Most of my stories are focused on omorashi. That’s my main squeeze in the fetish world. But here’s an attempt at a pure ABDL story. I have three long chapters of this thing written, but I think I’ll mete them out one by one if there’s any interest. Also, direct first-person thoughts are supposed to be italicized. Unfortunately, when pasting this into the text editor all formatting is lost, so I may have missed some parts when adding them back in (that should explain any weird shifts from 3rd to 1st person). If anyone knows how to preserve formatting when importing from a text document, please teach me. Disclaimer: contains sexual elements, and I’m most definitely not writing what I know.
[hr][/hr]
Chapter 1. The Rules.
“Here are the rules,” she said. “There will be no sex. No unnecessary touching of privates. You may undress me as part of your… play, and feel free to admire my body, but look with your eyes, not your hands or, god forbid, your dick. Got it?”
Jonathan nodded. “Of course.”
“Good. Everything will happen in private. If you want to do public play, we will renegotiate. If at any point I say the word ‘roses,’ you will immediately stop whatever you’re doing. Oh, and I take payment in advance.”
He nodded again. “Absolutely. I won’t hurt you. Quite the opposite. I want to take care of you. That’s kind of my thing.” Jonathan handed her the cash, and she put it away in her purse.
“Okay, then the formal shit is taken care of. I’m yours until tomorrow morning, unless you break our contract. Starting now.”
Jonathan beamed a wide smile at her. “Now, now. Little girls don’t use dirty words, do they?”
Eliza blushed. It was a genuine blush, too. Fuck. I’m screwing up already. “Sorry,” she said, casting her glance downward to the floor. “I’ve never catered to this particular kink before. It’ll probably take me a little while to properly get into the role.”
Eliza had been a sex worker for the past two years, after she finished college. She’d done porn for some minor producers, and a few times, she’d straight up sold sex. Eliza loved the idea of it: she was the kind of woman who in earlier times might have been referred to a psychiatrist for nymphomania, and today would be known as a slut. But why shouldn’t she have lots of sex if she wanted to? The idea of selling herself, not because anyone forced her to, but because she could and wanted to, was both liberating and, in a naughty taboo kind of way, incredibly sexy. That was the idea of it, though. In practice, having to deal with her customers so intimately—the fat and ugly and smelly ones, as well as the ones who looked like they might be carrying super-AIDS—was far from sexy. Just when she’d thought it might be best to give up the whole prostitute thing as an expression of youthful experimentation, she’d lucked into meeting a couple clients who had more particular desires. Ones that didn’t even want to fuck her. They were content to fondle her feet or tie her up and mock her, or force her to strip naked and do household chores while they watched. She was still selling herself, but it had been eight months since she’d actually sold sex.
What do you really want? She thought, looking over at Jonathan. All her clients wanted things they couldn’t or wouldn’t express, and if she did those things, they were on the hook as regulars. The man sitting across from her on the couch was her newest client, and definitely the wealthiest. Jonathan was in his early thirties, mop of brown hair and nerdy glasses, but he wore a businessman’s suit. He was the founder of a tech startup that had been bought up by Google for an undisclosed, enormous sum, and now he lived an early retirement in a swanky suburban mansion.
“That’s okay,” Jonathan said. He was sweating, she noticed. Eliza moved to sit beside him.
“First time paying for this kind of thing?” She asked.
He squirmed on the couch, as if he were a schoolboy who hadn’t done his homework. Eliza laughed. “It’s okay. Everyone is nervous the first time. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. What I’ll usually do is, I make us a drink, and then we just get to know each other a little before the roleplaying begins in earnest. Would you like a drink?”
Jonathan blushed, then he nodded. As Eliza rose, about to ask him where he stored his liquor, she heard a cough behind her. “I…” He began. Oh, spit it out! She thought. Is he going to be one of those guys who loses the faculty of speech once he has a girl over? She’d had some clients who panicked once their biggest fantasy was about to become real. Guys who clearly had very little experience with real women, and when faced with one, one whom they’d paid to be theirs for the night, it was all too much to them. Some of them she’d ended up simply talking to all night. Fortunately, Jonathan only needed two tries before he spoke. He grabbed her hand and held her back, gently but firmly. “I have a few rules of my own, young lady.”
Eliza turned around to face him. “Yes?” She said, trying her best to sound as innocent as she believed he wanted her to be.
“First of all, only grown-ups are allowed in the liquor cabinet.” He was trying very hard to sound authoritative, and it was working about halfway into rule number one, but then his voice faltered. Eliza found it endearing. She didn’t know much about his kink, so he would have to teach her, but on the other hand, he clearly didn’t know much about being a Dom in practice, so maybe they’d have to learn together. “But, uh… I could use a drink. Wait here a minute.”
She glanced around the room while he was gone. On the walls hung posters of old 1960s rock artists, neatly framed; there was a large wall-mounted TV; on the living room table lay a couple of coffee table type art books. Jonathan appeared to be a bit of a neat freak, if the order and cleanliness of his house was any indication. He reappeared with a glass of what appeared to be whiskey in one hand, and a juice box in the other. “I thought it was more appropriate for someone your age,” he said, handing her the juice box. Eliza smiled. She was a little embarrassed, but that feeling was also turning her on a little. If this is your fix, I’ll gladly take your money and do it again some other time. She inserted the straw and began sucking on it, looking him in the eyes as she did so.
“Are you thinking dirty thoughts, little one?” He asked.
Eliza nodded. Seductively, she hoped. Jonathan appeared to be getting into the role, and this was a crucial period. If he just warmed up to the feeling of authority, and she didn’t mess up and challenge that authority until he was confident enough to put her in her place, this was going to work out very well.
“When you grow up, maybe you can do something about that, but until then, you just enjoy your juice box, sweetie,” he said.
Eliza moved closer to him, then she whispered in his ear: “May I sit on your lap?”
He pulled her in. Eliza was rather short, which no doubt played into his fantasy. There were certainly call girls out there with bigger boobs, but she had a feeling that would have been inappropriate for his particular kink.
“Now, kitten, for rule two. You are only allowed in the bathroom under the supervision of an adult. I’m very strict on that. Are we clear?”
Eliza nodded, and couldn’t help but notice a twinge in her bladder. She’d suspected something like this, but the reality of it, what it might entail, had remained a little abstract to her. “When we finish our drinks, why don’t we get you changed into something a little more appropriate?”
Shit. Fuck. “I… I didn’t bring anything,” she said.
He began stroking her hair. “Don’t worry, I’m well prepared.” She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be stroked, trying to find the calm within herself. Trying to become what he wanted her to be. “Hey, don’t fall asleep on me! It’s not bedtime yet. If you fall asleep now, I’m gonna have a hell of a time getting you to go to sleep tonight, aren’t I?”
Eliza blushed. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s just so calming when you stroke my hair.”
“Why don’t we go change right now,” Jonathan suggested. Eliza got up from his lap and offered him her hand. He took it and led her upstairs to his bedroom. On the king sized bed lay a denim romper with snaps in the crotch. And was that…? “Oh, that,” Jonathan said, following her gaze. “That’s not a problem for you, is it?” It was, indeed, a diaper. Or, rather, one of those pull-on absorbent training pants for older kids. She shook her head. It was covered in her fee, if that’s what got him going.
“That’s just in case,” Jonathan said. “Let’s leave it be for now. I know that some little girls have potty problems, but some are properly potty trained. Are you, kitten?” Eliza blushed and nodded. Of course she was. Well, fuck me. On second thought, maybe he wanted me to say no?
“Well, then. I’ll give you a chance in panties, then. Don’t disappoint me now. I don’t want to be cleaning up any puddles on the floor. Okay. Let’s get you out of those clothes, they look silly on a little girl.” He indicated for Eliza to raise her arms, and she did. Swiftly, he hoisted her Metallica t-shirt off. Then came her jeans, which she allowed him to undo, one button at a time, and then she pulled them down and stepped out of them. Eliza felt a chill in her bones. The room was a little cold, but also, this was the moment of truth. Soon she’d be naked in front of a near-total stranger who had engaged her to fulfill his sexual fantasies. Eliza had no shame about showing off her body, but there was always the possibility that—despite what they’d agreed on—Jonathan might get handsy once she stood naked in front of him. He didn’t seem like the type, though. Jonathan seemed like he genuinely wanted to care for her as if she were a child, and she didn’t think child molestation was part of the fantasy.
Jonathan walked behind her and unclasped her bra. “Little girls don’t need bras. You barely have any breasts to be holding up!” He laughed.
“Say what?” She couldn’t help it. She may be small, but those were still some premium grade boobs, mister.
“Good, good,” Jonathan said. He was in front of her now, admiring her naked chest. “I’m sorry, I’m just getting into character. And I want you to be a bit spunky, to resist me a little, you know? Little girls aren’t always well behaved.”
Eliza took the hint. She stamped a foot on the floor. “I do not have a flat chest. You’re just a big meanie.” She stuck her tongue out, to emphasize that her little outburst was part of the act.
“Watch your tongue,” Jonathan said. He sized her up. “No, those panties won’t do.” They were black silk, bikini style. “Don’t worry, I have something a little more appropriate for you.” He rummaged in a closet and found a pair of pink panties with a teddy bear print on them, and a t-shirt with the same motif. “Do you need any help, or can you put them on yourself, sweetie?”
“I… Maybe a little bit of help?” Eliza allowed him to lower her panties, giving him a glance of her pussy, but he only took a quick peek before sliding up her new panties. She shifted a little. The coffee with breakfast, then water on the way down, and then juice were all making their way to her bladder. After the panties came the t-shirt over her otherwise bare chest, and then the romper. Jonathan made sure everything fit snugly—and it did, surprisingly—but his hands didn’t linger too long in any sensitive areas. Eliza did a little pirouette to show off her new costume, which had shaved off at least six years of her apparent age, if not eight or ten. Although she was still clearly a young woman in immature clothing, she looked closer to sixteen than to twenty-four.
“Uh, about the bathroom,” Eliza said. “Could you show me the way? I kind of have to pee.”
“But you have to see all the fun stuff I’ve prepared for you!” Jonathan exclaimed. He took her hand and led her downstairs, and she offered no further protest. Perhaps he wants me to pee my pants. Perhaps he really wants an excuse to put me in diapers. Jonathan hadn’t been quite clear on what age he wanted her to be. A little girl, he’d said. A little girl to take care of. But did that mean six or two? Was she supposed to be a first grader or a babbling baby? Hopefully not the latter, because she’d be bored out of her mind if she wasn’t at least allowed to talk. And she didn’t think she could do baby convincingly, either. First grader was more like it. But was she a first grader with “potty problems?” Eliza tried to cross her legs, but Jonathan dragged her along to a room adjacent to the living room. It was more of a lounge, with bean bags and a few reclining chairs, and on one of the walls hung a canvas that looked like it might be part of a home cinema setup. There was a little table in a corner, and Jonathan led her to it. “I’ve got some coloring books, stickers, glue, and glitter. Why don’t you have some fun with that? I’ll be right here, reading a book.” He indicated one of the chairs.
“But I need to pee!” She protested. Her bladder was rather uncomfortable, and the desperation could be heard in her voice. It was a child’s whine. Inwardly, she smiled. He must be loving this.
“I was really looking forward to some quiet reading. The bathroom is upstairs. Why didn’t you say something before?”
“I did!”
“Hmm,” Jonathan said. “I must have missed it. Well, if it’s an emergency, I’ll take you. If it can wait, we’ll do it after.”
Does he want me to say I can hold it? And if I do, does he want me to actually hold it, or does he want me to have an accident? She was a little concerned about ruining the clothes he’d clearly bought just for this occasion. Surely he didn’t have more than one “little girl” uniform laying around, and if she peed in this one, well, she’d have to use her regular clothes, which might break the spell. She’d have to find a way to broach it in character.
“I’m a big girl!” She said, and pointed to herself. “I can hold it all day.” Then she crossed her legs, both because she really did need to pee, and for show. “But… Just in case I can’t, maybe I should go. I don’t want to ruin my new clothes.”
Jonathan hugged her. “Don’t you worry about that, dear,” he said. “Clothes can be washed. And there’s more where those came from.”
Eliza considered her options. In her occupation, intuition was king. She needed to be both a sex object and a mind-reader, sussing out what her clients really wanted, deep down. Going out of character unless absolutely necessary would kill the fantasy. Considering Jonathan had gone to the trouble of buying diapers for her, it would be a shame if he didn’t get to put her in them. Eliza had never done any pee play; hardcore watersports, like drinking pee or having someone pee in your face, rather disgusted her. But the idea of peeing her pants, while not something she’d ever done before, seemed rather harmless. She could maybe let out a tiny bit, just enough for it to show on her clothes, and then Jonathan would get to punish her for it. Eliza spread her legs a little and tried to think of dripping water, Niagara falls, but nothing came out. Guess I’m just too well trained, she thought.
“Okay, you can read your book,” she said. “But promise to take me soon?”
“All right, kitten,” Jonathan said.
Eliza sat down and looked over the supplies he’d given her. Frankly, coloring books and glitter and stickers looked boring as fuck. She tried to look for her inner child, but apparently it had gone into hiding. There was nothing redeeming about coloring books. But considering the pay, she’d bloody well put up with it. I could be getting fucked in the ass by a 300 pound cave dweller, she thought. Instead, I’m getting paid three times as much to have someone attend to my needs, look after me like a daughter, and all I need to do is play with glitter and try not to look bored. Eliza picked up a crayon and began coloring. She debated whether she should color outside the lines like a child, but settled on meticulously coloring within them. That way, she could at least devote a little bit of brain power to the task at hand. Maybe Jonathan would hang it on his fridge. The page she was working on had a castle with turrets, a drawbridge, a fairy and an adventurer carrying a sword. It reminded her of Ocarina of Time, so the swordsman had to be green.
She crossed and uncrossed her legs under the table. Maybe if she pushed a little on her bladder, that would be enough to squirt out a little bit, and then she could ask Jonathan to take her to the bathroom. She spread her legs and pushed on her abdomen. For a moment, her muscles resisted, but then Eliza felt her new panties warm to a trickle of pee. It was a strange feeling. She couldn’t remember the last time she peed herself. Probably when she was around the age she was playing at now. Eliza had a rather small bladder, but she’d learned early on to compensate with frequent trips to the toilet. She put a hand in her lap; it touched wet fabric. Satisfied that her little “accident” would be visible to Jonathan, she clamped shut. That is, she tried to clamp shut. But she had left the floodgates open too long, and now she couldn’t stop. Eliza let out a little yelp of despair as her ass began to get soaked. She twisted her legs and pushed on her crotch with both hands, but the pee kept coming, pooling between her legs and running up her lap and down her thighs.
Jonathan was there in a flash. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” He asked. There was genuine alarm in his voice, like he couldn’t tell if this was still pretend, or perhaps he was so deep in character that it didn’t matter.
“I…” The hiss as she peed herself was so loud in her ears, she was sure he must hear it. Perhaps he was simply too polite to say anything, or perhaps she was simply hyperaware. She waited until she was done, and then she hung her head. “I peed.”
“You peed?” Jonathan looked confused.
“It was an accident.” Eliza stood up to show him. When she did, some urine spilled over the chair and splashed on the floor. She was soaked down to her knees, and her ass was sopping wet. It was uncomfortable, perhaps mostly due to embarrassment. She had meant to pee, yes, but then she couldn’t stop and it turned into a real accident. Eliza was sure she was red as a stoplight. The embarrassment did, however, allow her to more easily slip deeper into the role. It felt natural to ask, “Can you please not be mad?”
Jonathan shook his head. “Of course I’m not mad. But I thought you said you could hold it?”
“I totally can. It was just an accident.” She looked down at the puddle she’d made. Eliza was amazed she’d managed to hold that much in the first place. “But can you please help me clean up? It’s yucky.”
Jonathan was easily a foot taller than her. Before she knew it, he’d swept her off her feet and began carrying her upstairs. “Eliza, sweetie, you should have said it was an emergency.”
“I was having too much fun playing,” she lied. Eliza buried her head in his shoulder. This was supposed to make her feel safe. Little Eliza would feel safe in Jonathan’s arms, in his shoulder. He smelled of aftershave. She closed her eyes, and again she felt the lack of proper sleep the night before catching up with her. Before she knew it, Jonathan was gently putting her down on the floor. It was a large bathroom, all in marble, with a big tub in one corner and a shower in the other. Each could fit at least two, if not three adults. Besides that there was room for a washer, drier, and toilet. She felt like she were standing in a cathedral of glass and marble. Although the downstairs rooms looked middle class, this bathroom screamed rich.
“Let’s get those icky clothes off,” Jonathan said, and began undoing her romper. His gaze lingered for a moment on her wet ass. She wiggled her bum, and he gave it a slap. “Don’t show off,” he said, although his continued staring at her told her he didn’t really mean it. “Are you proud to be going potty in your pants?”
“No, Jonathan,” she said. Is that how he wants to be addressed? Some clients preferred Sir or Master. Others had bizarre alter egos they liked to roleplay. Who was Little Eliza to him? His daughter, his niece, his student in first grade? She leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Is that what you want me to call you? Or is there something else?”
He thought for a moment. “Ideally, I’d like to be called Daddy. But I think that’s something I need to earn first. In the meantime, you can call me John or Jonathan.”
“Okay, John. Please get these icky clothes off me.” He did as asked.
“I was going to do this before bed, but I think I’m going to run you a bath. With bubbles. How does that sound?” He asked.
“I’d like that.” She was now naked, the wet clothes in a pile on the floor. Jonathan opened the faucet and began running a bath. The tub looked inviting, and she was a bit cold, so she climbed in.
“I’ll go get some dry and clean clothes. You just stay right here, pumpkin.”
Eliza leaned back and closed her eyes. Jonathan had to be the sweetest client she’d ever had, and his fantasies the most innocent. She was short, slim and just the right amount of curvy, yet her wet panties seemed to interest him more than her pussy. He clearly enjoyed looking at her, but he could be doing so much more. The roleplay seemed to be doing it for him. His comment about wanting to earn the name “Daddy” gave her a pang of guilt. Am I exploiting him? It seemed like his brand of kink required an intimate connection with another person. Although all kinky play requires a big degree of trust from both parties, many people enjoy a casual spanking. John, on the other hand, didn’t seem like the type who’d go to a BDSM party and tie someone up for the evening, then never see them again. He really just wanted a girlfriend he could cuddle at night.
Jonathan sidled up by the tub and poured something into the water, and soon enough, she was covered up by a layer of foam. “Stop me if I’m going too far,” Eliza said. “But your kink strikes me as the kind best practiced in a committed relationship.” Her eyes were still closed, and she found herself enjoying his tender touch as he began rubbing shampoo into her hair.
Jonathan sighed. “You could say that,” he said. “But there aren’t many girls out there as lovely as you.”
“That’s sweet of you to say,” she said. “But I’m sure there’s someone out there for you. Successful businessman, and probably the sweetest client I’ve had to boot.”
“I imagine you run into some brutes in your profession.”
She thought it over. No, no one had ever disrespected her boundaries. “It depends,” she said. “I’ve been careful. Maybe a little lucky. No one ever laid their hands on me—except in the ways we’d discussed beforehand. I’m not a street walker. I mean, no disrespect to those girls. I’m just saying, what they do is a lot more dangerous than what I do.” In the beginning, she relied on internet ads. Now, all her new clients were referrals. People who were recommended by someone she trusted. Jonathan had been vouched for by a business contact of hers, Jane, although she wasn’t quite clear on how they knew each other. She trusted her acquaintance, though.
“Come to think of it, how do you know Jane?” Eliza asked.
“Oh,” Jonathan said. “She’s my ex.”
“She’s your ex?” Eliza hadn’t expected that. Jane worked in the porn industry.
“Yeah. She said you might be able to, uh, fulfill the fantasies she couldn’t. I told her about my fetish. It didn’t go so well.”
“I’m sorry,” Eliza said. “Is that why you guys broke up?”
“Yes and no. It put more strain on a strained relationship. After a while we both decided it was for the best to call it quits. Well, she decided. I acquiesced.”
Eliza opened her eyes, reached over the edge of the tub and gave him a hug. Foamy water splashed all over his shirt. He didn’t seem to mind. Eliza held the hug, and then she began rubbing his back, leaving wet fingerprints on his button-down. Finally, he separated himself. His eyes were watery. He rose and attempted to straightened himself up. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m getting a little emotional. I suppose emotional isn’t in the job description.”
“No, no,” Eliza said. “It was my mistake. I pushed too far.”
He cleared his throat. “Well, little one,” he said, in an apparent attempt to regain his authority. He was really such a sweetheart. “Let’s get you dried and into some clean clothes.” He offered her a hand as she stepped out of the bathtub. Then he began rubbing her dry with a huge towel. She felt very small, like she was disappearing into the towel. He rubbed her all over to get her dry, and she felt herself getting a little aroused as he worked on her breasts and between her legs. Jonathan was just drying her off—he showed no signs of being aroused himself. But she found herself wishing he’d give a little special attention to her special areas.
Satisfied that she was dry, Jonathan turned around to pick up her new clothes. A dress, with a childish floral print in yellow. He must have gone on quite a shopping spree in preparation, she mused. “Now, pumpkin, I told you I wanted to give you a bath before bed. Remind me, why did we have to do it early?”
Eliza blushed. He wants to hear me say it. He wants to humiliate me. Humiliation, as it happened, was one of her own kinks. She loved to hate it. “Because I had an accident,” she said.
“Oh?” He looked at her expectantly. What is it he wants me to say? “What kind of accident? Did you fall and scrub your knee?”
Eliza hid her face behind the towel. She was deliciously embarrassed. “Noooo,” she said. “Not that kinda accident.”
“What kind of accident did you have, then, sweetpea?”
“In my pants.” She pointed to the wet romper and panties, still on the floor. “I peed in my pants.”
“That’s right,” Jonathan said. “You said you were a big girl, but then you couldn’t make it to the bathroom. I gave you a chance at panties, but I don’t think you’re quite big enough for them. I can’t trust that you’ll be able to keep them dry.”
“I AM a big girl!” Eliza said, stomping her foot on the ground. That was a mistake. The tiles were wet, and she slipped and lost her footing. For a terrifying moment, she saw the tiles rush up toward her head, but then Jonathan was there and grabbed her before she faceplanted into the floor.
“Careful, honey, the floor is wet,” Jonathan said. “One day you’ll be a big girl. But until then…” He held up the pull-up diaper she’d seen in his bedroom earlier.
“No fair,” Eliza said. “It was only one accident.”
“Well, just in case,” Jonathan said.
There it was. She knew what she’d signed up for, but the reality of it still hit her like a brick. Eliza had let herself be degraded for money before, but she had never imagined herself ever having to wear a diaper. And not just because she was paid to do it. No, she had actually peed her pants and earned it. She blushed again at the thought. The humiliation was getting her wet in a different way. When she began peeing, it had been on purpose. But then it wasn’t on purpose anymore. She’d really tried to stop, and found she couldn’t. In a way, she did really have an accident, just like a little girl. Does he want me to protest? He did say earlier that he wanted her to disobey. “NO,” she said. “I’m a BIG GIRL and BIG GIRLS don’t wear diapers.”
Jonathan looked at her sternly. “Do you want to earn yourself a spanking, little missy?” He didn’t raise his voice, but his tone said that he wasn’t kidding.
“FINE,” Eliza said, in her best petulant child voice. “But only this once. And I’m going to prove to you that I don’t need it.”
“Very well,” Jonathan said. He looked down at his watch. “It’s only 3 PM. If you can keep this one dry until seven, you can have panties for the rest of the night.” Four hours? She could do that. He helped her step into the diaper and slid it up her hips. The feeling of padding between her legs was odd, but the shape of it was more like a pair of extra-thick panties than a diaper. She gingerly took a few steps. There was a soft rustle as she walked, but it was barely audible. She could feel the fabric absorbing some moisture from between her legs.
“Now, this one isn’t very thick. It’s made for little girls who are potty training. So you need to tell me when you need to go potty, because this diaper can’t take a flood like the one you unleashed in your pants.” Touché. “And it’s very important that you tell me if you need to go number two, because this one is only designed for pee.”
Number two? Good god. The thought of it had her reeling. Peeing was one thing, she could do that. But under no circumstances would she have anything to do with poop. She had a strong anti-scat policy. “Yes, John,” she said. “I’m going to tell you when I need to go.” It occurred to her that the toilet was off limits without “adult supervision.” Did he expect her to poop while he watched? Open as she was about her body, she didn’t think she could do that. She’d just have to hold it if it came to that.
