while since theyâd have sex, although she wasnât sure why. She was so horny. She imagined him taking her now, ripping her nappy off and ramming his cock inside her, using her any way he liked. Then she pulled a face, sickened with herself. Where were these thoughts coming from?! She wasnât a whore! Even so, she didnât push her husband away. Eric didnât fuck her that night, but Angela drifted off to sleep with his hard cock pressed firmly against her padded bottom.
When she woke up the next morning, her diaper was soaked with pee-pee. Even though she knew it was something that happened to her every morning (although her actual memories were a little foggy), it still felt strange and embarrassing. It was so yucky! The sodden nappy was cold and clammy, and it reeked of piss. Their whole bedroom smelled like urine now. Sheâd probably smell like pee herself for the rest of the day. Her new perfume⌠She untangled herself from Ericâs arms and slipped out of bed, nearly gagging when her diaper sagged as she stood up. It was so heavy!
She heard Eric moving behind her, and turned around. Her husband was propping himself up in bed, looking at her with a smile that was a too much like a smirk. âDo you need changing, sweetie?â he asked.
She looked at him dumbly.
âDo you need me to help?â he tried again, nodding at her waist.
She followed his gaze to the sopping wet Pampers sagging between her thighs, and felt herself going red. No! She didnât need help changing! She wasnât a baby! A mental image of herself laying on her back with her legs in the air flashed in her mind, and she shook her head vigorously. âNo fank you,â she mumbled. âI mean, no thank you.â What was wrong with her voice? She sounded silly. Silly like that secretary at the therapistâs office. A lisping porn parody. She ran her fingers through her hair and over her bare chest. No pigtails. No stripper tits. She was a big girl. A respectable woman.
âOkay sweetheart,â her husband said, smiling patiently. âGo change your nappy then.â
Angela broke out of her thoughts, realising sheâd been standing there stupidly, like she was waiting for his permission to go. She turned around and toddled to the bathroom as quickly as she could, her droopy diaper swinging about between her legs as she went. She imagined she could feel his eyes on her backside and her face burned with shame. She must look so stupid!
She nearly cried when she saw herself in the bathroom mirror. She was a sexy grown woman with great tits and a tight body, right up until you got to her waist, where instead of seeing her cleanly shaved pussy and toned ass, there was a bulky disposable diaper hanging heavily between her legs, clearly full to the brim with wee-wee. When she undid the tapes, it fell to the floor with a wet smack. She got to work cleaning herself up with wet wipes, making sure to get every bit of pee around her nether regions. She couldnât stand being so dirty. Even as a child, sheâd always hated any activities that got her messy. When she was done, she shoved her used nappy in the tiny bathroom bin and wandered back into the bedroom naked.
Eric had arranged her clothes out on the bed for her, and for a moment, Angela could only stare at them in disbelief â a pastel-pink, little-girlish frock with frilly white ankle socks, trainers, and a pair of baby-blue panties with Disney princesses on the crotch. The outfit looked exactly like something a four-year-old would wear. Angela was about to shout, when all of a sudden a strange fuzziness filled her mind. She thought of the lovely swirling colours sheâd seen at the therapistâs office, and looked at the clothes again. They were kind of cute. They werenât baby clothes after all. They just looked a bit silly, and she was a silly girl.
Angela smiled vacantly at Eric when he started to dress her, sliding her underwear up her legs and pulling her frock over her head (âArms up! Thatâs a good girl!â), even pulling on her socks and tying her shoelaces for her. She felt looked after. She felt pretty and cute. She felt like a good girl.
Once they were downstairs, she hopped from foot to foot impatiently while Eric put his own shoes on at the door. âCome onnn!â she whined, fidgeting with the hem of her dress, lifting it up absent-mindedly and flashing her adorable little-girl undies.
âLooking forward to seeing the therapist, sweetie?â he asked, chuckling at her immature antics as he finished putting his shoes on and picked up a large sports bag.
Angela nodded her head eagerly. She wanted to see the pretty lights again.
âGood girl,â said Eric, taking her hand. A pleasant tingle ran down Angelaâs spine and into her pussy. âLetâs get going, baby.â
After Angela cheats on her husband, she agrees to go to couples therapy with him, but each session with the therapist leaves her feeling less and less like a grown-up.
***
Angela tapped her foot impatiently while her husband spoke with the therapist privately, probably whining about how angry and betrayed he felt. They were both supposed to go in together in a moment, but for now she was stuck waiting in reception.
Really, she couldnât understand why Eric was being so dramatic. It was only sex! It wasnât as though she didnât love him anymore. She just needed to have a little fun sometimes, that was all. They werenât even thirty yet! He was twenty-eight and she was twenty-seven. Did he really expect her to settle down and stick to a single sexual partner when she was still so young?
But heâd insisted on seeing a marriage counsellor and sheâd eventually agreed, albeit reluctantly. Their therapist was a man. How was he supposed to understand what it was like for a woman in her situation? And her first impressions of the office hadnât been great either. The receptionist was a total bimbo!
Angela glanced over at her. She was dressed up like some bizarre fetish fantasy. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a pair of high pigtails, and her stripper-sized tits were crammed into a sparkly Disney princess top. Didnât this place have a uniform? She looked like an overgrown six-year-old for goodness sake! And sheâd been acting like one too when sheâd tried to match their names to their booking. Her husband had been very patient with her stupid lisping voice and barely passable ability to read, but Angela had wanted to turn around and leave straight away. What kind of serious therapistâs office employed a woman like that?
At last the door opened, and the therapist stood in the doorway. He smiled kindly and gestured her to come inside.
âHeâs weady for you now!â the bimbo receptionist chirped happily, looking up from what looked like a fashion magazine for tweens.
Angela rolled her eyes. âThanks.â
She went into the office and the therapist closed the door behind her. Eric was lounged on a sofa facing a hard-backed wooden chair, looking perfectly relaxed. Angela sat down next to her husband, leaving a few inches of space in between them.
The therapist didnât take a seat in the wooden chair, however. He took a tablet from his desk in the corner and stood in front of Angela.
âHere,â he said, handing it to her. She looked down at the screen in her lap in confusion. What was this for? Some sort of presentation?
âI find that girls always get a bit nervous in my office,â he said, talking to her in a light, overly friendly tone, as if he was talking to a nursery-schooler. âThis will help you relax, okay sweetie?â
Angela scowled. She was about to launch into a furious tirade. She couldnât stand being talked down to! Who the hell did this man think he was? If he assumed most women were like his ditzy receptionist then he had another thing coming. But before she could say a word, the tablet in her lap came to life. Brilliant pastel colours swirled and spiralled on the screen, sinking into a single spot in the centre, and her complaints died in her throat. She couldnât take her eyes off it. It was just so prettyâŚ
âThere we go,â said the therapist in that same sweet tone. âThat always takes care of fussy little girls.â
âIs there anything I have to do?â Eric asked.
Angela felt strange. She was vaguely aware of the menâs words, but it was as though they were coming to her from the end of a very long tunnel. Her attention was focused on the dazzling lights on the screen.
âNot a thing. Let me do all the talking. Did you hear that, Angela? Weâre going to have a little talk, okay sweetie? Nothing to be nervous about. Iâm a trained professional, after all. We need to have a little talk about how you betrayed your husband. About how he found out you were cheating on him. Because that wasnât very clever of you, was it Angela? Getting caught.â
Angela shook her head, not taking her eyes off the screen. âNot clever,â she echoed. It was true. She shouldnât have been caught. She should have been more careful not to let him find out. Because even though there was nothing wrong with what sheâd done, even though she was completely in the right, Eric wouldnât understand.
âThatâs right, Angela,â said the therapist. âYouâve been a very dumb bitch, havenât you?â
Angela frowned. That didnât sound right. Dumb bitch. Was it okay for the therapist to call her that?
âLook at the pretty sparkles, sweetie,â he encouraged, and Angela sank back into the swirling lights. âThatâs right. Youâre just a dumb bitch, Angela. All women are, but you especially. Thatâs okay though. You donât know any better â youâre just girls.â
Angela knew vaguely that there was something she didnât like about what the man was saying, but she was too engrossed in the swirling colours to care. His words were like background noise. She could understand them if she concentrated, but it was so hard to focus with the wonderful patterns in front of her.
âYes, youâre just a girl, Angela. Just a silly little girl. A big child. It doesnât matter if you do something wrong, because you canât be held accountable for your actions, can you? Youâre sweet and innocent.â
Angela nodded eagerly, a dim smile spreading across her face. She hadnât done anything wrong. If she wasnât so distracted by her tablet, sheâd have smirked at Eric. His stupid attempt to guilt-trip her with marriage counselling was backfiring on him. The therapist was on her side.
âBesides,â the therapist continued. âYou didnât cheat on your husband anyway, did you Angela?â
Angela was confused. She had cheated on Eric. Was the therapist going to help her cover it up? But Eric already knew, didnât he? Surely that wouldnât work! The lights on the screen grew brighter. They were so, so prettyâŚ
âYou didnât,â the therapist said again. âIn fact, itâs completely impossible for you to have cheated on your husband. You know why, Iâm sure. Itâs because of your embarrassing bedwetting habit.â
Angela wrinkled her nose and started trying to shake her head in disgust. She didnât wet the bed! The therapist must be confused. He must be mixing her up with some little girl. Maybe one of his other clients was some silly little bedwetter who needed to be reassured that everyone had accidents now and again, but that certainly wasnât her.
âDonât⌠I donât wet the bedâŚâ she mumbled. Her words felt heavy in her mouth. It was hard to think. She just wanted to watch the pretty swirling lights.
âLook at the colours, sweetie,â the therapist told her. âThatâs a good girl. You are a bedwetter, Angela. You wet the bed every night. You have done for quite a few weeks now. And what man would want to sleep with a woman who still pisses herself in her sleep like a dumb toddler? Youâre very lucky your husband puts up with your babyish behaviour, young lady.â
Angelaâs face slackened as the spirals spun faster and faster. Lucky. She was a lucky girl. She was lucky to have a husband who put up with her bedwetting. Another man might leave his wife if she started peeing herself every night. Especially if sheâd cheated on him too. But Eric didnât know about that. Did he? It was strange. For a while Angela had been sure he did. And the therapist didnât seem to know either. In fact, he thought it was impossible for a bedwetter like her to cheat on her husband! She blushed even more brightly. How had she done it? Angela frowned slightly. She didnât know. She couldnât remember clearly. But the therapist was right â whoâd want to have sex with some stupid, bedwetting baby-woman? Why would anyone sleep with her when it meant waking up in piss-soaked sheets, or next to someone in a sopping wet diaper. Her special protection. Her baby pants. Was the therapist still talking? She tried to pay attention.
ââŚbecause your husband puts up with you in other ways too, doesnât he?â he was saying. âItâs not just the bedwetting. You actually have quite a few silly, childish behaviours that no adult woman should reasonably be expected to have. YouâŚâ
Angela tuned out again. She could feel his words entering her ears, but her attention was focused entirely on the lights in her lap. So pretty. Such pretty lightsâŚ
When she came to, the tablet was gone, Eric was standing up and putting his coat on, and the therapist was looking at her with a satisfied expression on his face. Had she fallen asleep?
âReady to go home?â Eric asked her brightly.
Angela smiled back, a little hesitantly. Sheâd thought she was in trouble, but maybe sheâd just been confused. She was such a silly girl sometimes. Such a dumb bitch.
Eric held out his hand, and she took it. It felt nice to be holding onto him. It felt reassuring. He held her hand all the way back to their house, and while he walked, she couldnât help herself from skipping along beside him.