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I'm a gonna try a short story from the female perspective. Just cause......

Chapter 1:

Hi All.

My name is Tori, and I want to tell you a story. It's a real story, not made up at all, apart from my real name of course, and I'm itching to tell someone.

Most of you guys and girls on here probably know me as "BrandiPee." That's been my name on the boards for years. I guess I'm pretty well known here. I've written a few stories, got a high post count, shit, some of you might even remember that time a few years back when I was even a Mod! Yeah, I know, we don't talk about that. It didn't end well. 

But, up until now, not many of you knew my real name. Now you do. I'm Tori. 

The reason I'm "coming out?" Simple. I've got a story to tell, and I want to be completely honest. That's gotta include my real first name for some reason. I don't know why. It just does. 

A lot of you will already have a kind of idea as to why shit like that is important to me. For those that don't, it's easy. 

Im a fucking psycho.

Okay. That's a definite exaggeration, but needless to say, I got me some issues. 

In a nutshell, for those that don't already know:

:I'm female, 22, and still at college. It's Arts this year. Got no real idea exactly how I'm doing academically, but, meh. 

I can always try something different next year. 

See, daddy's rich. I live by myself, off campus, and I don't need to work to support or fund myself. I'm not exactly spoiled, not in the true sense of the word, but nor am I needy. Daddy gives me enough of an allowance to live on, without living too extravagantly. Let's just say I get by fairly comfortably. 

Why you ask? 'Cause I'm a bit messed up. Fuck knows why. Never had any major trauma or shit to deal with, but I'm not exactly sociable. 

Im fine at school. No pressure on there. I mean, yeah there's pressure, but it's only school. You can get a re-do if you've got a generous daddy. 

 But, outside of school, I suck at grownup stuff. I do stuff like register and insure my truck, pay my rent and phone bill, basic utilities, and buy food, but I can't seem to actually handle working grownup jobs with real people. 

The last time I tried, I could've gone to jail because of that bitch, Jennifer, if it hadn't been for daddy's money and lawyer.

I can't help it, I just don't like people very much. They irk me. It's not like I don't have any friends. I do. Really. 

Just not close ones. 

I get invitations. I go out. Went to a party last Saturday actually, I just didn't stay long. Crowds irk me. 

A lot of you guys and girls on here already know I can be a bit abrupt sometimes. Or yeah, (@babysteve26) perhaps a bitch even. I'm still sorry for that steve, really. 

As I've said countless times before, I've got problems. Shit, I've ranted about them often enough on here before, so most longstanding members will know. 

Ive got depression. Anxiety. Probably ADHD, maybe Autism. Fuck. I don't know. All I know is, I function a lot better at school than I do in the real world. At least at school I can just walk out, even if I fail. Grownups can't do that. 

But I want to grow up.

At least with some things. 

Im 22, and still a virgin. Physically, I don't think there's too much wrong. I mean, yeah, I'm perhaps a bit on the heavy side, maybe a few pound overweight, but I'm not a blimp. But the frumpy brown hair and glasses probably don't help much.

It's not like I'm hideous or anything. Just plain. Plain with a bad attitude. 

Stuff just irks me sometimes. I get argumentative, pig-headed, and obnoxious, especially if I know I'm right, which I always am when I'm in that mood. 

Im in that mood a lot.

So, when you're a short, slightly overweight female, with a bad attitude, poor temperament, plain looks, occasionally acute social anxiety, and no real worldly experience outside of college and a couple of trips to Bali, not to mention a weird sexual fetish, well, you're not exactly a prime catch, are you? 

I might even be Asexual. Pansexual. Homosexual. I don't know. 

"Different Sexual?"

As most of you know, I like diapers and omorashi. I like wetting myself. I enjoy having potty accidents. I like age play. I love being a baby. 

I like being little. 

This again only added to the difficulty I've had with losing my virginity. 

You see, whatever "sexual" I might be, I'm a very sexual person. 

Its just apart from the omo and diaper bit, nothing much ever turns me on, or should I say no"body."I'm neither attracted to male nor female, gay or straight, black or white, fat or thin.

I just like wetting myself and wearing diapers, that's all. That's why I spend so much time on here. I might argue with you guys, but at least we've got something in common, aye? 

But, as the topic suggests, I've got a confession. Well, not really a "confession," but a "tell all." 

Ive been dropping hints for a few months about the guy I've been seeing. A lot of you have asked, and I've refused to say. 

But I DID say I'd tell all if anything ever happened, and it did, so here I am to tell you about it. 

 

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Chapter 2: So, as I already said a few months ago, I met someone. Someone on here, actually. I guess it's not impossible for some of the self appointed sleuths on here to figure it out. After all

Chapter 6: I was nervous on two counts. Obviously I was worried about Jack seeing me in all my diapered glory, but I was also nervous and more than a bit excited about seeing him dressed the same

Sorry for the delay. Was a bit off kilter for a couple of weeks and didn't write much, then got distracted by my D & A story. But this ones soooo close to being finished..... Ive had some tro

Chapter 2:

So, as I already said a few months ago, I met someone. Someone on here, actually. I guess it's not impossible for some of the self appointed sleuths on here to figure it out. After all, there's not a lot of people from my State on here, let alone my city, so for those that know that much about me, connect the dots. 

But I'm not gonna name names. If "Jack," (that's what I'm gonna call him, "Jack,") wants to come out, then he can. But unless he speaks up, he will remain as anonymous as "Jack."

It started when Jack PM'd me about one of my stories. I think it was the "Diapered Zombie From The Future" one.

Basically, he told me it was crap, I agreed, and called him a prick. He "lol'd" and said he thought we were from the same city. We were. It was a starting point. 

We started talking. It turned out we shared very similar views, although mine were certainly a lot stronger, if perhaps more incoherent than his.

We also liked a lot of the similar stuff, fetish wise. 

I'm not going to go into detail, except to say we seem very well aligned with each other, at least sexually, and remembering that I haven't actually had sex yet. 

But it was a start. On paper, we are compatible. We're of similar age, similar tastes, similar fetish, same city, both adults, and both single!

It would've been perfect, if only I was attracted to him. 

We started by sending photos, then progressed to Skype. That went as well as what you'd expect from Skype, so he made the next move. 

Coffee. 

This was a major move for me. I've dated like once in the last twelve months. I'm destined to become a lonely old cat woman, sitting at her computer, with only a withered hand stuffed down her soggy diaper for companionship.

Unless I made a move, at least an effort, I would probably die alone.

And it was a definite plus already knowing that we shared the same general fantasies! For his part, God bless him, he couldn't believe his luck! He'd actually met a girl who shared his whacked out fantasies! How cool was that! Even if she was fat and plain! 

Poor bastard didn't even know about Psycho Tori then. 

So I went. Went and had coffee. It was nice. Innocent, and nice. I'd considered wearing a diaper, and he had as well, but neither of us did, cause we didn't want to freak the other one out. Especially on a first date. 

Jack is sweet. Shy, but sweet. I don't think he'll be offended when he sees my description. But he's not exactly a He-Man. He's shy, polite, well mannered, kind, and considerate. Possibly one of the most boring guys I had ever met.

We talked often about our desires and personalities, our turn ons and our desires, and what fuelled them. I realise that probably sounds strange because we'd only just met, and hadn't even started fooling around, but you gotta remember where we met! A goddam fetish website. We wouldn't be trolling through those muddy waters unless we were after something  specific. 

We were on our third date, and still it didn't look like anything was going to happen. But hey! Third date! This was almost a record! I often get two, mainly because they feel the need to double check, you know, make sure I really was that bad, and it wasn't just them, but three? This was almost breaking new ground! If mom found out, she'd be knitting baby shoes. 

We were in a pub. Well, technically, out the back of the pub, standing on the lawn, while I had a cigarette. Yeah, I smoke as well. And drink. The package just keeps getting better, doesn't it? 

Anyway, I needed to pee, I was wearing my knee length skirt and my flip flops, so I did. I peed through my knickers onto the grass, and I made sure Jack was watching. His eyes nearly fell out of his head, especially when the tinkle started dripping off my knees. When I'd finished, I just looked at him, rubbed my thick thighs together, and said "Oops."

I thought he might actually cum in his pants, but he didn't. 

That night, when he took me home, he expected to come inside with me, but I couldn't at first. Poor Jack. He thought me wetting my pants was just for him, like a sign. 

But it wasn't. It was for me. I felt so horny, I was itching for a little wet play. Peeing in public is great, but hard to do. I only ever do it if I'm sure I can get away with it. That's partly why I did it then, simply because I could, and I was horny. I knew the thought of it later would provide some happy thoughts for me, before I went to bed. Alone.

You see, Jacks a sweetheart, but I wasn't feeling it yet. He didn't repulse me, but he didn't attract me either. It was like I was destined to remain single. I know he was seeing this in me to, as I continued to reject his advances. 

In the end, I did let him up to my apartment, although I did make it abundantly clear to him that nothing was going to happen, and he would agree to leave immediately, should I ask. Physically, I wasn't threatened by Jack. I outweigh him, I'm stronger, and I'm a genuine bitch. Jacks just too nice to be a threat. 

I made coffee, and we sat opposite each other. I looked directly at him, challenging him to try something, to beg perhaps, maybe wheedle a bit, plead his case, threaten to leave, possibly curse or blaspheme, maybe even try to be friggin assertive for a change....

But he didn't. As usual. Instead he looked at me, and asked, "Tori, what would you actually like to do in a relationship? No strings, no pressure, but what would you actually do, even just to try, if there were no strings attached?"

Immediately, warning bells sounded in my head. "Is this guy THIS desperate?" I thought. But I immediately checked my temper, before it got the better of me. Jack wasn't like that. He was genuinely interested, and was resigned to not "scoring" tonight. 

"What do you mean?" I ventured.

"Just what I said. You don't want a relationship, I get that. Three dates now, and you must've told me that maybe 15 times. Average of 5 a date." 

I had the decency to blush. That counts for something at least. 

Jack continued. "So you don't want a relationship, we've established that, but you don't want a one-night-stand either. Shit. I'm even unsure if you wanna be friends! We enjoy the same stuff, and I'm not just talking about the wetting either, but other stuff. Normal stuff. But the wetting stuff as well," he added hastily. "Then tonight, you deliberately wet yourself, right in front of me! You're still wearing the same panties, you dirty little thing! Why? Why tease me? If you don't want anything from me? Why be a bitch about it?"

I felt bad about myself straight away, like if I'd kicked a puppy. "I don't know," I responded. "I don't know what I want. I like you. You know that. I want a boyfriend! You know that too. But I'm just not feeling it Jack. There's no chemistry."

Jack persisted. "Tell me then Tori! How do I make this "chemistry?" What would really get you going? Forget about me, I mean it! Just think about yourself. What would you like to do? Tell me your omo fantasies! I understand that you don't want sex, and I won't ask. But what could I do to help? How can I help your dreams come true?"

My mind whirled. What an opportunity! I could try doing all this sexy omo stuff with a partner! Better yet, a partner that didn't expect any sex in return! I could relax, play out my most private desires, and not have to physically reciprocate! It was perfect! I only hesitated briefly, and I didn't even feel it necessary to repeat the rules back to him. He'd said them, and he'd honour them. 

I knew just where to start. 

"Jack, would you like to be my daddy?" I asked. 

 

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Chapter 3:

Hi all, back again with a continuation of my tell-all blog! I know only some of you are reading, but personally, I don't care. I made a bet with @diaperkitty that I'd reveal all my secrets once anything happened to me relationship wise, and it did, so I am. Even the PM's I'm getting are addressed to "Tori" now instead of Brandi, and that feels weird. I mean, I already feel like you guys now know too much. But, a deals a deal......

"What do you mean, a 'daddy,'" Jack had asked. 

This irked me straight away. I know he's not that stupid. We had already discussed stuff like our "little" sides. Well, my little side anyway. Jack doesn't have one. Jack enjoys holding, desperation, and wetting, either himself, or watching females. He likes girls in nappies, but isn't so much into wearing them himself. He does, mainly because it's fun, and it allows him to wet in public, but it's more of a side order to his fetish, rather than the main course. 

He also thinks AB's are creepy. He told me that. Creepy. That was his word. I remember him saying it, because it irked me. "I just don't get the whole pretending to be a baby thing," he'd said. "Kinda creepy."

It was because of this statement that I hadn't pushed it. You see, Jack was well aware of my little side by then. Shit, he already knew about it from this site, before we'd even met! I'd even mentioned it,  (it might have even been our first coffee date,) telling him how I like being little. The actual age varies a lot. Sometimes, I'm a baby. I put my diapee on, snuggle on the couch in my onesie, under my blanket, and watch cartoons. 

Other times I like being older. I like being five or six. Old enough to be potty trained, but young enough where an accident in my pants doesn't matter. Sometimes I wanna be 13. Then I'm usually being a bed wetter. I'll lay in bed, pretend to sleep, and go potty in my pyjamas. That's more of an emotional big deal. I'll imagine that it's like a one-off, an unusual occurrence, and I'm absolutely mortified by it, and don't know what to do. I also like to imagine having an accident at school around the same age. 

In all of these scenarios, there's always one thing missing.

A caregiver. 

A "daddy," or a teacher, a babysitter, perhaps a big brother or cousin, but somebody to help take care of me. 

Theres a few things about it that I don't quite understand myself, but that doesn't make it "creepy," just weird. Like I don't understand why I want someone to look after me. Shit. I spend so much time pushing people away, trying to be a strong, independent woman who doesn't have to rely on anyone, male or female. Except for my dad's money of course. 

So why do I feel this way? Fuck knows. 

Also, why do I even have this stupid fetish in the first place? Again, Fuck Knows.

I had a couple of accidents growing up. I wet my pants at a fair once, when I was 9. A lot of you guys will know the story, as I've posted it on here before, and discussed it. But I'll re-hash it again. 

Me, my mom, and my sister, Kim,  who's two years older than me were at the local fair. I needed to pee, but I hadn't realised how badly due to all the excitement. We were lined up for the Ferris wheel when mom noticed me crossing my legs, and asked me if I'd needed to go. I did, but I can truthfully say I hadn't noticed it myself until she mentioned it. I was buzzing on a sugar rush of soda and cotton candy. I couldn't stand still, and I wanted to do everything at once. Mom offered to take me to the toilet, but they were like all the way on the other side of where the sideshows were, and we were going to be riding next turn, so I declined. 

The three of us sat in the gondola, and around we went. I'm not a huge fan of heights, and for me, it was pretty scary. Every time we crested over the top, I felt my body contract a bit with fear, then I'd relax on the way down, secretly hoping we might be about to stop, then I'd tense up again as we soared upwards once more. I felt my pee hole twitching, and I ended up jamming my hand between the legs of my faded denim bib shortalls  just to try and hold my tinkle in. 

I made it through the ride, but I wet my pants about 2 minutes later. FULLY wet my pants. 

I just lost it. While I was on the ride, I kept saying to myself, 'Just hold on until your finished. Whatever you do, don't wet yourself on the ride. I didn't. But, as we walked out of the enclosure, I finally relaxed, and suddenly, my legs and socks were being drenched in hot pee. I swear I didn't do it on purpose, heck, I even cried, but as soon as I was safely on the ground, I lost control of my bladder. 

My denim overalls were saturated of course. I kinda hunched over forwards, and I must've forced the pee out and over my legs. I looked just like a boy would, if it was a boy who'd wet himself instead. There was a big wet circle covering the front of my shortalls, and I was soaked between my thighs. My lime green socks were also visibly wet, as were my grey canvas shoes. My thighs were glistening in the bright sunlight, and I was crying. Any passing observer would've instantly known what had happened. 

It was mortifying. 

We had to leave straight away, and both mom and my sister were super pissed at me. They told daddy, and even he scolded me, which he rarely ever did. I can almost, but not quite, block out the memory of the incredulous stares that total strangers gave me as I cried my way through the teeming crowd. 

I cried myself to sleep that night. 

I never actually wet my pants at school, but I did a few times, well, maybe more than a few, maybe ten or so times walking home from school. That would be ten real "accidents," but as you probably know by now, I did it a lot on purpose. 

I always hated the toilets at school. The popular girls, or the tough girls, would usually be hanging around there after school, so I'd avoid them. It took me twenty minutes to walk home, and I'd try to make it. 

Unless it was a Tuesday or Thursday of course. On those days, my mom and dad were late home, and my sister had either band or soccer practice after school, so I'd walk home alone, then have at least a good hour to myself. 

I used to deliberately pee my pants while walking through the park near my place, every time. I'd even set myself up for it. I'd have an extra juice box at lunchtime, and wouldn't go to the bathroom after morning recess. That always guaranteed that I'd be super desperate during the walk home.

I was 14-15. 

Sometimes, my little panties would already be wet before I even got to the park. If I did have a real accident, it didn't overly bother me, so long as I could hide it from mom, which wasn't too difficult. I'd just put fresh panties on when I got home, and hide my pissy ones. Those school uniform dresses are good for something at least, they can conceal an accident. 

My bladder control is okay, I guess. As you guys knew, I'm not incontinent at all, and I do have reasonable control, but, if I'm really full, like bursting, I kinda lose control pretty easily. If I'm drinking, I've gotta be careful, because I can suddenly become full, and I'll end up wetting myself if I'm not like super diligent about going straight away. 

I also still wet the bed occasionally. It's not a regular thing, but maybe 7/8 times a year, I'll have an accident in bed. Praise the Lord for mattress protectors. 

Every night I make sure I pee before I go to bed, (unless I'm diapered of course) and I'll be fine. But if I'm too drunk, or I'm sick, or even just too lazy to go, then there's a 50/50 chance I might wet the bed. I'll usually have one of those "pee dreams," you know, the ones where your running around looking for a toilet, completely desperate, then you eventually find one, and use it with extreme gratitude. 

Then you wake up in soggy pyjamas and a wet bed. 

Its another reason I always try to have diapers handy if I'm planning on drinking. It's a great way to indulge my little self by actually wetting the bed. I always feel super little after I've had a REAL accident. 

REAL accidents are awesome, but most of my wetting is deliberate. I can easily set myself for a real one, but sometimes the fantasy is better than the reality. Wetting the bed is one thing. At least its private. Not like wetting yourself in public, like say, at a fair....

Or a Christmas parade.

You see, I did that too, and I was even older, like 13. 

My sister, 15 at the time, was marching with her band in the parade. Mom insisted that I go and watch, although I didn't even care. It was cold, overcast, and threatening to storm. But there I was, with mom, pressed against the barrier, where we'd been standing for an hour, making sure we held our prime spot, while the crowd grew four deep behind us, trapping us in. 

Id already asked about half an hour ago about going to the toilet. But mom wouldn't let me. She didn't want me going off by myself in the crowd, but she wouldn't leave her prime viewing spot either, telling me I'd have to hold on. 

I was 13, grumpy, (surprise!) bored, (surprise again!) and argumentative, (probably no surprise.) I didn't want to be there in the first place, and I wanted my needs taken care of first! But mom wouldn't budge. In the end, I couldn't win, so I just shut up and sulked, cracking the absolute shits with her about the whole thing. 

I was wearing my snowsuit. A full bodied nylon overall, with my grey leggings on underneath, along with 2 pairs of socks which were tucked inside my ankle length boots, along with my pink love heart panties, a t-shirt, and a horrible knitted jumper I was glad to conceal. 

My need grew greater as time went by, and the cold only weakened me further. Mom had bought a thermos of hot chocolate, and we drank that, making it worse again. By the time Kim's band appeared, my leggings already had an egg sized wet spot on them. I'd coughed, and a bit of pee had shot out. I had been hoping that would've been all, but as I stood there, hopping from foot to foot, my fingers tugging at the side of my snowsuit, I felt a scary, spreading warmth, swamping my girlie bits, and warming my legs to the knees. 

I tried to stop it at first, but it felt so good. That was probably the first time that I felt "little," as a bigger person. I was 13! Almost a grownup! But here I was, dressed like the kid I still really was, and helplessly wetting myself while waiting for Santa to approach us on the last float. 

I glanced down, and saw the pee dripping freely from my elastic cuffs, making small, individual puddles around my boots, while my socks got wet. I remember looking around nervously, expecting someone to call out at any second, "Hey! Lookit this! The fat girl heres just peed her pants!" But nobody did. 

Even mom didn't notice, which surprised me. My tights were drenched, I was standing in a puddle, mindlessly clapping Kim as she marched pass, then Santa, but mom didn't pay any attention to me. By the time the parade had ended, and we'd collected Kim, and walked back to the car, my leggings were ice cold and itching, but I didn't complain. I actually started to think I'd get away with it. 

I almost did. But when we got home, mom asked Kim and I to get undressed, and put our clothes straight into the washing machine. I tried to avoid it, tried to make an excuse to change in my room, but mom was insistent. "Just take your damn snowsuit off and put it in the damn machine!" She'd said. 

In the end I'd had no choice. I took my snowsuit off in front of my mom and Kim, and they saw 13 year old me standing there in my soaked grey leggings. 

I still remember Kimmys laugh. The bitch.

I also remember how nice daddy was after. I was lying face down on my bed, crying my eyes out, completely humiliated, and daddy came in and held me, soothed me, made me stop crying. He told me how much he loved me, in spite of any stupid potty accidents.

He made it better. 

Not all my potty memories are bad though! Kimmy and me used to have fun when we were kids.

You see, we had a pool. 

But if we were in the pool, or just wet in general, from playing with the hose for example, then we couldn't come inside. We have timber floors, and mom didn't want us trekking water and dirt through the house. 

What made it hard, was the fact that we weren't allowed to pee in the pool either. Mom was heavily against that! She insisted, that if we needed to pee, then we were to exit the pool immediately, then stand on the lawn and pee there. It didn't matter what we were wearing. Swimsuits, shorts, or often just our little panties, we were to stand on the lawn, and tinkle on the grass. She never asked us to pull our knickers or bathers aside, and she would never expect us to remove our pants. 

So, if we were already wet, we were allowed, hell, expected, to just wet ourselves. 

We did this all the time, over many summers. Half the reason we liked playing in the pool, was because we knew we could wet our pants. I honestly don't know why it was such a fun thing for us to do, but it just was. Sometimes, we'd even wet ourselves before getting into the pool! Mom caught us a few times, made an attempt at telling us off, but didn't pursue it. 

Apparently peeing in your swimming attire was acceptable. Me and Kim didn't question or argue, we just did it. 

The thing is, I grew up still wanting to do it. It's not the sort of thing that Kim would still do I think, although obviously I can't know for sure. But she's turned out a lot better than I have. She's settled into a good job, got married, planning on traveling before they have kids, yadda yadda yadda. She even goes to church now. I just can't imagine Kimmy still enjoying the naughty fun of peeing her pants anymore. 

I looked at Jack.

"A daddy, Jack. You know, a Caregiver?  Someone to look after little me? Or is that too "creepy" for you?"

"I knew I'd regret that," he mumbled. "Look. I didn't mean IT was creepy, just me doing it! It's not the kinda thing that would get me off. I just couldn't be a "little," or an AB. To me, I'd feel creepy!"

I started to interject, to correct him, but he surprised me. Quiet, unassuming Jack, suddenly put a hand up, quietening me down before I could speak. I'm not used to being "shushed," especially by the well mannered wonder boy, and just for a moment, I considered grabbing his upheld fingers, and bending them back swiftly and sharply, perhaps even hearing them crack. That'd teach the prick to shush me! 

But I didn't. I waited, wanting to see what he thought was so important that he'd risk broken fingers for. 

"Hang on Tori. Let me finish. Being little isn't a thing for me, but I kinda like the idea of being a caregiver. If it'll make you happy, I'm willing to try it. 

"I'm gonna be your Daddy, Tori,"

 

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Chapter 4:

Jack and I planned our first experiment in caregiving for the next weekend. We decided that Saturday would be perfect, and we could try a few different things and see what worked and what didn't.

What I found amusing, was how the subject had bought out a change in Jack. It was like he was becoming a different person. He went from being his normal, nice, meek, unassuming soft-cock self, to being more assertive, almost aggressive at times, obviously excited, and willing to take charge. It was like the idea of being a CG had gone to his head. 

We "dated" a couple of times during the week especially to plan it out, and it was during one of these bull sessions that I first noticed the difference. 

"I'm going to be a baby," I told him. "Then perhaps a teenager. When I'm a teenager, I still want you to treat me a bit like a baby though, and...." I tapered off. Jack was actually shaking his head! Disagreeing with me! This was unheard of. 

"Tori, if we're going to do this, it's going to be largely my way. You aren't going to be telling me what to do while you're little. I want to know now what you expect, that's fine, but once you start being little, you'll have to shut up and do what you're told."

"Whoa!" I said. "Did you just tell me to shut up?" I was incredulous. I fixed him with 'The Glare,' almost guaranteed to make anyone back down, especially quiet, non-confrontational guys like Jack. 

But he didn't even drop his eyes. The little bastard held my gaze, looking me square in the eyes. I hated myself a bit for looking away first. "Who rattled your fucking cage?" I mumbled. 

I was doubly surprised to catch the tone of his voice when he spoke. He didn't even sound like Jack. He was forceful, direct, even challenging. Completely different from the soft spoken, almost invisible nerd that I had grown used to. Hell, even fond of I suppose, like a neighbors kitten. 

"Zip it Tori," he said. "If we're going to do this, and I'm the CG, then fuck it, you WILL listen to me. If you want to be little and helpless, fine. But you can't be helpless and reliant on someone else, but continue to boss them around. If you have any specific wishes, anything special you wanna do, you tell me now, not when you're in little mode. When you're little, you do as you're told, and keep your smart mouth shut, understand? I won't tolerate you talking back to me, cussing at me, or telling me what to do. If you want to be a kid, you'll behave like one, and if you don't, you can find someone else to order around."

My God! He was serious! He wasn't asking me anymore, he was telling me! I started to wonder just who this guy was, and what he'd done to Jack? He even seemed to be taller, like he was sitting straighter and not slouching like usual. His voice sounded different too. Somehow deeper and louder, and he was even moving with a bit more confidence. 

It was a side of Jack that I hadn't seen before, and I kinda liked it. Shit, if only he was like this all the time, and not such a little pussy, he'd probably have more luck with the ladies, I thought. 

Of course the irony was completely lost on me at the time. Here I was, a 22 year old virgin, thinking of giving relationship advice to someone else. Jack might be a bit of a softie, but even he'd had sex before, and with more than one partner at that. Apparently some girls like the soft and gentle approach. Hmphh. Normies. 

I had to challenge him. It's in my nature. My DNA. It's who I am. 

"Don't you dare speak to me like that Jackie-boy! I'll have you know, that I'll do this just exactly as I see it, and......."

I had to stop. Jack had slammed his soda can down on the table, (probably the most aggressive thing I'd seen him do. Ever.) and stood up, reaching for his jacket that was hanging from the back of the chair. 

"I'm outta here," he said.

Wait? What? He couldn't leave! Not like this! It definitely wasn't the way I'd planned things.

"Jack? JACK? Wait! Please. Sit down. I'm sorry." 

What did I just say? I apologised? Surely not. I don't usually do that. But he was serious. He was going to walk out. But he paused then, one arm reaching into his sleeve. He was apparently as surprised by my apology as what I was.

"Please Jack. Don't leave. Sit back down again, let's talk about it."

I kind of expected him to sigh, then throw himself back into the chair with a sulky look on his face, but he didn't. He calmly looked at me, folded his jacket over the chair again, and sat on the edge of it, ready to get up again at a moments notice. It was unnerving. 

"Jesus Tori. Don't you get it? You can't have it both ways! You can't just say 'I'm a little kid, please look after me and discipline me, but I'm still going to boss you around!' If you want to really try being little, you're going to have to relinquish control for a change, otherwise it's not going to work. You say you want to experience being a kid again, and I get that, but kids don't make the rules, they do as they're told. That's what being a kid is mostly all about. I want to do this with you, but you're going to have to step back on being in charge. Tell me now what the guidelines are, then sit back, shut up, be a good little girl, and do as you're told for a change."

For a brief moment, I felt some shame. Jack had just spoken to me like I was already a little kid. I wasn't used to it, but, I guess I knew he was right. If I wanted to do this, I had to let him be in charge. After all, he was my daddy.

"Ok," I said, "you're right. It's just that I'm excited. I've always wanted to try being little with a CG. I just hope it works."

Jack relaxed again, settling back into his chair, looking like he had decided to stay. I breathed a small sigh of relief, feeling my heart start slowing down again. It had sped up when I thought Jack was going to leave. I suddenly realised that I was already becoming dependent on him. My first thoughts, were that wasn't going to be a good thing. I wasn't dependent on anybody, and was quite proud of it.

But the fact was, I was becoming kinda used to Jack being around now. He might not be the most exciting, masculine, take-charge kind of guy that I was looking for, but he really was sweet. He cared for me, even though I had made it abundantly clear that I wouldn't be having sex with him, and he still hung around. Yes, it helped that we shared the same desires, but most guys wouldn't put up with a bitch like me just because of that, especially if all they were getting in return was a case of blue balls. Jack did though. He was nice. If only he'd assert himself a wee bit more......

We started making plans. He asked me to pick an age, or ages, and we'd work around it. I explained that I didn't want to be an actual baby, just a little girl, perhaps 3-5. Old enough to be potty trained, but young enough so that having an accident wasn't the end of the world, and wearing a diaper would still be an acceptable thing in certain circumstances. 

I explained to him exactly what I hoped to achieve. Feeling little. I love my age regression play, and I do feel really little when I'm all diapered up and alone, but as soon as I'm around people, the inner bitch in me comes out. I automatically go on the defensive, or on the attack, sometimes both at once. I can't help it. People irk me. 

But I really want to try and capture that magical little feeling in public, and with Jack as well. I've always wanted to get into my little space with someone else. 

"You know what I'd REALLY, like to do?" I said. "It's impossible, but I wish you could push me around in a pram or stroller. That would be super cute," I explained. "Pity they don't make strollers for fat bitches!"

As usual, Jack wouldn't take the bait. I was kind of hoping he might make a smart comment, allowing me to snap at him, to sort of restore the equilibrium of our relationship a bit. Relationship? Was that what we had here?

Jack agreed to spend Friday night with me. He'd be sleeping in the spare room of course. But at least that way we could make a start on my little adventure from Saturday morning. 

He kissed me before he left. I'd been letting him do that lately. This time however, he used his tongue, something he hadn't done before. I was a bit shocked, and almost pulled away, but he caught the back of my head, and gently held it in place. 

I told myself afterwards that I probably owed him that. You know, for pissing him off before. I guess I might have, but the truth was, he'd shown some authority and assertion for a change, and I liked it. 

I reached down and cupped his crotch, giving him a firm squeeze when I felt his diaper. I hadn't even known he was wearing one. I was wearing one underneath my skirt as well, and it was very wet. I waited to see if he'd grope me as I'd groped him, but he didn't. He just squirmed a bit at my touch, moaned softly, kissed me again, and left, promising to see me on Friday. 

I felt a different wetness in my diaper, and almost, almost, asked him to stay. 

But I didn't, and he left. 

 

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Chapter 5;

We're getting to the end soon, loyal readers! I'm sorry for the preamble, (this apologising all the time is becoming a habit) but I felt it was necessary. You guys and girls need to understand how and why the dynamics between Jack and I work. 

It had been a slow start, but Jack was starting to win me over. It was weird I guess. I had agreed to meet up with Jack in the first place, almost reached out to him, because I really wanted a boyfriend. But when he showed interest, I kept shutting him down. I guess it's just a part of my fucked up personality, not wanting to let anyone get too close, even though I want to be close with someone.

Even I understand that if I'm ever to lose my virginity, I'll need to get close to someone. Unless I hire an escort or something. 

Jack should've been the perfect candidate. As I've said before, were the perfect partners on paper. Same age group, a lot in common both sexually and in other areas, same city, same taste in music and games, and neither of us is ugly. Just plain. Too be honest, Jacks a lot better than plain in the looks department. He's never going to win Mr. Universe or anything, but he's slim, fit, and has great features. He's smart, funny, kind, caring, considerate, and loyal. Not to mention polite, respectful, and well mannered. He has his own money, and never once asked me to pay for anything, he's reliable, punctual, and generous. 

As I ticked off his good points, I started to realise perhaps why I was starting to fall for him a bit. I tried to balance it out by listing his bad points, but apart from being a bit wishy-washy and submissive, I couldn't really think of anything. Even his submissiveness was currently under review now. Since he'd decided to become my daddy, he was really coming out of his shell.

I liked that. 

So Friday night came around, and Jack came around for dinner. He carried two largish bags with him, avoiding giving out too much information about what they might contain. "Clothes, diapers, and supplies," was all he'd say.

We ordered pizza, opened wine, and set up my PlayStation. As we started to get drunk, we discussed the finer points of our plans. I had decided on my preferred age group for each activity, and filled him in on the details.

"My whole thing is, I want to actually be little in public," I explained earnestly. "I don't want to actually make a public spectacle of myself at all, like be super obvious about it or anything, but I want to feel little. I want to experience what being a little kid in public is really like. The sense of joy and wonderment. The excitement of a trip to the mall. The happiness of simple stuff, like ice cream and soda. Of course I wanna wet myself too, that's obviously a big part of it, but I want to feel what it's like to be a kid again."

"So, how are we going to do that?" Jack had asked.

"I think I'll need to build up to it." I explained. "I'm going to start off older, and slowly lower my age range as the day gets on."

He looked intrigued. "Go on," he said.

"I've been thinking about all the wetting stuff that makes me feel little over the years," I told him. "When I wet the bed as a kid, it always embarrassed me. It only ever happened a few times, but whenever I did have a sleep accident, I always felt like such a baby because of it. So that's how I'm gonna start. I'm gonna wet my bed! I'm not going to wear a diaper to bed tonight, and I'm going to get nice and full, drink lots of this yummy wine and water, and hope I have an accident. If I don't, I'm going to stage one anyway. Waking up wet is going to be the first step on the road to regression!"

"How old are you going to be?" Jack enquired.

"Ten." I answered immediately. "I wet the bed a couple of times when I was ten, and Kim always laughed at me, and mom scolded me. I always cried and felt like such a baby. My dad was the only one not to make a big deal out of it. He would help me change my sheets, run me a bath, and hug me, telling me it was alright, it was only a silly accident."

Jack was nodding. "Okay. 10 to start. I thought we might go for a walk to the park in the morning. Maybe you could play in the playground, you know, if there's no actual kids there of course?"

I grinned, clapping my hands excitedly. I had been thinking the same thing. "Perfect! I think I might be six or seven then, maybe wet my pants?"

"You don't want to wear a diaper?" Jack asked.

"Not at first. I will later, when I get a bit younger. Maybe you could decide that I need one? You're my daddy, after all! But remember, the diapers aren't a punishment! I don't want to be punished by wearing them."

He nodded again, making mental notes. "Okay. Next?"

"I'm guessing home for a clean up and lunch. We're still going to the mall, aren't we?" He nodded. "So I might get diapered for that. I love wearing my nappies to the mall. But I've never tried to be little while I did it. I want to really be little by then, actually needing my diaper. Maybe 4 or 5?"

"4 or 5? That's a bit old for diapers isn't it?"

"That's up to you, isn't it, daddy?" I said sarcastically. 

He grinned, not taking offence at my tone. Good ol' easygoing Jack. 

"Still wish I could ride in a stroller," I lamented.

"Let's just see what happens tomorrow," he replied mysteriously, making me wonder what he was up too.

As we finished eating, and our first bottle of wine, I could feel the alcohol buzz creeping over me, and my usual reservedness slipping. I actually felt happy! Really happy! I couldn't remember feeling like this for a long time.

I also felt a bit naughty.

"Jack, are you wearing a diaper now?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Nah. I bought some though. I plan on wearing one tomorrow. You're not the only one allowed to have fun, you know?"

"Why wait till tomorrow? Let's go put them on now, and leave our pants off! We both like gaming in our nappies, so let's do that! We won't even have to stop for potty breaks!"

Jacks head snapped up. This was a big step in our (relationship?) friendship. We often wore around each other, but always with them hidden under our clothes. We were yet to openly wear around each other. I could see already that Jack liked the idea. Especially when he stood up, and I saw the way the front of his sweatpants was tenting outwards. My God! Apparently quiet little Jackie-boy wasn't quite so little! Not if the bulge in his pants was anything to go by. I grinned to myself and pretended not to notice when he turned away, trying to surreptitiously adjust his manhood into a position where it wouldn't be at such a risk of poking himself in the eye with it. 

We walked towards the bedrooms. "Tori, do you want me to........um, can I help you to, ah......do you need a hand?"

"No Jack. I can put my own diaper on, thank you."

"What about tomorrow Tori? Am I going to put you in your diaper then? After all, I am your daddy...."

I shivered, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. You guys probably won't understand, but I was soooo scared of that! I mean, I wanted to be little, and I wanted a daddy, and I wanted to be babied and cared for.

But it wasn't as easy as that. I was a virgin, remember? I'd never been naked in front of a guy before. Not to mention my longstanding body issues. Part of me longed for the gentleness that I already knew Jack would afford to me, and I'd always wanted someone to diaper and nurture me, but I was also terrified! How would Jack react when he saw my tummy fat? When he saw that I shaved my pussy? That I had a mole on my right thigh, and an appendix scar? What would happen if I got naked, and he didn't like what he saw? How about my breasts? They're pretty big, and kinda floppy. What if my boobs disgusted him? 

I think these were all part of the reason I was still a virgin. I hated the thought of anyone seeing my short, plump body, and being repulsed. It was just easier to remain unseen and untouched, and more importantly, unjudged. 

But, he was right. He was going to be my daddy, and that meant he would probably have to change me at some point, particularly as I slowly got younger. Part of me craved it, part of me remained petrified.

I almost reacted with my normal smart mouth. Being rude and sarcastic, putting him into his place again. But somehow, I couldn't. Dammit! I liked Jack! I hadn't managed to scare him off by now, and he was going to be helping me fulfill my fantasies. He deserved better than that.

"Maybe tomorrow," I told him, giving a a genuine, albeit shy smile. 

We looked at each other for a moment. You know, really looked. Heavy eye contact. 

That was probably the first time I really felt sparks flying, not just from Jack, but from anyone. I swear I heard a crackle in the air. Jacks usual reticence disappeared, and once again, "New Jack, Bold, Take Charge, No Nonsense  Jack" was there. He leaned over, and kissed me, and I kissed him back. Properly. We remained locked together for a minute or so, until I suddenly realised that his left hand was cupping my breast, and my nipple was stiff, and I had cupped his groin, and his impressive feeling cock had responded in kind. I pulled back, and he let me go at once, ready to give me all the space I needed. 

"Tomorrow," I repeated, a bit breathless. "Go put your diaper on now Jack, you've got a wet spot." He did. Where the tip of his penis was pushing at the front of his grey sweats, a wet spot had formed, no doubt caused by my rubbing.

Poor Jack looked down and blushed. "Shit!" he said, and turned into his bedroom, shutting the door, and leaving me trembling, and sighing with a mixture of pent-up frustration, need, relief, and anxiety. Tomorrow, I would have to let Jack change or diaper me. I owed him that much. I just hoped I was ready for it. 

This was part of the reason I had suggested us wearing our nappies openly around each other tonight, so I could get used to it. If I could get comfortable enough with Jack seeing me in a diaper, then surely him actually changing me wouldn't be such a big deal, would it? 

I closed my door behind me. My pyjamas were already laid out on my bed. They were my favourite ones. Pale pink, thin, lightweight cotton, babygirl shorties. Trimmed in delicate white lace, with shorts that were pretty short, and loosely fitted around my not inconsiderable butt, and a shirt with short sleeves, and a white pixie collar. The shirt hung loosely down to my crotch level. I already knew from past experience that it safely covered my tummy roll, but not a diaper if I didn't wear the shorts. 

I wasn't going to be wearing shorts now......

I stripped off quickly, discarding my peasant skirt and hoodie, avoiding any glimpses of my mirror. I stepped into a plain white, adult pull up, and snugged it over my girlhood, instantly enjoying the feel of the thick padding that had enveloped my buttocks. Bowing my legs, I pulled it up firmly around my vagina, and ran my fingers along the leg guards, ensuring they were properly fitted. I slipped my pyjama top on, and quickly buttoned it, anxious to cover my boobs, stomach, and hips, all of which I wasn't a fan of. Next, I added a pair of lacy white ankle socks, trimmed with pink lace. 

Only then did I look in the mirror, and I was surprised to find I didn't hate what I saw. I mean my face and physique could use some work, but the image of a baby girl in her little sleep pants and her pretty pj's and socks was good. I hoped Jack liked it.

Whoa! Where had that thought come from? It shouldn't matter if he liked it or not. This was for me to do for myself. It was my chance to experience a caregiver. 

Still, I hoped he liked it.

I already needed to pee, and thought about delaying my entrance by going to the toilet first, but that kinda defeated the purpose a bit. I was going to experiment with wetting my diaper around Jack, and having us both experience openly wearing our diapers around others for the first time. 

Taking a deep breath, I left the safety of my room, and walked my openly diapered butt towards the living room, the combination of alcohol and nerves making me a touch light headed, and aware of my growing need to pee. 

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  • 2 weeks later...

Chapter 6:

I was nervous on two counts. Obviously I was worried about Jack seeing me in all my diapered glory, but I was also nervous and more than a bit excited about seeing him dressed the same way. I've always liked the look of guys in diapers, but I've obviously never seen any in real life. I was looking forward to finding out if the reality matched my expectations, from both angles. One day, if I ever was to experience an actual sexual encounter, I'd love it to involve diaper play, but this certainly wasn't going to be this time. Tonight, indeed this weekend, was going to be solely dedicated to me discovering what being little in public was actually like. I'd worry about the sex stuff next time around. 

Jack was sitting on the edge of the sofa cushions when I walked in. He was hunched forward, ostensibly playing the PS, but even I was smart enough to see that he was really trying hard to cover up his diaper, without actually looking like it. He glanced in my direction, and almost dropped the controller when he saw what I was wearing, his stolen car immediately crashing in a huge fireball. 

"Oh wow Tore, you look, well, amazing!" He was sincere, I could tell, and it made me feel better instantly.

"Stand up Jackie-boy," I instructed him, "let's have a look at you."

Jack blushed, but didn't hesitate, standing up immediately, ignoring the GAME OVER signal on the TV. 

"Lift your shirt," I told him, and he did, blushing even redder, but again not hesitating. 

My God! He was actually kinda ripped. I wouldn't say he had a 6 pack or anything, but his stomach was flat and toned, and I could see the slightest definition of his abs. He wasn't particularly hairy, but he didn't wax or shave, and the thin "snail trail" of hair that traced a line from his navel to inside the elastic waistband of his pull up sent a shiver through me. 

In a moment of cringing self examination, I had a glimpse of just how much I had been taking the poor guy for granted. Admittedly, we hadn't known each other for long, at least in real life, not counting our online shenanigans, and I'd pretty much decided earlier on that Jack wasn't the man for me, so I hadn't been paying him much attention.

I had a feeling that might be about to change. 

Jack had spread my "pee blanket" out across the sofa. It's nothing special, just an old, faded blue thing that I sit on if I'm feeling naughty, and it protects the already stained cushions from even more abuse. It also shows up any wet spots really well, which is an added bonus. 

"What do you wanna play?" Jack asked. 

"Let's stick with Driver," I said, gesturing at the screen. "We can take turns doing the missions."

I fetched us the half empty wine bottle, a six pack of light beer in an icy cooler, and a bottle of chilled water. I don't usually drink light beer, but it does make me pee a lot, and I definitely didn't want a hangover tomorrow, not on my big "little day!" I planned to drink a lot of water between rounds of the adult beverages, hoping to build myself up towards a real bed wetting later tonight. 

We sat on opposite ends of the couch, keeping the middle cushion vacant as a kind of no-mans land, and I ended up bringing my socked feet up and tucking them beneath me. It didn't take long for us to get fully immersed in the game, and after awhile, we gradually lost our sense of shame. That's not exactly the right way of putting it, I guess, as it wasn't really shame that we felt, more a sense of extreme self consciousness about being seen in our diapers. It was actually kind of amazing how quickly it happened too. One minute, we were sitting well apart, keeping our shirts pulled down and leaning forward with our hands rarely leaving our laps, the next minute, we were stretching out, or getting up for snacks, walking around without a care in the world. 

Without even realising it, I was starting to feel little. I guess it was a combination of things. The alcohol definitely helped, lowering my inhibitions, but just sitting around, relaxing and playing games with another diapered playmate also helped a lot. It was during a visit to the kitchen for more water when I first noticed it. 

Even with my cute little socks on, the tiles were cold beneath my feet, and my need to urinate, first noticed hours ago before leaving my room, then apparently forgotten about, made a sudden re-appearance. I had taken my second water bottle from the fridge, and was filling up the empty one, when I found myself doing a little potty dance at the sound of the running water. Grinning to myself, I let myself march on the spot for a moment, and pulled nervously at the leg band on my nappy, suddenly feeling like a little girl who knows she needs to tinkle, but is too busy being distracted by other more important stuff. It made me wonder how Jack was feeling. He hadn't moved from his spot all night, and he hadn't peed since his arrival, (at least not in the toilet,) and he'd drank more wine, as well as four out of the six beers. Just in case he wasn't desperate yet, I fetched another six pack from the fridge. 

"Cheers Tori," he said, taking the offered beer with a smile. "I've, uh, got some nice weed if you'd like a smoke?"

Now I've never been a big pot-head, but hey, I'm 22. I like it occasionally. I won't smoke if I'm going out where there's going to be like a big crowd of people or anything, because I can get paranoid, then everything irks me. But, if I'm relaxing at home, chilling out, playing games, wearing a cute little diaper, welllll.......,

Jack smiled at my approving nod, and, after pausing the game, he dug around inside his bulging bag, and produced a small, metal tin. 

"What on earth have you got in there?" I asked, pointing at the bag. It obviously had more than what was usually needed for a nights sleepover.

"You know, stuff," he replied airily, refusing to be drawn into a more specific answer. 

"What do you mean, 'stuff'?" I persisted.

"I bought some props," he said vaguely. "Some stuff I thought you might like to try, you know, if your little mood works out."

That was it. He wouldn't elaborate any further, and he definitely wouldn't let me see, telling me I'd need to be patient, and see how my little mood went. I even tried raising my voice, but Jack, being Jack, wouldn't take the bait. In the end, I gave up, but was happy to accept the joint that was offered to me. It was good shit alright, and a few minutes later, we were giggling and laughing like idiots while we played our game.

Neither of us had even noticed how comfortable we had somehow become in just our diapers. Now, there was absolutely no embarrassment or self consciousness at all. We weren't even trying to hide it at all, and were quite at ease flashing our padded underwear around whenever we moved or got up. 

Once I'd sat down, my need to pee had vanished again, but that didn't last long. When I started laughing, it returned with a vengeance, and I was soon forced to change my seating position, choosing to stretch my legs out and rest my feet on the coffee table, ankles crossed, and toes wiggling. 

By this stage, we'd abandoned the idea of actually completing any missions, choosing instead the free-drive option, deliberately taunting the cops into chasing us, while we did everything in our power to cause as much chaos as possible. The amount of people we beat up or killed, and the variety of vehicles we stole, would make any wannabe gangsters blush with envy. But you can only beat the game for so long, and Jack inevitably got arrested, so again it was my turn. 

By now, I was absolutely busting. I hadn't peed in over four hours, and I'd consumed about a bottle of wine, three and a half light beers, and over a litre of water. I was happily buzzing away on Jacks high quality kush, and feeling as happy as I had been in ages. I appeared to have managed to consume the perfect amount of weed and alcohol. I was happy, very happy, and not just a little light headed, but neither drunk nor dizzy, just extremely relaxed. Well, as relaxed as anyone could possibly be with a bladder that seemed to be distended by the sheer quantity of fluid that it was struggling to contain. 

As Jack passed me the control, he noticed my stockinged toes clenching and unclenching, and the way my padded butt kept wriggling on the blanket. I took it off him, and sat up straight, crossing my knees as a sudden wave of pure desperation hit me, causing me to hiss a sharp intake of breath between my clenched teeth. 

Jack noticed of course, even though he was a bit drunker than I was. He wasn't as concerned about having a hangover as me, so he'd drank substantially more than what I had.

"You alright Tori?" He asked, even though it was fairly obvious what my problem was. That was Jack all over. He wouldn't say anything provocative, rather asking a leading question and let me answer it as I saw fit. 

But even I was a bit surprised by my answer. Not so much what I said, but how I said it. 

"I kinda need to do a wee," I replied, surprising myself at my little girls tone of voice. "I sorta need to tinkle."

What the hell? Wee? Tinkle? Usually I'd just say "I'm busting for a piss!" But I didn't this time. I actually felt a bit nervous, a bit unsure of myself even.

I felt little.

It must've been the pot, screwing with my senses. But hey, I wasn't going to fight it. It appeared that Jack wasn't going to fight it either. He'd easily picked up on my urgency, then on my little girl voice, so he'd pretty much figured out where my headspace was at without me having to fill in the details. 

"Do you want me to take you to the potty Tori? Give you a hand to take your little sleep pants off?"

This was it. My moment of truth. If I was serious about us doing some little stuff together, I wasn't going to get a better opportunity. 

"No daddy," I replied shakily. "I can take them off okay myself. I'm a big girl now 'member? I'm 10!"

I saw Jacks body stiffen. He'd seen me floundering, thrown out the bait, and I'd taken it. He now needed to play me properly if he was going to land me. He took a couple of seconds to work out what was best to say next, and, as usual, he didn't disappoint me. 

"Ok Miss Tori. I'll trust you to be a big girl about it. But remember, just because you have a diaper on, doesn't mean you're just allowed to use it! Your diaper is for going to bed in, not just using whenever you want to because you're too lazy or busy to visit the potty. That's the last diaper we have until we go to the shops tomorrow! If you wet it now, you'll have to go to bed without one tonight, and you know what that will mean! A wet bed tomorrow. If you need to go, you should. But I'm not going to make you. As you said, you're 10 now. That's old enough to know when you should be going to the potty."

I picked up the controller, the butterflies in my tummy fluttering about like giant condors. This was it! I was actually doing it! I was thinking like an adult, using grownup logic and reasoning, and I was fully aware of what was going to happen, but I could just ignore it. I was feeling like a kid. It was my turn at the game, I wanted to play, and that was more important than any silly potty break. The potty could wait until I was ready to go. I was 10! A big girl now, and I could make my own decisions about stuff like that. 

"I'll go later," I declared defiantly, "after I have my turn."

"Okay," Jack shrugged. "Up to you."

I started my turn. I was so badly in need of a pee that I couldn't concentrate, crashing my car without any help or pressure at all. My character soon managed to hijack another car, and I was outta there before the cops showed up. I was driving aimlessly, not really having any destination in mind, just cruising around, almost continuously crashing into stuff, which of course put me under the cops microscope pretty quickly. 

Soon I was being chased. In real life I probably would've died at least ten times. I just couldn't seem to drive properly. My entire stomach felt swollen, and my tortured little pee hole was twitching inside my diaper. My legs kept shaking, and I couldn't keep my feet still, my toes curling as I tried to concentrate on the game. I was even starting to sweat. I could feel the back of my neck getting damp, and my diaper seemed awfully hot around the waistband. I tried my absolute best to ignore it, telling my ten year old self that I would certainly need to go to the toilet as soon as my turn ended. Of course I could always just pause the game, but no doubt Jack would seize the controller as soon as I walked out, and I'd lose my turn. 

Boys can be such meanie-heads sometimes. 

The thought of just deliberately letting go and feigning an accident was always there, but I wanted a real one, not a pretend one. My bladder control is good, but not great, and having a real accident isn't as hard for me to engineer as what it is for a lot of people on these forums. It can be both a blessing and a curse. 

I managed to manoeuvre my car onto the freeway, the cops in hot pursuit. This should give me a chance to outrun them if I was careful. I couldn't relax of course, but I could perhaps un-tense myself a bit. I was starting to make some ground on them, when my accidents happened. 

My first accident, was vehicular in nature. I was driving as fast as I could, at a suicidal speed, when I misjudged an overtaking manoeuvre, clipping the back of another car, and flipping it over, into the guardrail, while my already bruised and battered car spun around completely out of my control.

"NO! NONONONONO!" I squealed, laughing at the same time, knowing that I'd screwed things up. 

It was as I started laughing that I felt it. A hot, spreading warmth trickling across my bald pubic mound and into my butt crack, and the physical feeling of pure relief as my bladder started letting go. I was peeing uncontrollably, couldn't stop, and it felt good. The best bit was, it felt really naughty too. 

I was laughing, as much as I had in years, my sudden good humour no doubt aided exponentially by the alcohol and pot, and it was quickly turning into a fit of giggling, helped along by the knowledge that I was wetting myself in a real accident, and I couldn't stop. 

"Argh! IPEEDMYPANTS! IPEEDMYPANTS! JACK! IMPEEINGMYPANTS!"

I couldn't look at Jack. I dropped the controller on the couch, spread my legs wide open, clasped my hands together between my legs as if I was in prayer, and lowered my head, squeezing my eyes tightly shut as the trickle turned into a flood. Opening my thighs had opened the floodgates, and what felt like a gallon of warm pee was cascading into the swelling crotch and backside of my adult pull up with the force of a fire hose. It felt good. 

Its easier to regain control when you're sitting down, and perhaps ten seconds of solid peeing later, I was able to clench down, and stem the flow. Once it was down to nothing more than a slight trickle, I opened my eyes, and stared at my diapered crotch. My nappy was swollen and distended, even a bit discoloured, and I could see between the big V that my flabby thighs formed, that the light blue blanket now had a much darker wet patch on it, meaning that my leg guards had leaked. 

Ten year old me put my index finger between my lips, and started chewing at the nail. I was blushing, and felt very self conscious all of a sudden. I raised my head in Jacks direction, and glanced at him through hooded eyes. 

"Daddy.........I wet my nappy," I told him in a squeaky voice. 

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On 29/06/2017 at 7:00 AM, Bellatrix1 said:

What a Awsome chapter 

As always Bella, thanks for your support. Glad you liked it. Nearly finished. Can't decide between one or two more chapters to finish it. Doesn't really matter what I think, the story will tell me. I originally thought the whole thing was only going to be four chapters long in total, but, like my other stories, I keep going off on a tangent...

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  • 3 weeks later...

Chapter 7:

Jack was silent at first, and I saw him squeeze the front of his own diaper quickly before he shifted his weight, then crossed his legs, and his breathing seemed to quicken up as well. 

"Ah, gee. Um, how did that happen little miss? You're supposed to be a big girl! I asked you before if you needed to go potty, and you said no!"

"I'm sorry daddy," I replied. "I thought I could hold it for a bit longer. I just wanted to finish my game, you know?" I made myself sound quite upset, almost on the verge of tears. 

Jack sighed in an exaggerated fashion. "Being sorry doesn't fix this miss Tori. That was your last diaper! Now you don't have any to wear to bed! Your sheets are going to be all wet in the morning now."

I had my thumb in my mouth, gnawing on the tip of my nail. I managed to mumble "I'm sorry daddy" around it. 

Jack eyed me critically. "Stand up Tori. Let me have a look at you." 

I did, hitching up my pull up as I stood, forcing the warm, soggy diaper firmly into my pleasure centre, and liking how it squashed against me. I liked that a lot. We looked at the couch. The light blue blanket had a small wet spot on it, where one of my leg guards must've leaked a bit. These diapers can take a big flood if I'm standing up, but are more prone to leaking if I'm sitting down, which is exactly the reason why I always put the blanket over the couch. 

"Have you finished peeing?" Jack asked, "Or do you still have some left?"

Now I was standing up, I could feel the undelivered pee now waiting to come out. I can never completely empty my bladder while sitting down, unless I'm on the toilet of course. If I have an accident in my nappy, it's usually just the excess that I lose. I stood with one leg straight, and put just my toes of my left foot on the floor, and pivoted my left leg backwards and forwards in a nervous, distracted manner. 

"I guess I still kinda need to go," I admitted sheepishly. 

Jack sighed again. "Well you might as well finish it now," he told me. "Your diapers already wet now, so you may as well just use it. It doesn't make much sense to keep holding on anymore."

"Aren't you going to take me to the potty dad?" I asked, expecting him to jump at the idea of helping me remove my diaper. He surprised me by smiling ruefully, and shaking his head.

"Not yet. If you're going to have potty accidents like a little baby, you may as well leave your sleep pants on. Just finish your wee in them now, and I'll help you get changed later."

"Soooo, you want me to finish my tinkle in my diaper?" I asked, wanting confirmation from my caregiver.

His voice firmed up a bit. "I didn't want you to use your diaper at all missy! You're ten years old! That's way too old to be going potty in a diaper. I knew it was a bad idea letting you put your sleep pants on so early, it encourages you to be lazy I think! From now on, you'll only put your night nappy on just before you go to bed, not before, you hear me?"

I wasn't used to being spoken to like this, and his tone of voice instantly irked me. My "little" feeling was suddenly spiralling out of control, becoming more predominant than I would've felt possible. Up until now, I had been playing, pretending, trying to feel little, but Jacks tone of voice suddenly made it feel almost too real. All of a sudden, I actually did feel little, like I was really ten years old, and a grownup was admonishing me for wetting myself, and it was weird, and not exactly how I had expected to feel.  

I was surprised to discover that I kinda liked it. 

I was used to what it felt like pretending to be little, after all, age regression is my favourite thing, and I do it all the time. I love wearing a nappy, or wetting my pants, even on purpose, but up until now, I'd always thought that I knew what real regression was all about, but apparently I didn't. Being such a control freak, I'm so accustomed to being the one in charge, and even when "Little Tori" is playing, there's always that hidden grownup voice in the back of my mind directing the traffic. So while I'm being little, I'm still the one in charge.

But this was different. Now, I was being little, and Jack, (sorry, Daddy) was in charge. Not actually knowing exactly what he was going to say or do next was a bit unsettling, and it exaggerated my little-ness. I guess it must be like that for a real kid who wets her pants. You go and tell your parents, but you don't know exactly how they're going to react. They may virtually ignore it, and tell you to go and get changed and put your wet pants in the laundry, or they may yell at you, perhaps even punish you. Perhaps they'll take charge, giving you comfort, a loving hug, then help you clean up. But the bottom line, is you need to tell them, 'cause it's like a super-big deal, and you are wary, waiting for their reaction.

That's precisely how I felt now, and I realised that despite all of my solo age play in the past, I'd only been fooling myself, and while I thought I'd been little, grownup Tori had always been the one calling the shots. Now, I was nothing more than a helpless passenger, completely reliant on my daddy to either fix things, or even punish me, and Oh Boy, did I feel little!

"Sorry daddy," I replied meekly, before adding "President Trump" out of nowhere. 

That was our safe word. We had agreed that we would need one should stuff start getting out of control. Upon hearing the other person say this, the game would instantly stop, and we could again talk as adults about whatever was happening. 

"What's wrong Tore?" Jack asked, instantly concerned. 

I reached for my wine with a shaking hand, and drank deeply. 

"Can you roll another joint please Jack? I think I need it."

"Sure babe, but what's wrong? Am I doing something wrong here?"

"No! Not at all! It's almost perfect," I hurried to assure him, "Its just...."

As he fixed a spliff, I tried to explain the best I could about how I was feeling, and what it was like. Jack lit the joint, drew in the sweet smoke, smiled, and passed it to me. 

"It's okay Tore," he explained. "I get it. You're just naturally such a dominant person, it's gotta be hard for you to let go, you know, relinquish control. But that's exactly what we're doing here. I actually thought, even hoped that this would happen to you. It's good! It means it's working."

We talked for a while, and the dope and wine soon relaxed me again, and I was ready to try again. Jack asked me if I wanted to change my diaper first, but I declined, telling him that it was helping me feel little and helpless. 

"Actually, I think I might be ready to go younger," I explained. "I might try being a big toddler for a little while."

Jack grinned, and his eyes lit up. "Okay then," he said, the excitement in his voice obvious. "Time for some props I reckon."

He got up, and went into the kitchen with his bag, and I wasn't quite prepared for what he returned with. He kept his hands behind his back when he returned, then asked me a question.

"You said that you like Baileys Irish Cream, don't you?"

I nodded, confused, and not understanding exactly where this question had come from. 

"Game on!" He said, which was out pre-arranged code for resuming our game.

"You look very tired young lady. Are you almost ready for bed?"

I surprised myself by yawning. Up until then, I hadn't been aware that I was in fact getting sleepy, but it was no doubt an effect of the alcohol and pot. But still, it was like as soon as Jack had said it, it had affected me. 

"Drink this," Jack said, "and I'll put you to bed."

My jaw almost hit the floor when Jack bought his hand out from behind his back, giving me the baby's bottle full of milk!

He took his position on the other end of the couch, and I took the bottle from him, tilted my head back, and started drinking, the mixture of icy cold milk and sweet Baileys tasting delicious in my mouth. Drinking from a bottle is an art form I'd long forgotten, and when I pulled the bottle away from my mouth in an effort to breathe, milk squirted out, dribbling over my nose and mouth. 

Jack chuckled, "Come here baby girl. It might be easier for you if you lay down."

I was completely under his spell by now, so I did as I was told. I lay my head on his lap, directly on top of his diaper in fact, and put my feet up on the other end. Jacks diaper felt very warm and squishy underneath my head, and I realised that he must've wet himself, probably more than once, and I could detect the faintest aroma of urine, but I liked it, it enhanced my little mood. 

"You feel all squishy daddy," I mumbled, making milk leak from my mouth.

"Shhh. Just drink your bot-bot," he instructed me, using his hand to gently wipe the dribble from my chin. So I did.

While I drifted off into an extremely relaxed hazy state, Jack continued gaming, his hands hovering over my head,  holding the controller out of the way so I could see, but by then I wasn't really interested. I was almost asleep, and feeling more relaxed than I had done in years. In no time at all, my bottle was regretfully empty, and he paused the game, taking it from me, setting it gently on the table. 

"Sit up, on my lap," he instructed me, and although I don't normally take instructions very well, I found myself complying without even thinking about it. It was simple. Daddy told me what to do, and I did it. 

I sat my diapered butt on his diapered lap, the thick soggy padding squelching between us, and faced the tv, not even looking at the paused game. Jack started rubbing my back, using firm but soft gentle circular motions, and I was surprised when I burped, and I giggled girlishly.

"Good girl," he told me, and made me lay down again, which I did gratefully, yawning as I did so. 

My eyes popped open in surprise though, when he reached down beside him, and picked up a small package that he must've dropped on the floor earlier. It was a small piece of cardboard, with a hard plastic moulded front on it, clearly showing the contents inside. 

A pacifier!

I tried to formulate a coherent sentence, but only managed to mumble. Jack merely shushed me again, and used the paci to prevent me from speaking, and I let him. 

It felt kinda strange in my mouth, but also very soothing, and that, combined with the warm, squashy pillow that was Jacks diaper, allowed me to relax like I never had before.

I was do relaxed, that I actually started peeing without even trying too, and once I started, I couldn't stop, not that I wanted to. I closed my eyes tightly, enjoying the feeling of completely wetting my nappy, opening up my legs to allow the hot pee to run over my shaved pussy, and trickle through the crack of my butt, into the already swollen padding below. I peed so forcefully, that it even ran across my front, and down my hips, which I knew meant that I was leaking everywhere, but I didn't care at all. I emptied my bladder without a single care in the world, completely coating my midsection both front and back with glorious warmth. 

I wasn't the only one, either. Jack shifted in his seat, and I could feel something twitching inside his diaper, and it started getting warmer beneath my head. 

I was virtually asleep when Jack shook me gently. "Baby, you better wake up, I think you're pretty wet."

I reached down drowsily, and ran my hand across the blanket under my bum, and felt warm wetness everywhere. I stood up groggily, now really tired from a combination of the pot, alcohol, and the soothing relaxation of using the paci. My nappy immediately sagged low, heavy and extremely wet, and a single trickle escaped, running down my right leg and onto my sock. I didn't speak, but looked guiltily at daddy from beneath my lowered head. I felt a strange mixture of mild shame and excitement, which was kinda weird. I made my bottom lip tremble, and the dummy slid out of my mouth, but, quick as a ninja, Jack caught it before it hit the floor. 

"Don't get upset princess, you're a little girl! That's why you wear a diaper, because you sometimes can't help doing tinkles in your pants, remember?"

I replied meekly. "Yes daddy."

"Come on, let's get you ready for bed," Jack declared, getting up off the couch, his own diaper sagging in the crotch, but apparently not leaking like mine had. He took me by the hand, and led me towards the bathroom, both of us staggering just a little bit. But when we got there, my nerves kicked in, and I instantly felt more awake, more sober, and much older. 

"President Trump," I said nervously, and he stopped, and looked quizzically at me. I wondered if he could see the butterflies in my tummy, as I felt like I was trembling.

"Jack, this is great, better than great, it's awesome, and I'm loving it, but I don't think I'm ready for you to help me change. Not yet anyway."

Jack didn't object, but he instantly looked downcast, the disappointment evident on his face.

"Tomorrow!" I blurted out. "I promise. Tomorrow. I'll let you change me, diaper me, wash me, whatever, but tomorrow, not now. Give me tonight to build up to it, and I promise, I'll let you do it tomorrow." I was blithering a bit, but I couldn't help it, I was scared. The sudden thought of letting a guy see my disgusting body naked had freaked me out a bit, but, I knew we were at a tipping point, and I now knew that if anyone was going to do it, I wanted it to be Jack. After all, he'd put a lot of groundwork into me, and despite how I tended to treat him sometimes, he kept coming back for more. "Face it," I told myself, "I'm actually kinda in love with him by now......"

The reason I was falling in love with him was apparent in the way he responded. He just sighed ruefully, and gave me a smile. "You're the boss Tori. Whatever you want. So, what do you want? What's next?"

I relaxed immediately, the nerves dissipating at once, happy I now had a reprieve.

"I'm going to have a wash, and put my pyjama pants on, but no diaper," I told him. "I'm going to be ten years old again, and you can put me to bed. Tonight, I'm going to wet my bed, and from tomorrow, you're completely in charge. I'll wake up as a wet ten year old, and work my way down from there, but you'll call the shots. And yes, tomorrow you can do everything, even change me."

Jacks smile broadened, and he subconsciously gave his dick a squeeze through his soggy diaper. 

"That'll be nice," he said. "I'll let you get ready for bed, then I'll come and tuck you in. After that, I might have a quick shower, and game for a little bit longer. I'm a bit too wound up to go to sleep just yet I reckon."

He kissed me chastely on the forehead, and left me to clean up. I shut myself in the bathroom, and could feel my heart hammering in my chest. I was now committed to the plan, and had a feeling that I was going to be finally losing my virginity within the next 24 hours, and I realised that I was at peace with it, and indeed, was looking forward to it. I took off my wet nappy, bagged and binned it, then picked up a towel from the floor, and ran it under the hot water, applied some soap, and washed myself thoroughly front and back, and applied a generous amount of baby powder once I was dry. I'd left my pants in my bedroom, so after opening the door of the bathroom, I made sure that the coast was clear, and ran across the hall, naked from the waist down into the safety of my bedroom, where I hurriedly stepped into my thin pink cotton shorts. I picked up my teddy bear, opened the door and called out "Daaaddddyyyy" in my best, little-girl voice, and sat on the edge of my bed, cradling teddy in my lap. 

Jack entered about 30 seconds later, and smiled at what he saw. He helped me lay down, pulled up the sheets and tucked me in, and kissed my forehead once more.

"Goodnight princess, sleep tight," he said. 

"Tomorrow," I replied, slipping him a wink, and he smiled, turning off the light and shutting the door, leaving me alone in bed with a hammering heart. 

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On 20/07/2017 at 0:59 AM, abdlomo said:

I love all of your stories!

Thank you! There's a couple more you might like. I can't post links, but they're easy to find if you search. Have a look at "The Morning School Run," which is finished, and "Gemma's Wet Werkend," which is nearly finished, and I promise will be finished soon, lol. 

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Chapter 8:

I had really been hoping that I might actually wet the bed, by accident I mean. I was going to wet it one way or another of course, but I'd been kinda wishing for an accident. It happens sometimes, usually when I've been drinking, and I was counting on the high fluid intake, combined with the booze and pot, might have zonked me out enough to wet in my sleep, but it didn't. Instead, I woke up at about 3,  busting for a piss. I staggered into the toilet, plonking myself down hurriedly and unceremoniously, and was halfway through one of the biggest and most enjoyable pisses of my life, when I suddenly woke up enough to realise that I had planned to do this in my bed! It was just basic conditioning that had me pre-programmed to get out of bed like a friggin zombie, and use the toilet like a normal person. I sighed. It was too late now, I was damn near finished and my head was starting to spin. I briefly considered pulling up my little shorts and finishing off in them, but honestly, I couldn't be bothered. I settled instead for not wiping, letting the pee droplets soak into my pink cotton shorts, creating a small, oval shaped wet spot on the thin fabric, accentuating my camel toe with a dark pink stripe. I scratched at it and yawned, smiling to myself, acknowledging that even in my half drugged-like state, my little wet spot turned me on.  Nevertheless, I was exhausted, and only craved sleep, so I stumbled back into bed, and fell straight asleep, but with my right index and forefingers pressing that wet spot firmly against my clit. In the finish, my patience was rewarded, and I woke up at 8:30.

Busting for a pee. 

This time, I awoke perhaps not instantly, but clear headed, and feeling good, both mentally and physically. I was stretching languorously, when my bladder suddenly protested, cutting short my toe-curling stretch, and making me automatically cross my ankles and bend my knees up, clenching down hard on my only- average-level kegel muscles at the same time, only just cutting off an errant squirt of pee from escaping.

I smiled to myself. Although I'd once again automatically stopped myself from having an accident, even though I wanted one, this time it was different. This time, I still had time. Not like last night, only remembering when it was too late and I was already using the toilet. Now, I could play. I could hear Jacks door opening, then the bathroom door closing, followed a few minutes later by the sound of the toilet flushing, and I knew I had time. As per our discussion last night, he was now my Daddy. Daddy was going to make breakfast, then come and wake his little girl up if she wasn't up already, so I could spare some time to facilitate a real accident still. 

At first, I lay down, snuggling under the doona, cuddling my teddy, trying my very best to just relax, fall into that precious little mindset, and just let go, both metaphorically and literally, and allow myself to wet my bed. 

The problem was, I couldn't. Adult Tori could be heard in the background, taking charge again, yelling orders. 'NOOO! THINK OF THE WASSSHHHHHIINNNNNG.... She was right, too. I had a rubber sheet on my mattress, and I was looking forward to making a mess on my bottom sheet, but there was no sense it getting my top sheet or doona all wet as well. Plus, if I wet laying down, it would probably result in the back of my shirt getting all wet also. Fuck that. 

I threw the top layers of bedding off, and sat upright, scooting my bum backwards until my back found the support of the wall behind my bed. Once comfortable, I lifted my backside up for the briefest of moments, but long enough to pull my thin little pink cotton shorts up nice and tight against my vagina, making them hug my bald mound tightly, and showing off a nice camel toe effect. I spread my legs in a wide V formation, putting some distance between my pretty little white ankle socks, with the delicate pink lace,  giving me a perfect view of the light, lilac coloured sheet underneath my pussy. With my legs spread like this, I found it nigh on impossible to hold onto my bladder control. 

Almost immediately, the combination of suddenly cooling down after throwing off my warm blankets, my full bladder, and my forcedly exaggerated spread-legged position, had me clenching my sphincter and shuddering, as a wave of almost pure desperation washed over me. I discovered both of my hands were moving of their own accord, heading parallel with each other on matching trajectories, directly towards my twitching pee hole, urgently wanting to grab at it, squeeze it, plug it somehow, because it was about to start leaking. I managed to thwart the plan that my hands had made, and directed them onto their respective thighs, where they gripped tightly, pulling the cotton shorts even tighter against my womanhood, which gave me a shiver of pleasure at the tight contact. 

I felt something loosen deep inside me, and instinctively my toes curled, and my fingers dug into my somewhat fleshy thighs. I uttered a faint, mewing, whimpering sound, as my nipples hardened, aided by the gossamer caress of my thin nightshirt, and a tiny dark spot appeared on the taut fabric that was stretched across my mound. I felt a ticklish sensation, as if a spider had ran between my bum cheeks, and after a second or two, a small dark trail outlined the exact same area in which I'd felt that warm tickle. 

I watched in fascination as my entire vaginal mound seemed to twitch, then a large dark spot erupted, appearing  seemingly out of nowhere, sending out dark tendrils in front of its main body, as the wet patch between my spread legs quickly grew, from a grape, to an egg, to an apple, cup, saucer, plate and even bigger, all in the space of a few seconds. Suddenly, a dark patch appeared on my sheet, and started radiating outwards from beneath my buttocks, as I felt the hot wetness of freshly released urine cascading over my genitals, and running underneath me, coating my buttocks in its acrid sweet stickiness as well. 

All of a sudden, a switch was flicked, and all semblance of control was lost. From that point, my mother could've barged in, leading the Pope himself, along with Ryan Reynolds for backup, and there would be absolutely nothing I would be able to do to stem the tsunami sized flood that was erupting inside my pyjama shorts. At one point, pee actually started bubbling straight out of my crotch, looking surprisingly similar to the water fountains around the college. I don't think I'll ever be able to view a water bubbler the same again. 

My shorts were drenched. The original blossom between the legs now broadened enough to fully encompass every inch between them, as well as almost the entire front lap area, leaving only a couple of still dry strips down the middle of the front thigh bit. The backside was even worse than the front, and seemed to be almost as uniformly soaked as if I'd sat down in a puddle.

In effect I guess I was actually sitting in a puddle, as my rubber sheet wasn't absorbent, it had allowed a small puddle to form between my legs, with the already drenched sheets unable to soak anymore liquid in. 

I felt little. 

I looked solemnly at my teddy bear, whom I'd been gripping tightly, although ignoring, as I'd watched myself wetting my pants and bed. 

"Oops Teddy. I think I've hadda accident," I informed him seriously. "I better go tell my daddy."

I dragged my butt across a section of dry sheeting, making sure I wiped away as much errant liquid as I could, then I stood up, and immediately affected a slightly waddling gait as I set off to find my daddy.

It was Saturday morning, and my little day had started. 

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  • 2 weeks later...

Sorry for the delay. Was a bit off kilter for a couple of weeks and didn't write much, then got distracted by my D & A story. But this ones soooo close to being finished.....

Ive had some trouble with the site not automatically saving my stories, so I can't rely on it to be there if I decide to "come back to it later." As a result, I have to "publish" my stuff as soon as I'm logging off. So if the chapter just mysteriously ends with a TBC, you know I ran out of time before finishing the chapter. Not ideal, but meh, whatcha gonna do?

Thanks for reading so far. 

Chapter 9:

"Morning Pumpkin!" Jack, (sorry, Daddy,) greeted me with enthusiastically, as I waddled into the kitchen, looking downcast, carrying my teddy by one, dangling arm. He couldn't see my teddy at first though, as I made sure to stay up close to the opposite side of the kitchen bench, where my saturated pink shorts couldn't be immediately seen. 

"Mornin' daddy," I replied, hesitating before I spoke.

"What's wrong princess?" Jack asked. "Why so glum?"

"Nothin'" I replied softly, shuffling my feet and looking down.

"Tori? What's wrong honey? Come on. Tell me."

"My beds all wet," I replied sullenly. "Dunno how....."

Dad looked at me with a raised eyebrow, and I felt myself withering under its soft glare. I knew I'd stuffed up. 

"What do you mean 'You don't know,' Tori? I think it's pretty obvious why your beds all wet, don't you? Because I let you stay up late, and you wet yourself in your last night diaper before you even got into bed! Remember? I told you that you'd wake up wet, didn't I? Really Tori, it's bad enough that you still need diapers for bed at ten years old, let alone wetting yourself before you even get to bed! Well, I told you so, didn't I?" 

His tone was soft but harsh, and I really did feel some shame, even though it was all a coordinated part of our game, I couldn't help feeling some misplaced guilt. 

But hey, I've always been good at that. 

"Yes daddy. You did say that. I'm sorry, you was right." God I hated saying that, even in jest. 

Jack sighed softly. "Oh Tori, what're we gonna do with you? Never mind baby, it's only wet sheets after all, nothing that we can't fix. Come here. Let me look at you. How wet are you?"

Sheepishly I walked around the bench, waddling a bit as I kept my legs spread. I was nervously gnawing on a nail on my right hand, while from my left hand drooped my reluctant bear-friend. I had seen (admired) my reflection in my bedroom mirror before coming out, and I knew that I looked (fat) cute, and my little thin pink shorts were virtually translucent, and were clinging tightly to my freshly shaved mound, and my buttocks were plastered tightly with what amounted to little more than pink cling film. There certainly wasn't much more that Jack was going to see later when he changed me. His breath caught in his throat a bit, and for a completely horrible second, I thought he mayve been gagging at the sight of me, but the way he smiled and grabbed at the front of his sweatpants, (partly exposing the diaper that he was wearing beneath them,) quickly reassured me that I probably hadn't sickened him too much. 

"Turn around," he instructed, making a silly little swirling motion with his fingers that made me want to slap him, but I complied without arguing, although I felt under duress.

"You're saturated," he informed me, somewhat regretfully. "Anyway. Breakfast is ready. Sit up at the table, but make sure that you sit on that towel there," he said, indicating towards a blue towel draped across a chair back. 

"'Kay daddy," I replied, grateful that the lecture was apparently over. "I'll just go get changed....."

"No Tori," he interrupted firmly, cutting me off. "I said you can sit on the towel at the table please. Perhaps sitting in your cold wet pants might make you a bit more aware the next time that you decide to try and hold your wee in just because you're wearing a pull up. Your sleep pants are for accidents that you can't help while you're asleep, not accidents that happen because you're not able to control yourself like a ten year old should. I honestly think you get lazy sometimes when it comes to using your pull ups."

I was mortified. Jack was almost too good at this. I had to protest at this indignity.

"I am not lazy dad! It was just a accident! I swear! I'd never, ever just pee in my pull up on purpose. Promise!"

"I didn't say you did it on purpose Tori, I said you were lazy. I mean that I think you tend to put off going to the potty for longer if you've got a diaper on. You think it doesn't matter if you wet yourself, but it does. Now I hope that sitting in your wet pants might teach you a lesson."

Dad placed two bowl of cereal, and a plate of toast with honey in front of us, and we ate, pretty much in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable at all, well, not like you might expect, as we were both right into our roles by now, and for me at least, it felt very real. I could actually believe I was a ten year old girl being forced to stay in her wet pants as punishment, and it felt sucky. But basically, if I was to stay in character, there really wasn't much I could do about it. 

So I pouted. I ate, pouted, pulled occasionally at my sticky wet shorts that were quickly becoming cold, and somehow more noticeably smelly, moped a bit, drank my milk, and even groaned a bit. Eventually, I finished. 

"I'm finished dad. May I be 'scused please?"

"Good girl Tori," Jack said, beaming with praise, and Goddamn it if I didn't feel a bit of pleasure in his reaction. I frigging hated myself a bit then. 

"Are you going to have a shower?" He asked. 

I tried to keep my composure, and I indeed thought that I had, but Jack must've seen something in my face. I was fully expecting him to help me shower and change at some point today, and it was probably going to be now, and I was resigned to it, but I think I did cringe a bit. But I kept myself under control, cleared my throat, and looked directly at him. I might be playing as a kid, but I'm also a woman of my word. 

"Yes daddy. Will you wanna help me?"

Jack looked directly at me, and I could feel his gaze boring into me, the look of need, almost hunger briefly flashing across his eyes, and he absentmindedly adjusted his diaper again. 

"No Tori. You're ten. That's old enough to wash yourself I think. But you can help me change the sheets first."

My spirit soared, my heart lifted. I really did want Jack to be "The One," and I wanted "That Day," to be today, but I was still grateful for the reprieve. With a bit more time to mentally prepare, I'd be sure to be ready to go through with it. For the moment though, I was happy to hold my daddy's hand, and skip along beside him to the bedroom where my soaked bed awaited. I paused at the linen closet for fresh sheets before going in with him, and between us, we soon had the bed changed. I felt very vulnerable and self aware parading around in my wet pyjamas, especially changing my wet sheets, but daddy was helping, then I was going to shower by myself, and that made up for it. 

"Wanna pick some clothes out for me dad?" I asked sweetly. "After all, you're taking me to the park soon, and I think I'm going to be six, and six year olds don't choose their own outfits, do they? You pick whatever you want me to wear."

I crossed into the bathroom, already wary about the evil leer that I thought I saw crossing his features. I couldn't believe I'd just done that! What the fuck was I thinking? I would never, EVER, let someone else tell me what to wear! Just the idea alone irks me! 

I sighed. I couldn't really complain. Jack continued to go out of his way to look after little me, and even let me off the hook with regards to not bathing or changing me, at least not yet. I'm sure he won't be so forgiving later. He won't freaking wanna be! I wanted the son-of-a-bitch to change me. I just had to build up to it first......

Letting him choose my six year old outfit was a nice way of saying thanks. It was the least I could do. After all, while he had free reign of my wardrobe, I don't really have any kid-ish type of clothing, except for my onesies, and I won't be wearing them to the park. No, he was going to have to select a childish outfit from my limited stock of grownup clothing, and I couldn't really see him having too many options. Nor could I see him embarrassing me too badly. Christ, my regular dress sense floats somewhere between "poor-uni-student, pro-feminist, not-quite-grunge, not-quite-goth, not-quite-hippy, not-quite-peasant, thrift-shop-chic."

What could he possibly do?

Never underestimate a man. 

To Be Continued....

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