The Seven Deadly Sins

Chapter 1
Pride

Nancy walked over to her shelf, trying to ignore the noisy crinkling coming from between her legs, and placed her newest trophy alongside the others. It was a prestigious award for exceptional journalism – an impressive achievement, especially for a woman still in her twenties. The highlight of her career. She ought to feel thrilled, she knew. In fact, she would have been only a month ago. But over the last few weeks, her life had become nothing but an endless series of humiliations, ever since she’d received that damned letter. Even now, remembering its words sent a shiver down her spine.

I know you lied in your last article, Nancy. I have proof. Unless you want your reputation destroyed, you’re going to be a good girl for me.

For a week she’d been left wondering what the blackmailer wanted from her. Money? Nancy wasn’t absurdly rich, but she had enough to pay for a high-rise apartment and a fairly luxurious lifestyle. Or would he want lewd pictures? Nancy was an attractive young woman after all, even if she did normally keep her impressive figure hidden beneath a smart, dignified suit. But no. The blackmailer had wanted something else. Something much, much worse.

Nancy turned to look at herself in the mirror, and felt the now-familiar heat rushing to her face. Your articles are always dripping with scorn. It’s clear to me that you think you’re so much better than everyone else. You need a lesson in humility, Nancy. And I know just the thing to help you learn.

Nancy trembled with shame and anger as she took in her appearance. On her head, she wore a white baby bonnet. The blackmailer’s rules stated that she had to wear it whenever she was alone. It was bad enough putting the ridiculous thing on when she was in her own home, but it was even worse having to wear it in her private office, trying to do her work as a serious journalist when the edges of her vision were framed with frilly lace, and she was constantly worried someone would walk in and see her. But there was no avoiding it, not when she had to set up cameras to monitor herself wherever she went. So I know you’re being a good girl.

A large pink pacifier sat between her lips. She had to have that in her mouth whenever she was alone as well. Sometimes her blackmailer gave her instructions, telling her to suckle and slurp on her soother for an hour or so, making sure to dribble all over herself. Then he would refuse to let her clean herself up, insisting instead that she go out, even in public, with her chin still slick with drool. Nancy hated him. She hated all of this! At work, her dummy was clipped to the front of her suit – but at home, that was impossible. When she was in her apartment, Nancy wore absolutely nothing else on her top half, unless you counted the bibs she had to tie around her chin at mealtimes. Her sizeable breasts were left completely bare, free to wobble and jiggle about on her chest as she went about her business, cringing at the thought of some pervert leering at her tits from behind the many cameras she’d been forced to set up around the flat.

But worse than the bonnet and the pacifier, worse than walking around bare-titted, was what Nancy had to wear around her waist. The award-winning journalist seethed with fury as her eyes travelled down her tummy and over the massive disposable diaper sagging heavily from her hips. It was clearly full to the brim with pee-pee. She shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, as if trying to get away from the disgusting, infantile thing. But her wet nappy just squelched unpleasantly between her thighs, swinging like a pendulum. She’d been wearing it all day, praying none of her coworkers noticed the pissy smell that surrounded her, and she desperately needed a change. But there was something Nancy had to do before she was allowed one. Not content to force her into ludicrous adult diapers and make her piss her pants like a two-year-old, her blackmailer had some additional rules – like how she wasn’t allowed a change until her nappy was totally full. And for him, that meant poopy.

Nancy shot a look of utter hatred at the nearest camera, even knowing that with the bonnet framing her face and the pacifier between her lips, it would surely only make her look even more laughable. She wished desperately that she could get her revenge. She was a top-class reporter! She was rich and successful and beautiful, and she was too good for bibs and bonnets and stupid, stinky diapers! But who was he?! Someone she knew? Someone she’d offended in one of her scathing articles? Even with all the letters, and the cameras that had to be broadcasting to somewhere, all Nancy had found where dead ends. That had been another blow to her ego. Investigating was what she was best at, and she hadn’t managed to find anything out about her blackmailer at all! Worse, he’d found out what she’d been up to. Stop digging, she remembered. Or you’ll get an even worse punishment next time. She’d been instructed to spank herself until her poor little bottom was bright red that day, then stand in the corner for the whole afternoon. She hadn’t been able to sit down for a week after that.

Nancy’s bottom lip trembled behind her dummy, and her face turned an even darker shade of red as she got into position right in front of the mirror. I want you to see exactly what you are, Nancy. With one last look of loathing at the camera, the ace reporter scrunched up her face, grunted loudly to herself, and, on what should have been the proudest day of her life, she squatted down and started filling her nappy with a big, yucky mess.

“Uh-oh!” she squealed, just like she’d been ordered to do. Her face burned with humiliation. “The big, tough wepowter’s making a stinky! I guess I’m not so gweat after all!”