Chapter 2
Angela spent most of the
afternoon watching cartoons. She’d been insulted when Eric had sat her in front
of the television and put on a little kids’ channel for her, but she’d 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. He’d even joked about getting her a bib. Angela had giggled,
but really she’d been a bit scared. She didn’t want to wear a bib like a baby,
and she didn’t know why she’d had such a hard time getting her food in her
mouth like a big girl.
But it wasn’t 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 (didn’t she?), there was something about seeing it
this time that was different. “I can’t… I don’t want to… I’m not wearing
that.”
“Sweetheart,” said Eric, like he
was explaining something very simple to someone stupid. “You have to wear your
nappy otherwise you’ll make a big mess. You’ll go pee-pee all over the
sheets, darling, just like you do every night, and I don’t want to have to wake
up in wet sheets.”
Angela blushed. She felt utterly pathetic.
“But it’s okay, baby,” Eric cooed,
and Angela felt butterflies fluttering in her tummy at the gentle tone of his
voice. “I still think you’re adorable, even with a yucky wet diaper on. I don’t
care that you’re not fully potty trained at night, sweetie.”
Angela’s 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 didn’t 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. ‘Good girl,” he crooned as he sprinkled her nether regions
with baby powder and patted it into her skin. “That’s a good girl.” 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 didn’t have any babyish underwear to change into because he was a
grown-up.
Angela was about to get into bed
when she realised she hadn’t 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!
“What are you giggling at,
sweetie?” her husband asked, smiling.
“Nufing!” Angela blushed and
shook her head. “I mean, nothing.” She was just being dumb. She was being
a silly girl. She couldn’t tell him she’d been thinking about bouncing her
boobies – that would be so embarrassing! It definitely wasn’t something that a
big girl would do. But then it wasn’t something a little girl would do either,
was it? Because they didn’t even have boobies! Angela screwed up her face in
concentration.
Eric laughed. “Silly girl! Are
you trying to do thinkies? It’s bedtime, sweetie. Time to turn that sweet
little brain off.”
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. “Don’t patwonise me!” she whined.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” 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. Weren’t they fighting
about something? Weren’t they angry with each other for some reason? But then
she remembered that good girls didn’t do that. Good girls didn’t say no with
their mouths or their bodies.
Angela frowned. That didn’t sound
right. She wasn’t her husband’s property… was she? But she felt herself getting
wet at the thought. It had been a while since they’d have sex, although she
wasn’t 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 wasn’t a whore! Even so, she didn’t push her husband away. Eric didn’t 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. She’d probably smell like pee herself for the rest of
the day. Her new perfume… She untangled herself from Eric’s 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. “Do you need changing, sweetie?”
he asked.
She looked at him dumbly.
“Do you need me to help?” 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 didn’t need help changing! She wasn’t 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. “No fank you,” she mumbled. “I mean, no thank you.”
What was wrong with her voice? She sounded silly. Silly like that secretary at
the therapist’s 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.
“Okay sweetheart,” her husband
said, smiling patiently. “Go change your nappy then.”
Angela broke out of her thoughts,
realising she’d 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 couldn’t stand being so dirty. Even as a child, she’d
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 – 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 she’d seen at the therapist’s office, and looked
at the clothes again. They were kind of cute. They weren’t 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 (“Arms up! That’s a good girl!”), 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. “Come onnn!” she whined, fidgeting with the hem of her dress, lifting it
up absent-mindedly and flashing her adorable little-girl undies.
“Looking forward to seeing the
therapist, sweetie?” 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.
“Good girl,” said Eric, taking
her hand. A pleasant tingle ran down Angela’s spine and into her pussy. “Let’s
get going, baby.”
