The Baby Pt. 1
I went ahead and wrote a abdl themed story! hope yall enjoy! feel free to repost or share! ________________________________________________________________
Emily had told herself a thousand times that she was too old for this. Twenty-three, fresh out of college, living on her own... and yet here she was, cheeks burning, standing in the middle of Mrs. Harlow's living room while the older woman inspected her like she was still sixteen.
"You know the rules, sweetie," Mrs. Harlow said calmly, arms crossed over her ample chest. "When I watch you, we do things my way. No arguments."
Emily tugged at the hem of her too-short sundress—the one Mrs. Harlow had insisted she wear when she'd shown up for what was supposed to be "just helping with some chores around the house." The truth was far more humiliating. Emily's landlord had threatened eviction over late rent, and Mrs. Harlow, her old neighbor from childhood, had offered to cover it... on the condition that Emily spent the weekend "under her supervision." Emily had assumed it meant cleaning, cooking, maybe some light yard work.
She hadn't expected the diaper.
It crinkled loudly with every tiny shift of her weight. Thick, white, taped snug around her hips, the kind with the babyish prints of smiling teddy bears marching across the front. Mrs. Harlow had produced it from a drawer like it was the most normal thing in the world, cooing about how "big girls who can't keep their promises need a little reminder of who's really in charge."
Emily had protested—loudly at first—until Mrs. Harlow had simply lifted the front of the dress and patted the front of the padding with a firm hand. "Shush now, princess. You're already leaking a little just from the embarrassment. See? This is exactly why you need it."
That had shut Emily up fast. Because she had felt the first warm trickle escape when the woman had taped her in, her body betraying her in the most mortifying way possible.
Now, an hour later, Emily stood frozen while Mrs. Harlow circled her slowly, adjusting the dress here, smoothing the ruffles there.
"Arms up," Mrs. Harlow ordered.
Emily obeyed without thinking, letting the woman lift the dress higher, exposing the bulging diaper completely. The tapes were still pristine white, but the padding between her legs already felt suspiciously warm and heavy. She clenched her thighs together instinctively, only to hear the telltale squish.
Mrs. Harlow clucked her tongue. "Already? Goodness, Emily. I thought college girls were supposed to have better control."
"I-I didn't mean to..." Emily stammered, voice small. Her face was on fire.
"Of course you didn't, baby." Mrs. Harlow reached out and gave the front of the diaper a gentle pat-pat-pat, right over the soggy spot. The wet sound was unmistakable. "But that's why we have these, isn't it? To catch all those silly little accidents."
Emily whimpered. She wanted to sink through the floor. Instead, she felt another small spurt escape—hot, unstoppable—and the diaper drank it up greedily, swelling just a fraction more.
Mrs. Harlow smiled, pleased. "There we go. Good girl. Let it all out. No potty for you this weekend, remember? Only your diapee."
Emily's knees wobbled. She tried to protest again, but the words came out as a pathetic whine. Mrs. Harlow simply scooped her up under the arms like she weighed nothing and carried her over to the oversized changing mat laid out in the center of the living room rug.
"On your back, legs up," she instructed, laying Emily down with practiced ease.
Emily obeyed, cheeks flaming as her dress was flipped up and the sodden diaper exposed fully. Mrs. Harlow untaped it slowly, deliberately, letting the cool air hit Emily's damp skin. The used padding sagged heavily between her legs, proof of just how little control she'd had.
"Look at that mess," Mrs. Harlow murmured, almost fondly. "Such a soggy little baby. No wonder you couldn't hold it."
Emily squeezed her eyes shut, mortified, as Mrs. Harlow wiped her clean with cool baby wipes, powdered her generously—way more powder than necessary—and slid a fresh diaper underneath. This one was even thicker, with extra padding in the seat. The tapes were pulled tight, sealing her in with a series of loud rips.
"All done," Mrs. Harlow announced, patting the freshly padded crotch. "Now, let's get you something to drink. Babies need their bottles, after all."
Emily opened her mouth to argue... but the pacifier was already being pressed between her lips. She suckled automatically, too overwhelmed to fight.
Mrs. Harlow lifted her again, settling her on her hip like an oversized toddler. "There we go. My sweet, helpless little girl. You're going to spend the rest of the weekend just like this—crinkly, padded, and completely taken care of."
As Mrs. Harlow carried her toward the kitchen, Emily felt the inevitable pressure building again. She squirmed, trying to hold it, but the thick diaper and the gentle bouncing motion made resistance impossible.
A moment later, she gave up.
The flood came in a long, warm rush, soaking into the fresh padding with a soft hiss. Mrs. Harlow felt it immediately—the sudden warmth spreading under her hand—and chuckled.
"That's my good baby," she cooed, giving Emily's padded bottom a loving squeeze. "All nice and full already. Don't worry... Mommy Harlow has plenty more diapers where that came from."
Emily buried her burning face in the woman's shoulder, suckling harder on the paci, resigned.
Deep down, in the most secret part of her, a tiny voice whispered that maybe—just maybe—she didn't hate it as much as she pretended.
And the diaper crinkled happily with every step as Mrs. Harlow carried her helpless charge deeper into her weekend of babyhood.
Mrs. Harlow carried Emily into the cozy kitchen, the thick diaper crinkling loudly with every gentle bounce on her hip. Emily's face stayed buried against the woman's shoulder, the pacifier muffling her soft whimpers as another warm wave slowly spread through the fresh padding. The new diaper was already starting to feel noticeably heavier between her legs—warm, squishy, and impossible to ignore.
"Such a good little baby," Mrs. Harlow murmured, rubbing slow circles over the back of Emily's dress where it covered the bulging seat. "Mommy can feel how full you're getting already. No holding back now, hmm? That's what diapees are for."
She settled into one of the tall kitchen chairs, shifting Emily effortlessly onto her lap so the girl's padded bottom rested directly against her thigh. The pressure made Emily squirm instinctively—the soggy bulk squishing audibly with the movement.
"Shhh, settle," Mrs. Harlow said firmly, reaching for the warm bottle she'd prepared earlier. It was oversized, the kind meant for "big babies," filled with sweet warmed milk. She popped the pacifier out with a gentle tug and replaced it with the bottle's wide nipple.
"Open up, princess."
Emily hesitated for just a second—long enough for Mrs. Harlow to arch an eyebrow and give the front of the diaper a single, warning pat that sent a fresh crinkle and a tiny spurt escaping.
Emily's lips parted immediately.
The nipple slid in, and she began to suckle automatically, the warm milk flowing in steady, comforting rhythms. Her eyes fluttered half-closed despite herself; the combination of the full, heavy diaper pressing against her, the gentle rocking of Mrs. Harlow's lap, and the rhythmic sucking was almost hypnotic.
Mrs. Harlow watched with a soft, satisfied smile, one hand supporting the bottle while the other rested possessively on the front of Emily's padding—fingers occasionally giving little encouraging pats right over the teddy bear prints that were now starting to fade slightly under the swelling.
"Look at you," she cooed. "All tucked away in your nice thick diapee, drinking your baba like the helpless little girl you really are. No big-girl potty this weekend, remember? Just lots and lots of accidents for Mommy to take care of."
Emily's cheeks burned hotter with every word, but her body betrayed her again—another long, slow release hissed into the diaper as the milk hit her system. The padding drank it up eagerly, swelling further until it forced her thighs apart just a little more. The tapes pulled tight against her skin.
Mrs. Harlow felt the warmth bloom under her palm and chuckled low. "There she goes again. Such a leaky baby. Good thing I stocked up on extras."
After the bottle was finished—Emily sucking the last drops with soft, needy whimpers—Mrs. Harlow popped the pacifier back in and lifted her once more. This time she carried her into the living room and set her down gently on the thick, soft playmat in the center of the floor.
Surrounded by pastel blocks, a few stuffed animals, and a colorful activity gym, Emily looked every bit the oversized toddler.
"On your tummy now, sweetie. Time for some playtime while Mommy checks how soggy we really are."
Emily obeyed slowly, lowering herself onto her padded belly. The thick diaper forced her legs apart in an awkward frog-like position; every tiny shift made the wet padding squish audibly against the mat. She buried her face in her arms, humiliated... but also strangely calm.
Mrs. Harlow knelt beside her and lifted the back of the short dress without ceremony. Cool air hit the exposed, swollen seat of the diaper.
"Oh my," she said with mock surprise, pressing two fingers firmly into the sagging padding. It yielded with a loud, wet squish. "Completely soaked through already. And it's only been—what?—an hour since your last change?"
Emily whimpered around the paci, hips twitching involuntarily at the pressure.
Mrs. Harlow gave the seat a few firm pats, making the soggy mess shift and squelch. "Don't worry, baby girl. Mommy's going to let you marinate in this one a little longer. Builds character... and teaches little girls exactly where they belong."
She reached for a nearby rattle and placed it in Emily's hand. "Play nicely now. Shake it for Mommy. Show me what a good, helpless baby you can be."
Emily's fingers closed around the toy almost automatically. The soft jingle filled the room as she gave it a tentative shake—then another, stronger one. The motion made her padded bottom wiggle, crinkling and squishing with every movement.
Mrs. Harlow sat back on her heels, watching with fond amusement. "That's it, sweetie. Just like that. No big-girl thoughts, no potty training, no pretending you're anything other than my padded little princess."
Emily suckled harder on the pacifier, the rattle jingling in rhythm with her tiny, involuntary squirms. Deep inside the warm, swollen diaper, another small accident trickled out—unresisted, unstoppable.
And somewhere beneath the burning embarrassment, a quiet, secret part of her started to relax into it completely.
The weekend was only just beginning.
