Life with the Virus

Chapter 1
Little Wendy 1

Chapter Description: Wendy was once a high flying businesswoman, earning good money and enjoying the company of many men. Charles was her disappointing husband, meek and mild mannered, with a diaper fetish to boot. Specifically Wendy in a diaper. Sometimes dreams do come true

This is my first ever story, and English isn't my first language, so keep expectations in check but criticism is more than welcome! The plan is to have a bunch of different pov characters all dealing with the virus (or dealing with someone dealing with the virus). I've started of with Wendy as I'd very much enjoy having my own pink princess potty :') Thank you for taking the time to read my story, I'm sorry it's quite a short chapter I'll try and lengthen them as time goes on <3

She didn't want to call out, but she knew she couldn't wait too much longer either. She had already tried making some nondescript noises in the vicinity of the all-listening device above her, but only tepid silence had greeted her in return. She wondered if he was still asleep, or if he was lying in bed, waiting for her to make the first move and call out. Either way there was little point delaying the inevitable, and using the rails of the crib she unsteadily propped herself up on to her feet, gripping the bars to help her balance. 

"Charles!" she shouted. She then listened intently for a response, or any acknowledgment that she had been heard. After hearing nothing, she repeated her shout, then again, and again. She felt foolish, and tried to keep the mental image of a diaper clad infant calling out for a parent away from her mind. She could feel her temper rising, she knew full that had he not been awake beforehand, he was certainly awake now due to the baby monitor above her, choosing to not respond. "Charles now!" this time screaming in her shrill voice. She had always been a very independent person, even from a young age. The virus had stripped that away from her, even using the toilet was now reliant on help from her husband. Years ago he had actually nervously asked her once to wear a diaper for him on his birthday, and she had reacted in utter disgust, stating confidently that she would never do such a thing. Well he had gotten his wish she thought bitterly, they were now a permanent fixture of her attire, except when she was being changed out of one into another of course, or during bath time.

Eventually the door swung open, and the towering figure of her husband stepped in. He hadn't always been such an imposing figure. Before her condition had materialised, she had actually been taller than him by several inches. He had been meek and subservient back then, she had made more money and she was far more attractive, the idea of needing him for anything was laughable back then. 

"Well hello Princess, you're in a chatty mood today" he asserted with a big smile.

"Charles I need the toilet" she replied in an almost desperate fashion, still gripping the bars of the crib, looking up at him as he stared down at her.

"Well then little Wendy you're going to have to ask properly aren't you?" he demanded with a smirk. Usually she would put up a fight in these scenarios, but she knew she couldn't hold on much longer. She often woke up in a wet diaper, which while uncomfortable and demeaning, was a far cry from actually shitting oneself. While there had been a couple of messy accidents, she did her best to ensure that her diaper usage mainly extended only to piss.

"Daddy I need the toilet" she acquiesced.

"Toilets are for grownups princess" he quipped, clearly enjoying the back and forth.

"Potty. I need the potty" she weakly replied, eyes cast downwards.

"Good girl" and as he said this, she felt his hands grip her and swing her upwards. She desperately clung to him, hating how far she was from the floor. Being physically maneuvered as easily as a grocery bag was something she had struggled to get used to, and she had always hated heights. She grabbed on to his shirt as tightly as she could as he strode over to the corner of the room, before he deposited her down on to the floor. He then untabbed her wet diaper with the experience of a man who had done this many times, and lifted her up and down on to a Disney princess adorned garishly pink potty. 

"Can you turn around?" she asked, sitting on her plastic throne, wearing only her pink night vest, feet splayed outwards unable to touch the floor. She had to really crane her neck upwards to look him in the eye, his hands were on his hips and a shit-eating grin plastered his face.

"No sweetie just in case you run into any problems" he replied, his grin suddenly becoming even more infuriating. 

What fucking problems you prick she thought, you're the problem. She always asked for him to turn around, and more often than not he would reply with some bullshit about how he couldn't for her sake. She knew some couples would freely use the toilet in front of their partners, but even as a full grown woman the thought had disgusted her. Now that she was trapped in the body of an infant she had little choice in the matter. She shut her eyes and tried to forget about the behemoth standing in front of her. She could hear him giving her encouragement, telling her what a big girl she was using the potty. Fucking asshole, she could shut her eyes but she couldn't shut down her ears, one way or another he would ensure that she knew he was present in front of her. Although she was by nature a shy pooper, the urgency she had been in meant that only moments after being deposited on the potty a telltale thud on plastic rang out. She opened her eyes.

"I'm done" she declared, eyes cast downwards.

"Well let's give it a minute in case there's anymore sweetling" the asshole stated.

"No I'm all finished there's no more" she explained, annoyed that she had to explain herself. As if she couldn't be trusted to declare when she had or hadn't finished pooping.

"Babies don't always know when they're done, so daddy says we're going to wait a minute, so that's what we're going to do" he explained in an almost singsong manner.

She almost told him to fuck off, but the last time she had swore at him he had put her across his lap and spanked her, before putting her down facing the corner in a time out. She didn't think he had used much force, but at her small size it was enough to bring her to tears, and staring at the wall massaging her own red behind had been a humiliating experience. After a few minutes had passed, he lifted her up and then sat her down next to the potty. 

"Wow what a big present you've made for daddy!" he exclaimed in an overly enthusiastic fashion, holding the plastic potty in his hands. After telling her to wait a minute like a good girl, he left the room potty in hands. She wondered how much of his act was down to his enjoyment of finally being her 'daddy' and she his little girl, and how much was down to revenge. She had admittedly not been a very good wife, freely cheating on him and mocking him for his failures, both in his business endeavours and also as a lover. She had often threatened divorce, enjoying watching him beg and plead for her not to follow through. Despite all that surely it didn't justify the living hell he had transformed her life into. Yes she occupied the body of an infant, but she still had the mental capabilities of an adult, and she knew other virus victims who's carers made real tangible efforts at allowing them to live a lifestyle befitting that of an adult. 

The door opened and he waltzed back in, potty still in hand but now freshly cleaned. After returning it to its place in the corner, he grabbed her under the armpits and lifted her into the air, keeping his arms locked as he held her out in front of him, like some kind of timebomb. Stepping over to the changing table, he laid her down gingerly. 

"Now let's turn this stinky baby into a nice clean one" he chuckled, grabbing supplies from the compartment in the table. She once again shut her eyes, not only because she didn't want to have to look at her husband and his condescending face, but also because she didn't like looking at herself down *there*. Her once desirable body had been transformed into a pudgy little thing, her curves replaced with a formless chubby shape. Her boobs forever gone. Her vagina now just a nothing slit. Only good for wetting her diapers, which she did morning day and night. Suddenly she felt her legs swing upwards, peeking out from barely open eyes she could see that her husband had grabbed her ankles with one hand and had lifted them up. As she lay in this vulnerable position, he used his other hands to grab a wetwipe and began cleaning the shit from her ass. She bristled at the cold and let out a squeak, and he gave out a small laugh at this. After a few wipes had been used, he then used his free hand to get the cream, and began massaging it into her. He then positioned a fresh diaper underneath her, and finally laid her back down flat. He finished the usual morning routine by generously dusting her with baby powder, and then encasing her in the diaper. 

"There we go princess, what a big girl you've been for daddy" he ended this with a kiss on her forehead. Kill yourself, she thought, but decided to keep this advice to herself.