Little Daisy 🌼

I am...less than thrilled...

....I may have had a temper tantrum and gotten a spanking.

@goddessbecky-222 I don’t think my dress and tights hide my full diaper that well 🎀 It might be doing the opposite 🤭

This is your element. Banal social functions like this exist for you.

You don't have to worry about opening the door with your hands, it simply opens for you. You allow yourself to exude beauty and grace, walking purposefully.

You make the usual greetings to the various lords, ladies, knights, celebrities and high-level government workers. You shake hands, kiss cheeks, and have your hands kissed a few hundred times before you finally are seated at your table.

It's the best table in the venue, which doesn't mean much, as it's still down on the floor with all your subordinates. But such is the life of royalty. You're not here to rule, you're here to elevate the entire event and give the attendees the false sense that they too are important like you.

You chat with the Duchess to your left about various banalities, The Lady to your right about the difficulty in finding good staff, and the Baron across from the table about the details of the yacht that he's having built. You would normally be snide or derisive, but tonight you're pleasant and agreeable. You keep reminding yourself that any rude or mean behavior would have you sucking your thumb.

You're doing very well. Occasionally you reach a word that you don't remember, and are able to substitute it for another. You only say 'thingy' a couple times, and nobody seems to notice or remark on it.

Your Mommy is going to be so embarrassed and mad when you come home victorious in your wager!

The lights dim and a celebrity of some sort takes the stage to give an introductory speech. Of course, he thanks you for being there first and asks for everyone to applaud for your presence. You smile wave shyly; all part of the act. You're playing the part of the bashful and humble princess everyone loves, and you excel at it.

The speech continues, and it's full of really complicated words that make it all confusing. But as long as you laugh when everyone else does, nobody knows that your vocabulary has shrunken.

You feel something shift, a movement in the slime between your legs as the plug holding in all the bath water retracts and dissolves into liquid slime. You're now entirely responsible for holding in your bath-time enema.

You squirm and clench your cheeks. The Duchess looks at you briefly, and you smile to signal that you're enjoying the speech, although you're no longer listening. Your every thought is bent on keeping your enema in.

Waiters place food at your table and water in your glass. You reach for a fork, but you can't seem to grip it. You brilliantly cover for you lack of hands by giving the food a derisive sneer. You aren't eating because the food is gross...totally not because you need Mommy to cut it up and feed it to you!

Your stomach gurgles and you know you aren't going to make it through the night. You raise a finger and a servant is immediately by your side.

"I'm afraid I have another engagement tonight. Could you please have my car brought around immediately?" You ask.

"Yes, Your Highness." He says, and speed-walks away.

It'll be a couple minutes. You can hold it that long. You have to. You're starting to sweat and the mental strain is incredible.

The room goes totally silent. Heads are bowed. You do the same. It's a moment of silence for...something...you weren't listening.

You feel yourself losing the battle. You're praying to every deity you can think of for this fucking eternal 'moment' of silence to end. You simply can't make poopies now!

You decide to let just a little bit out...to relieve the pressure just a bit...

Your squint and concentrate on relaxing just a little.

Pressurized liquid shoots from you in a loud sloppy wet fart. You can actually hear the liquid squirting and splashing into your dipee as your risky gamble turns into a total loss of control.

The relief is immense as the cramping fullness fades. You open your eyes and look around the room, as if you too are looking for where that disgusting noise came from. People a few tables away are looking around as well, but all the people in your immediate viscinity are staring at you. They know you've just had a very loud accident. When you look at them, they quickly look away.

You're trembling with humiliation.

The duchess places a hand on yours. "Don't fret. I'm sure we've all had accidents at one point or another."

You can barely hear her. You can only hear your own heartbeat and the and the roar of your own blood in your ears. You're trying to maintain normal breathing, but you know you're on the verge of crying.

Your dipee is now rewarding you, rubbing you and penetrating you softly. You do your best to remain still as you squirm, feeling your hot wet messy slop flow around your body as you move.

"Your car is ready, Ma'am."

The waiter holds out an arm to help you from your chair.

"Y-yes. Thank you." You say, in a daze of shame.

You stand and use sheer willpower to keep your legs from wobbling. Oh fuck, why was your dipee so think right now?! You can feel the massive weight of it sagging and swaying like a pendulum between your legs as you stand. You force your knees together and there's an audible wet squelch.

You remember with horror how your diaper had swollen multiple times in the tub before spraying water into you. At it's largest size in the tub it just might still be hidden by the your dress...but If you just pottied several times that volume of poopies into your dipee....Everyone would be able to see it.

You're walking quickly, tugging hard at the front and back of your dress to force the hemline down as low as possible. Was that a gasp behind you or did you imagine it? Was the table you just passed laughing at the speech or you?

You're concentration is utterly shattered as you barely suppress your panic. You're waddling like a toddler despite your best efforts.

Then, a moment happens...one that you know will haunt your nightmares for the rest of your life.

You try to control your gait and force your legs together, squishing the dipee between your thighs as much as possible. However, the calculated maneuver goes wrong. Your foot falls at an awkward angle, and your heel slips to the side.

You shriek as you fall forward. and the world slows as everything that could have gone wrong...suddenly goes wrong.

You fall face first and feel the hem on the back of your dress brush against your back as you collide with the floor.

Your clutch, impacting with the hard floor, snaps open, and your pacifier is sent tumbling across the floor in front of you.

You gasp and lunge, crawling after it. You grasp it in a fist and stand. There are suppressed giggles, gasps, and whispers across the whole room, and when the servant helps you stand, every eye is on you. Some people farther away might just have seen you trip, but at least a few hundred people have seen...everything!

You rush to the door. You have to escape! You try to grasp at the handle but your hands won't interact with it properly.

"Open it Open it Open it!" you cry. You realize how childish you sound and then the tears become a constant stream. Everyone is watching you have a fit, complete with diaper and pacifier.

You're escorted through the same throng of reporters you had walked through an hour ago. This time though, instead of being photographed as a haughty royal princess, you're crying, waddling, clutching your paci, and desperately pulling at your dress to hide your shameful messy dipee. You'd never wished harder to be invisible.

You climb into the back seat of the car, unavoidably showing every photographer and news outlet the entirety of your swollen dipee. The flash of cameras becomes a nearly constant light source. You collapse, sobbing into the back seat and the door is closed behind you.

You raise the divider between yourself and the driver, then remove the heels from your aching feet. You scream and sob. You wish Mommy was here to pet you and stroke your cheek. Or Daddy, or Aggie...literally anyone that wouldn't laugh at you!

You plunge your paci into your mouth as you cry helplessly. In this moment you don't care if you need an adult to take it out for you. You need it's comforting shape and flavor. You cry yourself to sleep, curled into a ball in the backseat of the SUV. Even in your dreams you're trying to hide your diaper as people point and laugh.

The crunch of gravel stirs you from your sleep. You're almost home! You hear some words between the driver and another man, and then the car door opens. Daddy is standing there with a big soft blanket. You dive from the car and hug him tightly as he wraps the blanket around you.

"You alright? Want to go back to Mommy?"

You nod fervently. You had been so stupid. How had you ever thought you could do this?!

He leaves your paci in your mouth, but secures the blanket around you to obscure the bottom half of your face. Then, with one arm comfortingly around your shoulders he leads you into the manor.

You spend that night in Mommy's bed, as she comforts and shushes you. she softly runs her fingers through your hair and strokes your cheek as you suck your pacifier. Every time a tear appears, she wipes it away. Everything is so warm...so soft...and so comforting. Not at all like the cold disingenuous royal life you'd sampled tonight.

The next morning Mommy lets you look at her phone as she scrolls social media. Most of it is really boring or hard to understand. Sometimes an image of you trying to hide your diaper moves across the screen. Out there the entire world is laughing, talking, and mocking. Late night comedy hosts are making jabs at you, and all the people you once thought of as friends are carefully deciding the best way to distance themselves from you.

But here...here you're safe. Mommy might have put this thing on you, but at least she, Daddy, and Aggie seem to actually care for you.

Mommy picks up your phone and reviews the thousands of notifications. You don't even want to look. The outside world is a nightmare.

"Hmm...Well...the good news is that people aren't as upset as they could be...Your father is being comforting. He thinks this is salvageable." She summarizes.

Salvageable?! There's no recovery from THIS!! "Your PR team has reached out. They want to spin it as a political statement. They've already set up a few dozen interviews, a few public appearances, three or four speeches, and some public donations to various causes related to various infant-based causes."

"I don't wanna!" You say, and huddle closer to Mommy. How could you do all that if you couldn't even make it through an awards dinner?

"Well you could just say that you're going to lay low for a bit...maybe try again in a year?" She offers.

You pout. You don't even want to think about that. Maybe in the future You'll want to return, but right now all you want is to be safe and warm with Mommy.

"Or you could just quit." She says.

She shows you a drafted message to your PR team and your parents:

Last night was a failed attempt to live both my lives at once. Following the embarrassment that caused, I'll be removing myself from public life. To be clear, I am choosing to live my life as a baby. Take this as an abdication if you wish, but know that if I ever sit the throne, I'll be feeling it through the padding of a diaper. My staff have been serving as my mommies and daddies for some time, and will continue to do so. This decision is final. Any attempt to talk me out of this or leverage me into public view and the following videos will be sent to the press.

Attached to the message are several videos of you breastfeeding, being burped, drinking your bottle, grinding against your messy diaper, and saying shameful things into the mirror.

Mommy strokes your cheek, "You can't use touchscreens with your gloves, but if you agree with this message, just touch the 'send' button with your nose if you want and you'll be my baby forever."

Your Friday night’s out sure changed honey… But let’s be honest here… Doesn’t it feel so much better, to be where you belong with the girls ? 💕

Men are so intimidating and strong, especially watching sport… Am I wrong @emma-says ?💗

Soft Sissy like you are are part of the Girly Friendship last forever team 💖

♡ XoXo Jenny ♡

Previous Part

You're shaking. No, you're trembling. Your mind is racing so fast that the thoughts blur into a haze that for all intents and purposes is a blank screen. You only hear the blood in your ears and your heart is beating like you've been running for hours.

Your Apartment...Your job...Your career...Everything....just gone. All that's left is Mommy, your car, and a life of nursing on Mama's penis and filling your diaper in the most painful and humiliating way conceivable. You don't even know if their plan will work, and if it does work, it could take weeks! Months! What if it never comes off? Would this just be your life? Forever?

It's too much! Every thought is so awful! You flail your soft padded mittens and start sobbing. Your legs give out and you fall into the squishy poopy mess with a sickening squelch.

This single moment of added embarrassment only tips you further over the edge. You hit your pillow-hands against the tile floor and kick impotently. You look like a toddler throwing a tantrum, and what's worse is you KNOW it, which only feeds into the maelstrom of emotions you can't contain or control. It's a feedback loop of pure impotent rage and frustration.

You pant, gasping for breath. You're exhausted, still laying on the floor. You don't know how long your hysteria lasted. Seconds? Minutes? An Hour? The part of you that judges time stopped working when it started.

Mommy stands above you, looking down at you. You're not sure what emotion she's displaying. Disappointment? Anger? Fear possibly?"

"Are you quite finished, young lady?"

You sit up. sniffle, and wipe your eyes with your mittens. You feel like an absolute child. Fuck. You look like an absolute child.

She motions toward...all of you and her tone turns softer. "You know something crazy? I love you. Not as a romantic interest, God no. Whatever fucked up thing that diaper did to our heads might just be permanent, but for whatever reason I don't mind how my mind reacts when I look at you."

You look up at her. She's still naked, and it makes your little peepee throb, but you also can't picture sex with her. She's too perfect and wonderful for that. "I know. I feew the thame way."

She moves and sits next to you on the floor. "This plan to remove your diaper... Lily and I are trying our hardest to make it work, but it'll take time. It'll take a lot more time if you fight it. This thing of yours seems to be super efficient with resources. We may never starve it off you. If we do, it won't be for a long time."

She places a hand on your back and then wipes away a tear from your cheek.

"We aren't going to stop trying, because I think this thing programmed me to take care of you...and baby you, obviously, but mainly to take care of you."

"I-" You sniff loudly. "I-know, Mommy."

"This process? It requires a liquid diet to reduce food for your diaper, spankings so it expends energy, constantly wetting so you are edged endlessly. Hell, it even requires a giant butt plug you can't control."

"Mommy, I knowww."

"My point is that to play this game you can't be sneaking solid food, fighting back, holding back your wettings or ANYTHING. You are a baby because you need to be a baby to escape being a baby. If I gave your job a valid excuse you'd be acting like you're going back to work in a day or two. You'd still think of yourself as an adult."

"B-but I don't want to be a baby!"

"That's why you have to be one. The better you play the part, the sooner we get thing off you."

You sniff again. She's using the tone that a mom uses when she's explaining why a child can't have an expensive toy they want. Embarrassingly, it's working.

"O-Okay Mommy. I'll try to be your baby. For real."

She hugs you and kisses your forehead. "Thank you so so much. I love you baby."

"I love you Mommy."

The next few days are tortuously slow. Your days involve mostly coloring and playing with toys. The days, however, turn to weeks, and you adapt to the bland, monotonous days by increasing your imagination. At first you're just talking to your stuffies because Mama and Mommy are busy having sex. Then you're assigning personalities to your toys. Next thing you know Mommy and Mama are peeking around the corner to watch you deeply buried in pretend scenarios with your stuffies and dollies.

Mommy and Mama continue your formula diet, with meal replacement shakes as treats for days when you're extra good. The smell of food makes you yearn to eat it, but you forget what it actually tastes like. Pizza is just the smell of basil and tomato. Curry is the smell of spices. What they taste like and how they feel in your mouth become distant half-remembered memories.

Mama takes great pride and delight in your transition. She teaches you fashion, albeit babygirl fashion. She even takes you to the doctor to have your hormone levels checked alongside her as a Mama/Daughter date.

Every waking moment of every day is spent being the perfect baby girl, and every night is spent in your little playpen at the foot of your moms' bed, or between them, softly nursing on Mama or Mommy. With the exception of the maintenance spankings and when you make poopies, your life is happy and pain-free.

Your vocabulary dwindles down to just the words you hear and use the most. Mommy thinks that it's because you're sitting right on top of the source of the baby pheromones, and are always breathing in a low dose, even with the air filter running on maximum. While your preschool cartoons never taught you anything, they helped retain basic speech and knowledge. As long as you watch your Sesame street you never forget your primary colors, or the letters in the alphabet.

While you helplessly regress ever further from the adult you used to be, your diaper does indeed shrink...very slowly. By your second Adoption Day (the day Mommy and Mama celebrate you coming to them) it's about the thickness of a normal diaper. And a few weeks after that, everything changes.

"M-Mommy! Mama! Mommy! Mama!" This has never happened before! Is this allowed? Should you be scared?"

Mommy stirs, and sits up. and crawls to the foot of the bed. She gasps when she sees you. "Lily! Lily wake up! It Happened!"

Lily groans. "Wha? What happened?

"My Mai Daipee!" You gasp.

Mama repositions and looks down into your playpen. "Oh my god. It worked."

You're sitting upright, You can see your hands! for the first time in years! Whatever made up the mittens has dissolved into a thick clear slime that drips from your fingers. Your forearms and hands are so atrophied and tiny. just opening and closing them is hard.

What's really scary is that your constant companion, your diaper, has also dissolved. You're covered in wet clear slime from the waist down. For the first time in years you can see what's between your legs. The thingy there is so shrunken and tiny. It looks completely alien to you.

"Mommy, ith Otay?" You ask.

"Yes, my love. Don't you remember? You used to not have a diaper or mittens! Long ago."

You think hard and scowl. That doesn't sound right. You're certain that it's always been there.

You gasp! "Tha Pwug! Ith gone!" This was serious. You don't really remember why, but the plug was important. Now you feel so empty. It feels all wrong! "I want mai pwug!" You insist. Mama sometimes has one and you want one too!

Mama strokes your cheek. "It's Okay, baby. This just means that you get to grow up now!"

You scowl. Growing up sounds stupid. Your cute diaper is gone, your plug is gone, your mittens are gone. Everything you know is changing and you hate it!

"Oh boy, here comes another tantrum." sighs Mommy.

"Your turn to handle this one. I'm going to make some doctor's appointments." Mama says.

"Growing up" as Mama put it, apparently required going to lots of doctors and doing stupid tests where the doctors said stupid hard-to-understand words like 'developmentally delayed', 'Mentally regressed', 'severely atrophied', and 'complete incontinence'.

Mommy and Mama explained later in the car and said the "Growing up" wouldn't change too many things after all, which was just fine with you. They both seemed really relieved that you weren't upset for some reason. You don't know why you would you be upset. Things were just fine before! On the way home you even got nuggies from McDonalds which you managed to eat with your new hands!

Mommy even said that you would still need a diaper! but it wouldn't be like the one you had before. You'd have lots of temporary ones, and they wouldn't be squishy unless you made them squishy, which sounded like a whole extra unnecessary step.

Turns out you're great at making them squishy! And when they're squishy they feel really good to move around in! You bragged about it to Mama and she said it was your special talent! How lucky is that? Yep, things couldn't possibly be better!

Fin

Thanks so much to everyone who stuck it through and read this whole story from beginning to end. This is my first dive back into writing casual erotica, and the response has been so positive and touching! Don't be sad that it's over though, there will be more!

I actually had so many possible endings planned, but at a certain point each path reaches a point where a time-skip/montage is necessary due to the long and repetitive days and slow decline of the MC. I didn't want to beat the concept to death with 10 more parts where the MC gets a spanking, and felt it best to end it while it was still enjoyable.

Fun fact: There was a way to get the diaper off way earlier with very little mental decline. several of the early parts had the option to bring in a doctor who would have been critical in discovering aspects of the diaper and getting it off before the MC completely devolved into a baby.

The darkest ending involved yelling at Mary after she ends your job. She cries and realizes she can't do this then locks herself in her room. Lily, forced to choose between the new baby and her old friend-turned-girlfiend tells you to leave. This results in an ending where job interview after job interview fails due to humiliating reasons, you end up living in your car where the enclosed space accelerates the mental decline. Eventually, completely out of options, you return to Mary's and beg for forgiveness. She and Lily take you in as their baby again, and do eventually forgive and love you like a daughter, but they've stopped trying to remove the diaper, and you completely regress to a babbling infant with no hope of escape. I definitely prefer the ending that the votes led to.

One thing that really surprised me was how often people voted for tenderness and obedience, opening up a whole soft and loving element to the story that I didn't think would be very popular.

Any way, thank you so much for the support and feedback! It means far more to me than you probably think!

Vote for what happens next!

Previous Part

You freeze in front of your phone. What do you do? Would she understand why you're in here with your phone? Surely she'd understand that you have a career and responsibilities. You can't take a video call right now, obviously but maybe she can help you send a valid excuse.

She exits the shower. She surprises you by having a towel wrapped around her hair, but nothing below. Her skin is damp and glistening. Every part of her is stunning. You couldn't appreciate it in the dim light last night, but her work as a ranger has made her lithe and strong. She's stunning.

"Something wrong baby?"

Your brain does a mental hiccup, for a moment you struggle to say what you intended.

"Why are you in the kitchen? Do you want another bottle?

"Um, N-no Mommy. I-uh My wowk phone rang... I mean wang."

Her eyebrows go up. "I didn't know babies had work phones."

This isn't going how you thought it would. "It'th my wowk. M-my both cawwed." God you hate having to do this baby lisp.

"So work called and it was your boss? On your work phone that baby owns?" She shifts her weight and puts a hand on one hip. "What did your boss want?"

"A bideo caw."

"Oh my." she shifts her weight to the other leg. You try not to glance at her breasts as they swing slightly. "What a lot of adult things to happen to a baby!"

"Mommy. Pweathe, tektht my both an ekthcuthe."

She brushes an errant hair from her face. "So my baby got a work call from her boss at her career, and needs her mommy to send a text so she can continue having a career? Because she's really an adult with adult responsibilities and not a baby?"

She's going to refuse. You know it. This is insane! She's not living in reality! You have to snap her out of it! What was her name again? M-...not Mommy...Mer, Mir, Mar-

"Mary... Please. This isn't fun. I can't lose my job. Please just tell him I'm sick or in the hospital or something. Just do this, and I'll go back to being whatever you want me to be."

She walks to the table, picks up her phone, and sends a quick text. Then sighs. "Fine. I'll text him. Then you're going to be the sweetest most obedient baby girl. Okay?"

You exhale with relief. "Oh thank God. Thank you so much."

She picks up your phone and opens teams. She types for a bit, hits send and places it on the counter. You lean over to see what she's written and the bottom drops out of your stomach.

Hi! Sorry I can't make it in. I've decided to hone a new skill set that involves filling big fluffy diapers with peepee and poopies and then cumming my brains out in my own mess.

Attached is a video. From the thumbnail you know exactly what it is, but she presses play anyway.

There you are, writhing and thrusting in your diaper, mounted atop a plastic pink potty, screaming and gasping in ecstasy over how much you (apparently) get off on messy diapers. The more you look at it the worse it gets. Your penis-paci is bouncing against your chest, the cum-filled condom flopping obscenely. Mommy had unbeknownst to you changed your diaper yet again and now it says 'Mommy's Potty Princess' and depicts yet another cute cartoon version of you, this time smiling happily atop a little pink potty.

You feel like you're going to throw up. Your boss starts to type, and then the message appears. "Best of luck with your future ambitions." You're too shocked to move or speak. Your job is gone, just like that.

Mommy turns your phone off, walks across the kitchen, opens the lid to the recycling bin, and drops your phone inside. Then turns to you. "I held up my end of the bargain. I texted your boss, now you have to hold up your end of the bargain."

She strokes your cheek. "I'm sorry. you might think that was harsh, but that's exactly what I said would happen when I talked to you this morning. No more adult things. At all. If there's an adult action or influence in your life making you feel like you're an adult Mama and I won't hesitate to eliminate it."

She goes to the living room, turns on the TV, and switches the channel to a cartoon for preschoolers. "I know you'll be upset, but it's best to distract yourself with more age-appropriate work. Do some coloring while you watch cartoons. I insist."

Your mouth is still open. Your job and responsibilities are gone! Your income! Your money! You don't have money for the upcoming rent payment, your apartment might as well have gone too!

"Baby...What do we say?"

Vote for what happens next!

Previous Part

You're practically ignored until Mama is out the door. Then, when you have Mommy's full attention you push the bottle away from you. "Mommy, I can't drink it until I go potty! If you let me make poopies-" You freeze, make poopies? when had you ever said that before? You try to regain your momentum. "I-I mean...do...you know...I'll happily drink my baba."

She smirks. "Okay, you want to start bargaining...I can accept that. Unfortunately I only deal in a single currency." She walks to the counter and picks up the paddle. Just seeing it makes your bottom sting. She places it on the table in front of you.

"Now let's deal. How many spanks is your bottle worth to you? Would you drink it for 5? What about 50? I might get tired, but I'm willing to go as high as possible."

She looks down at you, and in her eyes you see a similar smolder that you've already come to fear.

Slowly, you reach out, pick up your baba, and begin to suck the bitter milk down.

She smirks. "Aw, giving me an empty bottle? For free? You must have actually really wanted your milkies this morning!"

She strokes your cheek. Her tone changes to one of soft matronly love. "See it's exactly this kind of thing that is making it harder to help you! All this pride. All this self respect and desire to fight us at every step." Mommy sighs. "By trying to act like an adult...again...you've actually made me agree with Mama."

"Agree about what?" You didn't like where this was going.

"Your ego is only getting in the way, so it needs regular maintenance to keep it from interfering with your treatment. The best way to do that, is by expanding rules and setting clear expectations. You know that we're trying to help, but we need you to actually help us help you, understand?"

You slowly nod. "What are you trying to say?"

She sighs. "Until now our rules and punishments have just happened to align with very infantilizing things based on fucking crazy circumstances, we would just be expanding those rules and punishments. To keep you obedient. You understand?"

"Expanding how?" You ask. You have a sinking feeling in your stomach that this is not going to be anything pleasant for you.

"Early this morning Mama went out and got a special tool for you. I'm surprised you haven't noticed it yet."

You scan the room. There's nothing in the dining area, the kitchen, or the Living-" You're in total shock. There, in the middle of the living room is a child's training potty! It's so little that you would be practically squatting instead of sitting on it.

"That's where you'll be 'making poopies' as you put it." She says. Your mouth will also be soaped for adult language, you will have maintenance spankings on top of regular spankings, and you will do everything we say the instant we say it with a 'Yes Mommy' or a 'Yes Mama.' You are going to live as our baby because it's what is best for you. And we will now start to actively make you act at an age level that best fits you. Understand, sweetie?"

Your mind is racing. This is a living nightmare. "This is crazy!" You exclaim. "I'm not using a baby potty!"

"For this single instance, because these are new rules, I will give you a second chance to respond correctly. After this chance, any other outburst will end with you sucking a soapy dildo gag and choking down a feeding bag full of soapy water." She says it factually and without anger.

You open your mouth to say any one of a million things. You shut your mouth. You open it again to say any one of a hundred things, then close it again. When you open it a third time it's to say the only thing you can say.

"Yes Mommy."

"Again. With your baby-lisp." She's smiling, the smolder in her eyes tells you that she's testing you.

"Yeth Mommy."

"Much better. I'll expect you to keep that lisp until it's natural to you. Wouldn't that be adorable?"

"Yeth Mommy." You're red with humiliation and your eyes are on the floor. You started this conversation with an effort to bargain, and now you've lost everything!

"Very good! In fact, now that breakfast is done, I've decided you can make your poopies a little early! What do you say to that?"

The last thing you want to do is sit on a stupid plastic potty, but you choke out a "Fank You, Mommy."

She leads you by the hand to your latest and greatest humiliation. As you sit, the slime squelches and oozes through your cheeks and around your penis. The slippery cold slime that wasn't in contact with your skin is pressed against you and you shiver.

"Now, why don't you ask nicely for what you want, baby?"

You're on the very edge of tears. In some alternate universe you returned from an uneventful backpacking trip, played some video games, and went back to your nine-to-five....that could be you...instead of being a forcefully regressed baby, making poopies into a dipee like a toddler that doesn't know to remove their padding before sitting down.

You fight back the crying and stammer out "M-May I pweathe make poopieth on my potty, Mommy?"

She holds up a cell phone and you know Mama will be watching this later. "You may."

The slime invisibly shifts, you feel a sucking, slurping pull at your plug. "Oh! OOOH!" The stretching sensation is incredible and painful. You grip the sides of your potty and gasp as the widest point passes your bottom and your hole closes rapidly on the rubber taper, expelling it from your body.

The poopies feel endless, Your stomach cramps and deflates as the loudest wettest farts rip from you. Hot mush fills the crack of your bottom, then the front of your diaper. Your gasping, straining, and panting as you deflate and your diaper expands visibly.

Then, it rewards you.

"AAAH! OH! Oh Mommyyyy!" The slime is taking advantage of your gaping bottom with a nearly four-inch diameter tendril. It's pumping in and out of you like a piston while a sucking mass of slime swirls around the head of your penis.

You're thrusting and grinding against your mittened hands, rocking back and forth on your potty, and gasping madly for air. Tears are running down your face, but you don't know if they're tears of joy or shame.

You're going to cum! You're only a millisecond away!

The diaper returns to an inert gelatinous slime. You want to scream, swear, rant at how unfair this is, and hit something in your frustration and rage, but all you do is pant limply. You don't have any energy left.

Then you feel the plug moving, the tip of it gliding up between your cheeks as it returns to it's home inside you.

You only barely have enough consciousness left to remember that you need to lisp as you cry out, "No! Pweathe Mommy! No pwug! Not yet! Wet me have Jutht one minute! Pweeeath-AH!"

The plug has reached your sore, stretched, and badly abused hole, and has begun pushing into you now. Somehow, even though you only just had it in, it still hurts to take. you're squealing and babbling incoherently as the surprisingly strong ooze slowly and effortlessly pushes it into you.

You're gripping your potty and kicking your legs as it nears the widest part, and then with an audible 'slurp' your body pulls the rest of the mass into yourself.

The diaper goes inert.

Mommy guides you to the couch and you collapse on her lap. She strokes your head and talks, but you don't hear any of the sweet supportive things she's saying. You've had more sensations in the last ten minutes than you would want in a week. you fall asleep suckling at her finger, just like a baby. Her baby.

You must have slept for hours. You awake to a sound that fills you with ice-cold fear. It's your phone, still on the counter where it had been placed days ago. It's ringing, and based on the Teams ringtone it's definitely work related.

Mommy is in the shower. This is all up to you.

Waddling with your full diaper and stuffed bottom, you reach your phone. As suspected, it's your boss. He's trying to video-call you! You glance momentarily down at yourself, as if the penis-binky and sagging diaper might be concealable, then you press the button to deny the call.

The shower water turns off. "Baby? Are you awake?" Mommy calls sweetly.