Messy Jessie

Chapter 1
Messy Jessie

I co-wrote this with someone else on commission (which I don’t normally do, but this was the proverbial offer I couldn’t refuse). I wasn’t going to post it, but it’s been such a slow month for me for various reasons, I figured I’d post it as a little bonus for loyal readers. As you may be able to tell from the title, it does involve messy diapers, which I’m pretty ambivalent about, but I know that many of you don’t go for that... if you fall into this category, I’d suggest giving it a pass.

Messy Jessie

“C’mon, Jessica; come to big sister!” Amy cooed mockingly, bending down and holding out her arms encouragingly. “That’s it-- that’s my good, big girl! Crawl to big sis like a good baby!”

She smiled sweetly, but her eyes glowed with smug condescension as she watched me crawl down the hallway toward her, my big, bulky, diaper waggling behind me, plastic panties crinkling loudly as I went, tears of shame rolling down my cheeks. Amy had tied a huge, frilly, powder-pink baby bonnet under my chin and popped a pacifier in my mouth, and I knew exactly how ridiculous I looked; just like an overgrown infant.

I continued crawling down the hallway, the massive diaper behind me not only making it look like my butt had swelled to the size of a medicine ball, but also rubbing up against me under the plastic pants, chafing my dainty buns. I realized grimly that I was probably going to get a rash down there, then almost laughed at the absurdity of a 25 year old woman worrying about diaper rash on her derriere.

“C’mon Jessie-- crawl to big sis!” Amy cooed again, and though I tried with every ounce of my will to order myself to stand up and go to my room and change out of this ridiculous diaper, I couldn’t resist her command to crawl down the hall like a puppy any more than I could stop her from spanking me and putting a diaper on my tushy.

Crawling into the living room, I stopped and sat dumbly for a second, then burst into tears. Sitting around me were my step-sister’s bitchy little friends: Kristi, Justine, Suzie, and Anna. They stared at me for a long moment, disbelieving; apparently, this was as much of a shock for them as it was for me.

Suddenly, they burst out laughing, and I could only sit and sob, my face growing redder and redder, as my diapered condition was trotted out for the entertainment of a bunch of giggling 16 year olds.

“Oh my god,” Kristi stammered disbelievingly between her guffaws. “Is that Jessica!?”

“She looks so cute,” Anna gushed, reaching out to pat my head.

“Yeah, those pampers really suit her!” Justine giggled.

I stared at the floor, miserable. Amy reached into my big diaper bag. “Aw, cheer up little sis.” She pulled out a stuffed bunny. It was just a cheep little thing from the dollar store, but I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Amy’s friends were laughing at my intense focus on the toy, but I didn’t care. Even as I began drooling down my chin like a three year old, I never took my eyes off it.

“Do you want to play with Mr. Bunny, Jessica?” Amy asked with a superior smirk, knowing full well that I did.

I tried to resist, to retain a small measure of dignity, but almost immediately after Amy had finished speaking, I heard my own tiny lisping voice say “yes, pwease, big sister Amy, pwease let me pway with Mr. Bunny.”

I nearly burst into tears again as the girls started laughing at my childish words, but when Amy tossed me Mr. Bunny, it was like I was lost in a world of my own, only vaguely aware of their conversation behind me.

“This is incredible, Amy,” Suzie said . “She’s like a totally different person now.”

“Amazing what 300 dollars worth of hypnosis tapes and a little persistence can do,” Amy laughed.

I tried ignoring them, focusing my attention on Mr. Bunny. But it wasn’t long before I felt an uncomfortable gassy cramp in my belly. I tried, unsuccessfully, to clench my butt.

Involuntarily, I let a few farts escape into my diaper, causing Amy and her friends to burst out laughing. I was embarrassed, but I was so focused on Mr. Bunny that the feeling was somehow diluted.

“P-U!” Kari cried. “Smells like someone’s got a poopy brewing!”

“Jessie’s a farty baby today!” Suzie chuckled.

“Phew! You sure have a stinky bottom, little girl,” Anna said, patting me on the head.

Amy smirked. “Oh, that’s just a little gas. Watch this.” She stood up and approached me. Taking me by the hands, she helped me to my feet. I was a little unsteady, but soon I was standing in front of Amy and her snickering friends. Amy fixed me with a solemn look. “Jessie,” she asked seriously, looking me right in the eye, “Do you smell something?”

Frowning, I stared at her, feeling a pang of recognition. Something about what she’d said resonated inside me. Groggy, I looked at her questioningly. “Smell... something?” I repeated quietly just before I felt the phrase click into place in my mind.

Moments later, I felt a cramped, rolling in my bowels, and a sensation like my intestines were boiling. Groaning, I doubled over, gas building up inside me. With Amy and her friends tittering, I bent my knees, stuck out my bulky, diapered butt and started grunting. “UUUUUhhhhhh...”

I grunted out a juicy fart, which brought more laughter from the girls. I tried to clench my butt-cheeks, to stop what I knew was coming, but my body wasn’t responding to my brain’s commands.

Passing gas with a loud rumble, I felt my buttocks part. I began to uncontrollably poop my pants. Amy and her friends stood by and laughed uproariously as I dumped a major load into my diaper, a symphony of toots emerging from the seat of my pampers.

“Sounds like she’s making popcorn in her pants!” Justine mocked, making the others laugh even harder as the seat of my diaper inflated, the folds and creases beginning to stretch and puff out as I filled it.

I wanted to dig a hole and burry myself in it, never to be seen again.

But I still felt a little full down below, and even though my diaper was now so loaded that it sagged low enough to reveal the top of my butt-crack, I began grunting again: “UUUUUHHHH! EEEerrrrrrr...”

Laughing, Amy patted and rubbed the back of my loaded diaper. “C’mon, sweetie; make a really big poopy in your dides for big sister to change...”

The encouragement was unnecessary: grunting again, I pushed out the remainder of my mushy bowel movement into my diaper with a messy fart, causing my pampers to sag even lower. Amy continued to pat and squeeze the load in my seat, her friends mocking and laughing.

“PEE-YEW! Someone’s got a messy diaper!” Anna cackled.

Sweat and tears dripped down my face. My lips quivering, I peeked back over my shoulder, staring at the inflated seat of my diaper with disbelief. I searched my diminished vocabulary to find the right words to express my feelings on the ordeal.

“Poopy,” I finally declared weakly, making the girls shriek with laughter.

“You got that right, honey!” Justine laughed. “SHO-WEE! Maybe we ought to crack a window!”

“Show auntie your load, precious,” Kari smirked , turning me around to display my droopy, poopy diaper to the girls, who giggled at the mess in my pants.

“PHEW! You loaded this diapy right up, didn’t you sweetie?” Anna smirked, reaching out to pat my full diaper.

They stood around making fun of me, but I wasn’t listening. Mr. Bunny, lying at my feet, had caught my attention again. I slowly lowered myself to the floor, feeling my enormous mess squashing under my butt as I sat, the soft load squishing audibly all over my backside and down my thighs.

Picking up Mr. Bunny from the floor, I began to cuddle and play with him, ignoring the warm, squishy pile in my pants.

By now, Amy and her friends were laughing so hard they had tears rolling down their cheeks. “I can’t believe she just did that!” Suzie howled. “I don’t envy you, having to clean up that mess, Amy.”

Smirking, Amy came over to me, took my hand, and pulled me to my feet. I felt groggy, almost drugged. I was aware that I was 25 years old, a college grad, and a successful executive at a respected Corporation, and that Amy was only 16 and still in high school.

I just couldn’t remember what any of that actually meant.

“C’mon, Messy Jessie,” Amy said, “time to put you in a fresh diaper.”

Laughing, her friends chimed in.

“Bye-bye, Messy Jessie!”

“Have a nice diaper change, Messy Jessie!”

“Make sure you use plenty of powder, Amy,”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want Messy Jessie to get a rash on her tushy, would we?” Anna laughed as Amy started dragging me from the room.

I was only dimly aware of what a sight I must have been: 25, sporting a frilly baby bonnet, a pacifier, and a tight, white t-shirt hemmed above my belly button, holding my 16 year old step-sister’s hand and being lead away to have a messy diaper changed. Behind me, my fully-loaded pamper wobbled with every step, it’s distended seat sagging half way down my butt-crack. Despite its thickness, some brown stains had begun to appear on the back panel.

“Wave ?bye-bye’ to your aunties, Messy Jessie,” Amy urged me as she lead me away.

And I did; I waved to Amy’s snotty little friends like I was on parade, laughter ringing out behind me as I was lead away.

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