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littlerainbowfrog · 1 month

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Chloe: Making the Grade

It was three weeks ago to the day that Chloe came home from school for her winter break. Three weeks prior, she had walked into the house that she and her husband shared, only to find him sitting at the kitchen table holding her appalling report card. And of course, that same day was when she was made aware that her and her husband's spare bedroom had been horrifyingly converted into an oversized nursery.

She was standing in that very same nursery, only an hour and a half away from her newly enforced bedtime of 8:30 PM. She felt the constricting nature of her yellow peplum outfit top that Daddy dressed her in just earlier this morning. How it felt constricting against her breasts like a training bra. How the indigo "skirt," if you could even call it that, did nothing to hide her diaper. If anything, it framed it more apparently and obviously in her head. Every movement throughout the day made her feel that skirting sway slightly, mere inches from the waistband of her oversized pamper. Then, of course, she felt the dread that was her current reality. She struggled, even after all this time, to come to terms with it. Not only was she wearing a cartoon-printed diaper that was big enough to hug her wide hips, but she was also expected and forced to use it on a daily basis.

She found herself staring intently at the crack between the wall and her oversized crib that she would be strapped into shortly as the persistent and impossible-to-ignore pressure started to build in her lower half. Like always since she got home for her holiday break, she stood there frozen in place with fear and contemplation as the pressure built and built. Actively going through the five stages of grieving that always started with denial. Every day, this pressure continued to build, and she always ventured down the idea that she could somehow hold out and that she would be able to avoid the inevitable. With her bottom still sore from the “backtalking” incident from the night before, she shot a glance at the former guest bedroom’s bathroom door with its almost novelty-sized padlock on it as well as the various signs daddy had taped up to drive the message home.

“Potty Off Limits for Little Chloe”

“If your name is not Chloe Paulus, ask her daddy (Henry) for the bathroom door key.”

“Banned indefinitely – Chloe Paulus”

Fighting back this week could be summed up with one word in her head. Futile. Any pushback that she gave was met with harsh retaliation. Trying to take off her diaper was met with being sent to bed restrained in her new crib at noon that day. Attempting to get into the bathroom, of course, was met with her being sent to the corner for hours. The backtalking from the night before was met with her mouth getting washed out with a bar of Irish Spring. And of course, every single one of these punishments was supplemented with a spanking that turned her large bottom the same shade as a tomato.

Recalling these moments sent a sharp pain that radiated through her bottom and knocked her out of her flashback. This, of course, ushered in the acceptance phase, the giving in, and the losing of the battle in humility. In an almost instinctive act to save herself from any more physical pain, she gripped the crib's rail for a second, stuck her bottom out slightly, and started pushing a large and hot mess into the seat of her diaper like she had done day in and day out for the past three weeks.

As she pushed, she felt that foreign sensation of her mess clearing her bottom, and instead of falling away, it pressed against the seat of her diaper and pushed back against her. The dampening effect that the diaper had on the noises being produced acted as a drop of water in the ocean in the grand scheme of Chloe’s remaining pride. Even when muffled, the crackling, rushing, and gurgling noises that began to emanate from her backside performed a devastating ensemble, with the tactile sensations of her mess spreading further against her bottom with each forceful push. Her face contorted into a wince as she continued to try and push everything out, finding out the hard way over the past couple of weeks that pooping in a diaper requires more effort than using a bathroom. That if she gave the same amount of effort using her diaper as she did on the potty, she wouldn’t get everything out and would be stuck with a terrible, half-finished feeling down there. This was compounded by how especially unnatural it felt to be doing her business in such a completely different position compared to sitting on a potty. The 26 or so years of muscle memory did not die easily.

The constant loop of nursery rhymes that played in her television-less nursery and very aptly scored every moment of her new life, “potty time" included, only furthered the flush in her cheeks to become more apparent. The echoes of “I’m a Little Tea-Pot," with a kid-friendly and encouraging narrator interjecting between the lyrics of the song as well as instructing the dance-along segment, were seemingly talking to her directly in this moment as she let out a final push that caused the flood gates to open in her bladder as well.

“When I get all steamed up…

Hear me shout…”

The rest of the lyrics faded into the background as her attention became focused on the sensation her final push was causing. The hairs on the back of her neck began to stand up as she could feel the skin on her upper thighs erupting into a crawl. That final bit of her mess pressed against what had already settled in her diaper and spread further along her bottom as the narrator hauntingly shouted out at the end of the track.

“WAY TO GO! I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT!”

It wasn’t until the initial shock that accompanied that disgusting feeling wore off that she realized she was putting a period on her potty time, as she felt the front of her diaper begin to swell as her bladder emptied in a steady stream. Daddy’s heavy baby powdering hand as well as the thickness of her diaper helped cut the smell slightly, but anyone in the room would still have an assault slowly placed on their olfactory organs.

With the stream ebbing, she felt Daddy’s presence for a split second before he cleared his throat and began to talk, making her jump in the process as well as causing her cheeks to feel like they were going to erupt.

“Aw, it looks like my little Chloe made quite the present for Daddy, huh?”

She couldn’t help but look away as she felt her eyes begin to water. How long had he been there? Had he seen the whole thing?

“My my my, now that is a smell only a daddy could tolerate… It’s a good thing I’m the only one privy to it…for now.”

Henry bringing attention to the smell that was circulating around the room made Chloe’s stomach drop further down into her gut. She always prided herself on being clean and having a pleasant smell about her. But now, her expensive perfumes were done away with. However, in their place were baby powder, stale urine, and her own poopy diapers. Naturally, Henry never failed to make a comment about it, either. Luckily for her, the devastation that this consistently brought her made her completely tune out the end of Daddy’s sentence.

“I know you’re probably already itching for a change, but I can tell you right now that isn’t happening anytime soon. I’m not wasting diapers when you have your last diaper change in an hour. If you want to voice your complaints about that sweetheart, I’m all ears and definitely ready and willing to revoke your last diaper change for the night.”

He said this with an almost sinister smile. A smile that nonverbally said, “Try me, I dare you." Chloe wanted nothing to do with being sent to bed in her current state, so she fought back a tear and shook her head back and forth quickly out of fear of Daddy misconstruing her response.

Daddy’s smile lightened up slightly, but he still felt uninviting as he continued…

“You know, I know it’s only been a couple of weeks, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention how well you’re handling your new life, sweetie. Sure, I still have to restrain you in your highchair, changing table, and crib. Hell, the other day, I thought you seriously ran the risk of breaking the straps with how much you fought while I was feeding you. Maybe I should get something a little heavier duty, huh? Also, let’s not forget that every single poopy diaper change seems to usher in a cascade of wailing at this point. But don’t worry; you’ll get used to those very intimate moments. Or maybe you won't? Oh well.”

Chloe tried to block out the memories over the past three weeks that he was referring to. This led her to muster up whatever courage she had left in this moment and turn around to face her "daddy." A tear streamed down her cheek as she tried desperately to mouth the word "why,” which was too choked to produce sound. Daddy, however, didn’t miss the word perched on her lips and continued.

“Why am I doing this, you ask?” Now, now, little girl, you know exactly why this is happening. It’s not my fault that you came home with such piss-poor grades and an equally bad attitude. I'm not sure what they’re teaching you at that school, but you’re not the same Chloe that I married all those years ago.”

Her grades were not great, to say the least. But she had a good excuse. Her teachers were totally out to get her because she was an older student in freshman-level classes. One gave her a bad grade because she turned him down. She only skipped class a couple times too—or maybe more than that.

“While you were living it up as a first-time freshman, I was working two jobs to pay for your tuition. While you were partying and not studying, I was struggling to make rent. So, you’re going to pay me back for my trouble. First and foremost, you're going to be “transferring” back close to home. In fact, you could consider this a form of homeschooling.”

Chloe couldn’t help but think how ridiculous these accusations were. She didn’t even get invited to parties, and she was way too shy to try and make friends on her floor. 99% of the time she was in her dorm or the library studying. She truly didn’t mean to “waste” Henry’s money. She thought about interjecting and trying to give him her side of the story again, but the pain on her bottom won out and made her keep her mouth shut. She also didn’t want to test the waters on the threat that Daddy made minutes ago.

“Seeing as you obviously can’t handle the responsibility of college, I think we need to drop you down a couple levels academically. Instead of going to that fancy private school in the city like you did last fall, you’ll be fully enrolled at what I’m calling “Little Girl University." You’re going to remain in diapers full-time until I’ve deemed that you’re ready to graduate out of them. Also, don’t worry about the tuition while enrolled in LGU, sweetie; you have a mandatory full ride.”

She was speechless at the destination where Daddy’s soliloquy ended. What did any of this mean? She knew there wasn’t an end in sight to this torment as is, but what did he mean by “transferring”?

"Now, Mrs. Paulus, we need to figure out how your credits will transfer. Let’s take a look at your transcript, shall we?”

With a quick and almost practiced movement, Daddy produced her transcript from his jean pocket, unfolded it, cleared his throat, and began reading it out loud. Chloe waited on bated breath to see what he was going to say next. Knowing that using her report card as a visual aid didn’t bode well.

"So here we have one Chloe Paulus…"

"…Age 28…"

"…Credit Level: Freshman…"

"…Academic Status: Probation…"

"…GPA: 1.34…"

"Hmm, not boding well so far, it seems.”.

She shifted on her feet, hearing all this presented to her. She maintained that she was treated unfairly in her head, but that didn’t stop Daddy from saying what he was about to say.

“ECON 102: Principles of Microeconomics…”

"…Credits: 3…"

"…Grade: D"

She was never good at math or numbers in general. If anything, she felt this grade was the most deserved because she did recall skipping it quite a bit to focus on her other classes. She snapped out of trying to remember the previous four months at school, with Henry chiming back in to say,

"Hmm, so this one might transfer somewhat. You’ll definitely be dealing with smaller numbers from now on, I suppose. However, in your new life, you’ll be dealing with “microeconomics” on a nearly daily basis. The most appropriate transfer class I can think of would have to be.”

Daddy paused for a second before letting out a light chuckle and saying,

“ABC 123: Baby Blocks and Finger Counting…”

"…Credits: Indefinitely Enrolled"

He sighed slightly and shook his head for dramatic effect before saying,

“It’s so nice to be able to find a similar match," Daddy said condescendingly.

Chloe couldn't help but think about how he had made her play exclusively with baby toys over the past three weeks. Her phone was taken away, and her custom pink Xbox controller was sold off. Even some of the board and card games they used to play were deemed inappropriate for her now. Did this mean that she wouldn't get to play Munchkin again in the future? What about Magic the Gathering? Her face started to burn again at the thought that these were deemed too mature for her.

"Alright, next on the report card.”

"CMN 101: Public Speaking…"

"…Credits: 3…"

"…Grade: B"

"Aw, well, that’s a shame that you did so well in this class. I don’t really have a one-to-one offering of this one, so you’ll have to retake my version of it.”

“PACI 101: Being Seen, Not Heard…”

"…Credits: Indefinitely Enrolled"

Chloe’s face formed into a confused look before Daddy stepped in, saying,

“Maybe you need the course description for this one, huh? As I’m sure you’re already aware, if Daddy puts a paci in your mouth, it stays there until he takes it out. Period. Take out your paci on your own, and I’ll replace it with a bar of soap for 30 minutes, and then put your paci gag on you for the rest of the day without letting you rinse out of your mouth. If, for whatever reason, your paci isn’t in your mouth, whether we’re in public or with friends, for instance, you won’t speak unless an adult speaks to you first. In fact, it’s probably best that we put your paci in for the rest of this ‘meeting.”

Henry wasted no time grabbing a spare paci he kept in his jean pocket now, positioned it up to Chloe's mouth, and shoved it in. Chloe had learned to instinctively open her mouth wide and accept her pacifier as is. However, the “course description” he just read gave her even more reason to behave now.

“There we go. I could tell that my little girl was getting a little fussy; hopefully that helps,” Henry said with a closed lip smile.

Chloe felt her steady stream of tears dripping off her chin at this point as she held the dummy plastic firmly between her teeth. She knew it wasn’t going to help “soothe” her in any capacity, and she knew that Henry knew that as well. It was purely performative. Placing the pacifier in her mouth in this moment was simply a way of Henry nonverbally saying, “This is your reality now, and there is nothing you can do to change it.”

"BIO 220: Human Anatomy and Physiology…"

"…Credits: 4…"

"…Grade: F"

"Ooo again, we don’t really have an appropriate transfer class for this one. Even if we did, you’d have to retake it due to not passing. Sorry, little Chloe, but you’ll have to be enrolled in…”

He had this one cued up already. It took him no time to say it.

“…USE 101: Diaper Use Acceptance…”

"…Credits: Indefinitely Enrolled"

“I’m sure this one speaks for itself, little girl.” He said it with a stern face.

It did. The signs on the bathroom door and the oversized padlock made it just as apparent. He expected her to do what she just did every day from now on. She knew that all too well. The acceptance part hung in her head for a minute. She felt the mess in her diaper even more now as she imagined the reality that would be presented to her in the future. Every single day, she would feel her own mess pressed against her bottom and cunny indiscriminately. Every single day, she would be expected to deal with this feeling until Henry decided to change her. The reality began to sink in more and more as she thought to herself, "Using the potty on the train ride home was the last time that would happen for a while." And of course, the shame began to sink in that she didn’t relish that moment more.

"HST 116: The Puritan Move to American…"

"…Credits: 4…"

"…Grade: C-"

“Hmm, yet another that I have no way to transfer credits to. We’ll just get you enrolled in”…

Yet another that Daddy wasted no time thinking up…

“CHST 999: Diapers as Chastity…”

"…Credits: Indefinitely Enrolled"

This one honestly didn’t surprise her as much as she thought it would. Since being back home from school, those needs have obviously not been met at all. Daddy’s strict rule of not touching the front of her diaper was learned the hard way. She didn’t have time to think about it before Daddy interjected with another “course description”.

"Naturally, sweetie, Daddy has no interest in untaping a diaper to have sex. It just feels gross. In fact, these past few weeks of cleaning your poopy cunny during diaper changes and having to get acquainted with your new “fragrance” have made me realize I don’t really want to go back there anytime soon. So, the good news is that your diaper only ever comes off during changes and bathing! That’ll make that rule so much easier for you to understand, huh. With that said, you will never be allowed to have penetrative sex at all while back in diapers. On top of that, you or anyone else is not allowed to touch you downstairs in any sexual way.

Chloe’s heart sank into her stomach even further. How would she survive not having any sort of release? Her sex drive was so high that she played with herself just about every night if she didn’t get any from Henry. On top of that, these three weeks of getting nothing were driving her nuts and making it impossible to fall asleep some nights. Before she could ruminate on it any further, Daddy spoke up with…

"Aww, but don’t worry, little Chloe; Daddy isn’t completely heartless. He knows that those needs will still build up just by begging for a release. So, Daddy is going to let you make your cummies when you have a poopy diaper from now on. And by let, I mean you have to. You will have to cummie your poopy diaper to get changed. Each and every time, without exception.

Chloe’s naughty bits felt like they almost seized up at the thought. “I have to do what?!” Her facial expression sang…

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetie; I know there’s a little confusion here since I said you couldn’t touch. That’s the best part! You either make your cummies by getting bounced on my knee or by humping your friend, Mr. Bear, over there in the corner.

Her eyes darted to her proposed pretend sex partner. The six-foot, oversized, stuffed teddy bear seemingly mocked her with its dead eyes.

The pieces began to connect more succinctly in Chloe’s head now. Every day, from here on out, until God knows when, at this rate, she will be required to orgasm in her disgusting diaper… The thought made her stomach turn as the mess in her diaper continued to press against her bottom, seemingly saying, “You and I are going to get very well acquainted." Daddy chiming back in in character as the dean of admissions took her mind off the semantics of what she just heard. She hangs on to his every word now.

Aw, I’m sorry to say this, Mrs. Paulus. None of your previous credits transferred from that fancy college, either due to discrepancies or because of poor performance. It looks like you’ll have to start right back at square one. Don’t worry, though, little girl. After your four years are up, we can reevaluate to see if you’re ready to graduate back to big girl pants and the potty or not. But don’t worry if you don’t graduate on time. Some people take a couple extra years to accomplish that goal. And of course, some never do at all. College isn't for everyone, after all.

The words almost didn’t resonate with her. They circled the room. Echoing off the walls until they were finally situated in her auditory cortex. Four years—four years at minimum—four years of this hell he was expecting her to go through. That would be sufficient to pay him back. Four years of her life were completely uprooted and dropped on its head. Four years of never gracing a potty or public restroom. Four years of not having any modesty. Four years of having to rely on Henry to feel clean downstairs. Four years without having a say in the clothes she wears, in the things she eats, anything. And, of course, four years devoid of anything resembling real sex.

The tears continued to cascade down her cheeks and onto the front of her peplum as she began to hyperventilate slightly at the thought. What about her friends? What about work? What about visiting her parents? She’d have to be diapered and follow her rules even then?

Henry didn’t let her ruminate on her rushing thoughts for very long before continuing…

“Now, by my watch, we only have 30 minutes for you to do your poopy diaper cummie before the last diaper change of the night. I suggest we jump on that process because, as I’m sure you’re aware, I don’t change diapers past 8:35 PM because that’s officially 'Daddy Time'. “

She knew it all too well. He never made exceptions for "Daddy Time," as she’d learned the hard way a couple times in the past. That was also a big part of the reason why she so willingly pooped her diaper earlier. Waiting till later in the night to do so was a mistake she wouldn’t make twice.

“Now, since it’s your first of many times making your poopy diaper cummie, Daddy is going to be nice and give you a choice. After tonight, it will be entirely Daddy’s decision in the future, so I suggest you enjoy the option while you have it.

She shifted on her feet, waiting for him to continue. She didn’t want to make this decision in the slightest. Both seemed awful. Both seemed equally humiliating. But she prepared to answer regardless as she began to feel and hear the Baby Minnie Mouse-themed nursery clock ticking away antagonistically. Even if the future held the ruinous reality that she'd be on her back with her poopy and cummie diaper bottom and cunny exposed to the man she once called her husband yet again, she'd prefer that future over one where her diaper wasn't opened at all tonight.

Henry continued, “Do you want Daddy’s knee or Mr. Bear?” He said grinning from ear to ear.

#forcedabdl #abdlfiction #CNC #ABDL #oldmanmarlinsnatcher story #afskakdgdj i love this so damn much #abdl story

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littlerainbowfrog · 2 months

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Savannah: Love-Me-Nots

The car faded slowly away in the distance as I stared off into the distant landscape we would be hiking. My eyes naturally became transfixed by the assortment of wild flowers scattered along the trail.

It's exciting to be back out in nature like this. It's been awhile since daddy and I had an outing that had even a remote feeling of "adult" to it. Most of our outings involved taking me to nearby parks to play on the big toys or to go to various G-rated animated movies. This felt real. This felt almost like a date. In fact, the last time we went on a "date" like today was before he put me back in diapers full-time. It had been 5 months to the day since I got all of my big girl privileges taken away. Most noticeably, the big girl potty was off-limits, as were my panties.

But most importantly, I haven't had sex in all that time either—at least nothing that would resemble real sex to the average person. I can't help but feel excited for today's hike, given how normal it seems in comparison to recent months. How it feels like daddy and I might be getting back to original terms soon.

He had mentioned in passing how good I've been recently, and maybe I wouldn't need diapers anymore soon. If I had to guess, today is a test. A test to see if we can go back to the way things were.

It could've been the wild flowers; it could've been daydreaming about life with daddy before all of this. Whichever it was, daddy no doubt noticed that smile crossing my face and stopped me, picking up a purple wild flower before putting it behind my ear and asking.

“Who’s daddy’s little flower child, huh?"

Blushing bright red but excited that he viewed me in such a cute way as well as adoring my new nickname, I eagerly smiled and shifted on my feet as I felt the flower being placed behind my ear. Daddy's cologne blocked out the smell of trees and wild grass as his warmth began to settle on me in his proximity. Through a slight smile, I whispered...

“Me daddy. I’m the flower child."

The next thing I knew, daddy's hand popped the button on my jean shorts and thrust them down below my knees. Thanks to following daddy's rules over the past months and knowing how I was to act during diaper checks, I immediately and subconsciously stopped in place and kept my hands at my sides the moment he came near my midsection, letting him do as he pleased. My instincts and my body in agreement that if his hands go down there for any reason, I am to let them do what they must indiscriminately for fear of punishment.

My upper thighs exploded with goosebumps as I could feel the foreign feeling of the natural and somewhat brisk outside wind being brushed against them while my lower half became completely exposed. As I was made to step out of them, regretting my answer with each step that sealed the fact that my diaper would be exposed to the open air and anyone that might walk by for the duration of our hike now, daddy made a point to say:

"Well, since you're such a flower child, nature must be your home...and as we both know, nothing covers your diaper while at home, huh?"

Had it not been for the spanking I received earlier in the week, I might have put up more of a protest. However, I swallowed hard and contorted my face behind a small whine before continuing to walk on through our trail.

Each step caused my diaper to crinkle in an orchestral accompaniment of the various crickets and cicadas chirping in the woods we passed. All with the background singers of my gurgling tummy and backpack with my spare diaper in it making their voices heard. The former echoed slightly with each step, growing louder in intensity the further into the hike we went. The latter acted as a percussive instrument as it bounced off my back with each step. Seemingly and intrusively shouting, "DIAPER BAG! SPARE DIAPER IN HERE IF NEEDED!" with each step. All of the parts came together and crescendoed into exactly what had slipped my mind earlier and what I was still hoping wasn't the case. All the while, this reality slowly became very real and very apparent as we approached mile marker two of eight.

Daddy planned our hike to coincide with my "schedule."

I tried to take my mind off of the growing pressure in my tummy that always finds itself overstaying its welcome around this time of the day. I partially succeeded in doing so by continuing to eye the pretty wild flowers that were scattered on the ground. One in particular caught my eye so quickly in that moment that I just had to pick it up.

"Ooo, it looks like the little flower child picked a really pretty one, huh?"

Daddy said as I smiled back at him while twirling the white pedaled flower in my fingers. After shooting daddy that bashful smile, I began to run around in an attempt to continue walking with the flower before daddy caught my attention again.

"You know what that is, right?"

I stopped walking, looked at the flower, and looked back at daddy.

"No daddy. What is it?"

I said, looking confused as daddy closed the gap between us.

"It's an ox-eye...better known as a 'Love Me Not'".

I perked up and smiled slightly at the thought. I remembered these. I would always try that game with crushes I had when I was younger. However, I realized in that moment that I never had the right flower for it back then.

While lost in that distant memory, daddy's thigh slightly and transiently pressed into my exposed diaper crotch as he came in closer, jolting me back to reality as he took me by the hands and held the flower up between us.

"Shall we see what nature decides for our future?"

My heart fluttered slightly at the thought. I didn't know where this was going, but I waited on bated breath. Daddy proceeded to guide my hand towards yanking off the first of the many petals. As it gave way and became detached from the yellow pistil, daddy said...

"She's daddy's sweet little girl."

I felt the butterflies form in my stomach at daddy taking ownership of me with his words. I was his, undoubtedly. Daddy gave me a nod to continue and dropped the petal on the ground. I could feel it tumbling down, brushing my exposed right knee as it rested off of my shoe.

"She's an adult that deserves her panties back."

I felt warm inside at that notion as he uttered these words. A sentence that I had started to lose hope that he'd never say. It had been so long that I started to forget the soft and silky feeling of the panties I used to wear. Oh, how I longed for that form-fitting sensation again over the bulkiness of a diaper.

"She remains daddy's diaper girl."

As I dropped the petal, I felt all my nerves erupt as daddys pointer finger started to trace the seam of my diaper where my upper thigh and hip met. A tingling sensation rushed throughout my body as his finger continued to trace all the way down towards my bottom, just inside the beginning of my inner thigh, stopping dangerously close to my sensitive kitty that was dripping helplessly into my diaper at this point. He got mere centimeters away from it before retracing the path he had already traveled.

"She gets to use the big girl potty again for the first time in months today."

I relished at this thought. Being aloud to finally sit on the potty in peace. Being able to not have daddy as an audience when nature called. Getting my old life back. Being more than "daddy's little girl". Diaper changes were the only time daddy saw me exposed down there anymore.

"She uses her diaper out here instead."

Back and forth, this went on. Daddy continued to run his fingers over the seam of my diaper throughout as I continued to pluck petal after petal. Half way through de-petaling the flower, daddy closed the gap between us further so that his midsection was pressed up against mine. We hadn't had a moment like this in ages, and I couldn't help but feel gooey and trembly in his embrace. The most intimate we got, if you could even call it that, was when he gave me poopy diaper knee bounces. There was nothing even remotely close to this level of intimacy over the past handful of months.

Our mouths were mere inches away now. In all this time back in diapers, not only did daddy and I stop having sex all together, but we stopped making out as well per my new rules. Daddy said kissing on the lips was way too mature for a diaper girl like me and would be inappropriate. I only got forehead kisses or "paci" kisses instead—the "more appropriate" way of doing it.

I stopped paying attention to the flower all together and looked intently into daddy's eyes instead. Waiting on baited breath. The butterflies were exploding in my tummy at this point at everything daddy was saying. I watched his mouth intently as my breathing became more noticeable and turned into more of a shudder with each exhale. Without looking, I plucked a petal. Daddy smiled, and in that seductive, half-volume tone that he used to speak to me in, he said...

"Daddy grabs his diaper girl by the waist and pulls her in, kissing her deeply and passionately, walking her back to the car, pulling her diaper off of her for the last and final time, and her life goes back to normal... No more diapers. No more rules. Real sex. Just us, how we used to be."

I shuddered again at the thought and remained there in daddy's embrace as his hands positioned themselves on my hips, trying to imagine that scenario. Oh, how good it would feel to use the potty again! How good it would feel to sleep in daddy's bed again and not in an oversize crib! How good it would feel to get to feed myself and not be strapped into a highchair for every meal! And of course, how good it would feel to have daddy inside ME again instead of having to involuntarily listen to the pleasure moans of his tinder dates as they went at it behind a locked door.

I continued to look deep into daddy's eyes as I instinctively grabbed another petal and grabbed nothing but air. I tried again and felt nothing to pull once again as I fumbled to try and grab a tangible object in the halo area of the flower. My heart began to race as the reality of what was happening began to settle in. I perked up and looked at daddy with my mouth agape.

"Does this mean..."

I began to say until daddy pulled my hand that was holding the flower up to my face. In my abruptly altered field of vision, my eyes took some time to focus on the depth of field I was experiencing. My eyes slowly focused on the flower in my hand. One stem, one pistil, and draped off it, one solitary petal.

The adrenaline high I had just experienced when I thought there were no more petals left kept me in a slight state of shock as I kept staring directly at the flower, trying to figure out how that extra petal got on it. The adrenaline abruptly nosedived, simulating the feeling that an old wooden rollercoaster's first big drop gives me in my stomach. As the feeling in my stomach continued to plummet further and further down, given the reality of the situation, daddy spoke up.

"Go ahead, little girl, pick the last petal."

I slowly and defeatedly tore the last ox-eye petal off and let it fall to the ground. As it fell, daddy removed his hands from my waist and put them on my shoulders, slouching slightly forward to do that condescending and purely performative "getting on my eye level" charade that he always did with me nowadays before slowly and deliberately saying.

"Daddy and little girl will continue on their hike as planned. She will continue to be diapered at all times, indefinitely. She not only needs them but also deserves them. Her rules will continue to be fully enforced. That means no panties, no big girl potty, and no sex.

As he said this, I could only muster out little defeated nos, shaking my head slightly at each of his concurrent sentences. My shoulders slouched slightly as the reality of how close I came to escaping my diaper sentence began to set in. Daddy's words hammering that fact home with each new sentence. I'm not going back to my old life anytime soon, and there's nothing I can do about it. Daddy continued on.

"You're daddy's little girl, and remember, daddy loves you always," he said as he gave my forehead a kiss.

The very recent and ruinous letdown aside, I couldn't help but let out a small smile at hearing the way he punctuated what was ultimately a devastating sentence. He ran his fingers through my hair, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up in the best way, before patting my diapered bottom, ushering me to continue walking.

As we left the pile of ox-eye leaves on the ground and headed in the opposite direction I was hoping for given their outcome, I couldn't help but feel conflicted at what just happened as we continued on our walk. I want out of this situation; I want the old us again, but I love when daddy makes me feel like this. All the attention he gives me, even if it's coexisting with something awful.

By the time we got to mile marker three, the pain and the pressure became too much, and I began to slow down, reaching a complete stop that was mirrored by daddy following behind me. There wasn't a restroom until mile marker four, and even if I got there in time, daddy would never allow me to use it. So, like I always did, I stopped what I was doing and began the process of using my diaper as opposed to sitting on a potty. I moved over to the side of the hiking trail before sticking my bottom out slightly and moving my hands to my sides per daddy's rule of needing to have them in eye shot at all times as I prepared for the inevitable.

I stared intently out into the vast array of trees that were spanning the forested area this part of the trail was in as I began to give in and push my big early afternoon mess into the seat of my diaper. The common sound of faint crackling and slight squelching noises accompanied that foreign sensation that was my hot mess pushing against the back of my diaper, having nowhere to go, and ultimately pushing back and spreading out against my bottom. It's a sensation and a feeling I've experienced over and over again in my new life, but no matter how many times I do it, it still feels so wrong.

The newer sounds of the outdoors replaced the sounds I'd grown accustomed to while finding myself in this particular situation. Instead of the constant loop of cartoons playing in the background, birds are chirping aimlessly in the wooded areas. Instead of the prevalent smell of baby powder that occupies our flat nowadays, there was an earthy scent carried by the wind blowing through the pine trees and grass. Instead of the air conditioning blowing directly on my legs from the vent near my blanket island, the sun was pressing on my face, arms, and exposed thighs through the leaf canopy. And instead of a random array of nursery rhymes lightly echoing through the room, there was the sound of running water in the distance. A constant, however, was feeling daddy's presence as I did my business and how I was pantsless even out here. He always seemed to be around when I had to go, and I always felt his eyes glued on me during it. Like always, I came to expect that I'd see that big, closed-mouth smile on his handsome face the moment I finished and turned around to look at him.

All of these things were making it impossible to not imagine how different the situation would be had that flower had one less petal on it. My current predicament would be happening while sitting down on a potty in private instead of standing out in the open on a hiking trail. How I'd be "using the restroom" instead of "pooping in my pampers". Even an adult term like restroom seems foreign to me now.

As I continued to push the mess out in this unnatural stance and location, my face, neck, and scalp started to itch and slightly burn like they always do. Partly from the workout of physically having to make this situation come to a head, but also from knowing I have daddy as an audience. I had never been zealous about using public restrooms or being able to do my business if other people were around. Daddy's training over the past five months made it very much a reality that I would find a way to slightly get over that shyness. It was more like ripping a bandage off than being totally at ease.

With a final push, I got everything inside me all out as it situated in the seat of my diaper, contouring against my bottom, making my diaper feel weighted in the process for a minute before I ultimately got acclimated to it. As always, a torrent of pee soaked the front of my diaper following my last forceful push. Thanks to my full bladder at the time, this of course made a fairly audible hissing sound, signaling to daddy and in general that I was done pooping as it caused the front of my diaper to swell slightly bigger than it already was. Like always, as I turned my head to look at daddy, he was smiling ear to ear and said,

"I guess it's a good thing we packed that extra diaper, huh, kiddo?"

I stood still, expecting the devastating inevitable, as daddy walked up behind me, pushed me forward slightly so my bottom stuck out, and checked in the back of my diaper by pulling the back waistband away from my lower back like he did every time I used it this way.

"Just as I expected, another big early afternoon poopy from daddy's diaper girl. You are like a clock sometimes, you know that little stinker?"

My face burned as I blushed deep red while he continued to inspect the inside of my diaper. I felt his hand let go of my waist band as it snapped back into place against my lower back. His hand patted the bulge on my bottom, which made me perk up slightly as it forced the mess to press against my bottom more than it already was. This was of course followed by him saying, "There really isn't anywhere to change you this short into our hike; we'll have to be on the lookout for a latrine.

I grimaced at the thought but realized he was ultimately right. I didn't necessarily want to get changed in a bed of grass in the middle of the woods and risk getting ticks, among other things. Plus, from what I could remember of this trail, there was a nicely renovated latrine with a family restroom halfway through it in a cleared-out meadow. So, with that thought bringing me some new energy to behave and continue on, my legs continued to move forward with our hike, each step slightly aggravating the mess in the seat of my diaper, reminding me that it was there.

As we walked, daddy wasted no time continuing to tease me about my current state, as he always did.

"Aww, to think this situation could have been so much different had that ox-eye rung true for you." I heard daddy say from behind me as we hiked through the wooded section of the trail.

You know, I wasn't too against the possibility of us going back to the way things were. Daddy misses it, as I'm sure you do too. But, oh well, I don't want to mess with fate, you know?"

He had a tendency to do this. To seemingly and purposely think out loud in a manner that rubbed in some humiliating experience even further. It was almost as if he tried sewing intrusive thoughts into my head to hold onto. I've gotten to the point where I've tried to take these "passing thoughts" with a grain of salt. He and I both knew that he ultimately held the key to letting things go back to normal if he truly wanted to. But I can't help but have a tiny part of myself believe him slightly. The thought that he would have kept his word if "fate" had said otherwise was hard to shake. Had it come to it, we'd be back home curled up watching TV in our post-orgasm glow, thoroughly back to normal again. Those intrusive thoughts sank further into my head as we continued on, only interrupted by the mess in my diaper thoroughly knocking me back to reality periodically. Funny enough, I appreciated that icky sensation grounding me a little from going down the "what could've been" rabbit hole I find myself in daily.

Funnily enough, it kept me from accidentally missing one of daddy's call and response questions that he liked to ask me so much in situations like this. The questions I hated answering, as I knew exactly what answer daddy wanted. The answer he wanted was always the one that just made me feel more infantile and degraded in the process. I dare not be caught ignoring or answering in a truthful manner out of fear of some sort of repercussion.

"You know, now that I'm walking downwind from another patented Savanny Nany poopy pamper, I can't help but think maybe fate helped me dodge a bullet back there. I mean, I'm seeing that big mess in the back of your diaper that I'm eventually going to have to clean up, no doubt, and I'm really having the hardest time thinking about how things could go back to normal. Do you think it would be appropriate for daddy to have made good on his word with someone who poops in their pants like you?"

I pursed my lips and blinked away, a slight rush of tears forming in my eyes as I muttered softly but distinctly.

"No daddy."

He wasted no time continuing on in a feigned self-discovery tone, as if he'd stumbled upon this new revelation. As if he hadn't said similar things to me in the past.

"Yeah, I don't think so either. I've had to clean your poopy cunny so many times at this point that I don't really think I want to enter it again. Maybe it's for the best that you stay in diapers indefinitely, huh?"

I could feel his smile piercing through the back of my head as I refused to stop walking or look back at him. My face was nearly on fire as I entered an almost Manchurian candidate-like triggering of words exiting my mouth.

"Yes daddy."

Now for the grand finale I've grown so accustomed to. The synopsis. The thesis statement.

"So, just remind me, why is it a good idea for me to just keep you diapered instead of us pretending we could ever go back to normal?"

I've had enough practice at these to know what he really wanted out of my response. I've experienced enough instances of failing to do a sufficient job as well, and I know I don't want to face the wrath that accompanies it. In as relaxed a tone as I could muster without sounding too sad about what was coming out of my mouth, I said.

"Because daddy, you've changed my diapers so many times at this point that you can't help but see me as anything but a diaper-filling toddler as opposed to a woman you could be with it."

A smile no doubt creeped across his face as he said

"Aw, I'm glad you agree, sweetheart."

I luckily didn't have to ruminate on what was yet another terribly humiliating call and response session thanks to mile marker four's sign seemingly and abruptly coming into view. Blame it on being focused on daddy's words, but the way it seemingly appeared out of thin air was most welcome. Upon glancing at the sign, I realized I just have a only a football field's length or so before the wooded area breaks into a meadow. That's where the latrine is and I can hopefully get the ball rolling on getting this diaper changed...I'm not sure how daddy is going to mitigate my diaper change rules out here though, and I'm ultimately too afraid to ask. However, regardless of that next hurdle, I breathe a sigh of relief upon seeing that latrine still standing as we clear the tree line of the wooded area into the meadow.

The lack of cover in the cleared-out meadow began to make my heart race out of fear of being seen. Luckily, as I traversed the forest line, I noticed we were alone and breathed a slight sigh of relief. However, the relief didn't last long, seeing as we didn't get too far out of the wooded area before I felt and heard him unzipping my backpack while also feeling its sole content being removed. Daddy quickly turned me around and, strangely enough, unfolded the diaper right in front of me, examining it slowly and smirking with that mischievous grin I had grown wary of.

"Aww, it's kind of like a 'Love Me Not Flower' when you come to think about it. It's got four pedals right here, doesn't it, little flower child?"

He said this as he pointed to the four tabs.

My heart started to race. I didn't know what he was going to do next, but I knew it couldn't be good.

"I think it's only right that we let Mother Nature decide on this one. Since you're daddy's little flower child, you should consult her on these tough decisions. Let's pick some of these petals to see what fate has in store for us, huh?"

My heart sank as he held the front of the unfolded diaper out in front of me with the four tabs dangling off of them. The landing strip baring multiple Elmo's dancing on it glistened in the sun thanks to the clear sticker that affixed them to the diaper. I looked at him for a minute as he continued to hold the diaper out in front of me, smiling all the same. Out of fear of upsetting him and making my current situation worse, I grimaced and contorted my face slightly, grabbed one of the diaper tabs, and pulled on it until it ripped clear off the spare diaper.

"She gets a diaper change right now."

Daddy said this out loud as I shifted on my feet and looked around my surroundings. A habit I began having when presented with these tailor-made humiliating daddy/little girl experiences. I also noticed that I was beginning to pick the skin off the thumb of my non-dominant hand. However, seeing as there was no way out, as usual, I grabbed the second of four tabs from the opposite side of the diaper and pulled until it gave way with a loud snap.

"She hikes with a poopy diaper butt."

I felt tears forming in my eyes as the severity of the situation and its obvious outcome began to settle in. I grabbed the penultimate tab and stopped for a moment, not wanting to rip it off, given that there would be no going back after this tab. However, looking at daddy's "egging on" face reminded me of how brutal his punishments could be. Multiple hours of intermittent mouth washings, being sent to bed in my poopy diapers, and severe spankings not too unlike the one I got earlier in the week. Every instance of these things happening to me began to reverberate in my head. Not wanting to piss daddy off and physically relive these situations, I ripped the tab clean off, and it slowly fell to the ground at my feet.

"Daddy changes her, and she gets to do the remainder of our hike in a clean diaper."

The last tab was merely ceremonial at this point. The diaper was ruined. Useless. There would be no change until we got home.

In a slight hiccuping sob, I pulled the last tab clean off, and daddy wasted no time speaking up about the situation.

He made a mocking "oh!" look with his face, as if he were surprised by what had just happened before saying

"She hikes with a poopy diaper butt."

I stood there in shock as the last diaper tab slowly fell to the ground near my sneakers. Daddy held the diaper up, pantomiming its uselessness now that it had zero tabs, pretending to try and close it while it fell open over and over again. That was the only spare diaper, and he absolutely ruined it, or rather, made me ruin it. Even if he wanted to change me, he couldn't now.

"Aw, I guess a diaper change right now just isn't in the cards for the little flower child. I guess the woods have spoken; they want you to finish your hike messy. I guess it's a good thing you're getting so used to that feeling, huh, kiddo?"

The tears kept streaming down my face as he talked down to me. Eventually, he broke his lecture to say.

"Aww, little girl is getting a little fussy. I know just the thing."

With that, and to my horror, he pulled out my pink pacifier and fed it into my mouth. Another one of my learned behaviors kicked in as my body willingly opened my mouth while my brain was screaming against it as my tongue tasted that familiar plasticky taste.

"I think you should finish the remainder of our hike with that in; I think it will do a lot of good to soothe you. These hikes can be quite difficult for a little girl such as yourself."

My stomach dropped at the thought. He never made me use a pacifier in public. I'm never allowed to take it out under any circumstances if he puts it in my mouth, and I know daddy will keep his word on not taking it out for the remainder of the hike. The state of my diaper is bad enough, but now there's no denying who I am with this proverbial cherry on top. I'm daddy's diaper girl, nothing more, nothing less. And I'm not only finishing the remainder of this hike with a poopy diaper, but also with my mouth firmly shut around a pacifier.

"I think you might have taken this flower child thing a little too far, little girl. I know you would rather hike in your poopy diaper than get changed since you've gotten so used to them over the past couple of months. However, I'm not sure if destroying your only diaper was necessary. You could have just told me you didn't want changed, sweetie," he said with a wink.

That's just the thing; I'm not used to them one bit. Each instance feels like the first in terms of how foreign and icky the feeling is. However, I bit my tongue figuratively and bit the dummy plastic of my pacifier literally at his teasing, knowing that even though this situation seemed terrible, daddy could always make it worse. I've learned that the hard way too many times. But four more miles of this? and mostly uphill, no doubt. I can't help but feel that daddy planned all of this out from the beginning to drive home a point. He wanted to emphasize to me exactly and firmly where my place is still.

My body felt completely at odds with how my brain wanted me to proceed as I continued to march onward. I recognized the training I had been receiving over the past months, kicking in as daddy spoke up. What he said sent shivers down my spine.

"Don't worry, sweetie; daddy will change you once we get home. Unless, of course, you give me any reason not to."

Knowing daddy, it doesn't take much to give him a reason. So I marched on. In an attempt to keep on daddy's good side, regardless of how badly I wanted to do the opposite, I walked as if there was nothing wrong, even though a couple tears rolled down my cheeks periodically. From daddy's view, however, I was walking normally, my slight hip shake and all sending my big bottom swinging slightly back and forth like a pendulum. Each of my steps resulted in my mess pressing up against my bottom more and more. Each step was deliberately ignorant of the state of my diaper, moving the mess around until it was covering my freshly shaved cunny. Each step reminded me that there would be no gracing of daddy's bed tonight and that I would be sleeping in a crib like I always do. Each step reminded me over and over again of these truths.

Daddy has no intention of letting me out of diapers ever again.

I am his.

and last but not least.

What daddy says always, always goes.

#forcedabdl #abdlfiction #CNC #ABDL #this was a good read #oldmanmarlinsnatcher

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